Tag: Life

New Year’s Day

As the first day of Freshers’ Week, today – if you work in higher education – almost felt more like New Year’s Day than 1 January itself. There’s a buzz around the campus again, the kind of buzz you miss when everyone’s away over the summer months. Its absence stands out like a sore thumb, but so does the warmth you feel when it returns. As it turns out, that warmth may well be conducive to creativity too. I’ve spent nearly every week since my last post scribbling waffle in my notebook to varying degrees of desperation, but ultimately, nothing I wrote had any life in it. Most of it stopped making sense in the end – I was flogging a dead horse. Happily, I don’t feel that way typing this. It feels like the fire underneath has been reignited, to an extent.

I gave four short appointments to students today, new faces who were each looking for part-time work. I obviously can’t go into detail about who I spoke to or what we discussed, but I can tell you that seeing them become visibly more relaxed about their prospects was immensely satisfying. There can’t be many situations where you can see weights lifted from people’s shoulders in real time. I always say that I’ve felt valued over the last 18 months, but that’s never been truer than it was today. I made a difference, however small, and when that happens you can’t possibly struggle for new material. There are virtues to extol, and not only in my professional life, but my personal life too. My archery beginner’s course looms on Saturday – the first session, at least. I’m looking forward to it, and to hitting more than the woodwork this time. I just need to make sure I build up my upper body strength a bit first, because those bows are tough without a decent pair of biceps. I’m sure I’ll let you know how it goes. Here’s hoping I have another reason to smile by next Monday!

Mason

Baby, Only You Can Burn Out This Fire

I saw that title as a piece of graffiti on a wall when our train pulled into Barcelona a few weeks ago, during our family holiday (it’s a beautiful city for another blog post). There was a lot scrawled over the crumbling, dusty stonework as we rattled along the tracks. Much of it was either meaningless to me or difficult to understand without a working knowledge of Spanish – but I was still drawn to each explosion of colour as it passed. By the time I spotted those words I was almost in a trance, but they snapped me out of it. I immediately found myself thinking about them.

As far as I could remember, they were the only words I’d seen in English since I’d read the signs at the station we’d left. Where had they come from? What did they refer to? Who – if anyone – were they aimed at? All of those questions would remain mysteries, but in that moment I felt they were speaking to me. I just wasn’t quite sure how to interpret them. Perhaps burnout can be defined as one of two things – either the widely recognised state of having drained oneself completely, having given something your all, or the opposite. Extinguishing what keeps you fired up, just through pure apathy. Admitting defeat and letting it win.

I probably sound like some kind of ridiculous lifestyle guru, but that’s not my intention at all. A couple of weeks ago, I got some news that will be tricky for me to process, but I also know that I can’t let it wash over me and blow that spark out. I have to look at the bigger picture, see what’s good about it and smile – because I’ll only have myself to blame for the consequences if I don’t. Who’d have thought that the view from a train in Spain could have given me such a handy motto as a reminder?

Mason

Blueberry Buttercream

What’s in a picture? Even the most unremarkable images have some kind of story to tell, and I was thinking about that as I panicked about what I’d write here next. This one was taken during a coffee and cake meeting I had with our departing student ambassadors early last week. Admittedly, when I snapped it (and I had to make the most of that blueberry cake, because I’d certainly paid for it), I probably wanted nothing more than social media likes. The most cherished – and most meaningless – form of 21st Century validation. Looking back on it, though, it’s more than that, because it’s attached to memories. Senses. The sight of smiling and friendly faces, the sweet taste of that rich blueberry buttercream. I savoured it all at the time, and by taking the photo, I could continue to do so for a little bit longer.

What’s in a picture? In this case, it’s calmness. Contentment. Gratitude. Friendship. Winchester’s own unique buzz and vibe. That slight dash of smugness you feel when your colleagues are working but you aren’t. Apart from all that, of course, it’s a celebration of all the small things that have made me happy – most of all, my stomach. Other people my age go travelling and plaster it all over the Internet, and that’s great, even though it does make my life look a little dull in comparison. I do this instead, and I might not be at the Grand Canyon or Great Barrier Reef, but I’m still soaking up every aspect of everyday life. Nobody should take that for granted, should they?

Mason

Awaiting A Feeling

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

It’s such a frequently asked question, but one I’ve never really had an explicit answer to. Sometimes I feel as though I should, especially now I’m closer to 30 than I’d like. It doesn’t always feel good enough to say that I just want to be happy, wherever I end up and whatever I might be doing – but that is the honest truth, at the end of the day. When you strip away all the baggage there is in life, isn’t that what we all want, deep down?

Mum once asked what would make me happy. That was the moment I realised I had no fixed concept of what happiness would look like – that ultimately, it would be a feeling of warmth and security that would come from within. I’d just know. At most, all I have are a few vague impressions of what could bring that. Finding someone special is probably the most pressing one – a relationship feels like one of the few big life things I haven’t had yet. My lack of experience in that department is more and more of an elephant in the room with every passing year, although it’s not easy to make anything happen when you don’t think much of yourself or your ability to make another person happy. Career-wise, it’d be great to put my wordiness to good use as I’ve always intended, but I can’t be certain whether that’ll be as a writer or in another more unexpected way.

