It seems to be a question that I get asked a fair bit - "have you done any traveling?" Traveling in this sense can be broken down to have one of two meanings. The first is backpacking and really getting a feel for the local culture, total immersion in a way of life for an extended period of time, all that bollocks. The second, somewhat frowned upon, meaning is that of a tourist epitomised by the package tourist in a resort who will eat in McDonald's every day and drinks in Irish bars.
Before I start my viciously personal attack I will for the record say that I have no objection to going to places, talking to strangers (while taking all relevant precautions) and learning about other cultures. With that out of the way, fuck the irritating cunts who espouse the first. It is my fondest wish that you end up in a very cultural human sacrifice or sold into slavery for your temerity. I get it, you may like travel - you may genuinely enjoy the experience and as a result like me with chin-ups may think that everybody should do more. Again like me with chin-ups just because that is how you feel it does not make you less of a cunt.
"Have you traveled much?"
Because surely you have done some traveling? By travel I mean, immersing yourself in a culture, living like the citizens. You know really experiencing their lives. How can you have an opinion on life if you haven't seen as much of it as you can? How can you know anything about yourself if you haven't traveled? If you haven't been in those situations. No, not a tourist. I think of myself as a traveler not as somebody going to a resort.
Fuck off.
As I near my thirties and especially as I seek out that special someone to spend the years between now and my spiral into a rage filled senility I find myself confronted with travel. It's not just conversational it's a moment of judgement. Social convention and laws governing the use of force stop me smiting the smug fuckers asking this question, and all its implied sub questions and statements, but someday I hope they catch some heretofore unheard of, exotic plague.
I'm not against going places. I don't like to have to organise things. I don't like the actual process of traveling. I don't like struggling to be understood in a foreign country. Rarely has the payoff of going to places exceeded the emotional and physical cost of going. So while I'm not against it I'm not really up for it. That's a personal choice and if it were just left at that I wouldn't be in the middle of an angry rant.
Somehow all of this became a rite of passage. Maybe it was disposable income and the economy. Accompanying the shift from the struggle to get a job, any job, that our parents faced to the new struggle to get a job that completes us and lets us express ourselves in ever more startling and creative ways. As an aside, I sometimes don't like working either. These shifts have led inexorably to anyone who doesn't gush at going to work and hasn't traveled extensively being unworthy of the attention of the self righteous cunts who have traveled and love their fulfilling jobs.
I'm a zealot for all sorts of things. For example I think chin-ups are fantastic. I think everyone should do them. I think they'll make you better in the sense that "you with stronger arms" is better than "you right now". I can't see any spiritual or emotional development in them and I don't think they take you any closer to enlightenment than not doing them other than that time passes while you're doing them and as we age we get perspective.
So with that in mind, what infuriates me the most about the headline statements above is that as a wealthy westerner who can afford to go travel and see the world, you are so far removed from the poor locals that you cannot live their plight you can only observe. The fact that you have a backpack instead of being one of the stuffy old English explorers with six Pygmys to carry his luggage takes you only fractionally closer to the experience. So little that I'll still bring my Pygmys.
The idea that it grounds you and lets you know more about yourself offends me. When you take away the constraints of people that know you, their expectations and the pressure of having to live in a community where your actions have consequences then your actions are meaningless. Lone Ranger types coming and going never have to worry about that and act accordingly. The villagers staying in the whipped up mess the Lone Ranger has left are the real heroes effecting real social change.
Like a fulfilling career or parenthood, travel has become the right thing to do. Not an option so much as a rite of passage. When did that happen? Why did it have to happen to something I have no interest in doing? Why couldn't getting knocked out in a boxing match be the rite of passage? I've done that.
I understand that when you like something you think everyone else should like it. In my case - chin-ups, large dogs, bluegrass and complaining. I understand you will enjoy talking about it but don't dare, don't fucking dare pretend that it is something you have to do before you get old or that it somehow makes you a better person.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Musings in a cold and darkened room
You are not a pretty little snowflake or some other Durdenism. Never does this seem truer than when you’re seeking that special someone to live out the rest of your days with. Two very inescapable truths have hit me square in the face. You’re not special I’m not special When that hits if it doesn’t drop you to your knees with tears streaming down your lonely face I’m impressed. These occurred to me when I hit upon the idea of internet dating. Throw up a profile. Select some photos that don’t make me look like I’m a paedophile living in the woods making my own clothes and then string together a few cheeky sentences that list my interests and a few charming curiosities about my personality. Boom. Await the hordes of women who have been waiting all their lives for one as great as me to deign to meet them.
Fucked if that didn’t work.
Some market research reveals that all men are easy going, fun guys who don’t get hung up on looks too much and enjoy among other things the same shit that most people enjoy. Being one of these men I know that dark, dark thoughts cross my mind all the time, I know that I care about looks more than I let on. I know that our profiles omit the horrible/hilarious shit we’ve done in the past - I regret nothing but I won’t publicise it.
Market research of women reveals that unlike our female icons - Rihanna, Lady Gaga et al they are not sexy hungry nymphettes who are prepared to forgive domestic violence and insensitivity just to get their fix. They are literally all into travel, funny guys, a good night out or a quiet night in. They can be a bit of a “girly girl” but don’t mind getting their hands dirty too. Insert photos of the best holidays ever and some good nights out with friends. The less self conscious/sensible among them will have pictures of them with children, animals, celebrities and family who never knew this photo would go on a dating site.
