So, a friend of mine (who happens to be a gentleman somewhat older than myself) is a big fan of pop music, and I've taken it upon myself to try to find out why. At some point during a conversation, X-Factor came up. That's right - it's not just regular pop music he likes, like say, Lady Gaga who, previously in this blog I've confessed to and attempted to defend a liking of, but it's the empty headed, personality-less talent-holes who enter this glorified karaoke contest he calls himself a fan of.
"You can't deny that Leona Lewis has a great voice," he tells me, all knowing. Well, friend, just watch me. So she's technically proficient, but is that all it takes nowadays? If I close my eyes, I can hear all of them - Lewis, Alexandra Burke, um, erm. Ah. I was going to list others but I've forgotten them all. They're all clones of the standard wobbly-voiced diva. The originals - Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Celene Dion and similar are also horrific, but at least they're professionals. Leona Lewis just copied the template and managed to fool the morons who take the time to vote for these empty vessels.
Doesn't anyone want a bit of substance, a bit of feeling, or something more original? The breathless Polly Scattergood, the unique and astonishing Neko Case? Case's Deep Red Bells has a vocal that frankly shits all over Bleeding Love from a great height. You want a bigger range? The magnificent Florence Welch has a voice which is practically operatic. Unfortunately, my friend had not heard of any of these. Although, I'd wager he's probably heard of Florence and the Machine by now. OK, we'll go with someone well known then - Kate Bush. "Nah," he says. "She's weird."
It's at this point I give up. He, like so many others, prefers to wallow in the dull, repetitive world of mainstream pop, listening to music that was recorded to make money as opposed to being a timeless piece of art, dismissing anything with a hint of feeling or originality as 'weird'. Well, balls to him and all others like him.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Impressions of Zakynthos.
The Greek islands are undoubtedly our favourite place to go on holiday. We've been to four so far - Kefalonia, Samos, Thassos and Skopelos, each one being quieter and more remote than the last. That's how we like it - not touristy, just secluded and peaceful, with long walks to lose ourselves in. This, obviously, was before we had Katie. We've recently been to Zakynthos, our fifth island, and it
wasn't what we were used to. It was actually a present from my parents, who also paid for my sister and her partner and their son, making eight of us all together. With small children to consider, we stayed in the resort of Alykanas on the North of the island. This resort is clearly designed with the family in mind - our complex had several pools, one of which had a slide, a park on site and was built literally on the edge of the beach - built to make things easier when managing a family. It's also very noisy, with the on site 'entertainment' echoing through the evenings and making it nearly impossible to enjoy a little quiet time on the balcony after Katie's gone to sleep. Greece is much more expensive now than it used to be as well, but the people are mostly just as lovely as ever.
The weather was odd, with the first week being cloudy for much of the time with occasional rain, and the second week being dry and consistently in the mid thirties. In a way, it worked out well, as the first week gave the kids a chance to acclimatise themselves to the heat before the scorching second week. The resort seemed to be designed with the intention of attracting a particular type of English family, and in fact during the second week almost every man I saw was shaven-headed, white, massive and covered in tattoos. Thanks to the World Cup (yawn) almost every bar had huge wide screen TVs blaring out tedious football matches. The way there were so many people on the streets trying to give you leaflets and attempting to get you into their bars and restaurants reminded me very much of a holiday a friend and I took in Ibiza in my dim and distant teenage years.
I knew that this was simply the way this resort had been designed and I knew that my Greece was still out there somewhere, but I couldn't help feeling like my Greek holiday experiences had been tainted a little. This all sounds extremely ungrateful for what was in essence a free holiday I know, but there was also much to recommend. Between all the noise there were many small moments of bliss when the Greece I know and love came back to me - the food was as 
outstanding as ever (backlavas - drool), and a day exploring the South of the island at Porto Zoro and Gerakas (where the turtles come) was a highlight, as was a trip by boat to the famous Zakynthos shipwreck - that beach is extraordinary.
