Tired again. Too tired to do the things that I should be doing but too drained to sleep.
I had a day off today and I am already feeling guilty about it, even though it was thoroughly pleasant and I am fairly confident it's deserved however as midnight passes me by my brain is starting to do that irritating thing of keeping me awake worrying about all the things I actually chose not to deal with...
"Ladies and gentlemen, a tap dance..."
Richard Gere is tap dancing for all he's worth (several million) on my TV right now, I like a good musical when I can't sleep, it allows me to escape and wonder about what could have happened if I had decided to just take direction rather than issue it.
What was I talking about?
Feeling guilty about taking time off...being too tired too sleep...yes, so I have a frightening amount of work to get through in this next week, probably more than a weeks worth and I am awake, engaging my brain enough to write this, but not enough to tackle some of the minor tasks, some of the little tasks on top of a rather dense pile that would make my week pass more smoothly.
For some reason though writing this will give me a feeling of some sort of acheivement, enough to stave off the guilt until tomorrow morning, even though it doesn't serve any real purpose. When the sun comes in through the skylight window above my bed and my coffee is on the boil everything will, I know, be so much more surmountable in the stark, dry Monday morning light of day and all of this worry will dissapate into the ether, into nothing and seem silly.
But it's not silly right now...I'm worried...worried that a relaxing day off is now seemingly in vain because I am ruining it with fucking worry!!! Fucksake...
Worried that I am overthinking all of this...
Worried that I haven't blogged enough...now that's silly.
Worried that I'm not doing the right thing.
Worried about money
Worried about my health
Worried about my relationships
Worried about work
Worried about blogging about worry
Less worried about tomorrow
Monday, 29 June 2009
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Fringe Frolics
It's worth pointing out that cabaret abounds in this years Fringe programme which is beneficial for those who want to test the water a little bit before they cannonball into what this years programme has to offer.
When faced with an overwhelming amount of shows each with only 200 words of copy to help you decide what to spend your Fringe pound on it can be a daunting and subsequently soul-destroying experience if you get more misses than hits.
Which is why The Bongo Club Cabaret could be the theatrical equivalent of a Sat Nav to assist you in mapping out where to go and what to see.
This late night showcase is back for what I understand to be its 5th year of obscene fun and frolics and the programming reigns are now in the hands of Glasgow based Theatre Company, Rhymes with Purple Productions (www.rhymeswithpurple.net).
The idea behind the Bongo Club Cabaret is to present the best of what the Fringe programme has to offer - from circus and comedy to live music and theatre of all kinds.
Each night the line-up is different and is mainly comprised of Fringe acts performing a snippet of their offering. Therefore if you like what you see and want more you can add them to your wish list with at least some amount of certainty that it will be ticket money well spent.
Either that or you will go see the show and realise just now much the Bongo Club being open until 5am and the drink being cheap clouded your usually very astute artistic judgement!
In addition to that my Fringe picks would also be Gagarin's Way at The Stand - I have yet to be disappointed by any of Phil Nicols forrays into theatre.
For comedy Simon Amstell (also at The Bongo Club incidentally!) or Dylan Moran.
And for ground-breaking new theatre and the thought that anything might happen then definitely check out The Arches at St Stephens, personally I am very exicted about the prospect of Scratch at the Fringe!
When faced with an overwhelming amount of shows each with only 200 words of copy to help you decide what to spend your Fringe pound on it can be a daunting and subsequently soul-destroying experience if you get more misses than hits.
Which is why The Bongo Club Cabaret could be the theatrical equivalent of a Sat Nav to assist you in mapping out where to go and what to see.
This late night showcase is back for what I understand to be its 5th year of obscene fun and frolics and the programming reigns are now in the hands of Glasgow based Theatre Company, Rhymes with Purple Productions (www.rhymeswithpurple.net).
The idea behind the Bongo Club Cabaret is to present the best of what the Fringe programme has to offer - from circus and comedy to live music and theatre of all kinds.
Each night the line-up is different and is mainly comprised of Fringe acts performing a snippet of their offering. Therefore if you like what you see and want more you can add them to your wish list with at least some amount of certainty that it will be ticket money well spent.
Either that or you will go see the show and realise just now much the Bongo Club being open until 5am and the drink being cheap clouded your usually very astute artistic judgement!
In addition to that my Fringe picks would also be Gagarin's Way at The Stand - I have yet to be disappointed by any of Phil Nicols forrays into theatre.
