Over the past couple of days, our Wifi has been very stubborn. We’ve had little or no internet connection – quite literally, because after occasional five-minute bursts of life, it would die again, leaving us with no choice but to go without it. The fact that I’m writing this post shows we’ve now got it back (apparently something needed to be “restored”, which sounds like a fancy way of saying “we just turned it off and on again”), but it got me thinking about just how often we do use the internet – even when we don’t really need it.

Don’t assume that I’m some sort of technophobe. Although it does cause some people trouble, I personally believe that the pros of the internet far outweigh the cons. If it didn’t exist, neither would this blog, or my Facebook, Twitter and QuizUp accounts, or any of the other huge sites we might be lost (or bored) without. All of the little projects I work on in my spare time might have been dead in the water, because I wouldn’t have been as well informed if I couldn’t have emailed friends for feedback or read a useful article. Even so, it can dominate to such an extent that we don’t even realise it, and therefore instinctively reach for our computers, smartphones or tablets (what an inspired purchase my Kindle was).

This afternoon, Toy Story was on TV. I’ve seen and loved it a million times, as have most people, but during this particular viewing I noticed something interesting that I hadn’t in a while. Just over halfway through the film, I realised how much more engaged I was this time. I saw little, insignificant things in certain scenes that had never ever occurred to me before, and I concluded that it must have been because I didn’t have the Kindle to distract me. I’m guessing that on the last few occasions my eyes were just drifting from one screen to another and that I wasn’t paying proper attention. I know I’m sometimes guilty of that when I watch other things, even those I really love, but it might just mean that I’m a product of my time, craving more and more gratification from the wonderful World Wide Web. Without a continuous internet connection, which I probably take for granted, I’ll admit that I felt a bit destitute, quite literally disconnected or cut adrift. It was like being Tom Hanks in Cast Away. OK, so maybe I’m exaggerating, but now I know that I should probably take one screen at a time – just every now and then!

Mason

My family and I all love Forrest Gump. It’s a heartwarming and inspiring tale of overcoming adversity, and recently it was the focus of conversation at the dinner table. More specifically, we were talking about his famous run across America, and eventually someone asked exactly how long he ran for. Dad insisted that it was six years, but the rest of us weren’t so sure. You can pretty much gather that we argue over some very trivial things in our house! To resolve the situation, we consulted the same thing we always do – Google. Whilst it is one of the most influential achievements of the past 20 years, I get the feeling it’s a bit too influential among us in particular.

Whenever we want to know something, Google is out quicker than you can say “Ask Jeeves”, and usually because of Mum and Dad. I should make clear that I’m not annoyed by the fact we use Google, just by what we use it for. It’s gotten to the point where we can’t be unsure of anything without an iPhone (other phones are available) intervening. It doesn’t matter how small the subject is, it’s always deemed to be Internet search-worthy. Usually, I’m all for acquiring useless pieces of general knowledge because you never know when they might come in handy, but sometimes we search for answers to things I JUST DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT MUCH. “Does Paul Robinson from Neighbours have an older sister?” I love the show, but I’m not bothered. Nothing can just pass by, and sometimes it feels like it’s being used as a tool to force conversation – or to make my parents look cool, because it gives them an opportunity to use the speech recognition on their phones (and this is usually a massive letdown).

Don’t let your family banter become cringeworthy this Christmas – only Google when it is a life or death situation. My conscience is clear, and yours can be too. Read this post, and save a life. 😉

Mason

My brother’s just come back from College, and as he enjoys winding me up so much, his first words were “what do you do all day?” These were undoubtedly supposed to rile me, but in a way he is onto something. After all, what is the answer to that question? As I’ve explained before, I’ve been getting rather bored at home recently, and that means that sometimes I’ll be desperately trying to find anything to fill the voids of time between each meal. If I think about it, my recent days have been going something like this.

Firstly, Mum will wake me up if my alarm doesn’t – unfortunately, even if I do turn him up, Chris Evans isn’t always loud enough to do the job. At the moment, seeing as I don’t start my new job until January, I could have a lie-in. There are a couple of reasons, however, why I decide against this. One is that, to have a successful and legitimate lie-in, you need to be awake to appreciate it. If you aren’t, you’re just sleeping, and that’s nothing special – we all do it every night! The blind needs to be pulled up, otherwise the bedclothes are too enticing and you can be flitting straight back off to the Land of Nod. I drag myself out of bed and look down upon the jewellery Mum’s bought herself for Christmas (I’ll have to re-give it to her on the big day – I can’t wait to see her reaction). At some point I’ll get round to wrapping it, but for now it’s slotted snugly down the side of my bed. When it comes to finding secret hiding places for presents in my room, there’s not that many to choose from!