Katie absolutely adored it and spent her time playing on the numerous parks, splashing about and swimming in the pools and the sea, digging holes and building sandcastles on the beach or scoffing her face with ice-cream and Greek salad. And this, I guess, is the point. Our holidays won't be for ourselves for many years yet - they'll be for Katie and soon Emily. Even though I've been fairly critical and I've pined for the Greek holidays I used to have, as long as Katie has so much fun, it's worth it.
wasn't what we were used to. It was actually a present from my parents, who also paid for my sister and her partner and their son, making eight of us all together. With small children to consider, we stayed in the resort of Alykanas on the North of the island. This resort is clearly designed with the family in mind - our complex had several pools, one of which had a slide, a park on site and was built literally on the edge of the beach - built to make things easier when managing a family. It's also very noisy, with the on site 'entertainment' echoing through the evenings and making it nearly impossible to enjoy a little quiet time on the balcony after Katie's gone to sleep. Greece is much more expensive now than it used to be as well, but the people are mostly just as lovely as ever.The weather was odd, with the first week being cloudy for much of the time with occasional rain, and the second week being dry and consistently in the mid thirties. In a way, it worked out well, as the first week gave the kids a chance to acclimatise themselves to the heat before the scorching second week. The resort seemed to be designed with the intention of attracting a particular type of English family, and in fact during the second week almost every man I saw was shaven-headed, white, massive and covered in tattoos. Thanks to the World Cup (yawn) almost every bar had huge wide screen TVs blaring out tedious football matches. The way there were so many people on the streets trying to give you leaflets and attempting to get you into their bars and restaurants reminded me very much of a holiday a friend and I took in Ibiza in my dim and distant teenage years.
I knew that this was simply the way this resort had been designed and I knew that my Greece was still out there somewhere, but I couldn't help feeling like my Greek holiday experiences had been tainted a little. This all sounds extremely ungrateful for what was in essence a free holiday I know, but there was also much to recommend. Between all the noise there were many small moments of bliss when the Greece I know and love came back to me - the food was as 
outstanding as ever (backlavas - drool), and a day exploring the South of the island at Porto Zoro and Gerakas (where the turtles come) was a highlight, as was a trip by boat to the famous Zakynthos shipwreck - that beach is extraordinary.Katie absolutely adored it and spent her time playing on the numerous parks, splashing about and swimming in the pools and the sea, digging holes and building sandcastles on the beach or scoffing her face with ice-cream and Greek salad. And this, I guess, is the point. Our holidays won't be for ourselves for many years yet - they'll be for Katie and soon Emily. Even though I've been fairly critical and I've pined for the Greek holidays I used to have, as long as Katie has so much fun, it's worth it.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Sometimes I don’t fit in.
Granted, we were in the pub and both of us had been drinking fairly copiously, but still. I got into a conversation with a friend which showed quite clearly why humanity is failing as a species. It started with an off-hand comment of mine about astrology being bollocks (it is), and she started trying to explain to me why it wasn't. Apparently I'll never get it because I'm a typically stubborn Taurus. So, do all Taureans think astrology is bollocks then? She then offered 'proof' in the observation that the reason I don't see eye to eye with a certain other nameless friend is because of their sign and mine being incompatible. I always thought it was because this other person was a bit of a dick. She sure showed me.
The conversation then took a really weird turn. She advised me that I shouldn't get so worked over things, because they don't really matter that much. Worked up? Maybe a little, but no more than the average person, surely? She wisely informs me that we are both parents and therefore I will obviously see things as she does - when you have a child, she tells me, nothing else matters. Nothing else is important. When I tell her calmly and politely that I do not agree with that, she is flabbergasted and I feel a bit like I've told her that I'm a closet hamster rapist (or an unfit father, I couldn't tell which). Obviously, Katie is the most important person in my life, and nothing else is as important as her being given the opportunity to grow into a strong, happy and stable person, but to say that nothing else matters? That all other considerations, be they political, environmental, financial or of any kind are irrelevant? To me that is ridiculous. She turns to a friend and asks her what else matters after you have a child - "Nothing" came the instant reply, steeped in a seriousness that I gather was supposed to sound like she was wise and more knowledgeable than silly little me.
