A New Year's resolution come early...?

Please excuse the somewhat over-the-top statement that follows, but I have a new outlook on life.

Okay, that was particularly outlandish, and I don't think I'm really enough of a drama queen to get away with saying such a bold thing like that. I do, however, have a new philosophy, of sorts, that I've now stuck to for three whole days.

That's more like it. I'm much better at the underwhelming statements.

'So what is this new philosophy?', I hear you cry. Well, it's not really new at all, and it's actually one that writers, philosophers and clods alike have been practising (and oh-so-humorously reversing) for centuries:

"Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today."

Score two for the underwhelming proclamations, I think.

Yes, I realise it's very basic, and essentially just common sense, but in Chaucer, Draxe and Chesterfield (that's right, I know how to use Google) I hope to find a kinship against procrastination that might just get me doing things that could be considered productive. Because, apparently, playing Football Manager for hours at a time will not get me anywhere in life. Unless I worked for Sports Interactive as a games tester. But I do not, and I've come to terms with the fact that I probably never will.

So far the resolution is going well. On Sunday I seemed to have a whole day of getting things done that I've previously been putting off. I had a new photo for my passport and driving licence taken (which I've been delaying for so long, the latter - complete with a clean-shaven, teenage James - has now actually expired). I caught up on a few TV shows that have been building up on the Sky+ box (granted, this was for fun - and so I ate lunch at the same time to truly classify this as an efficient use of time). I backed up my PC (which I really, really should have done before now, given I haven't done it since my computer broke in January - apparently I don't learn my lessons). And best of all, and to the complete shock of my fellow housemates, I tidied my bedroom.

I've always felt uneasy living with a messy work area. I can survive in it, and I have done quite easily for so long, but it seems to breed procrastination and Lord knows I don't need any encouragement for sitting on my arse and not writing a thing. So, now that I have a clear desk, a visible floor, and a reminder card - forced upon me by Jenn - marked with "James' goals" firmly within my eyeline, I'm hoping that this may just be the start of a new era.

Hopefully it won't be one of those ill-fated new eras that have featured so many times before and only lasted a week or two. Such is my history of motivation, I won't hold my breath this time either - but you never know, one day something like this might just stick and I'll become so efficient and productive that the Germans will want to adopt me.

It could happen.

Anyway, three days in, and I'm feeling pretty good. Rather like I've just given up meat, or smoking, but without the incessant cravings for a McDonalds, or the constant threat of yelling at people for no reason. Sitting here and writing this is, incidentally, another of the things that I've been putting off lately, and it feels strangely... fantastic... to finally be back here.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll make this a regular thing.

For my fans.

I've been told that I need to blog more. By people that regularly read my unregularly updated blog, no less. Judging by the date attributed to my last foray onto this page, they could well have a point. So, in order for them to make use of the link they have set up for me under their 'favorites' list, and because I should actually be sleeping rather than catering to their needs, here we are again at another opening paragraph.


It seems odd to think that I've been bookmarked. Naturally it's quite satisfying to know that the occasional commentary on my life is being read by someone (or some people, even) other than myself. But to have... fans, for want of a better word... it's slightly surreal. Goodness knows how I'd feel if I actually made it big in writing, or directing, or sheep shearing - I'm not sure fame and I would be particularly good bedfellows.

Like I really need to worry about that.


So, why should I be sleeping right now? It is, after all, only just past midnight, and anyone that knows me at all will be well aware that I can be quite the night owl, and hardly ever go to bed before the witching hour. My fans know this, I'm sure.

Well, the reason is that I have to be up relatively early tomorrow to catch a flight to America. Yes, again. Going to New York in March re-lit the travelling bug in me, and so I'll be spending the next week in West Virginia and Washington DC, two places I've never been before, and a welcome break from a workplace that's been crazy-busy and rather stressful in recent weeks. My brain needs a rest, and I'm hoping that when I return I'll be nicely refreshed and ready to take a firm hold of some aspects of my life that I feel I've lost control of over the last few weeks/months/years. Lately I've felt like I've lost five years of my life to absolutely nothing, so it's about time I played catch-up. Call me naive if you like, but I thought I'd try being optimistic for once.

