The Inside Job : Day 12 Inside Job - More Planning Less Pork Scratchings

It's Sunday. A Day of rest and a good time to review the week and look forward to the new one.

If I'm honest this is a little tricky, seeing as I rarely review, set goals/targets or plan what I have to do. I'd much prefer to watch a movie or eat pork scratchings. Er, perhaps this is why I found myself in the mire last year?

Successful people are focused. They know what they have done. They plan their goals and work towards achieving them. Apparently it's called Focus.

How the hell can you achieve things if you don't have a plan to get there? How can you achieve anything if you don't know what you what to achieve? Making it up as you go along is great at 18, but 41? I don't think so.

This is yet another example of how my internal settings are wired to make things difficult for myself. I hate planning, I hate goals. I hate being accountable. I decided when I was young that is NOT what cool people do.

So where this thinking came from? I was massively into the Doors when I was a kid and idolised Jim Morrison. Obviously I wanted to be him. Most of my idols back then were alcoholic and dead. Great role models! Jim Morrison never planned or set goals. If it was good enough for Jim it was good enough for me. I mean it never did him any harm did it? Apart from ending up drunk and dead in a Bathtub at the age of 27 of course.

I so wanted to be cool from an early age, then I would be accepted. Being cool was so much more important than being happy. Probably because I never felt good enough inside. Plus if I'm honest the whole, mortgages, tax planning, pensions, future thing scared the shit out of me. So I just covered it all up under a mask of 'not giving a shit'. Ego and bravado.

I fancied myself as one of those mercurial geniuses, who never planned or prepared but just turned up sprinkled some magic and became a success. Even though deep down I knew I wasn't.

Trouble is it never quite turned out like that. I would generally turn up, sprinkle some Stella Artois, become offensive and get asked to leave. Hardly a formula for success is it?

At 17 I got £3k for an accident I was involved in. A perfect opportunity to realise my dreams of travelling the world. Instead I got as far as Northampton where I spunked the money on drink and drugs at a mates birthday in a month.

I carried that attitude throughout University. Not putting it to good work creatively in learning but in Yates Wine Lodge. Lord knows how I came out with a degree.

I carried the attitude into my career. Managing to bluff my way into a series of really good jobs in sport by force of personality and bullshit. When you get in to the selling game all you really need is a loud tie and an ego. I couldn't plan or structure, goals were something Alan Shearer scored. Still if you brought in the sales/revenue, your employers were happy, you got paid so who gave a shit?

Trouble is I never really grew out of that attitude deep down. I never really followed my dream. I never really focused on what the dreams were. That horrible mixture of high ego/expectations, believing you deserved greatness and chronic low self esteem/procrastination, thinking you're not good enough to try and get it, is a disabling mix. Almost guaranteed misery.

So we come back to goal setting, lists, planning and focusing on what you want to achieve. None of which I really want to do or comes naturally to me. Why would I when the ego wants me unhappy? It will find any way it can of self sabotaging. 'Goal setting is for wankers'. Really ego? Thanks for that splendid insight.

Ultimately it's about doing the opposite of what you want to do. Goal setting, planning, preparation is a basic formular of success. It's not rocket science. It's a way of moving forward. Why on earth have and am I so resistant to it for all this time?

I guess when you're not accountable to anyone it's easy to just sit in your comfort zone for long periods of time. Until it becomes uncomfortable. That's the point I'm at now.. So it's time to plan!!!!

There really is no point in being the Jim Morrison of the office. I mean for one, they don't have bath tubs and number two, they tend not to like people singing 'Roadhouse Blues' in appraisals. It is ridiculous to have an ego underneath a suit. If you don't want to do a job like that then change the career. We build our own reality after all. No point in being a miserable bastard and moaning about something without ever changing. I've spent so long like that in my life.

So it's time to plan for the year. Time to plan and set a series of daily goals to work towards. I can't do it on my own, I need help, so I will go to the appropriate places and get the help needed. There is no shame in saying 'I need help'. it's a start of a beautiful process.

To review the week. It hasn't been a bad one really. A couple of potential job interviews. A potential investor in the new enterprise I've been working on, I've written every day, the back has eased a little and I've stayed away from the diet poison. I know deep down though there's a lot more to come and I've also felt my head regressing back to old ways of thinking and behavioural patterns. It so easily goes there.

It happened in the afternoon when I went to the cinema with my girlfriend to watch, American Hustle. (Excellent movie, cast, acting, costumes and soundtrack)

Instead of popcorn I took in a load of Pork Scratchings. They are proper filthy, making your breath smell like you've just licked out a pig and a consistency in your mouth like you've chewed on a cowpat. Despite that I love them.

The movie was quiet. Lot's of intense dialogue. Not much action or noise. So you have to listen. I love the cinema because it is the one place in the world where you can let yourself go into full gluttony mode without anybody seeing or pulling you up. It's a real luxury to be able to graze and watch something without thinking and having to watch your manners. it's heaven for a compulsive over eater.