(As a side note, nothing infuriates me like older people talking at me as though I'm twelve and that when I'm their age I'll inevitably come round to their way of thinking. Fuck you, I'm over 30 with a mind of my own thank you very much, and if you can't see that then you're worth no more of my time.)
So, human rights abuses? The destruction of countless acres of natural habitat? Wars being fought for profit? Corrupting religious dogma spread by child-raping priests infecting Governments at the highest levels of power? Even something small like being unpleasant to someone you see on the street for no reason - as long as you're able to look after your own kid, all of that stuff is OK? And yet, this attitude of protecting the small family unit at the expense of all else is considered admirable by the majority of society. 'Families first' the political rhetoric goes. How about not being a dick first?
She tries another tack - I don't understand because I'm not a mother. She can fuck right off, as I happen to know that my wife and life partner of more than 12 years has the same point of view as me on this - yes, of course Katie is our number one priority, but to dismiss any other consideration as irrelevant is ludicrous and one of the reasons why our society is failing. If nothing else matters to you but your child's happiness, they will grow up believing that their own happiness really is all that matters, and will, I guarantee you, be hateful obnoxious assholes. And yet, trying to tell anyone this leaves them thinking you don't love your child. On the contrary - holding your offspring up as the only thing that matters in the Universe so they grow up believing that is only setting them up for inevitable disappointment and depression, and that is not the actions of a loving parent. That's choking them on love. Stop being so fucking cruel.
The conversation then took a really weird turn. She advised me that I shouldn't get so worked over things, because they don't really matter that much. Worked up? Maybe a little, but no more than the average person, surely? She wisely informs me that we are both parents and therefore I will obviously see things as she does - when you have a child, she tells me, nothing else matters. Nothing else is important. When I tell her calmly and politely that I do not agree with that, she is flabbergasted and I feel a bit like I've told her that I'm a closet hamster rapist (or an unfit father, I couldn't tell which). Obviously, Katie is the most important person in my life, and nothing else is as important as her being given the opportunity to grow into a strong, happy and stable person, but to say that nothing else matters? That all other considerations, be they political, environmental, financial or of any kind are irrelevant? To me that is ridiculous. She turns to a friend and asks her what else matters after you have a child - "Nothing" came the instant reply, steeped in a seriousness that I gather was supposed to sound like she was wise and more knowledgeable than silly little me.
(As a side note, nothing infuriates me like older people talking at me as though I'm twelve and that when I'm their age I'll inevitably come round to their way of thinking. Fuck you, I'm over 30 with a mind of my own thank you very much, and if you can't see that then you're worth no more of my time.)
So, human rights abuses? The destruction of countless acres of natural habitat? Wars being fought for profit? Corrupting religious dogma spread by child-raping priests infecting Governments at the highest levels of power? Even something small like being unpleasant to someone you see on the street for no reason - as long as you're able to look after your own kid, all of that stuff is OK? And yet, this attitude of protecting the small family unit at the expense of all else is considered admirable by the majority of society. 'Families first' the political rhetoric goes. How about not being a dick first?
She tries another tack - I don't understand because I'm not a mother. She can fuck right off, as I happen to know that my wife and life partner of more than 12 years has the same point of view as me on this - yes, of course Katie is our number one priority, but to dismiss any other consideration as irrelevant is ludicrous and one of the reasons why our society is failing. If nothing else matters to you but your child's happiness, they will grow up believing that their own happiness really is all that matters, and will, I guarantee you, be hateful obnoxious assholes. And yet, trying to tell anyone this leaves them thinking you don't love your child. On the contrary - holding your offspring up as the only thing that matters in the Universe so they grow up believing that is only setting them up for inevitable disappointment and depression, and that is not the actions of a loving parent. That's choking them on love. Stop being so fucking cruel.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
An attempt to understand why people like shite.