For comedy Simon Amstell (also at The Bongo Club incidentally!) or Dylan Moran.
And for ground-breaking new theatre and the thought that anything might happen then definitely check out The Arches at St Stephens, personally I am very exicted about the prospect of Scratch at the Fringe!
Thursday, 11 June 2009
The Art Of Cabaret...or is it the Cabaret of Art?
So off the Subway Festival and straight into pre-production for the Glasgow Cabaret Festival.
I would like to just get this out of the way first...
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHH!
This is the result of a number of factors; 1. Excitement 2. Fear 3. More Fear.
I'm excited because I think we've pulled together a pretty amazing programme and do genuinely believe this a very workable concept, I know everyone who works on a festival in an major capacity says this but in this instance it really applies without cliche, we have something for everyone. The programme is massively diverse.
In addition to this we have some pretty cool stuff that Glasgow hasn't seen before - I'm just going to give you some little highlights just now. It won't do the full programme justice so I strongly recommend you visit the website to persuse the lot and see what tickles you nethers!
Performing at And The Devil May Drag You Under at the Tron on Friday 10 July
I'm so excited about these guys, we are very lucky to have them. Coming to Scotland for the first time all the way from Tokyo via Paris to perform at our Festival - a fabulous amalgamation of visual Japanese toy-pop!
At "And The Devil May Drag You Under" they will be joined by Frayed Knot Circus' Amelie Soleil and Ed Muir, The Creative Martyrs, Vendetta Vain, Miss Leggy Pee and Frisky & Mannish all held together but the perfect Master of Ceremonies, Mr Desmond O Connor!
The Missy & Leyla Show on Saturday 11 July at the ABC
I think the flyer says it all...you know what, visit the website, it's awesome! I will blog throughout the festival and keep you up to date, also you can follow Festival updates on Twitter! Get yer Tweet on!
Subterranean Shenanigans
For someone who spends most of their waking hours at the moment in front of a computer it's appalling how little time I have spent on updating this blog. I would apologise but frankly I have been unapologetically busy! Nevermind, I'm reporting back now and that's what matters.
My painfully purple world turned painfully orange for the month of May as I spent most of it underground, literally and figuratively, working on the Subway Festival - www.subwayfestival.com.
This was quite a project because it was hellish and amazing in equal measure. Hellish from a logistical and production point of view - programming performance of all kinds, from live bands to acrobats, into the confined space of a moving subway train that is operating on a normal service is sort of like trying to catch a bee with a puppy. You need a steady hand and a lot of patience but when you succeed you get a sense of triumph and satisfaction from accomplishing something utterly bizarre and completely pointless! The best kind of arty triumph!
And amazing because it worked, it doesn't seem like it should but it did; can-can dancers and Shakespearean performance can be appreciated that little bit further when placed completely out of context.
Despite the production problems, health & safety tangles, drunken Rangers fans and the fact that an entire festival was taking place in an underground network the whole thing was a brilliant successs. Our 30 strong crew and 300 odd performers had a ball even in the face of major event duress. Well done that team, lesser mortals would have thrown up their hands and proclaimed "Done!" in the face of certain conditions.
We also managed to achieve 4-5 star reviews and sold-out shows for the theatrical programme - ProudExposure's "Sub Opera" and Martin O Connor's "Inner Circle" both garnered excellent press in both The Scotsman and The Herald. Quite an achievement for a festival in its infancy that is still trying to convince the industry of its artistic value - nice one!
The Scotsman on "Inner Circle" & "Sub Opera"
http://living.scotsman.com/performing-arts/Theate-review-Inner-Circle.5300486.jp
The Herald on "Inner Circle"
http://www.theherald.co.uk/features/features/display.var.2510130.0.inner_circle_subway_festival_glasgow_underground_glasgow.php
And my own Theatre Company was well represented by our dear Ben Allison, performing a monologue especially written for the Festival. Armed with his can of Special Brew and a message on his lips he recited "A Midsummer Nights Train Home" to the unsuspecting commuters, quite hilarious to watch it slowly dawn on them that was in fact not a real drunken bum.
It filled me with elation and joy to hear people laugh and watch them enjoy Ben's performance and when they gave him a standing ovation at the end, on a train, not anticipating they would be performed to...well, that reminded me why I was working non-stop on this festival clad in a frightful bright orange hoodie...little reminders for big pleasures.
