New blog, for those interested.

http://www.englishmaninsouthkorea.blogspot.com/

The saga continues...X

It arrived. And not a moment too soon.

I did it.

In fact, the ceremony itself was much more impressive than I expected (the university clearly have their priorities sorted when they can afford to spend thousands on a graduation ceremony and not on student accommodation.)

Still, now isnt the time for griping, it was quite frankly, awesome.

This concludes my pilot blog 'Gradual Graduation'. Its certainly been gradual, but the journey has been incredible and I hope to talk to you all soon when my Korean plans start up in earnest.

Best of luck, be blissful.

Joe

X

Like a hot bun...

This is an interesting one, and something I find hard to admit: I've never been ditched.
I've managed to avoid that moment of utter arse-ness that occurs when someone says they dont want to see you again, until now.
I've dumped people left right and centre, I'm a serial dumper. What a complete bastard I am, but I do warn them in advance. Turn the tables on me though, and I'm carving people's names in my forhead with a compass. Failing to notice the whole time that it makes me less endearing than I think.
The funny thing is; being dumped is a bit like being knocked out (something I've also experienced, thankfully not in the same outing). You watch boxers get clocked right in the kisser and they stand with fists still raised for a second before keeling over. You feel the initial 'hit' and then deny to yourself that its really happening, as you slide onto the metaphorical canvas that turns out to be your half finished pint.
Bottom line: if you like someone, and you really dont want to let go of them, a sharp gut-punch of rejection is a decent smelling-salt for realising how much of a mug you were being to start with.
And, as for you, your loss.

Signs.

Partially to air the cobwebs on my laptop and also to kick the arse of a fellow blogger on the same topic, I am going to discuss a few small issues regarding the topic of the zodiac.

There are four distinct elements in the zodiac apparantly: Earth, Water, Air and Fire.

Air signs are normally noted for being great thinkers and philosophers, artists and poets, inventors and revolutionaries. They are also supposed to get on famously with each other, being on the same wavelength with their wacky ideas and views on the world.

I'm born under the sign of Aquarius, the water carrier which is, confusingly, an air sign.

Fellow air signs are Libra and Gemini, our continually crazy outlook means that we are better matched with sign of type than maybe a sign of another type (I tried going out with a Leo once, it became a bit fierce.)

So, without getting too bogged down in the details of it all, does your zodiac sign have any real influence on your compatability with someone else?

'Aquarians tend to be less likely to be involved in long term relationships due to their powerful sense of independence, they also have an unorthadox (and sometimes downright weird) approach to how a relationship is supposed to function.'

You got me, I was under the illusion for all these years that a relationship should be fun. How unorthadox of me.

The problem is, that to a certain extent some of this is a self fulfilling prophecy: I am independent, but then who thinks they arent? And if I'm unorthadox in my thinking about relationships, why would that be less likely for me to be in one? It should read:

'Aquarians tend to suffer from being impossible to please: they are attracted by intellect but turned off my smugness, love a laugh but like to be serious, hate being contradicted, hate being told to follow the rules and love to rebel against almost every social rule in the book.'

THAT sounds more like it!

Famous Aquarian dudes include James Dean, Axl Rose, Bob Marley, Alice Cooper, Thomas Edison and (my favourite) Charles Darwin.

I'm supposed to be a life-match with a Libra woman. They're supposed to be better equipped to deal with my many shortcomings and keep me 'mentally stimulated'.

The problem is: somebody's sign doesnt always mean that its a match made in heaven, I've met many Libra women who I cant fucking stand, it almost seems irrelevent to know their birth date because the fact remains...they're a nob!

I met one Libra who I got on with like a house on fire, but timing was a huge issue, as was my inability to stop partying. We're still friends, which makes me happy. I'm sure that says something about us as people, even if it isnt entirely dependent on our birthdays.

Bottom line is: if we are in the right stage of our lives to settle into a long term, get-a-mortgage, have-a-kid, family-car, Swanage-in-August relationship, then maybe that is the right time to meet that match, who knows?

So maybe from now on I'll just have to accept that I'm a total pleb when it comes to the relationships, but maybe I'll be wary that for now it might be better to be a single aqua, I do have the rest of my life to find a pair of scales. I've felt chemistry with different signs, its not always as cut and dry as one-for-one. But it does state that the one sign that I am forever not going to be able to handle is another Aquarian.

Makes sense.

To hear a very talented Libran's perspective on this topic, visit http://www.amiecoussens.blogspot.com/

An Honest Update...