I've been trying to understand why the whole Twilight thing exploded. I don't know why I've been trying to understand this, I suppose it's because I have too much time on my hands and not enough interesting thoughts in my head to fill it with. The whole thing was passing me by, but recently my wife got caught up in it. Now, that's not to say she's a 'Twi-hard' - she doesn't scream at the mere mention of Rob Pattison, she's not planning on any tattoos or T-shirts to proudly advertise her obsession. Truth be told, she's a bit embarassed by it. However, like it and enjoy it she does.
I get most youth culture crazes, even if I don't share them. Take Harry Potter as an example. I can understand why so many fans got swept up in the books and the movies. I certainly didn't become a fan, per se, but I can acknolwedge that the books are very well written. The first few are most definitely written for kids - they've got that simplistic way about them, like a less sophisticated Roald Dahl. The idea is that the reader should be a similar age to the title character, allowing the books to increase in depth as the reader matures. As such, the writing style and the story increase in complexity with each book. The stories caught the attention of so many older readers because of the subtleness of Rowling's writing - simplistic enough for kids but with just enough underlying darkness and complexity to attract adults. As the books go on, the darkness is much less underlying and the 'for kids' moniker is left behind. In addition, the attraction of reading something that evokes how it felt to be a child is very strong for many readers.
The same is true of The Hobbit. It was also written for children, but with enough potential for expansion into more complex themes to attract adults. A potential that was realised with the writing of The Lord of the Rings, which has such a multitude of underlying themes and levels of depth that most who read it cannot ever leave it behind.
Another example is Star Wars, but this is more about remembering and attempting to relive childhood memories than hidden depth, because the last thing Star Wars is, is deep. Personally, I think it's completely over-rated and is nothing compared to the likes of Indiana Jones and Back to the Future. That's because I was late to the party - Star Wars was released two years before I was born. People love it because they love how they felt watching it as a kid. Those same people hate the prequels. The prequels are, granted, poor films, but so, I would contend, are the original ones. Those that hate them hate them because they were not children when they watched them, and were, therefore, not the target audience. They were not young enough, not simple enought to be taken in by that world. There is a whole generation out there that will tell you that their favourite Star Wars movie is Episode 1. That's entirely down to the age they were when they watched it.
When I attempt to apply that logic to Twilight, it falls apart. Yes, it's aimed at teenagers, and not women in their 30s, but the same is true for Harry Potter. The fact is, they are very badly written - Stephenie Meyer couldn't write her way out of a wet paper bag. You can see it in the writing - while Rowling writes in a way that children can relate to she creates a very vivid picture of a hidden alternative world in our heads. On the other hand, Meyer's style is simply dull, like a teenager with no imagination and an over-riding obession with a boy would write. I can tell Harry Potter is written for children by a talented adult. I can't tell if Twilight is written for teenagers, in the style of a teenager or by an actual teenager. When Rachel tried to explain to me why she liked it, she gave me a hint as to the actual reason why I couldn't understand. She said it made her feel like a teenager herself, reading Point Horror and Point Romance novels, and that while she knows the writing is unsophisticated, the feeling of nostalgia it evokes is more effective. So, the truth is, it's probably because I'm male and simply can't understand. Fair enough. But, to be honest, I think girls deserve better than this depthless, vacuous shite.
What baffles me further is that like many other Twilight fans, Rachel's now got into True Blood. True Blood is much better - smart, well-written novels and a surprisingly good TV series. It's almost like the reader grows up and moves from one to the other - kind of like when you first discover holding hands and then move on to sex. I can't understand how it's possible to be a fan of both (Twilight and True Blood, not holding hands and sex) - it's akin to liking both Mozart and The Wiggles.
Of course, there's no reason why I should care at all. People are obviously free to like whatever they like regardless of what I or anyone else thinks. It's frankly none of my business. Maybe I can't help thinking I'm missing out on something. I doubt it, though.
