It's been 15 Months since my last post. Fortunatly I have zero readers to dissapoint. A combination of being really busy at work, having a gf, being still busy at work, breaking up with said gf and not wanting to blog about it, changing jobs twice and also forgetting I had a blog; would be the main reasons.
But I am back. Not with a venagance, more like back to collect a forgotten coat.
So this week I discovered Twirting. A few weeks ago I was #ff 'd (follow friday in english) by a colleague alongside a few of her friends. One of whom was a little bit gorgeous, so as a good lad I duely followed her.
Have you any idea how hard it is to flirt in only 140 characters? very. I googled the subject but found no handy hints apart from the term "Twirting" which obviously is twitter flirting. It seems to be going well, I'll let you know....
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Sunday, 31 October 2010
A poor substitute
I'm finding my subscription to the premier English-Language weekly newspaper a poor substitute for actual intellectual vigour. I decided to shell out £50 quid to ease my un-ease at not doing my MSc after reading through some old essays. True, I'm more aware of world issues than I ever was from scanning the BBC website but its hard work to find the time in a week to read a whole edition before the next one falls through my letterbox!
Monday, 11 October 2010
You know when...
...in a private moment you lose yourself in thought and you either come up with something so brilliant or so hilarious you make a mental note not to forget it and to revisit it later? well i had one of those on Saturday but now I still can't remember where I went with it.
I was sitting with two friends in a sea facing cafe/bar in Langland Bay after a hard day battling Poseidon with surfboards over at Llangenith. At one point we were convinced we were going to die, and all three of us got pulled and held under at some point. But anyway we'd battled though the surf and through some home-made burgers (not home-made by us, but its just occurred to me if they're home-made who lives in that cafe?) and arrived at coffee.
The coffee arrived delivered by a guy of about our age and a girl of seventeen at most, mine had what appeared to be a heart in the froth leading to some banter along the lines of "that guy must fancy you, look at that" before we noticed one of the others had some sort of milky residue that looked a bit more suspicious "he might fancy me but looks like he went a step further with yours...". This very mature banter lead to 'wouldn't it be great if you could write a phone number in the froth on coffee...'
Then boom. My sidetrack started but I can't remember what it was or where it went. I hoped writing this would bring it back but no. If it comes back I'll update this post.
I was sitting with two friends in a sea facing cafe/bar in Langland Bay after a hard day battling Poseidon with surfboards over at Llangenith. At one point we were convinced we were going to die, and all three of us got pulled and held under at some point. But anyway we'd battled though the surf and through some home-made burgers (not home-made by us, but its just occurred to me if they're home-made who lives in that cafe?) and arrived at coffee.
The coffee arrived delivered by a guy of about our age and a girl of seventeen at most, mine had what appeared to be a heart in the froth leading to some banter along the lines of "that guy must fancy you, look at that" before we noticed one of the others had some sort of milky residue that looked a bit more suspicious "he might fancy me but looks like he went a step further with yours...". This very mature banter lead to 'wouldn't it be great if you could write a phone number in the froth on coffee...'
Then boom. My sidetrack started but I can't remember what it was or where it went. I hoped writing this would bring it back but no. If it comes back I'll update this post.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
"I've seen all on offer and I'm not impressed at all"
After strolling to the toilet at a service station and being unable to help myself singing along to Style Council's "Shout to the Top", I've been unable to get said song out of my head. In fact its quite apt for the thoughts that have been plaguing me the last few days.
I've been back down to my university town to see the boys I used to play football with, and of course Freshers week. Its four years since I started university. Four years. I feel pangs of regret when I think about it, although this seems to be my standard emotion as I'm always trying to do too much and worrying I've missed out. I had a great time at university, met some fantastic people : some who are sure to be friends for life and others I forgot mere weeks later, and grew exponentially as I was thrust into a foreign city at 18.
I miss it terribly but I'm glad I left when I did, it had lost its sheen and its excitement - the lifestyle not the city. Although I'd love to be a naive 18 year-old and do it all again. But it has got me thinking : are my best years behind me?
Nearly all my best anecdotes come from those three years, I can literally lose hours reminiscing as the narrative in my head (I pity anyone that thought Zach Braff came up with that idea as it means they haven't got one) tells of my and my friends finest hours. Am I gonna have any stories that good again? Basically most of what I have to talk about now is work. Say I get my dream job, I'll still only have work and material possessions to talk about.
What makes living away from home at university so special is that you're living for the moment. Okay the entire reason you're there is an expensive and long-term human capital investment, but you barely remember that as your degree is a mild inconvenience that fills the time between doing anything and everything with your mates. Whereas these days my primary motivators are career progression or money.