In actual fact, when I return to the UK I'll soon be off again, visiting Prague less than two weeks later. I can't wait for that. I love Prague.

Okay, I'm really going to attempt to sleep now. I think I've written enough for those obsessed readers (hello, both of you) to be reasonably satisfied for another couple of months. Or, at the very least, until I get back from the States with stories aplenty of college life, presidential campaigns and the Yanks' take on real football. C'mon people, it's not played with the hands, the clue is in the name...

Blimey!

I've been so busy over the past six or so weeks, I've barely had time to even think about this blog, let alone write something in it. Full details of said busy-ness may or may not follow in the near future, but for now, may I share with you my latest Muxtape offering of what I'm currently listening to, a lot:

1. James - Destiny Calling
2. The Henry Clay People - Andy Sings!
3. Dropkick Murphys - Sunshine Highway
4. The Chalets - Sexy Mistake
5. The Ting Tings - Keep Your Head
6. The Saturday Knights - 45
7. 2AM Club - Flashing Room
8. Fol Chen - Cbl TV
9. Cassettes Won't Listen - Freeze and Explode
10. She & Him - Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?
11. Spiritualized - Baby I'm Just a Fool
12. Aimee Mann - Wise Up

Enjoy!

I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked

Every so often a song will grab me from the very first listen, I'll fall instantly in love and then I'll obsess over it for weeks. It's probably not a healthy thing to do, but nevertheless, it happens.

I only heard this particular song by Ida Maria for the first time this morning, but it certainly made an impact (especially given that I was half-asleep at the time). I've been singing it all day with a smile on my face and simply couldn't not share it. I challenge anyone to not tap their foot to this just a little bit...

Whilst we're on the subject of music, I have a new Muxtape online. Still no particular theme, just songs that I've been listening to a lot (and maybe obsessing over) in the past month or so. Enjoy!

Quickly, some good news.

I've just discovered that the website I created and now co-run for my hometown football team Dorchester Town - dorchestertownfc.co.uk - has been named as the 14th best non-league club website in weekly newspaper NonLeague Today.

I've been doing the site in one guise or another (unpaid, I should add) since 2001, so to receive this news is rather satisfying - especially as the survey encompassed around 300 different teams across England and Scotland. Even more pleasing was that our arch rivals, Weymouth, finished below us in 19th place. Always nice to get one over on them.

Funnily enough, I don't think we necessarily deserve to be placed quite as high as we are. I'm always my own worst critic (shocker!) and there's so much more I think the website could have, both in terms of content and design. I've already decided to revamp it for the summer of 2009, so maybe after that we could break into that illustrious top ten...

Regardless, me = chuffed.

Virtual reality?

Recently I've had quite the desire to play The Sims. Or, more specifically, The Sims 2 - as the first one isn't a match for its sequel (why do games get better with their follow-ups, but movies get worse?).

I'm sure you're aware of the concept of the game - create characters, give them aspirations, earn money along various career paths, buy better furniture for their homes, keep them awake for three days so that they fall asleep in the swimming pool and drown, and so on. Some people don't see the point in the game, and to those people I say, "pffft". And then I'd follow that excellently constructed argument with, "Just play the damn thing for an hour", and I bet they'd play it for two. Or four. Or until four (in the morning).

It's true that it's a highly addictive game, and as a result it's probably a very good thing that I don't actually own a copy of it. When I did last play it I had borrowed it from a now ex-girlfriend, and I lost an entire weekend without realising. There I sat, at my computer, re-creating myself and my real-life housemates in Sim form, getting them new jobs, new decor, and new girlfriends. The fact that my virtual love-interest looked nothing like my real-life girlfriend was perhaps a subconscious indication as to where that particular relationship was heading.

My desire to play it recently stems, I think, from the underlying desire to take control of my life and work on improving it. Or, the thought that I'm now 29 and I want to be working towards something, anything. Or, the fear that one day I'll be 59 and I may not have anything tangible to be ridiculously proud about, and I'll think, "What was the point?"

So why play The Sims? Why not actually take control of my real life rather than a fake one inside my PC?

