When They Were Rubbish

So the other day whilst getting increasingly frustrated about Spanish grammar, and my inability to understand the rules competently - I’ve got problems with understanding when to apply the perfect subjunctive as opposed to the subjunctive. I thought about how this was never a problem for Jose Pablo, but then concluded that he’s Spanish so why would he ever have had a problem, well maybe when he was seven and couldn’t pronounce ‘¿estas bien?’ So increasingly feeling crap about myself I made a ginger tea and let my mind go a bit wild. By this I mean, I began thinking about well known people and the problems they might of faced.

First off, Pablo Picasso must have been rubbish at painting once. Maybe when he was about twelve and drew something at school and the teacher just snorted in disgust at what was later to be known as cubism. As a result he went home and smashed up all his brushes and cried. Only to realise a few days later that he wanted to continue painting and wanted to create something that would show everyone that he what he produces is extraordinary pieces of art.

Or maybe when Roald Dahl thought he’d finally nailed a short story he had been writing for homework, only for the teacher to castigate him for not knowing where to apply the past-participle. This left Roald spending hours upon hours trying to memorise what this grammatical rule is and where to apply it. Instead of it just clicking he was left feeling annoyed and frustrated. So much so that he perhaps thought that writing wasn’t for him and it was better to instead try and focus his brain on something else, like fly fishing.

Perhaps Lionel Messi thought he’d never be a footballer when he tried to take the ball around bigger and stronger defender only to find himself flattened by a challenge more frequently seen at an NFL game. For a while he probably thought he’d never be able to get past players who were physically taller and stronger than him, and so he considered quitting and turning his attentions to something else. That was until he worked on his skill base and soon realised that he had the ability to ghost past defenders as if they weren’t there and when roughly tackled, was able to grow in strength to sustain those types of challenges.

Hmm, I guess I have used this entry to make realise that pretty much everyone, even those that became brilliant, have had set backs (well in my mind, I think they did), so I’m going to give myself a rest from trying to memorise stuff which at the moment is just not registering, and come back later when I’m not so annoyed at myself. I guess, sometimes I want to understand and remember something quickly when, to be honest, it actually takes me a while to fully take it in.

In other news, I met up with an ol’ pal named Ricky Rickatson (aka Jack Thursby and occasional visitor to this blog)a few weeks ago. It was good to catch up and also to see he still maintains his active enthusiasm for imported American confectionary, ‘fancy a sour Skittle?’

Disclaimer: All examples above are just a figment of my imagination and did not occur, and if they did, well, that’s just coincidence. Honest!

Complet...

I really thought I had gotten rid of it. But just like the two chicken pox scars on my chest it is probably something that I will carry with me to the grave. It is nothing more than a trait, but it is an awfully annoying one. My inability to complete things I start.

It has been with me since I can remember. When I would think of something it would be with such enthusiasm that I would start with enjoyment and momentum. And then, just like that, the enthusiasm wavers and the enjoyment slowly trickles away and suddenly I’m grinding to a halt. I thought it was mostly because I was lazy and didn’t want to put in too much effort, the ideas were good but my focus was obviously ragged. This self made belief rested well with me for years, it was attaching something to the unknown that enabled me to shrug it off knowing full well that I am just too lazy to finish a difficult job. I think I formed it around about the same time I considered working part time in Blockbusters watching the latest films probably the best job in the world.

But just like the Pulp song “Something changed”. Obviously but completely unexpectedly I started to concentrate in improving my focus. This was fuelled by injustices of the world and closer to home which could not altered unless I took issues more seriously and thus develop the focus to finish mundane but necessary tasks, push through the barrier of uncertainty, when you sort of feel that you are not sure why you are doing this. In fact, I still do this quite a lot but even from doing it a few times I was beginning to finish things that I would have left without even thinking twice knowing full well that my initial belief of ‘it’s because I’m a slacker’ was justification and reason enough not to complete the task. This blog, is a good example. Although cajoled into starting one I soon realised that it was a virtual carte blanc for my ideas and inky fingers to get hold of. However, after a few months the gusto dwindled and ideas dried up faster than my contact lens do that I considered not bothering anymore. But with the morsel of improved focus I was able to push myself to type until the topics to write about retuned in abundance. It felt good writing but also good knowing that in a small way I had self improved. I no longer believed in this ‘well it’s because I’m a slacker’. Truth is I am not, or I am not one anymore and it felt good. I liked pushing myself a bit. But this did not settle my initial fear and loathing of not completing most things I started. In fact it reopened the wound in the same way you dig out an avocado pip, and it left me lost.

It dawned on me last week when I was thinking about the reasons why I shudder at completing things. It never was because I was lazy and ‘too cool to go to school’. That had been addressed, this was a stark realisation which kind of left me slightly cold but I’m pretty sure everyone gets that same feeling. The feeling of failure. Why bother finishing something if it ends up totally rubbish? You might as well cut your losses, call it a day. Consider it a learning experience and move onto something new. There is no point in completing something if you feel it will turn out to be a failure. My mind just wasn’t computing the concept of finishing something that would end as a disaster, so for years this was the true reason why I never finished things I started but managed to submerge it deep down in my subconscious.

