“How old are you?”

I often wonder how people perceive me. When we are in the heat of the moment, just going by our daily, frankly mundane lives, it often makes me question later on how I appeared to any one else that was around. But there are certain occasions when you wonder just how much of an idiot they must think you are.

When I turned 18 earlier this year, it never quite dawned on my how old I was. A few weeks later, I was signing up for my college course to ensure I get EMA payments, when I was asked how old I was. I replied “I’m 17” with a confident smile, not remembering my birthday was a few weeks prior. This was quickly followed by a burst of realisation with, “Oh, no, no! 18, sorry.“

I can’t quite imagine what she thought of me at that point. Seeing it from her point of view, it would appear I cannot remember my own age – let alone birthdate; which was the next obvious question.

Very embarrassing indeed.

Little midgety things

I often joke around on here, but I think it’s time for a more serious topic…

*Queue dramatic music*

Parenting. Yes indeed, parenting. I was in Tesco the other day and saw a young, happy, loving couple with their adorable young children. It dawned on me there and then. I realised that may just well be me one day. Well, not literally me, I’m not actually mental. But that I may one day be that father like he was; picking them up, crouching down to their level and pointing at things over their shoulder, talking to them as he did, and just being a brilliant dad. It was a delightfully scary thought to contemplate. I kept asking myself, “If I were a father, would I be a good dad?”, “What would I do to bring up this child in the best way possible?”, and “How would I juggle my life around if I found myself having a child?”

Perhaps it’s irrational to contemplate such things at my blissfully young unripe age, but it really made me think about it. What I do know however, is that I would provide for my family as best as I can, and give as much love as was humanly possible. For that, I cannot wait. Very scary, but equally exciting. This was brought home only when I left Tesco and I saw an old school friend of mine with his girlfriend… and a pram. Now he was a few months younger than me, so he wouldn’t have even been eighteen yet; and still he had a kid.

Oof da.

Autism and Songwriting

Dear internet reader,

The blog bus is back! Stop number six. I hope you had a splendid weekend – mine was grand. Spent the time getting ridiculously drenched in rain, bought a new acoustic guitar, checked up on progress made at the new house, did card tricks and drank stupid amounts of caramel macchiatos. Yes, it was goodie.

A while ago I had a conversation about my supposed predisposition to find a hobby that is new to me, and how I tend to fixate about said matter until I become a “taskmaster” on the given topic. Card tricks, flourishes, guitar, piano, authoring, and graphic designing are just a few of the things I have a gathered deep life-long interests in. Each one I have spent countless hours, days, and years trying to become worthwhile at. This, I was told, is apparently akin to a mild form of autism. Great stuff.

Song writing has been my fresh talk of the town. I have had the privilege of seeing some wonderfully written work in recent months, and been introduced to new music that is seldom heard in England or the UK; if at all. Because of this, I feel that I’m cosmically required to become a songwriter, for I’ve had plenty of inspiration. Knowing friends in similar areas of interest also helps fuel motivation and encouragement.

As of late I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Jordan Reimer*, the fabulous American musician, singer-songwriter, poet, author, photographer, make-up artist, and performer. This has been a big boost in my ability as a songwriter, as I’ve been able to ask her questions and understand her thought processes. In the end, everybody writes differently – but it is always nice to see how good content is written, and that’s the distinction.

With that in mind and having tried hard the past few months to write songs, I’ve come to realise that it’s certainly not easy to fit together words to make poetic metaphors and share innermost deep feelings; but I still try. And try harder the next time after that. But I do slowly find myself starting to feel more like a “songwriter”, and not just the owner of a pen and paper. Practice makes better.

*Check out Jordan’s YouTube here, and be good boys and girls and subscribe. You shan’t be disappointed: click here.

