Granted, that's a massively long heading. It's not catchy or indeed well constructed but it does what it says on the tin. They are all the things I've been thinking about since the Boston Marathon was bombed last night. I felt compelled to write about it
It has really sparked me into action. Anger and energy is coursing through my veins after witnessing the almost blanket coverage on TV, News, Radio, Twitter & Social media of the awful and shocking bombs, killing 3 people and injuring 120.
Now to qualify and give some semblance to this piece. 22 people were also killed by bombs in Iraq yesterday. There was no rolling news coverage. No mass hysterical moral outrage on Twitter. Just a small footnote in the paper. Yet 25 people lost their life yesterday to bombings in Iraq and Boston. 25 families are grieving. 25 sets of people and loved ones woke up in the morning and by night their lives and those of their families have been changed forever. Both to acts of terrorism. Both to people who use the biggest stage to cause maximum suffering. It's a fucking disgrace they call themselves human beings. We must stop this killing. Humans killing humans for a belief in their way of living. There has to be a better way.
Of course the Boston Bombings received lots of coverage because it is close to home. We can identify. It's so real. So immediate. So utterly shocking. We have the biggest marathon in the world here in London on Sunday. We have all watched it on TV over the years and to see Boston Marathon bombed like that and with so much video footage of it from people's smart phones it makes it even more real and personal.
If I'm honest it did make me slightly uncomfortable with the modern age that some people rushed to the scene of the bomb not to help the injured but to video it with their IPhone. That to me is modern technology gone wrong. Surely we're better than that? However, there's no denying modern society, smart phones, video and social media has changed the way news is reported. There are endless videos and images shown that you simply didn't have when i was a kid. Now it is everywhere. Making us a little desensitised and slight gore junkies. Think back to 9-11, Tsunami, 7/7. Massive world news events captured live on TV and social media. It amplifies it even more and puts it right in the forefront of our minds. it creates even more shock and awe.
On the other side and another element I'm a little uncomfortable with is that it can create an MTV style short attention span on social media and mass hysteria. I guess social media just reflects us as human beings but many tweeted about it, mis information is rife, Chinese whispers round the globe and best wishes and prayers are offered for everyone in #Boston. Of course it is only right and democratic that people want to express their shock and condolences, but then it moves on after a few hours and the hysteria is dropped. I checked today and very little was written about it. Well, not for the families, the injured, the dead or the communities. Where is the support then?
I guess it's human nature to be a little selfish and self absorbed. If you have suffered a death or loss, the easy bit is in the immediate aftermath when there is attention and people expressing sorrow. It's when they all get bored and get back on with THEIR lives and it goes quiet that is the hardest. Multiply that by 1000% and that's what those poor sods in Boston have got. Where is the moral concern then? How can we mobilise our feelings and actually do something instead of the classic human trait of expressing moral outrage and then immediately doing sod all about it and forgetting.
But what actually can we do? Donate to the Red Cross. Fly out to offer support? Campaign against terrorism? Well yes to all those things but there is something we can do that is a little easier and a little closer to home. Come and support the London Marathon on Sunday and stand shoulder to shoulder with your fellow man and be united against those evil trying to undermine human nature. Unite as one through the kinship of a Marathon, just as those killed and injured in Boston did and stand with them on Sunday. That to me is mobilising our right, our ability as a human being.
Why should you do that? Why will it help? To do that we need to understand what a marathon actually is. What it means. What is behind it.
It is relevant to me as I have run several and am doing the London on Sunday. It will be my 6th and I'm a passionate supporter of it.
Coming on the back of the Boston Marathon bombings means it is going to be emotional and meaningful. It will be a chance for solidarity with what happened. To remember and join spiritual forces as runners, as a crowd, as a city and country. How can you show support for Boston? Come and join the London Marathon, dam, not just the London but the global marathon family on Sunday.
If you've run one or been and supported you will know what I'm talking about when i say that Marathon day IS HUMANITY. It captures all that is good in our human race. It is full of life and inspiration. Love and respect. Family, friends, strangers all join as one mass positive energy to stand together with their fellow man and woman. It is powerful stuff.