I get most youth culture crazes, even if I don't share them. Take Harry Potter as an example. I can understand why so many fans got swept up in the books and the movies. I certainly didn't become a fan, per se, but I can acknolwedge that the books are very well written. The first few are most definitely written for kids - they've got that simplistic way about them, like a less sophisticated Roald Dahl. The idea is that the reader should be a similar age to the title character, allowing the books to increase in depth as the reader matures. As such, the writing style and the story increase in complexity with each book. The stories caught the attention of so many older readers because of the subtleness of Rowling's writing - simplistic enough for kids but with just enough underlying darkness and complexity to attract adults. As the books go on, the darkness is much less underlying and the 'for kids' moniker is left behind. In addition, the attraction of reading something that evokes how it felt to be a child is very strong for many readers.
The same is true of The Hobbit. It was also written for children, but with enough potential for expansion into more complex themes to attract adults. A potential that was realised with the writing of The Lord of the Rings, which has such a multitude of underlying themes and levels of depth that most who read it cannot ever leave it behind.
Another example is Star Wars, but this is more about remembering and attempting to relive childhood memories than hidden depth, because the last thing Star Wars is, is deep. Personally, I think it's completely over-rated and is nothing compared to the likes of Indiana Jones and Back to the Future. That's because I was late to the party - Star Wars was released two years before I was born. People love it because they love how they felt watching it as a kid. Those same people hate the prequels. The prequels are, granted, poor films, but so, I would contend, are the original ones. Those that hate them hate them because they were not children when they watched them, and were, therefore, not the target audience. They were not young enough, not simple enought to be taken in by that world. There is a whole generation out there that will tell you that their favourite Star Wars movie is Episode 1. That's entirely down to the age they were when they watched it.
When I attempt to apply that logic to Twilight, it falls apart. Yes, it's aimed at teenagers, and not women in their 30s, but the same is true for Harry Potter. The fact is, they are very badly written - Stephenie Meyer couldn't write her way out of a wet paper bag. You can see it in the writing - while Rowling writes in a way that children can relate to she creates a very vivid picture of a hidden alternative world in our heads. On the other hand, Meyer's style is simply dull, like a teenager with no imagination and an over-riding obession with a boy would write. I can tell Harry Potter is written for children by a talented adult. I can't tell if Twilight is written for teenagers, in the style of a teenager or by an actual teenager. When Rachel tried to explain to me why she liked it, she gave me a hint as to the actual reason why I couldn't understand. She said it made her feel like a teenager herself, reading Point Horror and Point Romance novels, and that while she knows the writing is unsophisticated, the feeling of nostalgia it evokes is more effective. So, the truth is, it's probably because I'm male and simply can't understand. Fair enough. But, to be honest, I think girls deserve better than this depthless, vacuous shite.
What baffles me further is that like many other Twilight fans, Rachel's now got into True Blood. True Blood is much better - smart, well-written novels and a surprisingly good TV series. It's almost like the reader grows up and moves from one to the other - kind of like when you first discover holding hands and then move on to sex. I can't understand how it's possible to be a fan of both (Twilight and True Blood, not holding hands and sex) - it's akin to liking both Mozart and The Wiggles.
Of course, there's no reason why I should care at all. People are obviously free to like whatever they like regardless of what I or anyone else thinks. It's frankly none of my business. Maybe I can't help thinking I'm missing out on something. I doubt it, though.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
And the award for dumbest parents goes to...
So, it turns out that the other weekend we were pretty terrible parents. We went to stay in Swansea with some friends, so, naturally Katie was getting super excited for the seaside. So much so that she couldn't get to sleep until way after ten the night before, which puts her at least three hours down on the sleep she needs. Now, it's April and it's the UK. It's not gonna get that hot, right? So we don't pack sun cream or sun hats or anything like that. It turns out to be a great weekend weather-wise, but still not really that hot. Down to the beach on the first day, and Katie's already flagging due to missed sleep. We decide to continue anyway. As we reach the beach, I say to Rach: "Do you think we should get a hat for Katie?" "Nah," she replies, "she'll be alright. Besides, we haven't got one with us anyway." "Fair enough."