After this, my priorities are as follows. Before I brush my teeth and tend to my face and hair, I’ll look into the advent calendar only to find he’s already chosen his chocolate (ours is a fill-your-own one), leaving me with what he thinks are the less desirable ones. Fortunately for me, I like the Bounty ones, and it greatly amused him and Mum when I told them that I emit a little squeal whenever I find one. With my chocolate consumed and everything groomed to my satisfaction, I get downstairs and straight onto making a cuppa, being the only member of our family to make sure the milk goes straight back into the fridge (I can still remember it tasting like cheese once when I was 8). Once that’s done, the morning goes by in a bit of a blur, as does the afternoon, and I find it hard to believe that such monotony only really hit home once my brother was chiding me about it. Do I really spend that much time on autopilot?

If I do, then now should be the perfect time to rectify that. Will comes back from university next week, and we need to make plans. I’ve told him that I’m free whenever he is – after all, I have the best part of a month to go before I start my job! Hopefully something will be organised soon. I know another friend of mine, Alex, has proposed a pub crawl, which would be huge fun and as he described it, “banterous”. In fact, it seems like that might not be the only event over the festive season to involve the pub. Deanna could take me along to a pub quiz any day now, and I’d relish the company as well as the challenge!

Mason

Every Christmas, my family and I all struggle to respond to people who ask us what we want. Sooner or later we do come up with our own answers, but for my brother it’s a lot clearer what he doesn’t want than what he does. The title pretty much explains what that is – to him, a pocket diary is the most dreaded gift of all.

He turned 16 in July, and for many this is a milestone birthday, surely deserving of whatever present he or she wants. Perhaps it’s a state-of-the-art gadget, or a fashion item that’s so in this season? When it comes to asking for presents, I tend to let my imagination run wild even if I know I have no chance of getting some things. Louis, however, was being altogether more modest on this occasion (and that’s unusual, believe me). Quite simply, all he really wanted for his birthday was socks for his own drawer. Totally reasonable, don’t you think? Unfortunately, present purchase panic can set in all too easily, and so even these did not materialise come his big day. As he sat up in bed, tearing at the wrapping paper, his eyes all prepared to light up…a pocket diary was revealed before him, from Mum with love.

In a response to this gift that was oh-so 21st Century, he said – according to Mum herself – “why do I need a pocket diary when I’ve got an iPhone?” Part of me thinks he had a point, but upon seeing the diary I was a little jealous of it, because it obviously meant that he had a better social life than me and therefore a need for one. Nevertheless, Louis was not impressed and he hasn’t let us forget it. It’s clear that in future “pocket” and “diary” will become bywords in our house for any future present failure, and most certainly for Louis. As outraged as he was to be denied socks on his birthday, however, I should add that we don’t really ridicule Mum that much for it. If we do, it’s all completely in jest, thanks to her brilliant sense of humour (even if the jokes are at her expense, she’s never offended). I think she knows, though, that the pressure is on for all of us to up our game with what we give to each other this Christmas – I just need to buy Louis another pocket diary first! I’m sure he’ll get the joke, right?

Mason

Tomorrow morning, Mum and Dad will go out to get our Christmas tree. This is a momentous occasion for us all, not least because we want to see if it’ll fit in the front room without having to be shortened, but mainly because it’s symbolic of the true start of the festive period. Sometimes it’s when the petty disagreements begin. Mum, for example, likes the tree to be decorated to within an inch of its life, with tinsel, lights and baubles adorning every inch of every branch. Her opinion seems to be that because it’s Christmas, why shouldn’t we make the most of it? Personally, I like there to be some breathing space for the tree – as much as I love decorating it, I think it’s best to carefully consider how you space them out.

Dad, on the other hand, cannot stand this approach. For him, the decoration of the tree is done with military precision and regulation. Don’t get me wrong, he loves Christmas, but woe betide you if you pile everything on, because he sees that as the epitome of “tacky”. I think he prefers to do it in a way that guarantees the smallest amount of humiliation. I’m not sure how my brother likes to decorate – he hasn’t disclosed that yet. Believe me, that’s surprising when you consider that over the rest of the year he’s pretty vocal about a lot of other things in our house (sorry, Louis)!