When i was a self absorbed cynical drinking alcoholic i would look at the marathon on TV and think "what a load of crap why on earth would you want to do that. Run 26.2 miles around London. They even put that emotional music on. Rubbish."
Either that or say "I could never do that", or the classic "I'll do the Marathon next year" after getting 5 minutes inspiration and then never doing anything about it. In short I was ambivalent. I didn;t connect. I was a voyeur and didn;t even know about it. I never bothered to experience the atmosphere or go live. It was contempt prior to investigation.
Then as I got sober I had the opportunity to run it back in 2004 and I loved it. It was incredible. A truly phenomenal human experience. I felt guilty of my previous cynicism, ignorance and ambivalence. My mind was opened.
I have run several since then and it never ceases to inspire me. It is full of people running for a cause. Millions is raised for those who really need it. Whether it be a charity or for a loved one they've lost. It is full of people trying to do good. To honour the dead or to help the needy. It encapsulates everything that is good in human nature.
When something bad happens we feel powerless. The marathon is a REAL opportunity for people to channel their grief or emotion or feeling into something physical, Into something real. It is an expression of humanity. it helps people feel useful. That they are doing something good both for themselves and others. It is a generous day and one that even a cynical sod like me finds overwhelming with love. I cry every time.
Then there is the crowd. The real heroes in my book. 750,000 people lining the route, supporting, willing you on. Where else do you get that in life? Where else do you get that massive outpouring of well being or positive support? There are families & friends supporting their loved ones. Strangers supporting strangers. We all unite as one on marathon day. All the good traits of humanity are on display which you simply can;t appreciate on the TV. You have to feel it, experience it live. Then you will know.
So that is why I urge people to come and join the day. Come and join in. For me it shows solidarity with Boston. It shows we will not be beaten by terrorists. it shows we can stand together as one and achieve great things as humans. It shows that 1 million people can come together on one day and feel at one with 1 million more. It defines the power of good over evil.
All the runners will wear a black ribbon in honor of the dead and injured. There will be a minutes silence on the start line. It will be emotional and poignant. It will be real and i hope you are inspired to come and join us on the day and stand together. One purpose. One world. One cause. That cause is for the good. As we are all worth it.
** I am running this year for Action on Addiction in memory of my father and all those afflicted by addiction. If you feel sufficiently moved by this piece to sponsor my London Marathon for the Charity you can donate on the link below. Thank you for reading **
www.justgiving.com/thenickevans
The Nick Evans
x
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Thursday, April 11, 2013
The Nick Evans Guide to Man Flu
There is only 2 things worse than Man Flu. Death & Loose Women.
It is well known in the medical profession that when bacteria from the flu virus infiltrates male chromosomes and genetic DNA structures it mutates 1000% times stronger than in women into some kind of super flu. It is the flu equivalent of Arnold Swazcheneger on steroids. In extreme cases it even makes you sound like him (illegible)
Clearly as a man I don't like to moan or make a fuss of being ill. (cue loud laughs from women)However there are certain protocols as a man you are simply expected to follow. One of these is being a massive baby and complaining like fuck that you are poorly. The other of course is carrying on as if you are mortally wounded like a martyr, in the forlorn hope that everyone in your wake will stand aside and bellow, "aaarrrgggghhhh, you poor little thing you."
Of course Man carries on with the awful Man Flu symptoms for a few days until he can take no more. It is imperative he immediately takes himself off to A&E for a check up. It is crucial that Man receives a male doctor & understands he is in the grips of a deadly illness and shouldn't take any risks.
The doctor (male of course) at this point usually prescribes tons of lemsip, a week on the sofa and 'Escape to the Country' on constant loop. He will explain that Man Flu is a deadly virus that is rarely understood (usually by women) and that it is to be taken seriously.
