Oo that's nice!

It's been so long since my last bloody blog post it's a whole new year. 

Firstly before pressing on with the real matters here's a little update as to why.

I blogged about gut feelings way back in April and hey, it turns out my gut was right. So in September things went kinda belly up however, I have learnt a bucket load and I mainly learned the importance of being nice. 

This right here is the main point. Told you it was a little update. 

Nice is a word that often gets scoffed at. Being described as nice or having nice as a personal quality isn't always deemed to be a good thing and is quite frequently said with a sneer of sarcasm and derision. 

In primary school a teacher told my class to try not to use nice as a describing word - that whole year any creative piece of writing sounds like it's written by a little pompous twerp with a ludicrous and grandiose vision on the world. She would have loved that sentence.

Is being nice really a bad thing though? Nice, the place, looks pretty fantastic. Nice biscuits are alright, bit of a marmite biscuit if I'm honest.

To me, being nice is a huge, huge deal. Nice guys finish last is just bollocks. Well, okay, maybe they will finish last but they will finish with a bunch of people urging them on, without a bad word being said about them and will leave this world with a lifetime filled with love and support and happy memories. 

Did I ever mention for a little time I was an agent's assistant? I was, it was pretty damned awesome. 

Anyway, when telling people who they could work with, a writer, for example, we would happily describe all their past achievements - who they'd worked for: 'yes they wrote for them too, small world eh?', yet the added sentence 'and you know what? they're a really lovely, genuine nice guy' often sealed the deal.

People don't want to work with or for assholes. We've all done those summer jobs that aren't great pay and always seem to have the boss from hell. 

People don't want to be friends with nasty people: 'Hey this is my friend, he's a great guitarist, complete dickhead though.'

I'd be thrilled to be described by anyone as a nice person. If that was someone's lasting impression of me then I have done something right in this world. 

It's really easy to not give a damn, comment not compliment, not smile on the bus etc and somedays it's harder than others to find something nice to say about someone and even more so yourself. Give it a try though. It's 2014, still new into the year so why not try and find something nice to say about yourself and then a friend?

Nice might be overused sometimes. It may not be said with much esteem. I like trying being nice, it's a fucking excellent quality to possess and true nice people seem to be becoming fewer and far between.

After all, when have you heard someone say 'let's have a simply superb, wonderfully blended cup of tea?'

Fight or Flighter

Everyone knows about fight or flight, whether you use the burst of adrenaline in a stressful situation to attack or flee?

I'm a flighter. I'd run away from any situation as fast as my stumpy legs would allow. The idea of running away has always been an attractive option in my mind and I can't remember a time when I haven't loved the idea. Imagine any problem, any stressful situation, any embarrassing moment, any nerve wracking event and like in cartoons, you leave only a mere dust trail and some speed lines behind you. 

As a child, the running away spot was in the garden. The furtherest point from the back door, hidden by the side of the shed so I couldn't be seen from any window. I'd go there, become invisible for a while and retreat back in, cool as a cucumber hoping that whatever had happened that I didn't like had disappeared. As I got a bit older, I favoured my bedroom, the sanctuary that it still is to this day. Whenever any teenage angst fuelled arguments flared up in the house - straight up the stairs, door tightly shut, music on and book out. I couldn't physically flight off so I'd delve into a fictional world. Rather ironically reading about heroic characters in all forms who would fight for what they believed in, rose to the occasion and faced their demons (sometimes quite literally) head on and there I was sulking and ignoring what was in front of me.

Now, as a burgeoning adult, more than ever do I want to hot tail it to anywhere. I'd just take off, I'd ignore texts, calls, tweets, facebook messages, emails until I saw fit. Ideally, I'd go to a cabin a bit off the grid near a lake or the shore. Just me. I'd communicate with the outside world on my terms and my terms only. I would return, when the loneliness became more crippling than the boredom and I'd expect to able to do this with no-one asking me where I went, why I left or had I figured out the solution to what I was running away from. 

Taken from cabinporn.com 

Not often do I question this need that bubbles up from the pit of my stomach, that fills my throat and makes me feel on edge, that tells me to 'RUN'. It does feel though, when you take a step back that is it the most cowardly approach to dealing with life's problems. Is it though? It mightn't seem so outwardly valiant or productive but it allows time for reflection, putting distance between yourself and said problem can present you with a way to move forward in a more careful, thoughtful manner than squaring up to a much bigger, stronger opponent. It's gotten me this far, I'm unsure how useful it will be in the next few decades.

Will this feeling ever go away? Will it become less overwhelming and all consuming? Will it become a less frequent voice? I'm pretty certain that it won't, that this is for life and I'll carry it with me, wearing it on my self like scars. I was born with it, like the birthmark on my leg and now I'm stuck with it. It is part of the personality makeup of which I am made up of. 

This got me thinking perhaps it is 'genetic'? I didn't have far to look really. This led to my conclusion of: I blame my father. I would say he too, is a bit of a flighter, he has his form of escapism and both of us agree, the great open waters are an endless opportunity of adventure and 'getting away'. It's okay though, he can blame his father who was a sailor - a great job for a flighter not having any sort of permanent location for much of a given time. 

And thus conclusively, I was born to flight.

Right now, this very moment, today, yesterday, tomorrow my need to flight is stronger than ever. The voice is louder, angrier, more persistent. I'm like a deer in the woods, listening for any branch to snap. I just need the excuse, the reason and I am gone, Roadrunner quick - at least, for a short while.