An early riser, but one must be when there are so many decisions to deliberate over throughout the day. Just not enough time. Firstly, upon waking up the decision of which breakfast. Will today require a high fibre breakfast, or will a quick morning coffee do? These decisions just the tip of the iceberg, but better to limit the options to these two choices. Next, clothes. So, the shirt, classic white – yes that’ll do. Actually, burgundy could work. Yes, burgundy, some nice light chinos, shoes (the only pair available… easy decision there). Done. Alright, nearly there. Now to get ready… DAMN, late again. Forgot to choose boxers and socks… great, better just call in sick.
The curse of negativity. It can turn a beautiful sentiment from one, to suspicion of ulterior motives… a shame. This poison can infect any happy go lucky individual – a beautiful sunny day, sullied by the constant knit-picking of every insignificant detail which isn’t quite perfect. Enjoying the moment almost impossible for the individual who can only see through the eyes of negativity. A clear path to a life painted with a tinge of grey, the dark cloud a constant presence. Why is nothing ever perfect? Why can life never go my way? The ability to enjoy and compromise inhibited by the mind. Fleeting moments of pure happiness lost, as the constant quest to find flaws in everything has become a way of life. Dependant on a daily mix of alcohol and drugs, attempting to maintain the facade of a joyous go getter… is any one being fooled by this?
The whistle of the wind fills this house. The eery echo of silence resonates throughout. The floorboards creek as the journey necessary to brew a comforting hot cup of tea is embarked upon. Boil the water, place the tea bag in the mug, pour the boiled water, add milk – a simple task. The kettle coming to boil causes a shudder, boiling water everywhere! I must get back to the bedroom, something isn’t right. Rain starts to fall, a rhythmic contemptuous taunt, masking tonight’s true occurrence. The boiling water has started to cool… almost unnaturally quickly. There is now a distinct chill, I shiver and reach for the blanket. Wait. Where did the blanket go? It was here, there is always a blanket kept on this particular chair. I’m not alone…
To carry the weight of the world on your shoulders everyday is a struggle, the strain it brings. The stress it yields. The responsibility always present. This is the life of a parent. A life brought to being through love. That life now solely relies upon you and your partner. Food, clothes, shelter… it’s upto you. The daunting task ahead, a mixture of joy and nerves. Can we really do this? Are we ready? The moments most joyous, also bring the burden of great responsiblity. Never will more stress be experienced. Never will such pride be realised. Never will such strong emotions be felt. To be a parent, is to carry the weight of the world on your sholders.
The weather, a big influence in the way we live, from our sleeping habits, to eating habits, to shopping habits. Should I buy that coat? “Will I really use it, summer is just around the corner”. Such thoughts may occupy our mind, whilst trying to perform what should be the simplest of tasks… spending money. A cold harsh, British day/night can inspire the laziness within each of us, with the large majority opting to stay inside, a nice takeaway and TV awaits. This rather than endure the cold… can you blame them? The weather has the ability to mold certain cultures, the Mediterranean way of life, a midday heat induced siesta, and making up for these lost hours through increased activity in what the British would call sleepy time. Most of us complain about the weather wherever we may be in the world, from the Spanish complaining about the heat, to the British moaning of the cold, unpredictability and rain. One cultural habit we all share… we all moan about ‘the bloody weather’.
May the best man win, a common sentiment. A sentiment I do not care for, money is on the line here, this is no time to be nice, that money in the pot is mine. Cards looking good, pocket pair in hand, anxiously anticipating the rest of the cards. I don’t show anxiety. I don’t show emotion. Eyes of glass, face of stone …unreadable. Pocket pair, a secret I shall fiercely protect. It all depends on the cards in the middle now, what will they be, is it worth the risk. Shall I raise? Shall I call? My insticts key to success, is that a bluff, or do they possess that specific comibination of cards capable of see me moving back in with my parents. Raising money on the weekends by walking dogs, having to dispose of the mess they will undoubtely cause, a bag a warm brown mess possibly awaiting. It all comes down to this, I’m going all in. I can see I’m ahead… a certain winner.
21 years of age, finding his feet in the world. Will still isn’t sure what it is he wants to do with the rest of his life. Such questions he ponders upon his daily quest to and from his working life as a compliance officer. A somewhat eccentric individual, he has lavish dreams of riches allowing a private jet type of lifestyle, mojito in one hand, bottomless wallet in the other. Wife and kids in toe, ready to seize everyday in another place, no day the same, with an undeniable freedom no person can restrict. A whole life, dreams, ambitions can be envisaged enroute to the office. Will, the compliance officer – can he breakout of what is now normal? Could he travel the world?
Make the future of which you dream an inevitable reality, rather than waiting to find that the distant tomorrow of which you dreamt … never came.
Inspiration in life, this is different for everyone. What is your muse? What do you aspire to be? Is it the Olympic athletes such a as Mo Farah and Usain Bolt, whom have inspired you to follow in their footsteps, olympic gold an attainable dream. Is your muse your mother or father? Have you seen all that they have done for you and others, is it your pride in their achievements which you wish to replicate for your children. What inspires individuals is not set to specific parameters, and it can change as we evolve throughout our life journeys.
Taste is special in many foods, a significant draw of course to what we choose to grace our pallets. A satisfying meal, a combination of savoury and sweet has the ability to send all of us into a calm tranquility. However, food transcends taste and the ability to fill that hole in our stomachs. At times a rallying cry can be heard from the stomach, signalling to the brain, WE NEED FOOD.
The transcendence of food, is one which goes hand in hand with the psychological idea of cue dependency, in which it is said that we have certain cues for specific memories. Whenever the smell of fresh lasagne is in the air, I am taken back to Itlay, and the fond memories of visiting my grandfather who has sadly since past. But, that food, the smell and the atmosphere it brings, keeps those memories alive. To many people food holds these types of memories, a plate of food means something different to everyone. Memories in bowl, or an emotional connection to a distant past served on a plate. It is not just the taste which makes food great.
I logon to the account, with no ideas in mind. What to watch? The rain drizzles against the window, with the gentle whisper of the wind filling the house. A long day, time to relax, a cool drink in hand and food on its way, it’s the simple things I enjoy. The browsing continues, with indecisiveness setting in. The categories have been narrowed down to comedy… wait but do I fancy watching a drama. Pondering upon which category better suits my mood, I realise the food should have been taken out of the oven half an hour ago. It has been 1 hour and a half and still the vital choice must be made. Salvaging the mostly burnt food from the oven, I decided upon what it is I shall watch, a show named ‘How to Cook’.