Well, for one, it's easier than real life. Anyone will hire you. Hot women will date (nay, marry) you. You don't need planning permission for that third storey or swimming pool. And you can get a maid to tidy up.

Secondly, creating your own Sim allows you a clean slate. In this universe, you can be whatever you want (I often choose to be a sports star, or a detective - I'm not sure what that says about me). You can have a different nose. You can get that attractive maid to tidy up after you. And then you can give her a back-rub.

My point is, my desire to play this game lies in the desire to see what my life could be like, if none of the real-world obstacles existed. What I could aspire to, I guess, if I just had the confidence or motivation to get things done. It's probably very sad, but I look at the screenshots for The Sims 3 (I think I'll need a month off work when that's released) and I think, "I wish I lived in a house/neighbourhood like that".

But, as previously mentioned, I don't own the game. You'd think this might mean I've been considering the aspirations I have, and thinking about how I could achieve them. Instead, I've been playing GTA IV, which I should point out does not work in remotely the same way with my conscious. I certainly don't harbour any desires to go car-jacking or slaughtering the public in the real world, although I do like driving around what is essentially New York, and wishing I was back there.

I'm not entirely sure what to conclude from this post, other than that video games are, it would seem, both a healthy and unhealthy distraction for me. And also that all I ever write about in my blog is my desire to do better at things, which I never follow through on.

Actually, my conclusion is very simple - something needs to change. Although, before I do that, I think I need to go cruising through Times Square in my stolen sports car...

To do, or not to do?

Three-and-a-half weeks ago it was my 29th birthday. Not being one to make a huge deal of the occasion, it passed without too much fuss, just as if it could have been any other Sunday. Well, any other Sunday in which most of the day was spent at the pub. Or three pubs, to be precise.

As the beers (and soon enough, vodka) flowed, my friend Will suggested that I should have a list of things that I want to do before I reach the age of 30. Twelve things, in fact - presumably one for each month of the forthcoming year.

I have to admit, I quite like the idea. Being the procrastinating sort (I think I've mentioned that, right?) it takes a lot to get me really motivated, and as a result I'm generally only successful with projects that appear to have a defined finish line. Even then I'm definitely the tortoise rather than the hare.

But perhaps, if I have some targets that can be measured, per se, I may actually get out of the rut of wishing to achieve things and start to have something to show for my free-time, other than another personal record for how long I can play Football Manager on my computer.

Funnily enough, even before Will's suggestion, the idea of giving myself some targets (for want of a better, less work-oriented, word) had been quite the topic of conversation between myself and Jenn since, well, New Year, I suppose. Her list of resolutions for 2008 is, to say the least, very impressive - and given that the turn of the year is traditionally when the throngs of the general public seek out ways and means of improving their bodies, minds and bank balances, who am I to not join in?

(I've since bought myself a cookbook and two pairs of full-length pyjama pants, both of which are firsts for me and a signifier that I'm trying to grow up. The cookbook, sadly, currently resides on my bedroom floor, but the pyjama pants are so amazingly comfortable that they are perhaps the best thing I've ever bought. Ever. Wearing shorts to bed now seems just so... juvenile.)

I have, on occasion, wondered if I'm on Jenn's list of resolutions, given the number of times we've talked about where and how I can improve and reach my goals, and she has herself admitted that she's trying to give me a makeover (only without the make-up and clothes). She's joking, of course. I think.

The conclusion of these conversations has been that I definitely need a list. Something measurable that will tell me, in the end, whether I'm a great big success or a big fat (well, thin) loser. I toyed with the idea of the 101 in 1,001 project (101 being the number of tasks, 1,001 being the number of days to complete said tasks) as another friend has recently started her own list in her blog. There's also a Facebook application Jenn found entitled 100 Things (to do before you die), that I've briefly looked over, although unlike some people on Facebook, I tend to limit the number of (lame) applications I add to my profile. I mean, do I really want my friends to know which serial killer I'm most like? Do I hell.

