Stop

There's very few things that we really stop and look at any more.

 

We're constantly trying to catch up five minutes here or half an hour there, and for what? So we can find more things to fill our time with that we don't really need to be doing. We feel a sense of begrudging ownership to so many aspects of the everyday and the ordinary.

Sometimes it takes an image or a situation to make us sit and really think about things. 

One such situation occurred to me the other day at work as I scurried between rooms, trying to help out different people with very similar problems. 

We've recently been told about a relocation from our current office dwelling to a more modern and functional domicile. It makes sense in a lot of respects as this building really has seen much better days. Every door seems to creak and sigh like an aged relative with too many bad habits. Each piece of carpet wears the impressions of a million tantrums and celebrations; every office mistake, every pitch that fell short, every problem that was solved or merely postponed. 

In one of the more secluded rooms in the building there's something that I notice every time that I need to retreat there. 

A dead butterfly. 

It's been there for as long as I can remember that he/she has unknowingly shared in so many of my triumphs/downfalls.

The adventure that began with a simple message, the scolding that addressed my sometimes obvious lack of motivation and the first time I realised that I actually cared quite a lot about the people that I share this ancient space with.

This picture sums up everything I think about so many situations that occur. How close did we get to where we wanted to be before it was all taken away? How did we not realise that we'd done the hardest part? 

Maybe we did. 

Maybe the truth of the matter is that we didn't realise what we wanted, until we couldn't have it any more or until we'd lost the will to move forward.

This is all questions isn't it?

Even that was a question ironically and I didn't mean it to be.

One day we'll take stock of all of this and realise that our greatest victory came truly from pushing forward this entire time. The line may be on the next footstep or over the horizon but that's not really the most important thing. The important thing is that our feet never stop moving until the lights go out. 

Speak soon

Take care

Ben 

Leave no man behind

I don't think we're really meant to do this on our own.

Any of this.

It's strange how much time we spend accepting the absurd as regular, simply because it keeps the rain from our foreheads. If you would have told me this succession of events beforehand, there's none of it that I probably would have thought credible.

Our working lives dictate a huge part of who we become, even as much as we'd like them not to, because of the sheer weight of them.

It's impossible not to get cynical over a number of years when you're presented with the same thing again and again. It may rankle at first and cause an initial jolt of reaction but as the sword of time pierces our skin, that same set of circumstances barely even registers.

Recently a good friend of mine left the confines of our office to seek gainful employment doing something different but the same. The send off, as these things always are, was emotional but this one somehow felt a little harder to deal with initially. I think it's because the amount of time we'd spent, as we shared 2 different offices, trying to make sense of all this nonsense, really started to have an effect on the way I looked at the world.

I'm lucky in my 9-5 because my big brother works in the same office. It's yet another extension of my childhood that I've not yet been forced to give up. It doesn't matter how bad things get, and in truth they're never really that bad, it's always comforting to know that he's there. It goes back to being a kid when he'd sneak me in arcades, you never forget those kind of gestures.

My friend however, was a different animal.

I never realised how many times we'd stood in a grey room discussing nothing and everything or how many times it'd be gone 6 and we'd still be chatting on the car park. I lost count of the number of times we'd make a pot of tea on a Friday afternoon and both attack paperwork whilst listening to a play on the radio. I'm probably painting it to be way more civilised than it actually was but in a world full of high speed everything, the contrast was sometimes overlooked.

Judging fights has taken a hold of my senses incredibly of late, and over the last few months the schedule has really intensified. I'm not complaining by the way, it's awesome. It's the best job in the world.

The other day at work I had to help move some equipment round in a rare lull and as I did, I became so aware of how quiet the place seemed. I walked back into the last office that we shared and immediately became enlightened by a million conversations about the sublime and the ridiculous; chats about old computer games, Indoor League, Joan Jett, Welsh rain and Protect and Survive to name a few.

It was only when I finished boxing up all of the things that my colleague left behind did I have a startlingly morbid thought. This happens to us all. The temporal nature of this fragile existence. The beginning and the inevitable end. I got scared for a second and quickly worked to complete this task before more feelings or thoughts got in my way.

It wasn't till I finished the task that I turned round and saw the following image.

It made me laugh for a brief second. I forgot, in a moment of mock rebellion, we'd stuck this image up on the back of the door so only those who ventured properly into the office would see it.

It was our way of balancing a bucket of water on top of the frame then telling the world to fuck off.

The truth is that this part of the whole experience made me happy. The job isn't the same but it should be. I'm still doing the same things with the same people, but without the interaction from certain peers it becomes nothing more than ticks in boxes.

Next time you're at work and it's really getting to you, just remember that the people that you share that passing conversation over a cup of tea with, may well turn out to be some of the most important people you ever meet. You just don't see it at the time because it's hived in the veneer of order, model and paperwork.

Until next time
Take care
Speak soon
Ben

Those days you felt alive

Where did it all go?
Where did they go?

Those days before I had to ask the same people slightly different questions.

The days when the only real mystery was the menu for an evening meal; nights spent wandering home by the haunting phosphorous hum.

I'm not sure exactly how it all changed but it did.