Here it is for you to enjoy
A Midsummer Nights Train Home
Friends, Glaswegians, Subway travellers, lend me your beers!
Taxi or not taxi, that was the question;
Whether was nobler in the mind to suffer
The puke and abuse of late night taxi queues,
Or to take the subway and unfortunately
Leave the pub early. On the train, you can sleep
And by a sleep you can stay the hangover
To come and the pounding head of morning.
But soft, no light through yonder window breaks?
It is the inner circle. And it’s dark down here.
Arise, fair lady, and give me your seat,
For I am already sick and pale with beer
And may fall over upon you.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and just as hot:
Rough trains do shake the darling buds of... sorry
And so i ask if there’s any chance of a date:
Is this a lager which I see before me,
The can turned toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I should have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, tasty beveridge, illegal
By public drinking laws? or art thou but
A lager of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I taste thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I burp.
I am a drunk. Hath not a drunk eyes? Hath not a drunk hands,
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same
kebabs, hurt with the same chibs, subject to the same subway fare,
carried by the same train, warm'd and cool'd by the same wee window, as a sober man is?
If you kick us, do we not say “haw! Watchit pal!”?
If you tickle us, do we not say “gerraf me ya buftie”?
If you poison us, we do not die... cause we’re already pickled!
Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!— who would have thought a wee kebab
Would have had so much sauce in him?
All the world's a train,
And all the men and women merely travellers;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And each one must mind the gap,
My painfully purple world turned painfully orange for the month of May as I spent most of it underground, literally and figuratively, working on the Subway Festival - www.subwayfestival.com.
This was quite a project because it was hellish and amazing in equal measure. Hellish from a logistical and production point of view - programming performance of all kinds, from live bands to acrobats, into the confined space of a moving subway train that is operating on a normal service is sort of like trying to catch a bee with a puppy. You need a steady hand and a lot of patience but when you succeed you get a sense of triumph and satisfaction from accomplishing something utterly bizarre and completely pointless! The best kind of arty triumph!
And amazing because it worked, it doesn't seem like it should but it did; can-can dancers and Shakespearean performance can be appreciated that little bit further when placed completely out of context.
Despite the production problems, health & safety tangles, drunken Rangers fans and the fact that an entire festival was taking place in an underground network the whole thing was a brilliant successs. Our 30 strong crew and 300 odd performers had a ball even in the face of major event duress. Well done that team, lesser mortals would have thrown up their hands and proclaimed "Done!" in the face of certain conditions.
We also managed to achieve 4-5 star reviews and sold-out shows for the theatrical programme - ProudExposure's "Sub Opera" and Martin O Connor's "Inner Circle" both garnered excellent press in both The Scotsman and The Herald. Quite an achievement for a festival in its infancy that is still trying to convince the industry of its artistic value - nice one!
The Scotsman on "Inner Circle" & "Sub Opera"
http://living.scotsman.com/performing-arts/Theate-review-Inner-Circle.5300486.jp
The Herald on "Inner Circle"
http://www.theherald.co.uk/features/features/display.var.2510130.0.inner_circle_subway_festival_glasgow_underground_glasgow.php
And my own Theatre Company was well represented by our dear Ben Allison, performing a monologue especially written for the Festival. Armed with his can of Special Brew and a message on his lips he recited "A Midsummer Nights Train Home" to the unsuspecting commuters, quite hilarious to watch it slowly dawn on them that was in fact not a real drunken bum.
It filled me with elation and joy to hear people laugh and watch them enjoy Ben's performance and when they gave him a standing ovation at the end, on a train, not anticipating they would be performed to...well, that reminded me why I was working non-stop on this festival clad in a frightful bright orange hoodie...little reminders for big pleasures.
Here it is for you to enjoy
A Midsummer Nights Train Home
Friends, Glaswegians, Subway travellers, lend me your beers!
Taxi or not taxi, that was the question;
Whether was nobler in the mind to suffer
The puke and abuse of late night taxi queues,
Or to take the subway and unfortunately
Leave the pub early. On the train, you can sleep
And by a sleep you can stay the hangover
To come and the pounding head of morning.
But soft, no light through yonder window breaks?
It is the inner circle. And it’s dark down here.
