I have a dream

So, I've been experimenting with lucid dreaming recently. I managed it once for a couple of minutes, but got so excited at the realisation I could control my dream, I woke myself up - rubbish. The trick is to improve your dream recall so when you're dreaming, you'll remember if you had a similar dream and trigger a reality check - usually to check the time, or even look at your hands. But I've found the more you try to build this in, the more sophisticated your dreams become, so now you can tell the time and feel your body, etc.

Anyway, one thing this exercise has improved is my dream recall - before this I hadn't a decent dream in about five years, not one. Now, I'm building up quite a catalogue and these things are great. I liken it to a mild form of tripping - I was having conversations with rock stars; living out some mad tales-of-the-unexpected-type stories; and seeing designs and patterns I could never imagine in my conscious hours - highly recommended. Can't believe I was ignoring this resource for so long. Try out the stuff in this site - it opens up a whole new dimension and they ain't outlawed it yet.

What's in a name?

Choosing the title for this blog wasn't an easy task. I started off being quite self deprecating, almost doing myself down for not being the dynamic, entrepreneurial, jet-setting, love-machine I envisioned I'd be by now, but as this blog has developed I realised that was not the image I wished to create. I'm actually quite proud of my tendency to be interested in most people's points of view or passions and feel an immense sense of satisfaction when I tap into a passion I previously ignored or was ignorant of. I despise bigotry of all forms and have learned to see my interest in most things as a bonus, despite the (perceived personal) drawbacks.

Anyway, my point is that I wanted to celebrate my perceived averageness as someone who enjoys the veritable pot porri of life, rather than someone who is just dull. I wanted something that summed this up, but also had a double or contradictory meaning. I took inspiration from Alan Watts, one of the most accessible and lucid free thinkers of the twentieth century I have come across in my limited exploration of modern philosophy. The title of his autobiography, In My Own Way was chosen because it not only described his approach to life, but also how he felt that he had been the only person who had actually stood in his way.

So the contradiction of taking averageness to extremes appealed - not only because it implies being average at everything and therefore being unaverage, but because I like "extreme" sports* despite being very average at them and have always been bemused by people who are afraid of heights, speed, water, authority, drugs and travelling. Hence the sub title, which derived from a phrase my father much lauded, “Everything in moderation”, to which I would quietly retort “even moderation”, so I could justify my plans to have an all weekend bender.

Because although it’s good to take a balanced, well structured approach to life, it’s also great just to really let rip once in a while and ski down a mountain full pelt, or get so drunk you projectile vomit on your lawn, or play a video game for 30 hrs non-stop, whatever you wanna do, as old Crowley said, let that be the whole of the law. A pendulum that does not swing is a just a lump of lead.

* although I dislike the term intensely – it conjures up too many images of tw*tty rich kids, showing how crazy they can be, before going back to work in daddy’s firm.

Curb Your Enthusiasm Series 3 is great...

Screening CVs today - terrible business for a Yesman, as you quickly realise what a lottery job applications are. There I am leafing through page after page of highly qualified, well rounded individuals and rejecting them on as little as a poorly constructed sentence or even if the page didn't print out properly. It also puts you in the uncomfortable position of realising that these highly qualified people might be working along side you, competing for your next bonus. So if you let them through, you could be letting yourself in for all sorts of bother - the moral dilemas are endless.

So, when applying for a job, make sure you check your grammar and don't make yourself look too good, else just get a job like I did by having clever friends.

Yesman or Yesmam #2

A few more musings concerning my deviation from the stereo-typical male role...

I've never been obsessed with pornography or breast size - more than a handfull is a waste etc. I always enjoyed the male bonding over pornography. At school we used to sneak back to this mate's house at lunchtime and watch whatever "bluey" his father had recorded off his satellite system the night before - I always remember being amazed at the stamina of these guys, as well as their size, but couldn't get over the fact they invariably had anal sex with gorgeous looking women - I couldn't understand it, I thought these guys were straight - what do they wanna stick it up there for? - madness. And I still hold that view today - I think the vagina is the greatest thing ever - I love its feel, its look, its smell, its taste. It would take a hell of lot of persuasion, lube, and warm soapy water before I would go anywhere near someone's anus. In fact I rate it somewhere near defecating on someone with regards to the level of interest I have in it.

Shopping - although I despise the shop-a-holic mentality of shopping to entertain yourself, I do actually like shopping for clothes, trying them on, going to different shops to pick up a bargain. There was a time I was addicted to TK Maxx, just for the sheer enjoyment of rifling through racks and racks of random clothes all, supposedly your size*, and hunting for that killer shirt or pair of shoes for £12 or something ridiculous.

* TK Maxx has a curious policy of just lumping all clothes of the same size together, but often there's a rogue size in there, so if you look in the racks that are not your size, you'll generally discover an untapped source of bargains.