Regardless of what our individual approaches are, though, I’m sure we’d all agree that without a tree, something major would definitely be missing from our cosy nights in. Year after year this has been the tree linked with enduring images, even though Christmas has these in abundance. For me, one of the most significant images comes when – believe it or not – the big lights are off and the house is largely quiet. At times like those, Mum and Dad will just leave the fairy lights to twinkle away in the darkness. They never dim, but fade gently in and out, becoming the sole source of light for the room and causing the wrapping paper around the presents to glint underneath. The walls and furniture are awash with colour, and although it occurs in natural darkness, this whole spectacle truly is a sight to behold. If you’ve spent as many years as I have seeing this, it will be linked immediately with “magical”, a description afforded by everyone to Christmas. Beyond that, it’s also something that shapes Christmas for me specifically – and that’s yet another great thing about the whole season. Everybody goes about it in their own ways, and everybody has their own stories to tell because of this. I guess we could all fill a book with our experiences, and now December has actually begun, it’s the best time to add one in this post.

Mason

When my friend Deanna read this blog and saw that other people had been mentioned but she hadn’t, she quickly demanded I put that right. I initially promised that I’d only write nice things about her, but now I’ve decided that I’m not going to do that (in case you think I’m being mean, I’m not – my tongue is firmly in cheek). After all, she did rob me of what might be my only legacy…

Once upon a time, a few years ago, Deanna told that she and her family had acquired some piglets, and that she’d named one of them after me. I can’t remember how I reacted to this, but knowing me I probably laughed in her face. As time went by, however, I remember repeatedly asking after my porcine namesake, whilst wondering if I’d ever have the opportunity to meet or bond with him. Even at my young age, I couldn’t help but wonder whether any woman would love me enough to have kids with me, so I was eagerly keeping a close eye on the piglet. Sadly, however, the sharpened blade intervened, and Mason the piglet left this mortal coil, his body free to be covered in lashings of HP sauce as part of a Saturday morning bacon sandwich. When Deanna informed me of his untimely passing, any shock was displaced by the feeling that at least he died in the most delicious way possible.

I still think of Mason the piglet from time to time, and when I do I really wonder whether he will be the only indication of my existence on Earth. Not that anyone will know, because he’s long since been eaten – I ought to disown Deanna for this, because I have done for pretty much every slip-up she’s made since (again, just joking). Thankfully, this blog might last and be something I can leave behind, and there’s no way she can interfere with this, unlike everything else 😉

Mason

I’ve said before how I love the effect that Christmas has on us. The emotional benefits are like a drug, something I personally can’t get enough of. When I think about it, and when the festive season actually begins, I almost feel weightless, totally light. All of the worries I might have, whether they are big or small, literally drop away – and this never happens more effectively than it does in December.

With last year having been difficult in places it’s even more noticeable this year just what kind of benefits this wonder medicine brings. It embraces all of the senses in a way that only a select number of other occasions in life can. The eyes are dazzled by even the cheesiest of tinsel or light arrangements and by the illuminated faces of loved ones who are themselves completely unburdened in the moment. The pine needles of the Christmas tree – the selection of which is a bit of a lottery when it comes to the size you end up with – may fail to stay attached to their plant, but their scent clings unmistakably to all nostrils. To me, it’s a very endearing smell, and it means that I don’t mind the carpet being covered in the green spindly things. The tastes leave nothing to be desired, whether it’s turkey or Toblerone you’re eating, although some of the more questionable Christmas songs might when it comes to the ears.

Without the mouth, laughter could not be heard. Although it’s something most of us do daily, I think that what it represents – unity, friendship and love – and its gravity and power can be appreciated most of all at that time of the year. For me, the fact that one of the most addictive elements of everyday life is incorporated so warmly into this kind of celebration is amazing also. It’s never frowned upon at Christmas, there never seems to be an inappropriate moment. It continues to strengthen my excitement for the festivities, always leaving me hungry for more. Perhaps best of all, it doesn’t matter if you’re laughing in anticipation of Christmas or when it’s in full swing – I chose to write this post almost a week away from the start of December, because who wants to be writing it when there might be a party to enjoy?

Bring on Tuesday!