I think I've stopped writing personal things on here and started writing odd, travelogue-esque articles because I've been feeling unable to express myself properly.
What is new in my life? Let me think of a few:

I have a new job, working for the NHS as a call-taker. I'm still undergoing my training but getting paid the same as I will when I'm totally qualified. Its fun; the shift patterns are crazy (i'm working 11pm-7am for three nights in a row this week, thank god it's time and a quarter.)
It appears Korea is on the way, theres a slight conflict between my interests and the practicalities of it all however: I have different days of feeling really optimistic about going, and other times when I feel hopelessly scared. This hasnt been helped by my most recent of conundrums: adjusting (badly) to life after Uni.
I know I've banged on and on about it but the transition between Uni and home is just totally and utterly knocking me sideways at present. I dont have a grip on anything, I feel.
Put it this way: we all need routine to be able to function, I'm having enough trouble settling back into a new routine before I decide to dissapear off again, this worries me. It almost feels like I'm trying to hide from myself. Cliche' or what?
To take a broader view on it for a moment, I am aware that time flies and I dont want to miss a moment of it, but how do I deal with plunging myself into change so deep if I can barely cope with moving 200miles back home within the same country?
My attempts to settle back into routine have been scuppered somewhat by the job that, by its very nature, requires flexibility in it's shift patterns. My want to play rugby again has been buggered by my body's inability to take the strain (two big injuries in as many months, I'm under the delusion that I'm still really really fit, and I'm not!) In short, I feel a bit crap, directionless and pessimistic about the future.
You cant escape your problems, they pop up wherever you are, whatever you're doing and whoever you're with. I used to think I could face mine, but I think that maybe its not that easy.
If the move to Korea turns into a nightmare, I wont know how to ever forgive myself; I've talked it up for so long now, and though I think it'll be amazing, I just cant help thinking I'm doing it all for the wrong reasons, and at the wrong time.
But maybe I need to feel like this, now. Better to lose my nerve before I'm out there.
This is a test, one more that I'll have to overcome and dominate.

As Anna would quote : 'Our doubts are traitors, that make us lose the good we might oft win, by fearing to attempt.'
Good old Jaques...

Cleanliness and acting the fool.

Those who know me will say this: I'm not tidy.
I cant help it, its not in my nature to be a clean-freak, I'm too busy being silly. Even I have my limits though...
When at 26 Denbigh Street (the infamous bachelor pad I lived in at Uni) the issue wasnt so much to do with cleanliness as it was to do with basic hygiene: our kitchen work-tops were inhabited with enough bacteria to start up a bio-weaponry arsenal.
This wasn't helped by the fact that the toilet was through the kitchen, on some evenings the smell would waft in and combine itself with the pasta you were making. It provided its amusing moments however; a favourite game of ours would be 'shower sabotage', where the window would be left unlocked and a fire extinguisher hose could be sneaked in. It would be unfair if I didnt mention that this game was usually played whenever Olly had a shower, after a while we dispensed with the subtleties and just kicked the door in. Seeing a naked and screaming Olly as we sprayed him was disturbing, but worth it.
I suppose I'm mentioning this because as bad as that house was for hygiene, and occasionally sanity, I miss being able to do daft things like that. Or maybe I miss the opportunity to do daft things like that...its hard to tell.
I could try to replicate it on my Dad, if I didnt mind being maimed.

Hip Hop Just Saved Me.