A few hours later, we're back at the house and Katie is really miserable, but won't eat or sleep. She's got a temperature and starts puking. She's gone and got heatstroke. Her weekend is pretty much ruined. Way to go mom and dad. Obviously, we feel like shite, but there's not a lot we can do, apart from offer her lots of water, affection and attention.
There's a lesson to be learnt here, but I'm still not quite sure what it is, apart from always take a hat. Parenthood, it turns out, is exactly like they tell you. Like nothing you can prepare for. There are moments of frustration like nothing you've ever known, but these are balanced with moments of ecstatic joy at witnessing the simplest of things - like just recently, she's started to spontaneously tell us she loves us, and she recently said the word 'anything' perfectly in context with the sentence she was speaking, and I have no idea where she picked up how to say it, let alone what it means. Don't get me wrong, generally I don't like kids at all, especially babies, who are stupid and annoying. But this is my little girl, and she ain't like all those other mewling brats out there. She's my mewling brat, and she's made of awesome.
So basically, when she's suffering and you know it's your fault and was entirely preventable like this recent heatstroke weekend, you feel so wretched that basically you'd tear your own heart out if it would help. In a way, it's good that it happened. We'll both of us from now on go out of our way to not feel like that again, so it's made us better parents. Until the next time we get it all wrong, of course.
A few hours later, we're back at the house and Katie is really miserable, but won't eat or sleep. She's got a temperature and starts puking. She's gone and got heatstroke. Her weekend is pretty much ruined. Way to go mom and dad. Obviously, we feel like shite, but there's not a lot we can do, apart from offer her lots of water, affection and attention.
There's a lesson to be learnt here, but I'm still not quite sure what it is, apart from always take a hat. Parenthood, it turns out, is exactly like they tell you. Like nothing you can prepare for. There are moments of frustration like nothing you've ever known, but these are balanced with moments of ecstatic joy at witnessing the simplest of things - like just recently, she's started to spontaneously tell us she loves us, and she recently said the word 'anything' perfectly in context with the sentence she was speaking, and I have no idea where she picked up how to say it, let alone what it means. Don't get me wrong, generally I don't like kids at all, especially babies, who are stupid and annoying. But this is my little girl, and she ain't like all those other mewling brats out there. She's my mewling brat, and she's made of awesome.
So basically, when she's suffering and you know it's your fault and was entirely preventable like this recent heatstroke weekend, you feel so wretched that basically you'd tear your own heart out if it would help. In a way, it's good that it happened. We'll both of us from now on go out of our way to not feel like that again, so it's made us better parents. Until the next time we get it all wrong, of course.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Who needs friends when you've got friends like these?
Something happened today which made me wonder a lot of things. It made me wonder why I have so many friends that I have nothing in common with. (If you are reading this and are one of my non-virtual friends, don't worry - to have even got this far means you are not one of the people I'm referring to). It made me wonder how many of them I would choose to become friends with if I met them tomorrow. It's said that friends are the family you get to choose, but frankly, most of my friends come to be my friends as a matter of circumstance - I don't project an aura of great self-confidence, and rather than seeking out people with mutual interests, I generally just become friends with the people I see on the most regular basis. I don't then select the people I like most to become friends with. The something that happened made me wonder if maybe I should.
The something in question happened while at a birthday party - the son of one of my wife's friends recently turned one. He's a pretty cool kid and on the day appeared to me to have the hairstyle and outfit of a 50 year-old. This may sound like an insult, but if you ask me the little dude looked awesome. Someone at the party switched on the Sky and put NME TV on for some background music. A rather odd choice for a kid's party, I'll grant you, but it was on quietly and nobody was paying much attention to it. The instant the remote was put down one of the other guests, who while not exactly a close friend, is a mutual acquaintance, loudly stated "I'm not having this on; I don't feel like slitting my wrists. Let's put something nice on", and promptly switched to Smash Hits. Now, with the house being full of little 'uns, this is clearly a more appropriate channel, and I would have no problem with the channel being changed for this reason. However, the person in question is a grown woman, and there is no doubt in my mind that she chose the music for herself, not the kids.