Is Time Quantised? (Friday)

Academics have to be one of my favourite groups of people - they have the luxury of being mostly unconcerned with banalities and trivialities of life and hence can turn their minds to far more intriguing matters. My girlfriend and I were meeting her parents for dinner to celebrate her birthday the week before - a daunting prospect for many a Yesman, but couple in the fact that both are lecturers in Mathematics at Oxbridge* University and it takes on a whole new dimension.

We met at their local pub, where we were ushered to their table and after exchanging niceties and choosing our courses, John (the father) turned to me and asked "is time reversible?" Now, this isn't the first topic of conversation that springs to mind with most people I meet, but with John, this was merely an opening gambit. - Now this is a question most people have considered if they have watched any Red Dwarf**. So I waffled something about entropy and how in closed system disorder will always increase. Then he breaks into explaining how if you knew the exact position and momentum of every particle in the room at one moment, would it be possible to predict how the room would look ten minutes in the future or ten minutes in the past. It turns out that it would be easier to predict the future than the past. He used the example of his glass of wine, which he swirled and left to settle on the table. “Now if you were to take a snap shot of the wine glass in it current settled state, would it be possible to work out that the wine had been sloshing vigorously around its glass not more than a minute previously?” With that he dismissed all cosmology and predictions about the origin of the universe as bunkum.

Now I couldn't let him get away with this and having sunk a few of these liquid models of the universe myself, came back with, "but if you took into account your hand which caused the wine to swill in the first place, surely you could predict that the two had interacted in the past?" To which he replied, "Exactly - so when considering the wine glass or the universe it isn't possible to take the isolated system there is always an infinite system beyond what you take account of in your model. Now, let me ask you something else: Is time quantised?" At which point I sank deeper into my chair and let the madness consume me.

* wherever the hell that is
** Easily the greatest Sci-Fi comedy ever written

Yesman or Yesmam?

Upon starting this blog I announced that I had always felt like an average man, never excelling at anything in particular, but mostly managing to meet the grade. It occurred to me this week that is not entirely true, as defining myself as an average man means I'm excluding the stereo-typical, socially acceptable character traits of half the population. Now, I don't mean I'm suddenly going to come out and announce I actually like parading round in a skimpy bikini and sparkly earrings, but I was considering typically male or female characteristics and realised I have a fair mix of the two.

The obvious first example is football - I don't hate the game by any means and when I'm naively given license to run on to a pitch, I give it my all and really enjoy pretending to know what I'm doing - I've never been able to kick a ball straight or do more than two keep-me-ups, ever. When it comes to watching it, I'll show passing interest in the premiership, but always have to stop myself from asking stupid questions and I never know who the players are or who's top of the table.

Dancing - I love dancing - and singing. I 'spose I was lucky to have grown up with dance culture as it was more socially acceptable for blokes to dance, given they were off their face. We used to go to an under 18 dance night* and I actually had to pretend I had taken something to get away with loving it so much. Singing is also a deeply unmasculine thing to do, if it isn't rugby songs or "eye of the tiger" at karaoke. It has always been a huge disappointment to me that I'm appallingly bad at both - my dancing is like an epileptic having electro-shock therapy and my voice never broke properly so I can start out manfully mumbling along and suddenly break into a glass-shattering bee-gee-shaming wail.

Lists - I can't make lists: "Name your top five films", oh, er, that really good one, you know? That one with that bloke... Rubbish - it seems inate to every other bloke I speak to, never understood it.

There's many more examples, but it's late. So you see this blog is really the idle musings of an average person, rather than an average man, which means I again find myself in the never-world of being able to appreciate both male and female passions, but never able to fully immerse myself in either.

*"Creations come alive - coming at ya like a tractor"

Definitely a male hormone cycle (Wednesday)

Flicked the tele on while eating my tea tonight and found myself watching Pearl Harbor, and to be honest was really enjoying it. Yea, so what about the histoical inaccuracies and the Americans claiming they are the saviours of the modern world, if you just watch it as a revamp of the classic love triangle story of the Camelot variety, with some amazing explosions and special effects thrown in, I think everybody would have had a better time of it.

Saying that, I did only watch the first hour - not sure three hours of it would have made for pleasant viewing and it did start to get a bit silly toward the end of an hour - oh what the hell, that Pearl Harbor was a bit shit wasn't it?

Eye Watering Sucker Punch (Tuesday)

It's funny when it catches you - you're so used to shrugging off all the horrific incidents which saturate our media savvy world that when you're caught with your Yesman guard down and actually listen to the human stories going on behind the reports, it takes you by surprise.

