The Geek Wants Out
At first glance
I probably appear to be a somewhat ordinary,
somewhat average looking fellow.
Calm, harmless, at ease.
But this is by design.
You see, it is through decades of research and rigorous training that I have crafted this facade of normalcy.
And now, through intense concentration,
I am able to function in a social setting.
I can speak at length with educated people about
pertinent matters of public importance,
such as literature,
or the current political climate in Europe.
I am capable of conversing with you
without ever revealing that just underneath the surface
of this manufactured veneer
there hides an altogether different person.
A monster, some might say.
My alter-ego.
He is the opposite of the image I project.
He is the antithesis of Cool.
He is the LAST person you want to get trapped in a conversation with.
He is The Geek.
The obsessive science fiction movie watching,
comic book collecting,
Monty Python dialogue memorizing,
Dungeons and Dragons playing GEEK
that I struggle daily to keep hidden from the world.
But The Geek Wants Out.
He want to talk to you.
He wants to give you his doctoral dissertation on why
The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension
is the greatest fucking film of all time!
He wants to bitch slap you because
you've never seen Big Trouble in Little China.
What? Have you been living in a fucking cave?!
He wants to kick your ass in Star Wars Trivial Pursuit.
And he will.
Because he's a fucking Geek.
And he wants his toys.
He wants the complete set
in mint condition,
still in the box.
He wants every item on the planet that is even remotely related to Ultraman.
Because Ultraman is Airwolf!
He could give a squirt of piss
about sports or politics or rhetoric.
Such things are of no consequence to him.
What matters is the release date of the next Lord of the Rings movie!
You see, The Geek can't wait.
The Geek has no patience.
He wants what he wants when he wants it.
And all he wants is stupid shit!
He wants his own Tardis.
He wants his own light saber.
He wants to buy a DeLorean and he wants to drive it 88 miles per hour.
He wants movies.
He wants to see the Director's Cut.
He wants the impossible to find Japanese bootleg with
6 minutes of never-before-seen footage.
He wants to watch Blade Runner. Again.
He wants to watch Brazil. Again.
He wants to watch A Clockwork Orange.
Again and Again!
But I deprive him of these things, as best I can,
until I can no longer ignore his voice
screaming in my head.
I am Jekyl. He is Hyde.
I am Bruce Banner. He is the Hulk.
Especially the Hulk from issues #272 to #378.
But no longer!
I am putting a stop to all this nerdy shit right now!
I'm an adult, for Christ's sake!
And this body isn't big enough for the both of us.
One of us has to go, and it's gonna be him.
I banishing the Geek forever to the Phantom Zone,
just like in Superman II !
Because, in the end--
there can be only one.
This is oh so horribly true! You should check out author Ernest Clines website so hear him perform this and many other wonderful things, he's a funny man. He's even written a sequel to Buckaroo Banzai, the long promised Buckaroo vs the World Crime League! Check out Dance Monkeys Dance while you're there too!
Not been a great start to the week so far; I've been struck low by a migraine and the boss has had other disappointments which made him tell me this morning that he's got half a mind to shut down the whole business! So, I may or may not be out of work later on this afternoon. But I'm trying not to think about that, it's been gnawing away at the back of my mind all morning and it's not helping with anything at all.
Grumpy
Another week over, and I'm sure I should have more to say than I do. Work has just been work, the week has passed by.
I never seem to be getting anywhere.
No matter how hard I work there still doesn't seem to be enough money, and no matter what I do I just always seem to be here. I don't mean here physically, I mean here emotionally. When it gets to the weekend all I seem to have the energy or desire for is sleep. I couldn't even be bothered to buy the super special limited edition Warhammer miniature from GW today, and I KNOW I will regret that. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, as the saying goes.
There was this whole big rant in my head about politics and the local elections but I can't be bothered to be honest. I just don't know how to get ahead, I don't have a plan to make things better. No vision.
No hope.