Mason

…the tough start their Christmas shopping. I’ve just found out that I won’t be starting my new job until January, and whilst I’m thrilled to finally know I do have that job, this means that in the meantime I have lots of chances to buy people presents. Now that I’m 18, and that I have full control over my finances, I don’t really have any excuses to buy anything rubbish this year!

Although people (probably including me) find Christmas shopping slightly stressful, I think it could be a welcome distraction for me. Firstly, it’ll take my mind off of the fact I have even less to do over the next month or so, and secondly I hopefully won’t notice that at about exactly this time last year I was at my lowest possible point. Remember what I said about making this November better than last year’s? This is one of the steps I’m taking – after all, occupying your mind with anything is better than doing nothing and letting yourself stew and worry. And you can be sure that present-hunting will do the trick, because it can take ages to even choose one!

So far I’ve only managed to buy one present, for my brother. I won’t tell you what it is in case he reads this, but what I will say is that for an item of its kind, it took too long to find (hey, that rhymes)! Eventually I settled upon what I’d get him and it’s on its way – having been my first solo online purchase, which made me feel very grown-up – but only after at least half an hour had passed. I think it might be the only time I’ll ever be thankful for my brother being so picky, and it probably shows that I really needn’t be too concerned about the gap of time before I start my new job. Of course, I’m probably speaking too soon, because I still have at least three more presents to think about, but it’ll kill some time. Who knew that retail therapy could almost be just that – therapeutic? And all for the joys of Christmas too?

Hurrah for picky siblings everywhere!

Mason

The terrible events that horrified the world in Paris on Friday got me thinking about how uncertain and cruel life and the people in it can really be. They got me thinking about the people and the things that are most important to us, and how we should always cherish them should the worst happen when we least expect it.

Love and respect brought the people of the world together in the aftermath of the tragedy in Paris. They are the two most important things ever to exist, and therefore we should express them as often as possible. Personally, I want nothing more than to tell the person I love exactly how I feel, even though they will never reciprocate. I wish we could all speak those three little words in front of anyone we like but can’t be with, whether they’re single or taken, not just to family and friends. I, for one, kick myself (not literally, that’d be difficult) that I never got that chance. I never will, as things stand. It’s just that I wish nothing could stand in the way of such an option.

When I had counselling until earlier this year, I was introduced to the idea of “five positive strokes”. They’re a bit like your five-a-day of fruit and veg, but with compliments, nice gestures and good deeds instead. Even if it’s something as small as a stranger smiling at you on the street, it’ll count as one of the five, and therefore five tiny things can bring a great deal of satisfaction. Imagine if you had them every day, continuously – you’d have them stored away to call upon whenever you might need them. That reiterates what I’ve said about small doses of positivity going a long way “if you just have faith in them”. At times like this, with the world reeling from terrible recent events, it really hits home just how important it is to love like there’s no tomorrow, and to follow your heart wherever it may take you – in case you come to regret it forever, without another chance.

#WeStandWithParis

Mason

When I left my college course at the beginning of October, I can’t deny that no longer having the demands of coursework on my shoulders was a very inviting prospect. It meant I could have a clear and contented head to think about my next step. Thankfully, that step is in place and I look forward to it, but in the meantime I’m finding that I have virtually nothing else to do. I’m told that this is normal for some jobhunters. I wonder if the boredom is as crushing for them as it has been for me!

I’ve wondered to myself recently how some people can live quite happily without ever working in their entire lives. I’ll openly admit that I can be lazy with the best of them, but even I’m struggling at the moment with nothing to keep me busy and it’s only been a month. What’s worse is that the longer I spend doing nothing, the more I lose the energy that encourages me to do anything at all. I love writing – I keep up this blog, and I work on poems and a screenplay – and playing keyboard, but if I lounge on the sofa for too long, I won’t be able to get off to go and do them. If there’s been anything negative on my mind, I’ll overthink it and that risks affecting my mood. That can’t be good for anyone. For me, it can give “downtime” a whole new meaning – hence the choice of title. I haven’t felt much like going outside because if I did, I wouldn’t know where to go, and I’d have nobody to go there with.

It’s because of these things that I’m really glad I have a job lined up. It’ll bring me back in contact with others, and it’ll give me responsibility I know I’m very capable of holding. It’ll enrich me and give me new skills, or better ones. So I look forward to hearing from them soon – I’ll be waiting eagerly by the phone!

Mason