Brick Wall

So how are we all enjoying the World Cup? In fairness it has picked up since the knockout rounds, but so far,for me its been pretty meh! Although in the interest of giving props when due, I have to say I was quite impressed watching Brazil take on Cote d’Ivoire the other night. Brazil seem to have mixed their traditional flair and attacking football with a solid defence which is a little different for the boys from the Copacabana.

Being something of expert myself, I was fully expecting the lads in the studio to agree with my analysis at half time. So while I sat there waiting to hear Didi Hamman and Eamon Dunphy confirm my incite into the beautiful game, I found myself being distracted by what has become something of a familiar irritant this last week or two.

Vevuzalas. The annoying plastic horns that have been blaring a slightly off key B flat droning out of our televisions screens all the way from South Africa. I mean its bad enough when its going on during the game…but for the half time studio discussion? I thought that is a bit much.

Of course being the clever person that I am, I eventually realised that I was mistaken. The sound wasn’t coming from my TV this time. It was closer.

I looked around to see if I could locate the source of the noise. Quick scan of the room. Eyes searching. There, in the skylight on my roof, the buzzing cause of my vexation. It wasn’t the horns of Bafana Bafana sounding like a trapped bumble bee this time. No, this time, it was an actual trapped Bumble Bee.

A little black and yellow fuzzy nugget of noisy nuisance. Flying into the window. Over and over he (I’m assuming it’s a he because of his failure to ask for directions) would draw back and attempt to make his escape through the window. Wings flapping, buzz buzzing he burst forward expecting to feel the wind coarse through his hair.

Again and again he was repelled with a thunk. His little bee head bouncing of the pane of glass. I watched this with more amusement than a man of thirty plus years should get from an insect. Thirty seconds, a minute, a minute and a half passed and I was still smiling at his futile attempts at escape.


By the time two minutes rolled around, my mirth began to ease. I watched him as he continued on his mission and I felt a twinge of guilt and then sadness then finally recognition. To paraphrase Dr F.J. Lewis from History Today, ‘That’s me that is!’

I saw something in that pesky bee that rang true to my heart. As he continued to pummel his head against the glass wall, I thought about how I constantly do the same stupid things over and over again. Things that I understand aren’t in my best interest but yet time and again I go back to the well.

Be it poor choice of female companion, or behaving in a manner detrimental to a relationship. Over consumption of alcohol. Making compulsive decisions that are not conducive to a happy and healthy lifestyle. Over the years, repeatedly, I have gone back to that well of self sabotage.

With the help of psycho analysis I have learned to recognise when I am heading down these roads. It doesn’t always stop me going down them. Most of the times I halt my negative behaviour, but sometimes, sometimes I allow myself to go further than normal because I convince myself that I know what I’m doing. This is not true. I’m like that guy in the big river in Egypt.

Living this way has in the past made me incredibly unhappy. I don’t want to have this kind of existence.

I recently watched the movie Greenberg. It stars Ben Stiller as a miserable, disaffected , sad lonely guy.
When I was in my twenties I loved movies about these kind of characters. They were cool and indie. I related to them. Usually because they were in their twenties. This character, Greenberg, I fucking detested.

In this movie Ben Stiller was in his 40’s. He was angry and confused because his life didn’t turn out the way he expected. I can appreciate that. However what I can’t appreciate is that the self serving whiney asshole did nothing to change it. He was miserable and he excused himself for being a dick because he was unhappy. Sadly this is something I’ve probably been guilty off in the past.

In general the movie made me think ‘I can’t be doing this crap when I’m in my forties.’ I can’t keep messing around and expect people to understand. I need to make things different. I need to keep pushing with the changes I have made in my life.

So, why am I telling you about it, you ask? Good question my friends. I’m going to need help. As I said a lot of the time I recognise when I’m doing stupid things. Sometimes I recognise and ignore it. What I need from you, if you see me making one of my poor life choices I need you to highlight it to me. I need you to be vocalise the annoying little voice that’s going on in my head.

Of course there is no point in you just saying to me ‘Don‘t do that John‘. I didn’t listen to my mother enough when she said it and I probably won’t listen to you . In all likelihood just think you are a killjoy and I’m in control, I’ll be fine. And that is blatantly not the case.

What is needed in a situation like this, as any submissive sex slave worth their salt will tell you, is a safety word. A single word which will spark my brain into action and make me realise that I’m doing something stupid again.

A good safety word should be something that is strong and unusual enough to not come up in regular everyday conversation. I’m thinking, in honour of my inspirational friend of going with bumblebee. But if anyone has a better suggestion I’m always open to a good safety word.

Oh and in case you’re are wondering about the bee. Eventually he realised he was banging his head needlessly against the window. He stopped, changed direction and flew out the door. You’re all smart people. I don’t need to explain that metaphor to you, now do I?

Slide

I am having a bad week. There. I’ve said it. I really wanted this to be a place of positivity and good vibes. The amount of bitching and whining that goes on the internet is a shame. Sadly today, I’m going to keep with the trend.

So far in the last ten days, I have crashed my car, dealt with some of the most unhelpful people in the world, some of the most automated people in the world, forgot my keys, forgot my wallet, realised that while my lifestyle is great, having no money has its drawbacks when it comes to paying bills, fallen down the stairs and generally just been faced with the kind of challenges and test to make the old testament vengeful Trial of Job, God look like Pat Sharp in Fun House.

All this and the realisation that I am starting to look like some kind of homeless person.

The motor accident. Firstly, the most important thing. thankfully no one was seriously hurt. I was giving a friend a lift home and ended up going into the back of another car. Its in the hands of the Insurance company. I probably shouldn’t talk too much about the accident itself in case I violate some clause or other.