Arise, fair lady, and give me your seat,
For I am already sick and pale with beer
And may fall over upon you.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and just as hot:
Rough trains do shake the darling buds of... sorry
And so i ask if there’s any chance of a date:
Is this a lager which I see before me,
The can turned toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I should have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, tasty beveridge, illegal
By public drinking laws? or art thou but
A lager of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I taste thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I burp.
I am a drunk. Hath not a drunk eyes? Hath not a drunk hands,
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same
kebabs, hurt with the same chibs, subject to the same subway fare,
carried by the same train, warm'd and cool'd by the same wee window, as a sober man is?
If you kick us, do we not say “haw! Watchit pal!”?
If you tickle us, do we not say “gerraf me ya buftie”?
If you poison us, we do not die... cause we’re already pickled!
Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!— who would have thought a wee kebab
Would have had so much sauce in him?
All the world's a train,
And all the men and women merely travellers;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And each one must mind the gap,
Monday, 9 March 2009
Heart vs. Mind
It's strange how seemingly logical and rational individuals can be made completely loopy by certain situations. Normally said individual can be unfazed and maintain a cool head at frantic times when others are losing theirs but put them into a situation that affects them emotionally and all logic goes out the window.
I'm often fascinated by how the brain functions; it's the centre for how everything in our body works and manages certain survival functions as a matter of course - we eat, sleep and breath in and out without thinking about it but it's interesting how these automatic functions can suddenly feel impossible when it comes to matters of emotion - how does that work?
The loss of a loved one or unrequited love can render someone unable to eat, unable to sleep and sometimes you stop breathing altogether at pivotal moments.
Why do we do certain things without thinking or say exactly the wrong thing at a delicate moment? We can deliberate forever over certain decisions; what kind of car to buy, what to eat for dinner, where to buy your first house and these decisions range from trivial to very important so we take our time over them, think about the path of cause and effect before moving forward. However, when it comes to our relationships with other people we jump head first, blind, without thinking.
Even the most intelligent person, the kind that can organise, file and sort through most of their mental processess with an intricate understanding of how it all works can be made completely batshit through they way they are made to feel by other people.
I'm particularly intrigued by how this works in relation to love and what happens to the brain on that rare occasion that you meet someone who sparks a trigger somwhere in the depths of your mind - please note that I went out of my way not to say the word "soul" here, I don't like the word "soul". All sensations are connected to the mind; butterflies in the stomach, blushing accompanied by the desperation to impress, the ache born from seperation and of course that nasty, deeply embedded wrench in the centre of your chest that comes with rejection. All of these things are controlled by the brain but are impossible to overcome despite the fact that you know it's nuts, it's not rational and you eagerly try to reason with your own mind in a vain attempt to keep yourself sane.
For example; a sane person will do insane things when they feel very strongly about another individual, knowing FULL well what they might be doing is not the act of a rational, normal person. And yet...they do it...why? Why can't, with a decent sense of self-awareness, we successfully reason with our own brains?
Repitition is a key element to this sort of insanity; making the same wrong decision over and over again even though you KNOW the outcome will be the same. Painful, fruitless and stupid.
It's the worst kind of science - there's no control experiment, you keep trying different methods over and over despite the fact that you know, deep down in that big rational brain of yours, that the results are always the same.
I'm not sure if any of that made sense - I think I'm going to stop putting off Monday by watching Big Trouble in Little China (even though it's awesome!) and head to bed.
I'm often fascinated by how the brain functions; it's the centre for how everything in our body works and manages certain survival functions as a matter of course - we eat, sleep and breath in and out without thinking about it but it's interesting how these automatic functions can suddenly feel impossible when it comes to matters of emotion - how does that work?
The loss of a loved one or unrequited love can render someone unable to eat, unable to sleep and sometimes you stop breathing altogether at pivotal moments.
Why do we do certain things without thinking or say exactly the wrong thing at a delicate moment? We can deliberate forever over certain decisions; what kind of car to buy, what to eat for dinner, where to buy your first house and these decisions range from trivial to very important so we take our time over them, think about the path of cause and effect before moving forward. However, when it comes to our relationships with other people we jump head first, blind, without thinking.
Even the most intelligent person, the kind that can organise, file and sort through most of their mental processess with an intricate understanding of how it all works can be made completely batshit through they way they are made to feel by other people.