30 Days of Night; Less Time Than I Waited At Ikea
And here we are at the start of the weekend. The week did not end well. I was severely messed about by Ikea (who we deliver for on occasion) and ended up waiting some three and a half hours beyond my allotted loading slot before the van was full and I could go, and that was after the loading slot had been bumped back from by a full four hours! So I spent pretty much an entire working day just hanging around waiting for them to get their shit together. Once finally sorted I then headed off a drop laughingly labelled as Ipswich but which could much more accurately described as Folkestone, and two drops that were of course three. People were annoyed 'cos we were so late, and because Ikea customer service had been telling them complete and utter lies about our arrival time (without ever actually consulting us to see where we were, naturally) and I had a dizzy spell and managed to fall down some very steep stairs and I hurt down pretty much my entire left side now. I was finally home just after nine o'clock. The only up side is that I'll be getting paid for all the hanging about, so my wages next week should be pretty good.
When I was finally home I watched 30 Days of Night, which had arrived earlier in the week, and it didn't disappoint. Admittedly it didn't do the arctic isolation thing as well as The Thing, and the vampires weren't quite as terrifyingly brutal as those in Near Dark, but not quite matching the heights of two of the genres best is nothing to be ashamed of, and I was really impressed. These vampires are far removed from the romantic notion we've become used to in literature, and are savage, animalistic beasts seemingly almost as tortured by their existence as we are, although their motivations are left pleasingly blank beyond the obvious. Hell, even Josh Hartnett seemed to give an acting performance, which is something of a first for him. It even had a suitably bleak, 70s style fighting the monsters destroys your humanity (quite literally in this case) ending.
So now it is the weekend. As I may have mentioned, I ACHE! And have absolutely no idea what we're going to get up to. Time to go find out!
London Calling
For somebody who doesn't work in London anymore I still seem to be going there frequently enough; I'm off down there tomorrow morning on the ridiculous o'clock shift. Which I haven't missed, although I do miss the money, that was nice.
Not a whole hell of a lot went on today to be honest, except after a hard days work delivering mail AGAIN, I decided that I deserved a treat and went to Toys'R'Us and bought myself an almost complete collection of Iron Man movie action figures (Iron Man suits 1-3 and the sole Iron Monger) and all for a bargain price significantly undercutting that at Forbidden Planet. So it's not all bad. And they are exceptionally cool action figures, even if they really won't see a lot of action, if any. In fact they're already standing behind me on my bookshelf, looking badass.
In other happy news the PC version of Mass Effect has recommended specs which don't make my PC look like a dinosaur, in fact they look an awful lot like it'll run very happily over here indeed, assuming I can clear out some hard-drive space. Which is a big assumption!
A Brief Rundown Before Dinner
Well today was a total waste of my time. Don't get me wrong, the people who wasted my time are being charged for it, but even so I don't really feel there's been much of a point to today. I went down to London last week to deliver some fancy high tech screens for a building refit, and apparently they had decided they wanted them in a different colour because this morning I got the call saying get them down there soon as. Which I do. Only when I get there it transpires there'd been a meeting this morning at which everybody changed their minds and went with the originals, and just didn't tell us. So I had to turn round and bring the bloody thing back home. Still, my experience of driving in London meant that it wasn't such a chore, and on the way out I checked out my crash site to discover that the railings I ploughed through had been replaced but not repainted.
The weekend was good. Well, Sunday was, Saturday we spent the day getting Shaz's Christmas present finally completed (she'd got an antique compass that needed a cover made, so we had to go and collect that from the guy who made it) and we baby sat in the evening. Sunday was for me however a day of creativity, gaming, and being worried about the London marathon. It's now just less than a year away and I have done, with the best will in the world, precisely zero training. And it's a lot of running. And if it's anything like this year, it'll be a lot of running in the rain. Still I MUST do this; it's rare that I set a goal for myself and actually achieve it, and I'd kinda like to go into my fortieth year with some sort of achievement under my belt.