Everybody goes to the gym every now and again and nobody, myself included, can write that without sounding like a lard ass or an obsessive. The sweet spot middle ground is beyond the reach of words alone.
The process under the microscope is a lot like being on a property website. You get attracted by a picture. You read the text, it’s a lot like all the rest but rather than say anything meaningful as long as it doesn’t contain negatives,horrible racist/poor insulation (depending on which site you’re on), you take a chance. Contact is made and any sort of spark at all will do, you’re so desperate to be warm at night. Once you view the property and realise the photographs are not representative or at least took advantage of some helpful angles/lighting/forced perspective all you want to do is walk away with as little offence caused as possible. It’s awkward when the estate agent calls. It’s worse when the girl does and worst of all is when your offer is rebuffed. I feel entitled. I don’t think I’m alone and the blame , I feel, rests on magazines, film and other less spoken about media. The disconnect between what I feel I should get and what I get might cause a lesser man to take drastic measures. Luckily I’m a fun, sporty guy who enjoys going to the gym now and again. I like reading, the cinema and the occasional night out with friends and family.
Fucked if that didn’t work.
Some market research reveals that all men are easy going, fun guys who don’t get hung up on looks too much and enjoy among other things the same shit that most people enjoy. Being one of these men I know that dark, dark thoughts cross my mind all the time, I know that I care about looks more than I let on. I know that our profiles omit the horrible/hilarious shit we’ve done in the past - I regret nothing but I won’t publicise it.
Market research of women reveals that unlike our female icons - Rihanna, Lady Gaga et al they are not sexy hungry nymphettes who are prepared to forgive domestic violence and insensitivity just to get their fix. They are literally all into travel, funny guys, a good night out or a quiet night in. They can be a bit of a “girly girl” but don’t mind getting their hands dirty too. Insert photos of the best holidays ever and some good nights out with friends. The less self conscious/sensible among them will have pictures of them with children, animals, celebrities and family who never knew this photo would go on a dating site.
Everybody goes to the gym every now and again and nobody, myself included, can write that without sounding like a lard ass or an obsessive. The sweet spot middle ground is beyond the reach of words alone.
The process under the microscope is a lot like being on a property website. You get attracted by a picture. You read the text, it’s a lot like all the rest but rather than say anything meaningful as long as it doesn’t contain negatives,horrible racist/poor insulation (depending on which site you’re on), you take a chance. Contact is made and any sort of spark at all will do, you’re so desperate to be warm at night. Once you view the property and realise the photographs are not representative or at least took advantage of some helpful angles/lighting/forced perspective all you want to do is walk away with as little offence caused as possible. It’s awkward when the estate agent calls. It’s worse when the girl does and worst of all is when your offer is rebuffed. I feel entitled. I don’t think I’m alone and the blame , I feel, rests on magazines, film and other less spoken about media. The disconnect between what I feel I should get and what I get might cause a lesser man to take drastic measures. Luckily I’m a fun, sporty guy who enjoys going to the gym now and again. I like reading, the cinema and the occasional night out with friends and family.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Recklessly Small
Words have power and a resonance not easily captured in a dictionary. How often do you see a definition explain that using a certain word over another will make you sound wankery? Words can be used to hide things too. Hidden in plain sight by words that paint you as a victim or martyr while ignoring your complicity in your downfall.
If you're one of these people, that let words do your lying for you, then fuck you.
This is all prompted by a young man who told me he was set upon and received a kicking from two other young men. That they chased, caught and threw the boots in. This young man described it as an assault.
Others have used the word assault and have just been straight up lying cunts. They started a fight, lost and explain the little blue and purple badges of dishonour away as having been assaulted. This young man's lie is more pernicious, it ignores his complicity. It paints a picture of a man who through no fault of his own got beaten up.
You see, this man is 10 stone in weight. For the metrically minded that's 63.5kg. His assailants were about the same. And no, I'm not talking about a dwarf. This young man is 5'8" or 1.72m That's 2 inches shorter than me and nigh on 5 stone lighter.
His complicity is in being recklessly small.
Take a theft as another example. If you are simple minded enough to leave your phone unattended on a table in a busy bar, if it gets taken then it's not so much a theft as a tax on the stupid.
If you drink and drive and crash, while people passing on the bus on their way to work may think human tragedy that is not the full story. You are at fault, at least partially, for going out there unprepared knowingly putting yourself in the path of harm without the skills or abilities to deal with the the forseeable future. Fuck you and the work you've caused the emergency services.
The small, the frail, the unprepared need to take some responsibility. While crimes shouldn't happen, they do and it is upon us to be prepared. Insurance companies set higher premiums in houses with poor locks and no alarms. They pay less if you weren't wearing a seat belt. If you left your keys in the car and it's gone come morning - you're screwed.
If taking some responsibility means putting on some shoulders over a back and holding them up with some legs of note then do it. If it means being sober and keeping an eye on your phone do. I don't want to have to pretend to give a shit about you if you're to blame.
Conan
The Caring Sort
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