I had the radio on in the car and was listening some journalist describe how he'd been shot in Saudi Arabia. He described how his assailant had approached with a smile and "Peace be upon you" before pulling out a gun and, after a futile attempt to run, fired a magazine of bullets into him - each one thumping into the core of his body at point blank range. This is gruesome stuff and all very nasty, bla-de-bla, but what got me was as this was happening to him, he looked up and could just see pure hatred in this guy's face. I found myself imagining the pure "oh f*ck-ness" of looking up at someone, so filled with hate, accumulated through their life's experience and influences, that they are willing to pump 15 bullets into you as you lie helpless on the ground.

I think it's helplessness of it all - thinking of all the numerous events over the centuries, not just the last decade, that lead to that Saudi developing that degree of hatred and how it will never stop. The seeds of the next conflict are already germinating in this "war on terror", so even when they pull out, the ruins will breed yet more hatred and our "western values" will be under threat again, allowing our leaders to fire us up, 'cos "something must be done" - madness.

Smoked salmon and cream cheese on soft granary bread - great stuff (Monday)

Building a certain reputation within an organisation has its benefits, once you realise you have it, and the moral flexibility to exploit it, it can come in very useful. Like taking that extra hour in bed to enjoy some sneaky morning sweet lurve. Gives the whole day that little extra sheen, knowing that you can swan in an hour late and no-one will even ask you where you've been as they'll assume you have a good excuse - "being late is not the kind of thing Yesman would do."

No Rain No Gain (Sunday)

Sleeping in a tent when it's pouring with rain, definitely has to be one of my favourite things. Snuggled up in your sleeping bag as the rain batters down, with only a thin sheet of fabric to protect you and your possessions from a drenching. You can get close to the feeling, sitting in your favourite armchair, with a thunderstorm raging outside and watching the rain bounce off the window, but nothing quite beats the intensity and excitement of sitting out a rain storm in a tent - especially when you don't need to get up or go out for a while.

This was how I found myself this morning - my hangover being gently massaged by the sound of the rain on nylon and allowing me those extra few hours sleep. This is definitely preferable to being sweated out by the intense heat at seven in morning, as the dark tent material absorbs every ray and boils away all the oxygen. The night before had been one of those relentless drinking sessions, where as soon as you think there can't possibly be any more alcohol to hand, someone will whip out a bottle of creme de menthe and suggest we make alcoholic peppermint tea - so the rain was a welcome visitor. I'm sure it hindered the busy-body locals who seemed to delight in telling us that the camp site wasn't open yet and we should move.

The rest of the day was spent enjoying a long cooked breakfast - which we reached by rowing boat - saying our farewells and slowly driving the four hour trip home.

Camp David (Saturday)

As I mentioned yesterday, I met Dave for the first time on Friday night and was instantly bowled over by his joie de vivre. Unfortunately, I happened to mention this to my girlfriend and rather unsubtlely, owing to sinking a few ales, managed to hint that his positivity contrasted with her negativity and hence none of her friends were celebrating her birthday with her - not a wise move in a two-person tent.

But in a way, I couldn't help thinking it was true. I mean, in my case, I rarely invite people to celebrate my birthday, as I feel I don't have the necessary postivity to pull it off. If someone says they can't make it or suggests something else, the whole thing seems a waste of time and usually ends in me shrieking Alan Partridge-style "oh, just forget it!"
My approach is rather more:

1. find people who are already going out;
2. tag along;
3. then slyly mention its my birthday

I find it makes for much more stress free event all round.

As the day went on, more and more of Dave's cheery friends started arriving, some with equally cheery girlfriends, some with full expedition camping gear, some with nothing but a coat and some beer - but all with one purpose to celebrate a mate's birthday. It was an impressive sight to have 15 people sitting round several pub garden benches, having descended on this tiny Suffolk village from all over the country at the whim of a friend. It made me feel rather proud to be a part of it, but also a little reflective that perhaps if I had been a little more positive and enthusiastic in my life, maybe I could have reaped the same benefits*.

*Perhaps went a bit moral and patronising there, but the thought was genuine

Gone all Camp on me (Friday)

The idea that we create our own reality is a view that has been brought into sharper focus for me over the past few years. The idea that one man's heaven is another man's hell is a popular interpretation of this and is usually crystallised in the pursuit of camping - life in the great outdoors.

This weekend my girlfriend and I are camping in Suffolk with her mate and his friends to celebrate their respective birthdays on the 7th and 6th of May. Now the first case in point is that my girlfriend was unable to convince any of her friends to join her in celebrating her 31st and yet Dave is expecting to usher in his 31st with at least 15 of his dearest pals. At first I dismissed this as mere disorganisation on the lady's part and the fact that most of her friends live miles away or have babies and/or taxing careers, while Dave probably does a similar camping trip every year with the same hardy bunch of outdooring chums.