I'm particularly intrigued by how this works in relation to love and what happens to the brain on that rare occasion that you meet someone who sparks a trigger somwhere in the depths of your mind - please note that I went out of my way not to say the word "soul" here, I don't like the word "soul". All sensations are connected to the mind; butterflies in the stomach, blushing accompanied by the desperation to impress, the ache born from seperation and of course that nasty, deeply embedded wrench in the centre of your chest that comes with rejection. All of these things are controlled by the brain but are impossible to overcome despite the fact that you know it's nuts, it's not rational and you eagerly try to reason with your own mind in a vain attempt to keep yourself sane.
For example; a sane person will do insane things when they feel very strongly about another individual, knowing FULL well what they might be doing is not the act of a rational, normal person. And yet...they do it...why? Why can't, with a decent sense of self-awareness, we successfully reason with our own brains?
Repitition is a key element to this sort of insanity; making the same wrong decision over and over again even though you KNOW the outcome will be the same. Painful, fruitless and stupid.
It's the worst kind of science - there's no control experiment, you keep trying different methods over and over despite the fact that you know, deep down in that big rational brain of yours, that the results are always the same.
I'm not sure if any of that made sense - I think I'm going to stop putting off Monday by watching Big Trouble in Little China (even though it's awesome!) and head to bed.
Thursday, 4 December 2008
Practise Pad
I think I might start utilising this blog to play around with some little vignettes I have floating around my noggin at any given time. It will hopefully be an effective method for practise.
So...spose I'll give it a bash...
DIALOGUE GAMES
Bloody opinionated...she knows that's what she's being. How can someone have that many opinions about one thing. She's getting really animated now, it's engaging and irritating to watch at the same time.
What?
That was meant for me, was I staring too hard?
Are you alright?
Say no, say that you're not really, you've got things on your mind and you'd like to tell her that...Yeah, course, why wouldn't I be?
Were you listening to what I was saying?
Yes and not really, don't say that though. Don't tell her you are always listening but you don't always take it in because you can't help but think of things she's said before...Nah, not really, you bore me.
Fucksake...I'm a dick, but she finds that funny, she thinks I'm funny.
Ha ha - that's fine, you're too stupid anyway.
She doesn't mean that...I don't think she means it anyway, besides, she's probably right.
Can I have a cigarette?
I like the way she smokes a cigarette, she's one of those few people who really, really enjoys it without being heavily addicted. Secretly she likes smoking because of the way it looks, some form of vintage nostalgia thing. That strikes me as silly...but in a nice way
Don't look at me like that
Oh, wait, how was I looking? Did my thought process translate as disapproval... smoking is bad for you.
So's your face
I think she's funny too. Better give her a cigarette
You smoke...
Yeah, but I don't care what happens to me
Oh but you care about what happens to me?
She smirks at me as though she's caught me out in some elaborate lie
Here, smoke...have two, smoke yourself silly!
She's looking at me with a furrowed brow, I think she sensed the very subtle snap in my tone that surprised even me...I feel bad now.
So...spose I'll give it a bash...
DIALOGUE GAMES
Bloody opinionated...she knows that's what she's being. How can someone have that many opinions about one thing. She's getting really animated now, it's engaging and irritating to watch at the same time.
What?
That was meant for me, was I staring too hard?
Are you alright?
Say no, say that you're not really, you've got things on your mind and you'd like to tell her that...Yeah, course, why wouldn't I be?
Were you listening to what I was saying?
Yes and not really, don't say that though. Don't tell her you are always listening but you don't always take it in because you can't help but think of things she's said before...Nah, not really, you bore me.
Fucksake...I'm a dick, but she finds that funny, she thinks I'm funny.
Ha ha - that's fine, you're too stupid anyway.
She doesn't mean that...I don't think she means it anyway, besides, she's probably right.
Can I have a cigarette?
I like the way she smokes a cigarette, she's one of those few people who really, really enjoys it without being heavily addicted. Secretly she likes smoking because of the way it looks, some form of vintage nostalgia thing. That strikes me as silly...but in a nice way
Don't look at me like that
Oh, wait, how was I looking? Did my thought process translate as disapproval... smoking is bad for you.
So's your face
I think she's funny too. Better give her a cigarette
You smoke...
Yeah, but I don't care what happens to me
Oh but you care about what happens to me?
She smirks at me as though she's caught me out in some elaborate lie
Here, smoke...have two, smoke yourself silly!
She's looking at me with a furrowed brow, I think she sensed the very subtle snap in my tone that surprised even me...I feel bad now.