Now, ladies and germs, I’ll wrap up this little “bloglet” by wishing you all a great day. And if you’re thinking you’re having a bad time, just be thankful you weren’t sat here:

Long Time, No Write

Blimey! Haven’t updated or visited this for three weeks. Or to put it another way: if this blog was my child, it would be six feet under by now. So here is my chance to begin its revival! And although I’m certain no one really follows what I write, I do like to think there is some poor soul out there just waiting for a blog post. This is for you.

So what have I been up to since I last posted all those many moons ago? Well, I started my Performing Musician Lv. 3 course a few weeks ago, and I have to say I am loving it. I’ve always enjoyed music, but to be able to play it and feel it pulsating through the very fibres of us mere mortals has been a world of wonders. I’ve also played on stage a few times now as part of makeshift bands, and it’s not nearly as frightening as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s actually very, very fun.

I’ve also made some lovely new friends along the way; one of whom is an avid “tweeter”. She is my favourite, because now I have a friend who tweets as much as me! Take that, all who say “Meeehhh, no-one uses Twitter!” (imagine that in a high, patronising tone that closely resembles one after helium leakage).

Now onto the down sides: as I write this, on Thursday 23rd September at 16:45, I feel as though I am developing a cold. The first tell-tale sign that I have caught one is when I get that awful dry, scratchy throat that just won’t ease. But plenty of liquids and cough syrup is providing me with some comfort. Most of my peers have had one, so I suppose it’s only fair that my turn has come. At least we’re all about sharing in the music industry. Next it will be STDs.

If there are any home remedies to fight symptoms of cold and flu, please let me know. I will be eternally grateful! Now, back to playing with my deck.

Confidence

Confidence is a strange thing. While it is important to have confidence to be able to say and do certain things, too much of it can turn you into the biggest tosser there is.

I was at a convention once, when I met a fellow practitioner who I had briefly spoken to online. After meeting him in person, I found he came across as very big-headed. Don’t get me wrong, he was (and is) a genuinely nice bloke, but while sessioning he started back-chatting many great card handlers who he once said he looked up to, telling me how much “they suck” because of X, Y, and Z.

In fact, there was no true justification as to why such remarks dribbled from his cake hole. After asking “What do you not like with what they do?”, the only reasoning for his blunt argument was that “they just suck” because he “has a better way of doing it”. I quickly lost respect.

I understand everyone has an opinion and that there is no definition for an objective right or wrong, but there are certain things that need not be said – like an unjustified ‘reason’ to say someone “sucks”. Unless you’re talking about Paris Hilton. In which case that is literally true.

So what is the moral of today’s story, children? In brief: There’s a thin line between being confident and being a dick; be sure you know where you stand.

You may be dismissed. Enjoy recess!

Man did not evolve from apes.

Today is an historic day. My banana-opening life has been changed for the better. Check out this video to change yours too. I even bought a bunch of bananas just to try it out. For this mere reason, I can sense myself being a life-long lover of bananas. Not in that way.

It’s funny how the tables have turned from the “monkey see, monkey do”.

Spootifie!

It felt worthy to say I am now a Premium member of Spotify!

I mentioned it to my friend, and he had no idea what Spotify was. If you have also been living under the internet rock for the past few years, allow me to introduce you to one another.

Reader, meet Spotify.

She is a rare little find that loves when you take advantage and use her. I’ll leave you two alone.

Not-So Home, Sweet Home

Jolly good to see you!

Welcome to my bloglette! Albeit I’m a little late to the mix but better than never, as they say.

As the weeks go by, I genuinely hope to make this appear more designed/customised and a little less like a depressing Scarborough district after an unsuccessful romp at 3AM, minus the stale odour of vomit and dried urine. So do take off your coat, wipe your shoes on the doormat, relax and get yourself comfy in the lazyboy of inconsistent ramblings I bring to you over the course of x-length of time this will be here.

If there is one thing to be said, at least now my blog virginity has been swept away from me in the most delightful of manners. It didn’t hurt like most people said it would.

Unfortunately I know far too little to make this blog look the least bit appetising, so I will undoubtedly need the help of friends along the way.

So thank you, friends.