As it turns out, list-making clearly isn't my strong point. I can't even come close to thinking of 100 things I'd like to do before I die, let alone 101 things that need completing in just under three years. I can't even think of 12 things I really want to do before I'm 30. Or ten. Or even two, to be perfectly honest. So far my list, shamefully, is just:

1. Make Write a short film.

Now, I appreciate this is potentially a big project - I've wanted to make a short film for a long, long time. I've wanted to make longer films for a long, long time, too - but I'm not kidding myself that I shouldn't be starting small with something like this. As such, I'm not going to kid myself that I can have a short film made within the year, either, hence why I'm just going to settle for merely (?!) writing one. However, given that it's taken me the best part of the last week to sit down and write this blog entry, I fear even that might be somewhat fanciful.

Nevertheless, there it is, atop (and, I suppose, abottom) of my list. I'm actually quite excited about the prospect of pulling my finger out and working on a writing project for the first time in what feels like forever. Of course, before that I need to have an idea or two. And, even before that, I need to think of another 11 things I want to do before I'm 30...

Suggestions, anyone?

New music, ahoy!

I've discovered a tremendous website. Or, rather, my friend Avni has discovered a tremendous website, and I read it about it on her blog before deciding to spread the word some more.

Muxtape allows you to upload a mix of upto 12 mp3 files to their website (much like a mixtape, if that wasn't obvious enough) which friends/colleagues/random people from across the globe can then stream via their web browser. It's delightfully simple and a great way to discover new music - or, if you're anything like me, a wonderful way to inflict your own taste of music upon the world.

My first mix can be found here - there's no particular theme to it, just a bunch of songs that I've been listening to, enjoying, and singing a fair bit recently. Yes, I sing. In my head, at least.

Comments - either about the website or my selection of tunes - are most welcome. Enjoy!

My NY.

Since returning from New York to a very dreary London last Wednesday, my friends, family and colleagues have all been asking me what the best part of my trip was. And every time I'm asked, my mind goes blank - not because I'm struggling to remember the good parts, but because I can't actually decide what the best bit was.

After the initial couple of seconds where I must look, to the questioner, like I've never even heard of New York, I usually stumble out with some generic list of the obvious attractions that Jenn and I visited, such as the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, but in truth, I loved it all. Every single minute. Except perhaps when the radiator in our hotel room would turn on at stupid o'clock in the morning, waking me up with it's freaky impersonation of some sort of woodland creature, and then keeping me awake with it's ability to melt lead. But that, to be truthful, hardly registered a blip on the radar of what was an excellent holiday.

The hotel was, in fact, excellent. Our room, whilst not the biggest I've ever stayed in, was more than ample for our requirements and in superb condition. The staff were nothing but friendly, and the location was fantastic. On our first evening, despite having a vague idea we were relatively close to the theatre district, we were pleasantly taken aback when a brief stroll to get our bearings unwittingly landed us in the middle of the bustle of Times Square. It was perhaps the best possible start we could've hoped for.

To summarise (because there's no other way I could describe the trip without sitting at this computer for nine hours), some of the highlights were: crossing the Brooklyn Bridge in the rain; drinking at The Peculier Pub; exploring the Museum of Modern Art; witnessing a Saturday Night Live rehearsal; being deemed pretty enough to be allowed entry into Duvet; the views from a blustery 86th floor of the Empire State Building; staying awake past 2:00am every night; Spamalot; drinking tea from a different Starbucks nearly everyday; counting the number of Irish pubs within walking distance of our hotel; taking millions of pictures at the Statue of Liberty; taking millions of pictures in general; the shower in our bathroom; having a barman give us free shots of vodka on a particularly drunken evening; riding the subway; ice skating in Central Park (I didn't fall over, unlike someone); juggling in Central Park; eating cheesecake for breakfast (which Jenn described as "better than sex"); walking miles and miles and miles...

I could go on.

A word of warning if you've never been to New York and are contemplating going - have an idea of which attractions you want to see before you go, and make sure that either you or your travel partner (should you be lucky enough to share the experience) can make decisions (I can't, it transpired). There is simply so much going on in the city, that even after five days there were things that we had wanted to see - such as the Guggenheim and Met museums and a large portion of Central Park - that we were forced to miss out on. That wasn't a result of poor planning or bad decision-making on our part (despite my attempts to be at my indecisive best), there just simply weren't enough hours in the day - even less so on the Saturday night the clocks went forward, which resulted in us finally settling down to sleep at a staggering (and chilly) 5.00am.