Of course Man doesn't usually need a doctor to diagnose anything. Man is perfectly capable of doing that himself. After all, several episodes of Holby City & Casualty means Man is qualified to make all kinds of medical prognosis. Man will of course forget previous mistakes. Like being convinced I had a double hernia which turned out to be wind. Even the best get it wrong.
Man is (self) diagnosed with Man Flu. This results in even less energy than before and a freedom pass to do absolutely fuck all for a few days. Some women will argue that their Men do that all the time, but we leave that debate for Marriage Guidance. Man, particularly ones with children, secretly long for Man Flu as at heart Man is a lazy bastard. Some even stand in the cold whilst rubbing themselves with ice cream to get it. Man Cold doesn't come to all though. It is only contactable to a select few. Men such as Maggie Thatcher were immune
Of course everyone has to know about it. Man must explain to everyone how bad he feels to receive the necessary sympathy levels. When man has bled everyone dry of care & patience, he takes to social media to receive the attention from his secondary social circle. Sympathy and pity is of course a major part of the recovery process. Without this Man Flu can literally drag on for weeks.
If social media doesn't deliver the required levels, Man is not fussy where he gets sympathy from and will take to calling up 'Loose Women' or 'Vanessa' in the vain hope of receiving more sympathy. If that doesn't work Man has to rely on the emergency back up of the Samaritans and his Mum. Only as a last roll of the sympathy dice though. Man has his pride to think about after all.
Man must lay horizontal for as many hours as possible and make occasional noises which reinforce he is unwell in case anyone forgets. Rather peculiarly this happens even if Man lives on his own. Usually the slow low groan is followed by a few coughs, a loud grunt and finally a huge sigh which turns into wheeze and then a groan again. It is not dissimilar to the noises Man will make when achieving his weekly orgasm though in Man Flu it is filled with more meaning and effort. The end result is similar though. Immediate sleep.
A safe place is crucial for Man to lay around in for several days. This is usually your sofa or bed. Getting from one to the other is akin to running a marathon and achieving this must of course be shared on Twitter just to receive more martyrdom praise. If feeling ultra rough Man may check himself to a 5 star hotel or if double dip recession means funds are tight, a Travelodge.
At this stage the Tellie must of course be kept on a near constant loop of ITV4 with Minder, Sweeney and Professionals, mixed with Escape to the Sun, Homes Under the Hammer and Sarah Beeney's Building Houses. This of course is perfect Man Flu TV as manly stuff like building is mixed with a bit of crumpet with a heaving chest. This satisfies man in a deep nurturing way whilst fixing his need for making things.
The Man must of course have an occasional carer flitting in and out of the room (but not for too long as Man needs his own space) to flick over the channel, bring in some tea and Heinz tomato soup, boiled egg and soldiers and various magazines and reading material. If Man lets out ultra loud groans he may even get a thermometer if he is really lucky and of course regular changes to the hot water bottle. Man will of course at some point lose his temper at the ultra patient carer and bark ungrateful orders and complaints he feels is acceptable because he is unwell. This of course will be reminded back to him by his carer in around 8-9 years time.
Man must of course be very careful as he can slip into a Man Flu induced coma at any point, or to use it's technical term. Sleep. This forms a large part of the convalescence process and Man must of course drool, make weird noises and wake up so disorientated he talks nonsense for several minutes. During this process man must of course have sticky up hair and regress back to being around 5 years old. Arguably his general mental age anyway.
Man flu is a nasty illness and it will usually require a short period of inaction (3-4 weeks) before Man is finally fit enough to return to work (6 months later) and have enough strength to do jobs round the home again. (9 months). It is usually a whole year before Man has recovered sufficiently and is ready for another bout again.
Once over this deadly virus Man will return to the normal world but constantly check his looks in case he is 'looking peaky'. He will long for more lingering sympathy and take great delight in telling everyone, (mostly strangers at that point as everyone he knows is sick of him) that he's 'Had the flu' and 'was feeling rough'.