I suppose that’s where the fun in having no specific expectations lies, isn’t it? Enjoying the journey and not worrying quite so much about the destination. I recently saw a writing prompt that asked what the biggest challenge in the next six months would be. My answer was similar to what I’ve said here – whatever it is, I’ll keep a cool head and savour all the less testing bits. That definitely applies right now as well, and I’ll have the added excitement of never knowing when or how that wave of happiness will hit.

Mason

Pottery

Every Friday when I’m at work, someone in my office asks me how I’ll be spending the weekend. I usually say I’ve got nothing on, and that that’s just the way I like it, but that’s not always strictly true. I do a lot of pottering – well, as much pottering as one can do on six wheels rather than two legs. Sometimes it leads me to people, places and plans with purpose. Other times, it lives up to its name, and I’m wandering aimlessly.

Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing – I actually spent a lot of today doing it. It clears the mind. It’s a calming, comforting, familiar routine, and one that requires no effort on my part whatsoever. But every so often, when I’m traipsing round the same shop for the hundredth time, I do wonder: is this something other people do, or is it just proof I need to find another hobby?

As is often the case, I can’t help worrying about what other people think. Every year, I get older and older, and now and again I feel like life is passing me by. Have I got enough to show for it? It can be hard to tell sometimes. Do I get myself worked up for no reason? Possibly. Probably. I don’t know. The jury’s still out…

Mason

Worth Its Weight In Gold

Another new year is here, and 2024 holds more significance for me than most. It is, after all, the first calendar year I’ll be spending in my own flat, and my flat is a base from which anything is possible. For the first time in my life, I truly believe that. One of the worst things about waiting for the sale to go through was the instability it inflicted on each day – I may have had a job, but its continued existence relied on also having a place to live sharpish. If anything fell through, my life would be thrown into disarray again. I may have alluded to this before, but when you’re freshly out of a long spell of unemployment, there can be nothing worse than the thought of going straight back to square one.

I therefore feel blessed that – at least for the foreseeable future – I don’t have to, and it’s not something I ever intend to take for granted. I’ll really savour not having to give vague answers to questions about where I am or what I’m doing. I’ll be able to respond with total certainty, and that’s worth its weight in gold. Someone told me that life becomes easier when you have a place of your own, as it enables more new connections and more solid plans. One thing is for sure – over the coming year, I can’t wait to find out if they’re right.

Mason

Found In The Archives

It’s almost 20 years since this photo – which Mum unearthed while looking for Scrabble yesterday – was taken (25 August 2004, my seventh birthday). A lot has changed in that time. The wheelchair is now electric, I’ve outgrown the Thunderbirds T-shirt I’m wearing and I don’t need the leg splints anymore. But one thing remains the same – fast cars still put a big smile on my face.

I later graduated from museums to racetracks. A natural progression, I guess you could say…

Mason

The Bigger Picture

The coffee shop – 7 October 2023. A busy Saturday morning…

One of the first times I can remember ever feeling genuinely proud of myself was in Year 8 at school. I’d just written six paragraphs on the merits of Macbeth. Producing page after page in English class had never been out of the ordinary for me, but this particular piece was all the more remarkable given that it had been entirely untouched by Microsoft Word. In those days, that was a rarity – I didn’t dare stray away from my laptop if I wanted my writing to be legible – but for whatever reason I pressed on that day and it paid off. Why am I mentioning this now? Because this very post you’re reading is also being crafted entirely by hand. And don’t I know it. The muscles in my hand are aching and I have to stop after every line. The pen is slipping and I’m making mistakes all over the page that I have to scribble out. Nevertheless, the more I write, the more satisfied I am. Progress is progress, after all, and with every passing word I’m stronger. In any case, next week my broadband will be switched on and I’ll have access to WordPress again.

Yes, you read that right. Broadband. My broadband, in my new flat – which, at the time of writing, I’ve been living in for just over a week. It’s in Winchester too. Who’d have thought it – an oik from Minehead living there full-time? Dreams do come true, kids! Then again, so do a lot of new responsibilities. Bills to pay every month. Carpets to keep vacuumed. Surfaces to keep clean. At times, I doubt my ability to do all three, but I’ll carry on regardless because I’m focused on the bigger picture. Independence, which I’ve achieved at long last. The pride that comes with every small accomplishment, every little win. Whatever the challenge, I know it’ll be worth it in the end – even if there are aches and pains along the way.

Mason

Prog For Breakfast

I have always been quite a chronic procrastinator, and I’m sure I must have referred to that here at some point. If not, I just haven’t got round to it yet. Anyway, what that means is that occasionally, I need some kind of cattle prod to get my backside in gear in the morning, and I’ve recently found that music works well. You’ve probably gathered that from my playlist updates earlier in the year, but some of my choices – made on my days off – don’t make it to that list. Let me give you an example.

I’ve found myself returning to the stylings of Pink Floyd of late, and more specifically their lengthier tracks. There’s nothing like 70s prog rock to set you up for the day, I can tell you. It becomes like a challenge – you see if you can get up, get dressed and do all your ablutions before the music finishes. It works, too. Try it yourself if you feel so inclined, with any prog bands or songs of your choice. This week, I’ve used “Dogs” (17 minutes, from Animals, 1977) and the “Atom Heart Mother Suite” (closer to 24, from Atom Heart Mother, 1970). I reckon “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” might have snuck in as well, but at a paltry 13 minutes, that’s small fry – don’t you think?

Mason