Oh yes, and the brief rundown; I very nearly ran Dexter Fletcher over while I was in London. How's that for a claim to fame?
Weekend Ahoy!
Today has been like pushing water uphill; hard work and largely pointless.
I got called in at the last minute to help with some of the mail deliveries we do, and for one reason or another they'd been allowed to back up all week so I got hit with a shitstorm of mail, all of it in seemingly random corners of King's Lynn. For those not in the know, King's Lynn is a shit hole. In a way that's sad because a) a lot of the work we do at the moment is up there so I spend far too much time there, and b) because once upon a time it must've been pretty neat. There are some fabulous old buildings there, one in particular a derelict on the dock front, that I would love to photograph sometime, but over all it's glory days are behind it and the best it can hope for now is to be swallowed in an earthquake, or destroyed by a volcano. Anyway, so yeah, I've basically spent ten hours, driving round KL looking to deliver one bloody magazine to pretty much every newsagent out there. It's been a ridiculous day, as newsagents tend not to cluster together it's not like you can just get rid of lots of your drops all at once, and for what little work I've effectively done (delivering junk mail to people who don't want it) I've spent an awful lot of my time. Still, time equals money, so I guess that's no bad thing.
And with that, here comes the weekend. Let's hope it's fun, eh?
Falling Up
Tired.
That pretty much sums things up here. Don't know why I'm tired, but I am on an almost epic level. Earlier on I was kinda drifting in and out of the real, and I'd somehow got the dream state and the waking state mixed up and I was so sure this was all a dream, I could've sworn I even heard my Mum trying to wake me up. Turns out it probably isn't, but then what's the difference between the objectively and subjectively real? They both effect you the same way on an emotional level, even if you intellectually know one of those realities to have no concrete existence.
Work continues to be sporadic, to the point where I'm not only worrying about where the rent is gonna come from at the end of the month, I'm even worrying about my weekly spending, and I've not been there for a while. Wasn't so long ago that a weeks wages would cover the rent, but since we've lost the big contracts those times are gone. I would imagine they'll be back at some point, but whether I'd still be driving by then, remains to be seen.
On the other hand, in light of my last post, I should point out that I am in fact, pretty happy! It's been a lovely sunny day, I had an early start, went down to London, and then had an early finish! I've been playing with Archie since I got back, with some Guitar Hero thrown in for good measure. Life, is okay, heck it may even be good. It's certainly better than the alternative.
Speaking of which, it was Jim's second funeral on Monday, and that was as good a day as you could expect really. There were plenty of family this time, and I think it was a pretty good send off. Once it was over Shaz kinda fell apart though; I think she'd been almost avoiding dealing with her grief by looking after everybody else, and now that there's nothing left to do she can't avoid it any more. She had a day off yesterday, and went back to work today. She complains of feeling numb and like nothing really matters, but well, that's pretty much what she should be feeling; somehow like the volume on the world has been turned down. It all seems a little less important than once it did. Still, soon enough you lose touch with that feeling and everything goes back to normal. Which may not necessarily be for the best, but it's just the way it is; you get a heightened sense of what's important when you're around death, but no matter how hard you try you can't hold on it, and you just end up taking everything for granted again.
Well, that was randomly philosophical. I should be taking advantage of this rare moment of free time, but I can't decide whether to continue with my existing WoW characters (and if so, which one) or whether to start this dwarf paladin I've got in my head... choices choices!
I Want You To Hit Me As Hard As You Can
It has been suggested by those close to me that I am a miserable, self-defeating, cowardly bastard.
I know I can be sad, and I know I tend to err on the side of the pessimistic rather than the optimistic, but I'd never seen myself in those terms before. I always thought I hid my Eeyore like tendencies to the dark side under a veil of self-deprecating humour, and if I am self-defeating, giving up on myself before I start, well I've had twenty years experience of life defeating me and I prefer to get the disappointment over straight away and save myself a bit of pain.