We were the first to arrive, just before sunset, at a rather uninspiring strip of beach, containing several beach huts and a patch of thistly grass and set up camp. After settling in we headed to the pub to meet the others. Dave then appeared with his friend John and a wave of enthusiasm immediately washed over you. The guy oozed positivity, and almost instantaneously the whole place began to change from this rather bland Suffolk village to a bubbling, seaside resort with a great pub serving an excellent selection of ales.

We all sat and chatted til 1 and I learned that although some of his friends were coming from Norwich, others were coming from London, York and one was flying back from the States and driving up straight from the airport - madness. But you could see why as we returned to the beach to sit with a few beers, the whole place was transformed from a scrubby bit of gravelly beach, to a little oasis where you could tell amusing tales in the moonlight, while enjoying the soothing sounds of the sea. This guy could not only create his own great reality, his positivity was so intense he could change yours as well - surely one the true magicians.

Nudge, nudge, wink, wink

Being a distinctly unopinionated person has always made me feel like a very uninteresting human being, but strangely enough, this has never been my direct experience. I have always found that I have somehow managed to end up being in the "coolest" and most interesting gang at school and university. Never as a one of the top guys or leaders mind you, but always very close to the action, usually as a confidant to the central proponents, which I have also found rather odd, as I am also not the most discreet person I know.

I am unsure why this happens, but I liken it to being a human version of Coldplay or perhaps Travis - whenever you ask someone their opinion on these bands, the overwhelming response will be, "they're alright, 'spose." Hence they get to the top of radio play lists, because most other bands are either loved or loathed, so their score on the radio survey will fluctuate dramatically, rather than the good solid average performance which reassures the jittery radio controllers and results in the pap being churned out 24/7.* I guess I'm not seen as a threat, but not geeky or controversial enough to expel from the clique.

This situation has occurred yet again. My new manager, who was keen to have me on his team at the start of this year despite never doing any actual work for him, suddenly asked to "have a word" in a back room. Fearing that he'd finally seen through my charade and was gonna demand that I shape up or ship out, I was mentally preparing my excuses, only to realise that he was swearing me to the utmost secrecy** and that he was planning a break away research group he wanted me and a select few to join - a clearly preposterous idea that a small group of scientists could set up on their own and match the might and investment power of an international company. Of course, I accepted immediately. I now know why groups like the Free Masons exist - it's a great feeling to be invited into something, no matter how ridiculous it may appear to be.

The inner ring beckoned - we could now make knowing nods to one another in group meetings and organise clandestine rendez-vous - my Yesman credentials had served me well, yet again.

* Credit to Nick for that radio insight
** My discretion again in question as I have now blabbed it on this site - hey ho.

Zen again...

I picked up one of those "impulse purchase" books you find at shop check-outs today - it was on the subject of Zen. Now, while I enjoy the idea of enjoying life in the moment or "grooving with the eternal now" as Alan Watts used to say, I always have this maddening feeling that its all just an excuse for laziness. That, to accept a state of Zen, you have to just throw up your arms and accept your lot - no point in trying to better yourself or make plans for a brighter tomorrow - everything you need is right here, right now.

But what about all the poor sods living in sheltered accommodation, terrified to return home in case someone's kicked their front door in? Are they meant to sit in the ruins of their front room contemplating the moment? I guess what they are getting at is that if everybody stopped to enjoy the eternal now, everybody would have a great time. Strikes me as a lot like communism - a great idea on paper, but there are just too many greedy people around for it to ever work.
I guess the line that struck a chord with me most while leafing through the pages at the check out was "All the happiness in the world derives from trying to make others happy, yet all the misery in the world stems from trying to make yourself happy."

The Curse of the Yesman

Being average is a terrible thing to be these days, everybody's a bit wacky or kooky with some obsessive passion lurking beneath the cold grey exterior. But for the average man feeling completely average at everything is an appalling state of affairs. No-one is ever impressed with what you can do - someone else can always do it better.

In some ways you'd think it would be good to be average - its very definition means you take something from everything - you can appreciate one person's love for jazz with another's passion for comic books, dip into someone's obsession with fast cars and balance it with another's dedication to the art of calligraphy. Making you a more rounded, complete individual, right? - wrong! It just makes you boring. Because you take on all these conflicting viewpoints and ideas, it becomes impossible to develop a passion for any one thing. You're not suddenly gonna wake up one day and announce your overbearing love for the Aston Martin DB9 when you know they're a symbol of decadent capitalist society whose obsession for wealth and power is f*cking the planet and enslaving unsuspecting millions. Stuff like that really takes the wind out your sails.

So this blog is intended to be an exploration of these conflicting desires, passions and ideas that really do turn the average man into the yesman - always agreeing with whoever happens to be speaking.