How do any of us really change?

Is it really just a footstep between forced acceptance of circumstance and a gradual erosion of principles?

I accept this 9-5 pilgrimage like everyone else does, simply because it facilitates the life I have become accustomed to. Nursed to fattening point by the sickly sweet milk of capitalist living; we cry like children whenever we're forced to remember the times before targets were simply for throwing things at.

The me that exists for the times when conversation doesn't need a focus or a destination sighs internally at times like this. I smile though, knowing that everything is temporary and the candle of servitude diminishes with every door that closes.

My mood is lifted by the girl with the sunshine smile and the waterfall hair as soon as problems are swapped for stories and the belongings of the day are dispatched by a tsunami of hot beverages. No agenda, no time to keep, no time to waste, nothing to be done that doesn't in some way increase the one vital target we all seem to eager to forget, happiness.

Don't spend too much time.
Speak real soon
Ben

Corridors

Is there a more liberating feeling than walking through the doors of your hotel room?

It's funny how, now I don't have to write to deadline, it takes little more than fleeting thoughts and feelings to make me put theoretical pen to paper.

We're constantly forced into different categories for a variety of reasons, as the gradual erosion of looming responsibilities becomes too big to ignore.

However on a journey, the pigeonholing is far more literal. Every corridor we get sent down is constrictive and full of people all accepting the fact that there's nothing they can do about the next few hours of their respective lives.

We go from trains to cars to planes to taxis to buses, all with one hope. That the end of the journey will represent a glorious, luxurious pay off, and somehow the feeling I get never fails to take my breath away.

I'm instantly filled with a sense of complete forgetfulness of the entire jaunt. I don't think once about the times when I wished I was somewhere comfortable and quiet. It's like Final Fantasy VII when you finally escape from Midgar and the world stretches out in front of you, more vast than you really know what to do with.

We're also filled with an urge to do all the things that we know we shouldn't do and actively should discourage others from. We jump on the bed, make loads of noise, leave clothes strewn around and play loud music.

For however many hours we've had to be in a certain place for a certain time, no breaks and no buts. Now nothing seems driven by schedule or reason, nothing really matters for that brief second that the light switches on, as the spare key is lodged Excalibur like in its receptacle.

There's only one thing that could make this feeling more complete, but then the best part of going away is always coming home to embrace that which you longed for in absence.

These adventures keep getting crazier.
The journeys keep getting longer.
It's limitless.
We're only bound by ourselves.
You'd do well to remember that, we all would.

Speak soon, take care
Ben

But we were moving, somehow

There's a halt to these things.

Sometimes it's so gradual a decline that we barely notice the change of pace and scenery. 

Other times however, we're ejected from the wreckage of our previous incarnations and expected to pick up the pieces as we go along.

This past week was truly one of those occasions where one life stopped as another started; the treadmill kicked straight into reverse in a heartbeat.

Tuesday 7th January I strolled back into work, made a cup of tea and checked my e-mails. 

There were several things that needed doing, it didn't feel like Christmas and it definitely didn't feel like Summer. 

I sat down in my chair and immediately began to daydream about exactly what had just happened over the last few days; about what I was going to do when I got home, about what Vanille was doing, about what I'd name my next squad on Xcom. 

Everything apart from what I was supposed to be doing ironically. 

It's the post Christmas malaise that we're all used to, and that we all accept every year. Every single year we get sucker punched with the early January blues, but the fact it happens repeatedly surely says more about us. Every time we imagine that Christmas will last forever. That feeling of being warm and hazy eyed, surrounded by those who we love and numb with hot food and cold chocolate. 

Every morning when, we wake up in January when the pilgrimage begins again. We realise that normal service is always resumed and we trudge into servitude once more. 

Back to Tuesday 7th January for a second. 

I sat at my desk and began with my first wave of productivity when it was halted before it even began. I got the too familiar craving for a hot cup of tea on a cold Winter morning.

I wandered into the main office and was greeted by the usual pleasantries but one voice spoke over the others saying, "Ben, you look really tired. Big weekend?"

I looked up for a second and replied, "Yeah, I worked a show in Singapore and I ended up judging the main event and it went five rounds. You know how it is."

The Ultimate Warrior couldn't have no sold that reply better than I did. As I was walking back down the corridor I sat in my office for a second and thought to myself, "Am I taking this for granted?"

Have I reached the point that I just pass these crazy adventures off as being the norm now?

My phone went off before I could answer myself and, still half asleep, I pressed the wrong button that not only cut the call off but opened my pictures folder. I stood and looked at the image that stared back at me and felt myself slowly lose the ability to move. It sounds so dramatic to say it like that but I really did feel like some force was holding me in place. 

Alison had taken that photograph and sent it to me as I wandered into work. I hadn't received it but my phone had stored it. I'd love to think that it had some kind of sense of autonomy, rather than protocol. It got that picture and thought, "There'll be a point when Ben questions himself, I'll save this."

I looked at that picture for about 5 minutes without saying anything before I was kindly reminded of where I was and what I should have been doing. Good job really, I'd probably still be there now.