I'm sure I once believed that all things were possible, in fact I'm sure I not only thought that, I was certain of my place in a bright and meaningful world. Much like Jerome Morrow in the wonderful Gattaca, I was certain I would cruise to my rightful place in the world without too much effort, and like Jerome my innate qualities weren't enough. I had no dream, no drive, no ambition, and so whilst the place I've achieved is nothing like I imagined it would be, it is hard to argue that it isn't the place my youthful arrogance deserved. That I'm still stuck there, stuck here, now, that's harder to swallow. Somehow I've never got over that initial fall from grace, never got over myself I suppose, and I just don't know how.
These days although I work hard, and don't play enough, instead of things I dream for the future, there's a list in my head entitled Things I Will Never Have. It's quite an extensive list. I wonder when exactly any hope I had for the future died, when I gave up on my life meaning anything. Even approaching forty I don't know what I want to do with my life, and I've got less than half of it left now! I can't keep using the "I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up" joke, can I? All I am now is a consumer, and one who's smart enough to know that's all I am but not smart enough to work out how to stop, how to escape that trap and life a live of value, even if only to me.
So maybe they're right, maybe I am a miserable self-defeating bastard. However, not only does pointing that out not help me not to be, in a strange way, it almost gives me something else to whine about, some extra motive power for my dissatisfaction, like new wind blowing into the sails of my failure and discontent.
So, hit me as hard as you can; I'm the one who knows the places it really hurts.
No Direction Home
It seems like a lot has happened recently, but one event seems bigger and more important than everything else, and that's the death of Shaz's grandad. I didn't know Jim well, but from what little I did know of him he always seemed like a lovely man (he was certainly always nice to me, asking after my health even while the cancer was eating him alive), and I was sorry to see him go. Shaz was almost obsessive about visiting him for his last few weeks in the hospice (understandably) but seemed almost relieved when he finally passed; I suppose she felt that he at least was no longer suffering. Anyway, today was the first part of his funeral (due to internal, family wranglings, there will be two legs to this funeral, the return match being on Monday, as it were). It was a small affair today, just direct family (and me, feeling slightly like I was intruding), and despite the religious bits it was a nice enough ceremony. It always surprises me how little we leave behind when we go, but then I suppose family is your legacy, and the memories you leave with them. That got me onto a whole line of thinking entitled Things I Shall Never Have, and that was just depressing and rubbish.
Easter has been and gone, as has Shaz's birthday (in fact Jim died early in the morning of her birthday, which quite naturally, if a little unfairly, over shadowed the day for her). And there's been work, lots and lots of being at work.
Somehow in all this I seem to be slipping back into old ways, spending money rather than spending time, if you know what I mean. And I spend and spend, buying movies and games and books and whatnot, and I wonder not only when I'll get the time to use any of these things, but why I'm even buying them; they're not really making me happy, just eating into what little savings I've managed to accumulate. But then should the acquisition of savings really be making me happy either? What's the point of money if not to spend it? I'm not saying spend it frivolously, but surely just keeping it shouldn't be the point either, should it? Yet I get so upset, almost tearful at the thought of spending. I don't know what's happened to my balance, or indeed my ability to spend without remorse, but something has to change.
Still, it's not all bad; summertime has started and I'm already enjoying the late evenings (well it means I can work later without turning on my head lights...), and Eurovision is edging ever closer to us. Somehow it's managed to largely stay off my radar so far this year, but it's only six weeks away now (or is it seven? Not long anyway), and I still don't know any of the songs! On top of that I seem to be in the midst of an obsession with all things Games Workshop (or at least some things GW), which is entertaining my imagination on those long days of driving, even if I very rarely get to actually pick up a model to paint.
And finally time for an odd confession; with The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford and The Darjeeling Limited coming out on DVD within a week of each other, why is it the universally detested Hitman movie that I feel myself wanting to see? Okay, that's a confession in the form of a competition, so answers to the usual address, the winner will... win something. Of no value, I'm quite sure.