Isn't most pop music aimed squarely at a young audience? Isn't that why it's vacuous, asinine and repetitive? Once a person gets to a certain age, shouldn't they begin to realise this and develop a more mature and rounded taste? Why are so many adults still listening to this ear cancer?
I genuinely don't mind or judge you (too harshly) if you are the kind of person who listens to this, or watches Dancing on Ice, or enjoys reading Percy Jackson novels. The thing is, too many of the people I see as friends are almost exclusively into these things or similar. If I try to talk about, say, Radiohead, Catch-22, or maybe Dr. Strangelove, most of my friends won't know what the hell I'm talking about, being instead into Twilight or Boyzone or some other equally shit over-marketed commodity passing itself off as art.
How did I end up surrounded by friends I have nothing in common with? My wife generally skews much closer to my taste, and we often find ourselves unable to understand our friend's taste in music, film, art, politics and more. Should we say enough is enough and cut ties with these people, or continue to socialise for the sake of politeness? Should we retreat to our own world and exclude all others, or try to find new friends? Will I one day snap and find myself screaming "Why are you all so SHIT?" at them? Should I try harder to appreciate the TV they watch; is there a deeper meaning to Coronation Street and Britain's Got Talent that I'm missing?
The truth is I already kind of go through life not really paying attention to the majority of them, instead choosing to focus on my wife and daughter. Maybe when Katie's old enough I'll be able to influence her enough to allow her to broaden herself enough to become immersed in more meaningful avenues of interest, giving me a kindred spirit I'm unable to find in my friends. Knowing my luck, she'll probably get into Bratz.
The something in question happened while at a birthday party - the son of one of my wife's friends recently turned one. He's a pretty cool kid and on the day appeared to me to have the hairstyle and outfit of a 50 year-old. This may sound like an insult, but if you ask me the little dude looked awesome. Someone at the party switched on the Sky and put NME TV on for some background music. A rather odd choice for a kid's party, I'll grant you, but it was on quietly and nobody was paying much attention to it. The instant the remote was put down one of the other guests, who while not exactly a close friend, is a mutual acquaintance, loudly stated "I'm not having this on; I don't feel like slitting my wrists. Let's put something nice on", and promptly switched to Smash Hits. Now, with the house being full of little 'uns, this is clearly a more appropriate channel, and I would have no problem with the channel being changed for this reason. However, the person in question is a grown woman, and there is no doubt in my mind that she chose the music for herself, not the kids.
Isn't most pop music aimed squarely at a young audience? Isn't that why it's vacuous, asinine and repetitive? Once a person gets to a certain age, shouldn't they begin to realise this and develop a more mature and rounded taste? Why are so many adults still listening to this ear cancer?
I genuinely don't mind or judge you (too harshly) if you are the kind of person who listens to this, or watches Dancing on Ice, or enjoys reading Percy Jackson novels. The thing is, too many of the people I see as friends are almost exclusively into these things or similar. If I try to talk about, say, Radiohead, Catch-22, or maybe Dr. Strangelove, most of my friends won't know what the hell I'm talking about, being instead into Twilight or Boyzone or some other equally shit over-marketed commodity passing itself off as art.
How did I end up surrounded by friends I have nothing in common with? My wife generally skews much closer to my taste, and we often find ourselves unable to understand our friend's taste in music, film, art, politics and more. Should we say enough is enough and cut ties with these people, or continue to socialise for the sake of politeness? Should we retreat to our own world and exclude all others, or try to find new friends? Will I one day snap and find myself screaming "Why are you all so SHIT?" at them? Should I try harder to appreciate the TV they watch; is there a deeper meaning to Coronation Street and Britain's Got Talent that I'm missing?