It was like the Gold Saucer. One massive adventure, bathed in lights and sounds and coated in a mystery that took my breath away whenever I looked out of my window. All I didn't have was a cable car ride and a giant cat but, with more time, I'm very confident I could have found them both. 

I guess I answered my own question.

I'll never take any of this for granted.

I'll never stop feeling like I do before the lights go down.

More importantly I'll never stop wanting to get better.

Things are going to get crazy, even by these standards, real soon so keep in touch.

Take care

Ben 

Yes

The pieces all fell into place.

I honestly don't think I've ever been that nervous before watching someone complete a puzzle. I think the best part was watching each section come to life because they all related to something amazing.

The life partnered Penguins, the Tofu Cute logo that she loves so much, photos of our various adventures or even the little foal. I don't know why I started calling her foal, it just kind of happened one day but I'm glad it did.

There's no words to describe what it felt like.

I just knew that, for all my planning and preparation, if I didn't deliver this line perfectly then somehow the moment would be lost.

I'd hidden the "Marry Me" piece in my pocket and, as she neared the end, I could sense the disappointment that stemmed from this incompletion. She placed the penultimate piece in the puzzle and looked up at me exclaiming sadly that there was a piece missing.

This was it.

It all came down to this moment. All of it.

I looked at her for a second before I managed to say "You're my missing piece" and as I did this, placed the final piece of the puzzle, completing the picture.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the ring box and all at once was engulfed by a tsunami of emotion. The funny thing was, I'm not sure if she ever actually said yes. She just looked at the ring, looked at me, cried and held on.

But then, that was all I really needed.

The Realest Reasons

Late Autumn/Early Winter is always one of my favourite times of the year.

I'll leave the confines of the office at quarter to five and begin the trek home just as the street lights begin to switch on.

I love the melancholy coziness of walking home in the dark. I love feeling the light in my front room pulling me in from the cold like some kind of vanilla lighthouse.

I love how the first cup of tea , upon getting home, seems to illuminate both the temperature of my hands and the smile on my face in equal measures.

It's just a glorious little time.

It's also a time when I seem at my most reflective for some reason. I couldn't begin to explain why. There's nothing logical about how or why my processes begin to change when the evenings draw in. I'm always looking backwards at the adventures I've been on and the things that I've seen. I don't feel it's anything negative, incidentally, I just love replaying adventures in my mind when it's dark and rainy.

10 days ago I undertook an journey that I must have done hundreds of times over the last few years but one that always seems to awaken my senses as it nears completion. I hopped on the Manchester Piccadilly train and awaited the familiar rush of adrenaline as it shuddered into life.

This time, however, everything felt different.

As I gazed out of the window of the empty carriage I became aware of just how grey everything seemed. Maybe it was just the stark contrast from the lamp on my table, which made the journey seem way more pleasant if truth be told, but there was something special about this scene. The journey went by in a flash as I was truly transfixed by my passage through the wastes of industry and the hustle of city life.

It wasn't until much later in the day that the realisation of the situation dawned fully on me. Yes, it was a Saturday. Yes, I was in a town that was not my own. Yes, I was in a hotel room on my own playing videogames, messaging my lovely girlfriend and drinking tea.

That, however, was where the similarities seemed to end. The rain ceased after a while, and I opened the curtains in my room to let some natural light in.

I could truly see for miles and, as I struggled to take it all in, my head began to pulse with ideas and notions.

What if it all ended? Everything. All of it. Not just me but you. Everything we've ever dreamed of. Stopped dead. Gone in the blink of an eye. No sense of foreboding. No fear of the unknown. Someone pulled the plug. No feedback or thanks for the memories. No goodbyes. No regrets. Nothing. Just nothing.

It was at that point that the magnitude of it all hit me. I knew why I was here. I knew why today meant so much to me and I knew exactly why it had happened this way.

I finished my cup of tea, put on some suitably motivational music and began my preparations.

It was everything I ever thought it would be but so many things I thought it would never be.
Maybe because I never thought it would get this far but then, why shouldn't it?

I don't make a point of talking about judging fights at work. I don't do it for them.

It's the kind of bullshit you'd expect from that guy in your office who gets a black eye, probably accidentally, and starts conversations about it. The kind of guy who wears a rash guard to swim in and uses hashtags like #smash, #beastmode and #foodporn.

The realest reason to do anything is because you want to.

That sounds way too simple to be constructive but it really isn't. This culture makes anything available in an instant. It's like an 80's Christmas everyday but without as much Toffifee. That's good in a lot of respects but it's bad because it's way too easy not to appreciate anything. If you don't take your time to look back, then it's impossible to see how many steps you've taken and it's way too easy to make mistakes.

"A delayed game is eventually good, a bad game is a bad game forever." - Shigeru Miyamoto

It doesn't have to be now.
It may be next week.
It may be next year.
It doesn't mean you want it any less.
It doesn't mean you're not as passionate about it as anyone else.

Believe me.

When you get what you've been dreaming about since the start; the fact that you've waited so long and worked so hard to make it happen, becomes the most important part about the whole experience.

Until next time, remember that there's no reason it can't be you.
Take Care
Speak Soon
Ben