I guess the reason for this entry and why I am writing out my thoughts to get to this point and then explain my point to myself (and you of course). I spent last Tuesday morning debating to start on the 3rd draft of my story. The 2nd draft took nearly 8 months to complete and there I found myself sitting in a café musing whether it was worth a 3rd draft. The story is basically done, it could stand alone but it is not finished. Supping on my coffee I realised that the 3rd draft would probably bring it to an end or at the very least bring me closer to being entirely happy with it. But what is stopping me is not the potential 8 months reading, rereading, writing, deleting and then reinserting again. I think I could cope with all that to a certain extent. It is the idea of spending all this time and energy writing something that in turn would end up being rubbish and a failure. It was strange moving my mindset to accept that I had finished my story just like that over a large Americano on a rainy grey Tuesday in February.

It took about thirty seconds before I reversed my decision. I had spent so much time, I mean since July 07 until now, piecing it all together, times where I was knackered but knew it was important to struggle on, times where I had been out drinking all night to come home and fire up the laptop because I thought of something new to add to the story. I would write in the rain, or in the blazing sun always adding to this crazy tapestry that was once a thought. I would write in various locations ranging from, the library, all sorts of cafes, on a toilet, the train, a beach, on grass, in bed, in the park, in the airport. Even at work I would occasionally get an idea and quickly cobble a paragraph together to refine later on that night. And then there are the people that took time out to read my 1st draft and give me feedback so I could write a better 2nd draft. And those that read the 2nd version who did the same to help me refine the next update, surely it is harsh on them and makes all their efforts redundant. And all the tunes I listened to whilst typing away, Sigur Ros, The Album Leaf, Air, Bjork, Babyshambles, Coldplay, Emiliana Torrini, Jamie T, Jose Gonzalez, Kanye West, The Killers, Kula Shaker, Lali Puna, M83, Madeliene Peryroux, Massive Attack, Oasis, Portishead, Psapp, Roni Size, Sebastien Tellier, The Thrills, Tricky, The Cardigans, Cat Power, The Eagles, Libertines, Metro Area… I could go on for ages, but I listened to all their music for help emotionally to write this thing, evoking memories or fuelling my imagination that kind of left me drained and it would be a waste, all of it, if I just considered it finished even though I know full well it is not.

I guess too much of me is involved in this thing now, even if I read it in ten years time and laughed embarrassingly to myself at what I wrote all those years ago. It doesn’t really matter does it? It is, at very least a reminder of just how I was and thought at that time and so it is important I finish it for myself. Correct the misuse of tense (and there are a lot of them), develop the characters and strengthen the main story line. And even if it is a failure and I read it afterwards with my head in my hands, it will have been completed and that in it self is some sort of achievement. Now, when I begin the 3rd draft is another matter.

The last stand of the early 90’s

I was lying on my bed aimlessly flicking through the television channels when something made me shake my head and lean my head forward (as if this was going to unveil more). There in front of me was an advert for Beverly Hills 902010. Surely, this was some kind of mistake I thought turning up the volume so I could hear the deep voiced man from E4 give his synopsis. And there it all became apparent, Beverly Hills 90210 had be remade for 2009. 90210, as it is now called will have its work cut out to achieve the success of its predecessor. I mean, for a start in the early nineties they were all donning white t-shirts with waist coats and ripped jeans (perhaps a symbolic gesture to the 80s). Would this new show revolve around twins and their honest family, only for the female twin to embroil herself with the local bad boy who looked 30 when he was supposed to look 18? The male twin who was the grounded down to earth one would spend his time pursuing his journalism career with the geek (but secretly well fit when she took of her glasses and dropped her hair) Andrea who was constantly searching for some travesty to uncover at the local high school. Surely this new version cannot compete, I thought. Or was I just being nostalgic and forgetting that sometimes when things are remade they are actually better. But then I remembered David Silver, the guy who was a year younger than the ‘cool lot’ and even though he tried always failed to get in with the gang. That was until he ‘allegedly’ spent one summer taking extra lessons for extra credit and found himself in their year a few seasons later. From then on he became accepted by the cool gang, neglected his best friend who subsequently shot himself, and epitomised ‘cool’ which was typified by his keyboard playing skills. Now, how about that for a story line! There is no doubt that 902109 for 2009 has its work cut out but this isn’t just the reason why I’m writing this now.

What I then began to realise was just how much things come full circle. When the original 90210 came out on TV Great Britain was in a receding economic environment and as we are in one now a revamped version of the American high school drama has made its way on to our screens. OK, it’s a tenuous link but then Gladiators was remade last year and I think that was launched way back in the early nineties. They even recruited an ex-footballer just like they did with John Fashanu way back in the day. Could it be that television reacts to the repetitive economic climates by regurgitating old shows from when we were all in a trough? I tired to think about the relationship about music and the recession and during that time Nirvana seemed to typify the current mood but I can’t think of anyone right now that is doing the same. But still music is a good way of discovering the general feeling. When the recession in the early nineties ended we entered a new era in full steam with indie band Oasis spearheading the ‘Britpop’ scene where it seemed everyone loved this type of music (well apart from America). It then moulded into ‘Cool Britannia’ and then the country was on a high for some apparent reason.

So this leaves me musing that in a couple of years time, say 2012, indie will make a come back and the forever young Jarvis Cocker will rise once again to take his throne as Britain comes out of the gloom. By 2014 everyone will be feeling great about living in ol’ blighty. Although I doubt it’ll be dubbed ‘Cool Britannia’ but am sure someone else will find a term to capture the moment. And a few years on from that when the economy begins to creak once more and the recession looms I’ll keep and eye out for 90210 Generation X Style but how I wish they would remake Rising Damp.

In other news, this snow is pretty intense. I tried to take the laid back approach but since the snow has turned into ice and I fell over I don’t like it anymore. Here are some pics before it all turned to slush.