If any men read this and have Man Flu I am starting a support hot line and website so feel free to join the chat room and forum for online support. I am just waiting for Stephen Hawkins's technology to arrive so i can tap in things by thought and voice as i simply don't have the strength to move my fingers. I'll be surprised if i last the night. Mind you I'm not one to complain.
To join the online support group go to www.menareshitatbeingillandiwantsomesoupandmyheadstrokedbecauseimamassivebaby.com
Nicholas Edward
xx
It is well known in the medical profession that when bacteria from the flu virus infiltrates male chromosomes and genetic DNA structures it mutates 1000% times stronger than in women into some kind of super flu. It is the flu equivalent of Arnold Swazcheneger on steroids. In extreme cases it even makes you sound like him (illegible)
Clearly as a man I don't like to moan or make a fuss of being ill. (cue loud laughs from women)However there are certain protocols as a man you are simply expected to follow. One of these is being a massive baby and complaining like fuck that you are poorly. The other of course is carrying on as if you are mortally wounded like a martyr, in the forlorn hope that everyone in your wake will stand aside and bellow, "aaarrrgggghhhh, you poor little thing you."
Of course Man carries on with the awful Man Flu symptoms for a few days until he can take no more. It is imperative he immediately takes himself off to A&E for a check up. It is crucial that Man receives a male doctor & understands he is in the grips of a deadly illness and shouldn't take any risks.
The doctor (male of course) at this point usually prescribes tons of lemsip, a week on the sofa and 'Escape to the Country' on constant loop. He will explain that Man Flu is a deadly virus that is rarely understood (usually by women) and that it is to be taken seriously.
Of course Man doesn't usually need a doctor to diagnose anything. Man is perfectly capable of doing that himself. After all, several episodes of Holby City & Casualty means Man is qualified to make all kinds of medical prognosis. Man will of course forget previous mistakes. Like being convinced I had a double hernia which turned out to be wind. Even the best get it wrong.
Man is (self) diagnosed with Man Flu. This results in even less energy than before and a freedom pass to do absolutely fuck all for a few days. Some women will argue that their Men do that all the time, but we leave that debate for Marriage Guidance. Man, particularly ones with children, secretly long for Man Flu as at heart Man is a lazy bastard. Some even stand in the cold whilst rubbing themselves with ice cream to get it. Man Cold doesn't come to all though. It is only contactable to a select few. Men such as Maggie Thatcher were immune
Of course everyone has to know about it. Man must explain to everyone how bad he feels to receive the necessary sympathy levels. When man has bled everyone dry of care & patience, he takes to social media to receive the attention from his secondary social circle. Sympathy and pity is of course a major part of the recovery process. Without this Man Flu can literally drag on for weeks.
If social media doesn't deliver the required levels, Man is not fussy where he gets sympathy from and will take to calling up 'Loose Women' or 'Vanessa' in the vain hope of receiving more sympathy. If that doesn't work Man has to rely on the emergency back up of the Samaritans and his Mum. Only as a last roll of the sympathy dice though. Man has his pride to think about after all.
Man must lay horizontal for as many hours as possible and make occasional noises which reinforce he is unwell in case anyone forgets. Rather peculiarly this happens even if Man lives on his own. Usually the slow low groan is followed by a few coughs, a loud grunt and finally a huge sigh which turns into wheeze and then a groan again. It is not dissimilar to the noises Man will make when achieving his weekly orgasm though in Man Flu it is filled with more meaning and effort. The end result is similar though. Immediate sleep.
A safe place is crucial for Man to lay around in for several days. This is usually your sofa or bed. Getting from one to the other is akin to running a marathon and achieving this must of course be shared on Twitter just to receive more martyrdom praise. If feeling ultra rough Man may check himself to a 5 star hotel or if double dip recession means funds are tight, a Travelodge.
At this stage the Tellie must of course be kept on a near constant loop of ITV4 with Minder, Sweeney and Professionals, mixed with Escape to the Sun, Homes Under the Hammer and Sarah Beeney's Building Houses. This of course is perfect Man Flu TV as manly stuff like building is mixed with a bit of crumpet with a heaving chest. This satisfies man in a deep nurturing way whilst fixing his need for making things.