The truth is I already kind of go through life not really paying attention to the majority of them, instead choosing to focus on my wife and daughter. Maybe when Katie's old enough I'll be able to influence her enough to allow her to broaden herself enough to become immersed in more meaningful avenues of interest, giving me a kindred spirit I'm unable to find in my friends. Knowing my luck, she'll probably get into Bratz.
Monday, March 29, 2010
A cycle of anger and guilt.
It's been a tough week for a colleague of mine. He's experienced just about the worst thing that can happen to a person. His 18 year old son has died, apparently by his own hand. I don't know any of the details, and it's not my place to enquire, just like it's not my place to reveal anything else about it to you. This single fact alone is enough to portray the magnitude of his personal tragedy. What I've gone and done is what almost any person tends to do - try to understand how he might feel by relating the experience to my own memories, but nothing has ever come close (and I fervently hope nothing ever will).
The only remotely relatable experience is a Boxing Day over 15 years ago when we heard that my 15 year old cousin had died of a previously unknown heart condition. Now, this was terrible news and dreadfully upsetting, but I was only just into my teens and didn't see Simon that often, so I was unable to grasp how my uncle must have felt, just like I can never understand how my colleague feels. Recently another cousin of the same family died due to drugs related problems - the uncle in question having now lost both sons has only a daughter left, a daughter who has herself recently given birth to a daughter - funny how life keeps going round like that, isn't it? In a similar vein, my grandad passed away just before my first daughter Katie Erin was born, and now that her sister Emily Karen is on the way, we've lost nan.
What's difficult to come to terms with is how angry I was at the pointlessness of my cousin's death. He was young, strong, smart and full of potential, and all he's done is cause untold grief to those who he loved and who loved him the most. While not on the same scale, there was a minor resurfacing of this anger when hearing the news of my colleague's tragedy. It seems careless to me to leave behind your loved ones with such a gaping hole in their lives. But, on further reflection it seems callous of me to judge them in such a way - in Christian's case, he never intended for the drugs to kill him, so he's worth remembering with love, not anger, and in my colleague's case, who am I to feel this way without having the slightest clue to this young man's circumstances and feelings?
So, guilt inevitably follows anger, but I can't stop these feelings any more than I can stop the events from taking place at all. It's a shite state of affairs probably best not ruminated on for too long. One thing that these tragedies do for certain is to convince me to squeeze every last drop out of life while I can, which is as good a lesson as any to take away, I guess.
The only remotely relatable experience is a Boxing Day over 15 years ago when we heard that my 15 year old cousin had died of a previously unknown heart condition. Now, this was terrible news and dreadfully upsetting, but I was only just into my teens and didn't see Simon that often, so I was unable to grasp how my uncle must have felt, just like I can never understand how my colleague feels. Recently another cousin of the same family died due to drugs related problems - the uncle in question having now lost both sons has only a daughter left, a daughter who has herself recently given birth to a daughter - funny how life keeps going round like that, isn't it? In a similar vein, my grandad passed away just before my first daughter Katie Erin was born, and now that her sister Emily Karen is on the way, we've lost nan.
What's difficult to come to terms with is how angry I was at the pointlessness of my cousin's death. He was young, strong, smart and full of potential, and all he's done is cause untold grief to those who he loved and who loved him the most. While not on the same scale, there was a minor resurfacing of this anger when hearing the news of my colleague's tragedy. It seems careless to me to leave behind your loved ones with such a gaping hole in their lives. But, on further reflection it seems callous of me to judge them in such a way - in Christian's case, he never intended for the drugs to kill him, so he's worth remembering with love, not anger, and in my colleague's case, who am I to feel this way without having the slightest clue to this young man's circumstances and feelings?
So, guilt inevitably follows anger, but I can't stop these feelings any more than I can stop the events from taking place at all. It's a shite state of affairs probably best not ruminated on for too long. One thing that these tragedies do for certain is to convince me to squeeze every last drop out of life while I can, which is as good a lesson as any to take away, I guess.
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