I guess what I'm trying to say, in the words of Ray Davies, "Where have all the good times gone?" and will they ever be back? Right now its a struggle to see why I'm doing anything.
I've been back down to my university town to see the boys I used to play football with, and of course Freshers week. Its four years since I started university. Four years. I feel pangs of regret when I think about it, although this seems to be my standard emotion as I'm always trying to do too much and worrying I've missed out. I had a great time at university, met some fantastic people : some who are sure to be friends for life and others I forgot mere weeks later, and grew exponentially as I was thrust into a foreign city at 18.
I miss it terribly but I'm glad I left when I did, it had lost its sheen and its excitement - the lifestyle not the city. Although I'd love to be a naive 18 year-old and do it all again. But it has got me thinking : are my best years behind me?
Nearly all my best anecdotes come from those three years, I can literally lose hours reminiscing as the narrative in my head (I pity anyone that thought Zach Braff came up with that idea as it means they haven't got one) tells of my and my friends finest hours. Am I gonna have any stories that good again? Basically most of what I have to talk about now is work. Say I get my dream job, I'll still only have work and material possessions to talk about.
What makes living away from home at university so special is that you're living for the moment. Okay the entire reason you're there is an expensive and long-term human capital investment, but you barely remember that as your degree is a mild inconvenience that fills the time between doing anything and everything with your mates. Whereas these days my primary motivators are career progression or money.
I guess what I'm trying to say, in the words of Ray Davies, "Where have all the good times gone?" and will they ever be back? Right now its a struggle to see why I'm doing anything.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
My Career as a Nightclub Boss...
So on a recent trip back to my second home I notice a prominent city nightclub is for sale. I had a little go on the Internet at finding out who owns it as when I win the EuroMillions I may buy it. Now this place has never been cool- I knew it as a Jumpin' Jaks but its also been the second incarnation of Wales first super club and host to Paul Oakenfold amongst others, and some other sweaty dark club - but the reason I liked it so much was the lay out:
As you come in you go up a split flight of stairs then queue into an area containing booth to pay, toilets and cloak room, facing you is a wide set of stairs and a sense of anticipation. Up the stairs is a sunken dance-floor with a stage at one end and a few tables at the other, apart from where the stage is there is a raised area around the dance floor with more tables and bars along two walls. Very simple. Even at 18 I was telling people its the layout I'd want in my club, it always reminded me of the Copacabana in Goodfellas for some reason.
Its got some good memories for me as Jumpin' Jaks, from being the first club I ever went in in Swansea to the '£10 all in' Fridays of second year where we used to get there early and get drunk before requesting Haddaway's 'What is Love?' and being 7 of us up on the stage before anyone else was even on the dance-floor. But I wouldn't keep the Wild West Theme, I think as I'd be a multi-millionaire before the purchase ever happened I'd make it a classy joint - perhaps I'd even call it the Copacabana. That or a sports bar that showed classic films on weeknights.
As you come in you go up a split flight of stairs then queue into an area containing booth to pay, toilets and cloak room, facing you is a wide set of stairs and a sense of anticipation. Up the stairs is a sunken dance-floor with a stage at one end and a few tables at the other, apart from where the stage is there is a raised area around the dance floor with more tables and bars along two walls. Very simple. Even at 18 I was telling people its the layout I'd want in my club, it always reminded me of the Copacabana in Goodfellas for some reason.
Its got some good memories for me as Jumpin' Jaks, from being the first club I ever went in in Swansea to the '£10 all in' Fridays of second year where we used to get there early and get drunk before requesting Haddaway's 'What is Love?' and being 7 of us up on the stage before anyone else was even on the dance-floor. But I wouldn't keep the Wild West Theme, I think as I'd be a multi-millionaire before the purchase ever happened I'd make it a classy joint - perhaps I'd even call it the Copacabana. That or a sports bar that showed classic films on weeknights.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
My Career as an Academic....
Having a quick read through some old essays to help lil sis, or rather to help myself avoid prison by finding a way to explain how to write an essay before killing her, I found myself engrossed in a third year Labour Economics essay:
"The evidence from these empirical studies leads us to rather similar conclusions. That transfer payments lead to a reduction in labour supply as the model predicted, and that tax credit systems can induce an increased level of participation in some individuals whilst leading to a reduction in the participation of others, again as the model predicted. Although studies such as that of Brewer et al (2005) find an aggregate increase in labour market participation. The model indicated whether tax credits would increase and individuals labour supply or not would be dependant upon the preferences of the individual, and the empirical studies all identified the same clear groups in which labour supply was increased or not. All the studies indicated labour supply would increase for single parents (or single mothers), males with unemployed wives and females with unemployed husbands whist reducing the labour supply of both females and males who had working partners. This could perhaps be termed “The Breadwinner effect”, as the tax credit only increases labour market participation in households where there is only one major source of income, a breadwinner."
