Darren’s blog

Let me make one definitive statement before I continue: I do not consider myself an expert in remotely anything. There is not one subject that I can categorically state that I am all knowledgeable in.

I have my interests, sure. Although my grounding in each of these would fall considerably short were they to become an Olympic sport overnight. For those of you in the know, I’m a fan of Doctor Who -  A Big fan, hence the name of my unfortunately bare website - but I couldn’t tell you who played third Silurian from the left in ‘Warriors of the Deep’, or which story production code would be listed as 7M (It’s the curse of Fenric apparently). Ask anyone I know however, and they would ream off that information with so much speed and depth of knowledge you’d think you were talking to HAL 9000. And while I can bore my girlfriend for hours on end talking about the stories of Alan Moore, or why Grant Morrison’s run on Doom Patrol were the best era of the team, put me alongside someone that actually knows what they’re talking about and I’m able to converse with them about as successfully as your typical garden slug.

The point I’m trying to make – trust me, there is one – is that I don’t consider myself qualified in any way shape or form to comment with authority on anything. (This is my first blog - I’ve never been much into keeping a diary - and it could dry up at any point if I don’t feel I have anything to say, or I have a hangover.) I’m not what you would call important, I have no great job, no outstanding talent, I’m not rich, a university professor or B-list celebrity, and I don’t claim to have any profound insight into life.  I’m just an average person, living an average life, making average observations on things.  That’s why the blog title is what it is. Thank you for reading.

It never ceases to amaze me how people will f*ck each other over for the slightest thing.

It seems that it’s common practice these days. This isn’t vitriol, rather an observation that in my own personal life seems more and more prevalent the more I go on. And before you think I have blinkers on and that once we leave the comforts of the cradle, these kinds of things are likely to happen, and only a fool would think otherwise - I will state now, before I go any further, that I always assumed that people – for the most part – were good.

I spent New Years in Paris, visiting the family of my girlfriend, which wasn’t anywhere near as glamorous as it sounds: Spending the stroke of midnight in a run down metro car that smells of urine, packed in like cattle isn’t - I would assume - anyone’s idea of fun. It’s certainly not the picturesque fairytale atmosphere one normally associates with Paris. The city of love certainly would not be a moniker long associated with it if your average tourist spent several nights in Massy instead of never venturing further than around the Eiffel Tower.

It was during this brief stay in what can only be described as a more than surreal environment that I saw the Will Smith movie ‘I am Legend’.  This movie struck a chord with me – not only because the recent Christmas festivities were now over, replaced with a burning pessimism (I swear I’m not a ‘glass half empty’ person!), but later that night - after the aforementioned metro journey. It struck me just how much trouble we would be in if some real-life catastrophe occurred.

New Years hasn’t been the best time of the year for me. I appreciate the sentiment, but I always seem to end up doing…well, not much as it goes – the most exciting New Year I’d had up till this point was some local pub in South Wales, and don’t even get me started on my New Year 2000! I vowed this year would be different and so the prospect of spending the opening seconds of 2008 at the foot of the Eiffel tower (Yes, I may slag off the general tourist, but when push comes to shove I’m as much a hypocrite as the next man!) was one I couldn’t resist. After spending almost 100 euros on just 7 drinks earlier that evening, the plan was to get the metro straight to the Trocadero and watch the celebrations ensue as midnight struck. Naturally about ten thousand people had the same plan that night. Anyway, about half an hour after midnight we arrived at the Trocadero station and made our way as best we could to somewhere we could at least glimpse the Tower. By this time obviously however the fireworks and celebrations had died down and people were beginning to make their way home, or to whichever party they were destined.

It was during this departure that any kind of semblance of a normal society broke down. We didn’t go straight back to the Trocadero station that night, instead we walked. And walked. And walked to a station as far removed from the Trocadero as possible in order to avoid the crowds. As I stated before though, everyone else had the same idea. When we did finally reach a station that ‘seemed’ civilised we ventured forward, into what I can only describe as hell. People were wall to wall, inching forward to make their way down for the next train. That isn’t what got to me however. More than this, it was just the sheer volume of people that – for the sake of a few inches – would be quite willing to screw anyone that got in their way. In what I can only compare to an exodus of rats from a fire, ordinary people would practically step on each other just to get ahead of them. Several people had to be carried out of the station, a great many for medical attention as they had been crushed, collapsed and quite literally stepped on – much to the amusement of the throngs pushing behind them. It hit me then and there that if this kind of thing were happening, just for the sake of getting on a train minutes earlier, then if a real disaster occurred sometime in the ‘civilised’ world then half of the people would only survive due to putting some other poor soul down. In other words, as a society we’d be f*cked. And in case you were wondering, we left the station – we finally got back at 4.30am after walking…

Obviously this doesn’t just apply in life or death situations: I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve been screwed over on a professional level. Normally that kind of thing doesn’t bother me – I’ve always seen it as a flaw on the other person’s part. But is this now the everyday attitude a person needs just to get through a normal working day? At what point does taking advantage of other people to get a foothold become the norm?

It’s here: Monday morning. I never really had a problem with them until recently – I always saw any day that you had to work as a non-starter – but whether it’s my age or just the fact that the weekends go by with the speed of your average cheetah Mondays do seem to become more and more ominous as the weeks go by.

It’s already the third week of February now and the holiday season feels like it’s happened to someone else. I read that scientists believe that this is the most depressing time of the year and from where I sit right now I’m very inclined to believe them. It’s around now when – clinging to what’s left of the New Years’ resolutions, I’m desperately wanting some time away from the grind, but due to financial reasons (and not knowing what the hell I’ll be doing in the coming months) summer vacations seem like a very distant premise. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that it’s an awful job – I’ve had those before; the absolute feeling of sickness in your gut as you approach the front door – it’s just that its, well…Monday.

Even now, I can feel the ominous presence of pointless tasks that have yet to be unloaded winging their way towards the team I work on and – like most people – wishing that I had guessed those correct numbers on Saturday night. I’m not afraid of working by any stretch; I just find work for works’ sake is not the best way forward – there are only so many pointless meetings you can attend in a week…