The (quite possibly drunk) lady that sat next to us on the flight back to London, who had just spent six weeks in Guyana, said she had hated New York when she had previously visited. She had already had a rant about airport security taking her bottle of rum before boarding the plane, so I kept quiet, but I couldn't have had a more differing opinion than if I personified New York and married it. I think - and don't think of this as anything more than a throwaway remark in the heat of the moment (although I'm sure I said it more than once whilst there) - I could quite possibly even live in Manhattan, should the opportunity arise.

Of course, living there would be an entirely different kettle of fish. The experience would, I imagine, be dampened by the monotony of having to go to work five days a week, and visiting the same places - beit a major attraction, a bar, or one of the hundreds of Starbucks - wouldn't be half as exciting on my own as it was with Jenn.

Y'know, I think that's it. The best part of visiting New York is, actually, being able to share it with someone. It's all well and good saying you've seen the lights, the sights and the, uh, Museum of Sex - but I'm so much more grateful for having someone else there with me, someone to share a laugh with when I handed out incorrect directions to fellow tourists, someone to actually make me stop, look up and savour the moment whilst another photo was being taken. One thing's for sure, however busy New York's roads got with the endless streams of yellow cabs, it would've been a much quieter holiday for me had I gone on my own.

Without Jenn, I doubt I'd have done a lot of the things I did whilst there. Without Jenn, I wouldn't have anyone to be nostalgic with after the event. And without Jenn, I wouldn't now have countless new photos of myself queueing up to be my new profile picture on Facebook. So here's to that random conversation the two of us had whilst making tea at work one day in December, when the ball first got rolling.

God bless America? Perhaps. God bless tea? Definitely.

Passport, check.

One of the things I want to do more of this year, along with writing and attracting people, is travelling. I haven't been out of the country for 18 months, and so on Thursday I'm heading off for five nights in New York City. I haven't been before and I've wanted to go for a while, so when my friend Jenn accepted an off-the-cuff invitation during a tea-run at work back in December, my mind was made-up. And that's pretty impressive, given how indecisive I can be.

In truth, the actual booking process was littered with vast amounts of indecision (not least over the flights and hotel), and despite both of us working in a so-called Planning department, I sense there's going to be a good deal of seeing where our feet take us once we get there. But I quite like the idea of that. Not knowing a great deal about the immediate future used to freak me out slightly, but these days I'd like to think I'm a little bit more carefree. Others that know me may disagree.

Of course, we're not completely hopeless. We've got tickets for a Broadway show sorted, we've earmarked the sights we want to see, discount passes for attractions have been purchased, and Jenn has politely insisted we visit a particular club one night where the clientele lounge about on beds and all appear to be hideously good-looking and well-groomed. Being neither of these things, I intend to compete with my charming British accent.

I do still feel a tad disorganised at this late stage, however. Possibly because procrastination has reared it's ugly head and I find myself - amongst other things - updating my blog instead of, I don't know, packing. I think it's fair to say, in James' world, there will always be something more appealing than the actual task in hand.

Out of curiosity, and also to waste some more time that could be better spent figuring out how to fit x number of clothes into an undersized suitcase, I flicked through my iTunes library this evening to see what sort of New York related playlist I could create (and undoubtedly not listen to, ever). The result is eclectic, to say the least...

1. David Gray - Last Boat to America
2. Ryan Adams - New York, New York
3. Blur - Magic America
4. U2 - Angel of Harlem
5. Belle & Sebastian - Piazza, New York Catcher
6. Simon & Garfunkel - The Only Living Boy in New York
7. Counting Crows - American Girls
8. Stephen Fretwell - New York
9. Jesse Malin - Brooklyn
10. Goo Goo Dolls - Broadway
11. Death Cab For Cutie - Marching Bands of Manhattan
12. The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale of New York
13. The Drifters - On Broadway
14. Ben E. King - Spanish Harlem
15. Everclear - The New York Times
16. Fountains of Wayne - Hackensack
17. Idlewild - American English
18. U2 - New York
19. Five For Fighting - The Last Great American
20. R.E.M. - Leaving New York

Obviously I've cheated a bit with the inclusion of some slightly more vague titles. Also, Hackensack is in New Jersey, but it's never a proper playlist of mine if there isn't at least one Fountains of Wayne track.