The ramifications of the accident. As I said thankfully no one was badly injured and that’s the most important thing. Doreen, however is probably heading on her last journey. The people in the insurance don’t seem to any value on sentiment (heartless swines) and will probably decide that the cost of repairing her is more than her actual value and will consign my good friend to the scrap yard. This hurts deeply but at the end of the day if its Doreen is the only casualty of this mishap I cannot be too ungrateful.

While the injuries weren’t serious there were obviously some bumps and bruises. The lady whose car I hit as been sore and stiff since and I wish her a speedy recovery. My friend had some nice bruises on her hip and shoulders and an all round soreness. She was very good about it all and I need to thank her for not holding it against me.

I had a couple of bumps and cuts. The worst was the effects of the airbag. I’m not sure if it was burns or a reaction to the powder that they case that stuff in. Either way, parts of my face were beautifully pink and blotchy. Kind of like the Singing Detective with less dancing nurses.

And by the way if you’ve never been around an activated airbag its disgusting. It smells like something with really wet hair crawled inside something smelly, died and then set itself on fire.

The guards were very helpful and understanding. I didn’t have my licence and Insurance Certificate so I had to present these to my local station within 10 days. Now I’ve never really had any dealings with our police force so I was suitably intimidated and petrified. I brought what I thought was the requisite paper work to the Sundrive Station as soon as I got home.

However, it appears what I thought was my Insurance Certificate was not. It was in fact my policy schedule. Ah!

Here’s the thing. You remember that super, funny, little piece about how great it is to de clutter and free your life of unnecessary crap that you don’t need. Well one part of that was to go through all my paper work and get rid of any old stuff that was basically duplicating other stuff…

I think you know where I’m going with this.

So I rang my insurance company. You know the procedure

Press 1 for cars. Press 2 for vans. Press 334 for Intergalactic/Time Vehicles.

Eventually I got through to a voice and explained to him what had happened. How I had had an accident and needed a copy of my Insurance Certificate.

“Ok Mr. Holohan, that’s no problem at all, I’m just going to put you through to our renewals department” said R2D2

I wasn’t really sure why I was being put through to renewals but ok. I then spoke to CP30. I explained to him what had happened. He seemed a little confused.

“I see your policy is up for Renewal Mr. Holohan. Would you like to that now.?”

“Emmm. No. See I don’t actually have a car at the moment that I need to insure.”

I then explained again what I needed. My protocol droid friend was really confused now. I shouldn’t have been put through to him at all. Customer service should be dealing with me. He was going to transfer me back to them, but to ensure I didn’t have to go through all this again he would leave a very detailed note on my a/c. So off I went again.

“Hello T-800 speaking, how can I help you Mr Holohan. Ah I see your policy is almost due for renewal I’ll just transfer you to our Renewals Department”

No!!!! Stop. I had to raise my voice and get this Austrian accented robot to listen. I told him there should be a note explaining what I needed. There wasn’t.

I explained, again, what had happened and what I needed. I told him that I needed to do what ever is normally done when people lose their insurance certificates. T-800 then put me on hold and went to speak to his supervisor. Eventually he came back and told me they could re issue my certificate but it would cost me 20 Euro.

Fine. I just wanted to get it sorted and over and done with. He called out my details and asked me to confirm my address. When I gave a different address to the one he had on the system T-800 self destructed.

I then spoke to Bender. I explained to Bender that I had moved house since I took out the insurance and I had informed the brokers of this and that should it not be them that informs the insurance company. Bender was sure it was just a clerical mix up and it wouldn’t be a problem sending the cert to my address, however….

I did not like the sound of that however. Apparently because I had moved address into a new post code I could be liable for a premium on my insurance. How could this be right. Padraig Harrington could hit a ball from my old house to my new one. I really couldn’t take much more of this. I couldn’t deal with lowly androids anymore. I needed to speak to the Big Cheese. I needed to speak to the supervisor.

“Get me Optimus Prime” I demanded.

Optimus I have to say was very good. He listened to me whinge and gripe. He gave the positive listening noises like they are trained. He apologised for any inconvenience. He accepted that I had a point but of course insisted that the company is perfectly within its rights to apply these charges. However as I’ve had a poor customer experience he would resolve it with out charge.

You have got to admire quality programming like that.

And that my friends, was just the beginning of what has been one of the shittiest, most stressful 10 day periods of my life. I could tell you about the unhappy little trolls that live behind the glass in the social welfare office. Or how utility companies have decided that I should give them money first so that they can then charge me for their service.

Its just too bleak. And like I said I want this to be a place of good feeling and high 5’s. So I need to end on a positive note.

I have been reading a book called “The To Do List” by Mike Gayle. It is a very funny story of the authors attempt to do his Ultimate To Do List. He gives himself a year to do all the things he feels he needs to get done just so as he can be a proper grown up. At first I thought it was just a self help book cynically disguised as a slice of life to trick me into reading it. Now I don’t mind if it is (I don’t think it is), I just really enjoyed reading it.

I looked up the author and judging by his website he seems pretty cool. He gives tips for wannabe writers and generally just seems like a nice bloke. And his brother used to read the news on The Big Breakfast… which is pretty cool in my book.

So in honour of The To Do List and to get my good vibrations back on track I’ve done my own little to do list for the week.

It goes

• Get a haircut
• Apply for Tax Credit/Claim back Tax
• Write Short Story about a guy trying to write a Romance Novel
• Email Mike Gayle and tell him I enjoyed his book
• Try and get him to read my blog
• Contact various financial institutions about stuff I’ve been putting off
• Do some more exercise.
• Enter different short story into a competition.

So check back next week and see how I went with that. And I promise next week my hippy manifesto of good times and happy go lucky tales will be back in full effect. Hopefully.