Usually I've boated a large bag of popcorn by the trailers and am queuing up for bag 2 by the time the movie starts. I literally shovel it in by the handful. Bits fall out everywhere. I even find some in my shoes and pants afterwards. I don't even know I'm doing it. It's like a dog eating. There is no room for air. Then I bury my head in it and chow from the bag, finally pouring it down my neck for the little bits you cannot shovel up. It is fantastic and horrifying at the same time. There is a 10 yard mess zone around me, like there's been a controlled popcorn explosion. Most of it goes down my front and in my hair. It's everywhere. Like feeding time at the zoo.

That's why going to the movies is so cool. You can do all this in public, in the dark, whilst watching a movie. How cool. I almost feel justified in making an extravagant mess seeing as they charge £13 to watch a film these days.

However, seeing as I've got heavy Candida at the moment and am feeling sluggish. I decided that 2 bags of popcorn were not going to be good for me, so I went for the Paleo alternative of pork scratchings despite them making your fingers smell like you've been fingering a dog.

I boated the first pack in around 45 seconds and then started in my 2nd. They took me a little longer (around 3 minutes) then I worked my way through the grapes, vegetable crisps, then the movie started.

I reached for bag number 3 and merrily crunched away on the tough little bastards when my girlfriend tugged me on the arm and said, 'they're really loud'. I thought she was talking about people in front, so I said, 'Yes they are aren't they' with a disdainful shake of the head at the suspected youths in front of us. 'No, you are' she corrected. 'Really? God I had no idea. Are they?' and crunched on some more to test out this theory. 'They are a bit'

Every crunch sounded like Hagrid stepping on broken glass. The crunch blocked out the dialogue of the whole film. I expected everyone in the theatre to turn round and stare, but they didn't. Maybe they weren't so loud.

I crunched on. Then from the left hand side, I heard a massive 'ssssshhhhhhhh'. The girl 5 seats down scowled at me as I turned to face her. 'sssscccchhhhhhhhhh' she went straight at me, pulling her finger to her lips. I guess they were a little on the loud side. But my ego didn't like being 'shushed', 'Nobody shushes you' it said to me. So I looked her right in the face, smiled and crunched a massive mouthful right at her.

I was actually eating at her. Yes my ego really did stoop that low. I ate right in her face. Crunching like I was eating pebbles. Pork scratching crumbs slid down the side of my face. She looked utterly shocked and shook her head. Clearly it wasn't the move she was expecting. I'm not anyone has actually purposely eaten pork scratchings at her before. it could have been an Odeon first too.

My ego was indignant. 'Nobody shuses you'. It repeated.

I was in a dilemma. Every good compulsive over eater knows you simply cannot leave anything part eaten. There was half a bag of 'boutique pork scratchings' left. I was torn between doing the right thing, not eating them or carrying on as if nothing had happened.

I opted for the happy medium. I would put one in my mouth at a time and try to eat quietly. Have you ever tried to crunch something quietly? You stagger the crunch so it's not consistent. One loud, 'CRUNCH' to break it up, then suck a little round the edges, then another 'CRUNCH' until it's broken down into smaller segments. It's a little like licking pussy but with less CRUNCHING.

The trouble with that technique, is that you're making exactly the same loud annoying noise as before except your spreading out the CRUNCHES so they're further apart. It's a little like speaking slower to a foreigner who doesn't understand you. It's effectively pointless.

I carried on in this vein for 2 or 3 goes, the girl threw me dirty looks. I gave up. I would leave them be and hit the gum instead. A safer option.

I had a pack of 3 bound together in sellophane. I unwrapped the 3 packs from the outer sellophane, making loads of noise. The girl looked over. I smiled back. Then I had to unwrap the sellophane from the inner pack. Again more noise, especially when it got stuck and all you could hear was CRINCKLE. At this point you have another dilemma. Do you just make a lot of noise quickly and tear it off or do you make less noise but over a longer sustained period as you try and do it slowly?

I opted for the former. Trouble is it didn't come off quickly. It got stuck. So I made loads of noise but over a long period of time. By now the front row were even looking round. My girlfriend slid down her seat. 'I'm not with him' written all over her face.

I got into the film, things settled down and I laughed loudly at some bits nobody else did. I loved the main character and laughed and snorted at some of his lines. The girl 5 seats down threw me daggers and shook her head sarcastically when I laughed out. She was clearly in deep resentment.

I thought 'miserable bitch', so I popped another scratching in my mouth just to piss her off. I was in full childish mode now. If I know I have riled someone the devil in me won't stop until I have gone beyond annoying. It's not very recovery or a great characteristic but I'm powerless over myself sometimes.

The girl threw more dirty looks at me, so I occasionally kicked the carrier bag under my seat to make a big 'RUSTLE' now and again just to keep her interested.

After 30 minutes of this carry on, even I was sick of my childishness and gave up. The rest of the film passed without any incident and when it ended she shook her head at me again as I headed for the exit. I waved cheerily and said goodbye. I don't think my girlfriend was amused at my behaviour.

Clearly there is more work yet to be done in recovery.

I learned a valuable lesson today. Stick to the popcorn. Less noise, Pork scratchings are highly inappropriate in the cinema. Or even just highly inappropriate. Not only had I wrecked my chances of getting laid by my childish behaviour but my breath and fingers smelt like pig cock. Pork scratchings. Yet another thing I need to give up

My message of the day?

Less Of These