Courage the Cowardly Dog

Yesterday evening i had the misfortune of finding in my bedroom two abnormally large spiders. As an arachnophobe/coward i responded to this by raising both my hands in the air and slowly backing out of the room. I have a tried and tested protocol for whenever this happens: extending the hoover extension as far as it'll go and standing across the room from the spider trying to suck it into a dusty tomb; softly whispering "entomb him" under my breath. As i lugged the hoover across the landing at 1'o'clock in the morning and neared the hoover extension to the eight legged beasts (trying to keep as much distance between it and myself as possible) my thoughts of 'this is so emasculating' and 'have i brushed my teeth yet?' were interrupted with the thought that maybe i should face my fears. maybe i should grab the spider and hold it squarely in my palm. But then ration set back in and i remembered that facing your fears is bullshit... There's little, to nothing, to gain from facing your fears. I am afraid of spiders; and if i were to hold a giant spider in the centre of my meaty palm i wouldn't feel this soothing catharsis and become at one with them. I'd feel raw and violently irrational fear. This is why i don't do it. Where's the logic behind facing your fears? I'm frightened of being tried and burnt at the stake as a Witch; this doesn't mean I'm going to wear a pointy hat and sit on the BBQ to conquer my anxiety. Maybe to qualm fears about terrorist attacks every member of the public should have to go through at least one... face your fears and all that. You can experience a real life plane jacking/crash so you're not afraid of the extremists anymore. At the end of it the Pilot can wade through the debris, tell you that "it wasn't all that bad now, was it?", give you a cheeky wink, pinch your bum, and take a photo'. Facing your fears is a terrible idea. I'm too content in being a coward.

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Of late my dreams have been far more interesting than most of what's occurred in the real world [only that which has involved me that is; i'm not boasting about how great my dreams are]. Although, when i say that my dreams have been interesting, i generally mean that they've been weird. That's not to say they're not interesting; but like all dreams, they're only interesting to the person to whom they belong. Yet there seems to be this weird conversational loop-hole where, despite the fact that discussion about ones dreams is generally regarded as a tedious topic of conversation, the cathartic nature of discussing dreams renders this notion redundant. When you awake from a disorientating dream the need to talk about it is so overwhelming that the only way to exorcise your mind demons is through poorly articulated descriptions and unsuitable similes. When someone talks about their dreams i think they know that the person listening isn't interested; talking about what the moose in the red hat said to them whilst the person listening nods and smiles [slightly dribbling], staring at them through vacant eyes... but it doesn't matter, the conversation serves its purpose as a free therapy session for the dreamer. So here's to dreams; the most boring, and frequent of conversational topics. Anyway, as i was saying, i've been having the strangest dreams of late...

Benefit Fraud

I've finally signed on, and whilst there's nothing wrong with that (aka...), i can't shake the feeling that there are people who probably deserve the 50 bones a week more than i do. Although, as i sat in the job centre debating whether to buy Ready Salted or Salt & Vinegar crisps once i left, i realised that without jobseeker's allowance i wouldn't be able to buy either, and that discovery shook me to my core... my hungry, unemployed core. I was then forced to sit and watch my 'jobseeker' (i don't really know what you'd call them) search for vacancies for a film director/script writer on the government search engine; constantly trying to say as politely as i could that this wasn't really how the industry worked. Alongside this, when being questioned about my eligibilty for jobseeker's allowance i was unable to shake the feeling that i was, in some way, commiting benefit fraud: "do i care for anyone? maybe i DO have a spouse? am i an immigrant, i am black, yes i AM an immigrant, no wait!". Even as i write this i feel as if i'm now under the watchful gaze of the thought police, and to a lesser extent, a pack of 'Devil Dogs'...

into the wild

Well this is the first blog entry, and the very reason that it’s the first blog entry is because I now have the time. Like most of the unemployed I need to find as many new and inventive, computer-based time wasting hobbies as I possibly can. And as I don’t have the stamina for online adult entertainment or the steady cash flow for online poker, blog entries it is. The first one is pretty much a cathartic way of moaning about the fact that, like many, I have returned to the position that I was in 3 years ago… at the family home, with no job, and in many ways no prospects. Having recently graduated I have discovered that finishing my degree is the equivalent of a ‘Go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect £200’ card in monopoly. I’m sure that work will rear it’s beautiful head at some point, but in the mean time I shall return to wasting my time on the internet and watching ITV talk shows… exactly what I did when I was a student but without the excuse that ‘i'm taking a break from 'working'’.