Oh yeah, I like music. I should've said that already.

Okay, it's late, and I feel I've procrastinated enough for one night (yet another worthwhile training session in my bid for Olympic gold). I shall return next week with stories aplenty from across the pond. Or, at the very least, a photo of me falling on my ass whilst attempting to ice skate in Central Park.

And so it begins...

Last Wednesday, whilst waiting for my sausage baguette to be cooked in the café at work (ashamedly, my second such baguette of the week - but I felt justified having played squash that morning), a strange urge came over me to start a blog.

I'm not entirely sure where this urge came from. There was certainly nothing inspiring to be found from sitting next to a stack of plastic cutlery and watching my fellow workers order similarly unhealthy breakfasts. Nevertheless, the urge was there, and it had to be satisfied.

Quite how it's taken me over a week to get started, therefore, is beyond me. Well, actually, it's not. I'm just horribly good at procrastinating - to the point that if it was an Olympic sport, I'd be a world-beater. Although, if it was an Olympic sport, would it require me to train regularly? That might clash with the ethics of a procrastinator.

Thankfully, eight days on, I've finally found enough spare time in my busy schedule of sitting down to get things started, and so another blog, undoubtedly destined to go unnoticed amongst the bajillion other pages on the Internet, is born.

It's not my first attempt at this sort of thing. At the age of 14 I started to keep a diary, and I amazingly managed to keep it going for five whole years. Unfortunately the content was, shall we say, poor. My Obsessive Compulsive nature seemingly forced me to write something on every single date, even if I had actually skipped a night in reality, and thus the result was five years of inane drivel, mostly the (mis)fortunes of my football team, or how I liked a girl at school but couldn't tell her for fear of making a fool of myself. Some things, apparently, never change.

Every so often, usually when I'm moving house, I come across those diaries again and flick through them, cringing.

(For the record, I'm not actually Obsessive Compulsive. I'm certainly pedantic and a perfectionist, and on occasions I can be over-organised, but anyone that's seen the horror that is my bedroom will vouch for the fact that I blatantly don't have OCD.)

My second attempt at recording my life started in 2001 with an online journal. We'll call that, "the graduate years". A year after leaving university, with me harbouring ambitions of becoming a writer yet not having written anything for six months, I thought it would just be useful to be writing something again, even if it was a new diary. Unfortunately I didn't bank on this journal also descending down the route of a lovestruck and/or angry teenager. Why would you, when you're supposedly in your twenties?

Needless to say, re-reading some of those entries also makes me shudder at the idea of being so... well... immature.

You're probably wondering, therefore, what I have to write about now that I'm creaking towards 30. I contemplated this in the café last week, and came to the conclusion that the answer is, in all honesty, not a lot. I don't think of myself as a particularly opinionated person (except when it comes to slow walkers, but who doesn't want to punch them in the back of the head?), my job isn't interesting enough to inflict upon the world, and my hobbies still include supporting a crap football team and not talking to girls - and no-one wants to read about that. Believe me.

The truth is, I have the same intentions for this blog as I did with my first online journal. I still entertain the dream of one day becoming a (screen)writer, but I'm not going to get anywhere if I'm not actually writing. And I realise that no-one ever won an Oscar for creating a blog, but I'd like to think that if I can at least get into the habit of sitting down every so often and getting something onto the screen, it might just spur me on to develop one of my ideas into something a bit more... wordy.

Don't worry, I won't be subjecting you to the really personal stuff. This is a public blog, so there definitely won't be any entries about unrequited love or rants about ignorant people here. I'm not entirely sure what that leaves us with at this stage. We'll have to wait and see.

Incidentally, the sausage baguette was very tasty. Having said that, I think I'll bring a bowl into work next week and start eating cereal at my desk. Apparently there's something about turning 29 that's made me into a conscientious being. It scares me, somewhat...