Honesty: An Ephipany and a Confession

When I was at university I crumbled because I realised I was a phoney. I’d considered the possibility for a long time, but I had it confirmed for me there in less than a month. My arrogance had gotten me A level results, shitty A levels in shitty subjects, but results they were and my arrogance had used those to get me into a two-bit university on a Mickey Mouse course.

My arrogance had done very well for itself by all accounts, but when the semester, and lectures themsleves started proper I knew my arrogance didn’t have what it takes to make me a success, to get me through it alone.

For a year I relied on this dominant aspect of my personality, allowing it to stand up and justify my drink and drug fuelled nonchalance. I mention the booze and drugs not as an excuse, just for context. But during that time of ego driven audacity, focused on doing nothing of effort and worth, another personality trait built itself up slowly, quietly, until it had completely overtaken the running of the show.

Subservience. Spinelessness, the inability to believe anything my own mind concocted that contradicted another person, because surely they knew better than me right? I mean they could say words that had meaning behind them, emotion behind them. They must know better than me.

And I kept hiding for a long time, reacting in ways I know people would want me to, appeasing everyone, being phonier than I ever could’ve believed I would. Just so others would think me likable because of my overwhelming urge to be agreeable.

Reacting, not interacting.

And it still goes on to this day. Even though I’ve gained confidence and pieced together bits of what I think I believe, which is still very little, I still betray these thoughts, myself.

At work I refuse to stand up for them, I choose to denounce them and instead find reasons to fortify the bullshit of others which permeates around the bar. It’s why I’m the best barman in town, why I’m the best barman in a backwards community.

I started having these personal revelations because I’ve been trying to figure why I hate my writing beyond the usual necessary tortured artist routine. And I’ve sussed it.

It’s not honest, it’s guarded and during the earliest moments of the writing process it’s convoluted by pandering to what I think will be considered clever, to what I wat the big boys to think of me. And whilst bits may sound original and clever, every piece is speeding off to a false start, flying out the gates with a brace strapped to it’s leg by being written in the wrong manner for the wrong reasons.

Today I started reading Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, someone once told me it was their favourite book and as I write this I’ve already nearly finished it, which is non small accomplishment for a slow reader as I am. It slammed home that my realisations about my writing are inseperable from realisations I have to make about myself, they go hand in hand and skip happily down the road towards a sunset with a subheading titled wisdom.

I find myself wishing I’d read the book when I was told about it, but reading it any earlier would’ve negated any effects it had on me. Except maybe to inflict this same American twang I’ve inflicted on the poor buggers who’ve read this far.

Conclusion? Getting back into reading has done me the world of good, I’m enjoying catching up on the 8 or so years of emotional growth that they missed out on helping to foster. But really seriously, as in I’d kick your arse if you dared interupt the next part of this sentence, no longer does my arrogance prevent me from listening and no longer does my subservience defy me from answering.

Stop trying to be seen as clever, be honest and don’t pander to those you seek approval from.

That goes for writing words, but it will go for my actions as well.

New Year Promises, New Year Lumps

In an effort to regulate my sleeping patterns and the order of my day, I’m trying to break myself into some good habits, which of course everyone’s always trying to do. But, I have a powerful weapon on my side, a tool of great power used for decades by self-congratulating self-help gurus. I have a list.

The list is the key to harnessing the power of our own guilt, look at those bulleted points there, each unaccomplished goal a sneering attack on your character, your own ambition mocking you in a booming voice, holding a knife to your throat and threatening to rape your self worth.

Ahem. So, yeah, a list, the same sort everyone makes at the beginning of the new year, full to the brim with hungover repentance and promises to the almighty Me of a better tomorrow. I have a slight advantage though, for starters it’s not New Year’s Day and I’m not hungover and I haven’t been hungover for a few days now. Which is where my list begins.

1. Drink less. Now listen up Davies as I’m only going to say this once, drinking every night no matter if it is just one or two jars, is totally unacceptable. You can feel your body working a whole lot smoother today after a few days off, can’t you? Right, there you are then. So, from now on you drink only a few times a week, and if you like you can go apeshit on those days, get so ballsed that you try to seduce streetlamps by crooning Lady in Red whilst wearing nothing but your mother’s underwear. Just have a couple of nights off a week so you can wake up in the morning and feel fresh, instead of being eaten inside out by the black hole of memory from the previous night.

2. Food. More of it. Better quality. I’m not succumbing to whims of Jamie Oliver here, but I truly think I was eating better in Comprehensive school, when the only crap they served was pizza comprising of 80% olive oil and sausages comprised of 40% expelled fellow pupils. At least 2 meals a day, at least one of which is lovingly crafted with your own hands. And no Davies, lifting the plastic film off the shit storm stroganoff, stirring it and putting it back in the microwave is not lovingly crafting it.

3. Books. Read at least 30 of them this year. You know all that time you spend constantly refreshing the pages of websites that only update twice a day? Well you can cut that right out now and go pick up book instead, you’ve got a pile of them to your right that you haven’t even touched yet, despite spending 2 quid on them and I will not have you wasting money young man. The 30 is just an arbitrary number and not that important, it’s just a goal to work towards, the important part is just getting some regular reading in. Before bed would be a good idea too, remember we discussed having a more regular routine earlier? Well this’ll help out with that.

4. Writing. Go back to all those half finished pieces and have a good crack at finishing them. Don’t criticise or over think them until you get to the end, that’s what redrafts are for. Don’t cut yourself down until you’ve finished. Get back to writing something everyday, write about how many tiny dead flies there are in the store room, write about the intricacies of clipping your toe nails, write about knocking one out to an episode of Thundercats. Write anything, you don’t even have to bother with sentences if you don’t fancy it, try just an endless stream of imaginary curse words, it’ll pick up your spirits if nothing else, you pansy ass fromelinger.

5. Exercise. Hmm, not so sure about this one. No in fact, sod that, I like my beer belly just the way it is, in fact this year I think I’ll attempt to join a heavier division. Right, so no exercise and more fags, got that?

There are more here on this bit of paper but I’m fed up of talking to myself in a condescending voice, I’d rather just get on with it now.

For the record, the growth in my armpit that has been expanding and contracting for the last 4 months has turn into a boil, complete with three massive puking yellow heads on it. Either that or a boil has grown over the top of it, there’s no way to be sure yet but I promise to keep you posted.

Update: Boil is popped and leaking like your momma’s minge when I saunter in wearing her negligee, suckers. Whether the boil is a seperate entity to the lump is still unknown.

Right then, let’s have some MF Doom and Tubeway Army to celebrate.