Are you sure you're alright?
Yeah, really, I would tell you if I wasn't
She doesn't smirk this time, she hasn't caught me, my lie stays airtight. She's looking at me, biting her bottom lip, this makes me feel weird...
You know something...
She leans in, eyes wide and expectant...what?
Has anyone ever told you...
She plays with the cigarette I gave her, almost nervously
...that you're funny looking.
She laughs, relaxing slightly but not completely.
Let's go smoke
I follow her outside, kicking myself every step of the way
DONE - Don't know what that is but it was fun to play around with dialogue - internal vs external.
Monday, 1 December 2008
Monday, Bloody Monday
This is going to sound cliche but up until fairly recently I didn't really appreciate the full meaning of this particular cliche but weekends are far too short!
As I've mentioned before I've recently started a new stage in my career that involves working Monday to Friday, 9 til 5pm and I think I'm really struggling. Before now I have always worked a shift pattern; working in the arts normally means that shift work is inevitable and because I never knew any different I assumed that working 9 until 5 was probably better, everyone leads you to believe that. But now that I'm actually doing it...well, I don't know, it's a bit too routine.
I used to quite enjoy having a couple of random days off in the middle of the week; maybe a Tuesday and Wednesday or Thursday and Friday - it was good to mix it up. That and there was the added bonus of it being relatively quiet to drink in town midweek, much fewer fuckwits cutting into my drinking time with their obnoxiousness!
Monday flies through to Friday fairly quickly but oh boy is the weekend over even faster - they should really make weekends three days, two is not enough.
The routine of the week makes it feel like time is literally slipping through my fingers and more alarmingly slipping away from me completely before I even had a moment to assess what I might have done with it given half a chance...or even a quarter of a chance...there's a lot you can do with a cheeky wee half!
Even this blog, I started writing this on Monday (hence the title) and it's been published on Tuesday...where the fuck did Tuesday spring from?
When you really sit down and think about how much time you spend doing things you don't really like, well, you'll give yourself a fright followed by gin soaked wallowing. So best not to dwell on it really...I think I speak for most of my peers when I say work = boo!
So effectively what I want to be able to do is manage my time to it's full potential; this should include working in some format to pay the bills and keeping me in the style to which I am accustomed, acheiving all my goals and seeing the places I want to see, an hour for lunch, making sure I spend enough time having good chat with my friends and family, quick shower and fitting in some leisure time before bed.
This could be linked to my aforementioned issue with sleep...there are 24 useable hours in every day you know.
I think I'll go spend 4-6 hours putting all this into a colour coded spread sheet...
As I've mentioned before I've recently started a new stage in my career that involves working Monday to Friday, 9 til 5pm and I think I'm really struggling. Before now I have always worked a shift pattern; working in the arts normally means that shift work is inevitable and because I never knew any different I assumed that working 9 until 5 was probably better, everyone leads you to believe that. But now that I'm actually doing it...well, I don't know, it's a bit too routine.
I used to quite enjoy having a couple of random days off in the middle of the week; maybe a Tuesday and Wednesday or Thursday and Friday - it was good to mix it up. That and there was the added bonus of it being relatively quiet to drink in town midweek, much fewer fuckwits cutting into my drinking time with their obnoxiousness!
Monday flies through to Friday fairly quickly but oh boy is the weekend over even faster - they should really make weekends three days, two is not enough.
The routine of the week makes it feel like time is literally slipping through my fingers and more alarmingly slipping away from me completely before I even had a moment to assess what I might have done with it given half a chance...or even a quarter of a chance...there's a lot you can do with a cheeky wee half!
Even this blog, I started writing this on Monday (hence the title) and it's been published on Tuesday...where the fuck did Tuesday spring from?
When you really sit down and think about how much time you spend doing things you don't really like, well, you'll give yourself a fright followed by gin soaked wallowing. So best not to dwell on it really...I think I speak for most of my peers when I say work = boo!
So effectively what I want to be able to do is manage my time to it's full potential; this should include working in some format to pay the bills and keeping me in the style to which I am accustomed, acheiving all my goals and seeing the places I want to see, an hour for lunch, making sure I spend enough time having good chat with my friends and family, quick shower and fitting in some leisure time before bed.
This could be linked to my aforementioned issue with sleep...there are 24 useable hours in every day you know.
I think I'll go spend 4-6 hours putting all this into a colour coded spread sheet...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)