Following the introspection of the previous blog (sorry about that by the way), I have decided to return to a social commentary of sorts.
What makes hip-hop an art form?
The biggest barrier to any social commentary is a fragmented mode of address (or, ‘not understanding each other’, like.) Rap and hip-hop has been both lauded and damned in equal measure for the messages of unity but also ones of hatred. Is it simply storytelling?
The origins of this fast-evolving genre have been disputed for decades, the most likely source will have been West African poets, known as griots. They used the spoken word to pass on great fables and poems to audiences. Paul Oliver writes in his book "Savannah Syncopators"
‘Though [the griot] has to know many traditional songs without error, he must also have the ability to extemporize on current events, chance incidents and the passing scene. His wit can be devastating and his knowledge of local history formidable.’
This leads us to the immigration of America, and a development of a cultural identity in what would have been a melting pot of differing ideals and values when it came to entertainment. Many Griot-style lyricists used their gifts to entertain crowds in the post-civil rights era in the 1960s/70s.
Jamaican influence was key; ‘Dub’ music had travelled well and was later mixed with the unlikely combo of Disco and Funk. The shorter beats gave way to the practice of ‘toasting’, an early emcee-battle of skill between two opponents.
This combative approach had given disenfranchised youth a voice and while Kool Herc & the Herculoids were the first team to make it big in the Bronx, the rest of the world was soon to catch up.
The ‘first’ hip-hop track to have been put to recording is largely thought to be The Sugarhill Gang’s Rapper’s Delight in 1979. The fun-fast trio of Wonder-Mike, Big Bank Hank and Master-Gee were credited by having a catchy hook and wacky lyrics. It is hard, when listening to this 17 minute masterpiece, to see how gangster violence could be influenced by this art form. But, as with all things, a subculture always develops.
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five presented a new face of hip-hop to the world. Their songs were catchy but delved into areas of life that other rappers were no doubt living, but weren’t making records about. The Message is probably the best example of a rap-song that deals with the hard facts behind the genre’s poverty-stricken roots:
‘Broken glass everywhere, people pissing on the stairs, you know they just don’t care. I can’t take the smell, can’t take the noise, got no money to move out I guess I’ve got no choice.
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back. Junkies in the alleys with a baseball bat, I tried to run away but I didn’t get far cause the man with the tow truck repossessed my car.’
The track then gives way to possibly one of the most famous hooks in the world ‘Don’t push me cause I’m close to the edge, I’m trying not to lose my head.’ Seeing them in print somehow takes away from the significance; orally they are said as if every word deserves to be emblazoned in red and capitalised, such is the desperation of them.
The ‘real’ lyrics of rappers became overshadowed with the glamour of rapper’s and their respective gang’s lifestyles. While songs such as Rapper’s Delight reference this with the lines ‘I got bodyguards, I got two big cars...So afterschool I take a dip in the pool which is really on the wall, I got a colour T.V so I can see the Nicks play basketball...’ it is seen as more of a cartoonish dream, that this lifestyle could ever be lead.
Soon, hip-hop became about what you had, and how much of it. Excess was the order of the day and while this is not exclusive to the genre (look at the Rat-Pack’s decadence) it became a political middle finger to the rest of the world that people from the ghetto could make big money from raw talent.
You may notice that at no point am I professing to be an expert, I am merely giving a view. The first rap album I ever owned was Will Smith’s Willenium. Considered by many to be a joke rapper, Will Smith represents something totally different at the turn of the decade: in terms of his social mobility, he has gone from being a rapper, to actor, to producer and is now one of the biggest banking stars of Hollywood. Not bad for the skinny kid who used to emcee with a guy called ‘DJ Jazzy Jeff’.
The 2000’s then appeared to have a dual role for its rappers, they weren’t just revered for their music, their lifestyles took on a totally different meaning: Eminem’s rags-to-riches film 8 Mile shows a behind the scenes take on the struggle to ‘blow up’ and out of poor neighbourhoods through music, a task which Eminem seems to be saying is harder to do if you’re white trash in a predominantly black ghetto, such as Detroit. This is what makes it so hard for us as an audience to understand whether we are infatuated with the music or the people.
To return to the issue of lyrics and the various interpretations of them; there is a renaissance of reality in some pockets of the genre. The idea being that the more we earn and spend looking good, the less good we do. As twee as it may sound, Kanye West’s early albums (where he still rapped) were an exercise in what can only be described as masked smugness. His records preached about the double standards of the world:
‘I say fuck the police, thats how I treat em
We buy our way out of jail, but we can’t buy freedom.
We’ll buy a lot of clothes but we don’t really need em
Things we buy to cover up whats inside.’

Lupe Fiasco, a personal favourite of mine, addresses the same issues of greed, inequality and the deterioration of social values. His approach is different in that he likes to make the audience think, rather than Kanye, who forces it down you in a manner which feels less sincere.
His song ‘Intruder Alert’ focuses on the pain in society, and challenges people to change their views of addicts, immigrants and much more. And he does it all without a sample from ‘Another Day in Paradise’:
‘He said nobody else ever loved him
Thats why he gets high enough to go touch the heavens above him
Vividly remembers every pipe
Every needle that stuck him
Every alley he ever slept in
Every purse that he snuck in
Every level of hell he’s been to
And the one that he’s stuck in
The one he can’t escape
Though it’s of his own construction.
Maybe you can relate
Maybe you one of those that just doesn’t
Maybe he doesn’t care
Loves to allow these demons to come in.’

Though strictly only forty years old, hip-hop has the capacity to become even bigger in the coming years. My preference for rappers like Lupe are that they stick closely to the truth of it all, reminding us why we should all live together harmoniously (Lupe is also a practicing Muslim).
The story-telling is all, without it the genre just becomes nonsense verse telling people to ‘get low.’