This enthralling final paragraph contains my solitary contribution to Economic Academia in its final sentence. As I envisioned it at the time, the marking lecturer would be impressed and immediately email me, he'd then pass word of my achievement to his peers at other Schools of Economics, a short while later a phone call from The Economist followed by the IHT would int erupt my morning viewing of One Tree Hill, I'd be awarded a first and invited to do some research with the Fellows of the department and our empirical study into The *MyName* Effect or 'Breadwinner' Effect would show working tax credits to be pointless and simultaneously bring about the fall of the Labour government paving the way for my cheeky move to Whitehall or the Bank of England.
Sadly nothing, as far as I know, came of it. Although I will have to check Professor Murphy's recent work just in case....
The two men pictured are Nouriel Roubini and Gary Becker, two academics I wouldn't mind being. Roubini as well as being more of a Rockstar than most modern day Rockstars, predicted the global recession. Whilst Nobel Laureate Becker is credited with being the first to apply Economics to traditionally Sociological subjects such as drug addiction and crime.
"The evidence from these empirical studies leads us to rather similar conclusions. That transfer payments lead to a reduction in labour supply as the model predicted, and that tax credit systems can induce an increased level of participation in some individuals whilst leading to a reduction in the participation of others, again as the model predicted. Although studies such as that of Brewer et al (2005) find an aggregate increase in labour market participation. The model indicated whether tax credits would increase and individuals labour supply or not would be dependant upon the preferences of the individual, and the empirical studies all identified the same clear groups in which labour supply was increased or not. All the studies indicated labour supply would increase for single parents (or single mothers), males with unemployed wives and females with unemployed husbands whist reducing the labour supply of both females and males who had working partners. This could perhaps be termed “The Breadwinner effect”, as the tax credit only increases labour market participation in households where there is only one major source of income, a breadwinner."
This enthralling final paragraph contains my solitary contribution to Economic Academia in its final sentence. As I envisioned it at the time, the marking lecturer would be impressed and immediately email me, he'd then pass word of my achievement to his peers at other Schools of Economics, a short while later a phone call from The Economist followed by the IHT would int erupt my morning viewing of One Tree Hill, I'd be awarded a first and invited to do some research with the Fellows of the department and our empirical study into The *MyName* Effect or 'Breadwinner' Effect would show working tax credits to be pointless and simultaneously bring about the fall of the Labour government paving the way for my cheeky move to Whitehall or the Bank of England.
Sadly nothing, as far as I know, came of it. Although I will have to check Professor Murphy's recent work just in case....
The two men pictured are Nouriel Roubini and Gary Becker, two academics I wouldn't mind being. Roubini as well as being more of a Rockstar than most modern day Rockstars, predicted the global recession. Whilst Nobel Laureate Becker is credited with being the first to apply Economics to traditionally Sociological subjects such as drug addiction and crime.
Monday, 6 September 2010
Near Death Experience...
No not some operating table dream, I have a cold/chest infection. I routine illness, except for the fact I'm asthmatic so my lungs take this chance and rub their metaphorical hands together with glee as they decide to try and off me once more. A cough and lungs full of mucus, a mild inconvenience until your lungs decide to close up at the same time. Leaving me wheezing like that blue penguin in toy story and lightheaded from lack of oxygen, I wouldn't mind but i went to the gym this morning and everything was FINE!
I'm no hypochondriac, I've worked with a broken ankle before and even played a game of 11-a-side football with the flu - albeit with a sweatshirt under my football shirt and halftime doses of : pro plus, lucozade, beechams, brandy, cough medicine and other such items. We threw away a goal lead to lose 2-1, but the highlight was me and my housemate and leftback going up for the same header resulting in a massive black eye for him and probable concussion for me.
But yeah, I can take any illness, any pain, just not the inability to respirate. Okay?!!
I'm no hypochondriac, I've worked with a broken ankle before and even played a game of 11-a-side football with the flu - albeit with a sweatshirt under my football shirt and halftime doses of : pro plus, lucozade, beechams, brandy, cough medicine and other such items. We threw away a goal lead to lose 2-1, but the highlight was me and my housemate and leftback going up for the same header resulting in a massive black eye for him and probable concussion for me.
But yeah, I can take any illness, any pain, just not the inability to respirate. Okay?!!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)