The Man must of course have an occasional carer flitting in and out of the room (but not for too long as Man needs his own space) to flick over the channel, bring in some tea and Heinz tomato soup, boiled egg and soldiers and various magazines and reading material. If Man lets out ultra loud groans he may even get a thermometer if he is really lucky and of course regular changes to the hot water bottle. Man will of course at some point lose his temper at the ultra patient carer and bark ungrateful orders and complaints he feels is acceptable because he is unwell. This of course will be reminded back to him by his carer in around 8-9 years time.
Man must of course be very careful as he can slip into a Man Flu induced coma at any point, or to use it's technical term. Sleep. This forms a large part of the convalescence process and Man must of course drool, make weird noises and wake up so disorientated he talks nonsense for several minutes. During this process man must of course have sticky up hair and regress back to being around 5 years old. Arguably his general mental age anyway.
Man flu is a nasty illness and it will usually require a short period of inaction (3-4 weeks) before Man is finally fit enough to return to work (6 months later) and have enough strength to do jobs round the home again. (9 months). It is usually a whole year before Man has recovered sufficiently and is ready for another bout again.
Once over this deadly virus Man will return to the normal world but constantly check his looks in case he is 'looking peaky'. He will long for more lingering sympathy and take great delight in telling everyone, (mostly strangers at that point as everyone he knows is sick of him) that he's 'Had the flu' and 'was feeling rough'.
If any men read this and have Man Flu I am starting a support hot line and website so feel free to join the chat room and forum for online support. I am just waiting for Stephen Hawkins's technology to arrive so i can tap in things by thought and voice as i simply don't have the strength to move my fingers. I'll be surprised if i last the night. Mind you I'm not one to complain.
To join the online support group go to www.menareshitatbeingillandiwantsomesoupandmyheadstrokedbecauseimamassivebaby.com
Nicholas Edward
xx
Monday, April 8, 2013
The Delusional Man and Is there A God?
Do you believe in God? Wow that's an opening gambit isn't it? Not like I eased you into this entry is it? There was no slightly humorous padding or gentle introduction to the topic that's on my mind today. Instead it was BOOM! straight into the God topic. No foreplay. Just action.
Granted I haven't warmed you up yet, broken you in gently. I agree that was a little direct but as you will have noticed I back tracked immediately and wrote some gentle inane shit, self parodying the beginning to pad out an intro. I think that's called being ironic or in other words 'disapearing up ones own arse and trying to be pretentiously clever'. Let me start again.
Do you believe in God? I have been mulling over this concept and topic. I recently realised my utter futility on this planet and my relationship with God. I realised my overblown sense of importance as a human being and it was quite a moment. It made me question my belief system and faith.
I was on Mile 4 of an afternoon run. I was by the Thames in Petersham, by Richmond. A lovely spot usually but it was freezing cold and had a stronger wind than a taster at a Chile factory. It was grim.
I'd had a bad day. I admit i was in a filthy negative horrible angry mood. Some work stuff I'd been doing for months was pulled at the last minute. Affecting my livelihood and the entire nature of a business I'm trying to grow. It was a devastating and frustrating 'out of the blue' crushing blow. It hit me hard.
My mind started going into anxious and fearful mode. 'How will I earn money?', 'What will become of me', 'I should be more successful now'. Negative Nick was in full bloom. Not only that but my 'rights' moved in too, just to compound the thoughts.
'We deserve that deal'. 'We have worked so hard to accommodate them', 'it's a disgrace'. 'Poor us'. 'Those wankers'. All of these thoughts were swirling through my mind.
I decided an 8 mile hour long run would clear it but it just made it worse. Sometimes running is a superb to clear away negativity but sometimes all it does is give you an opportunity to really focus on the problem and concentrate hard on the resentment and injustice. That was what happened to me.
I reached mile 4 and the wind picked up, the freezing temperatures dropped and it became really torrid. I snapped at this point. I could take no more. I thought of all the bad news we'd had, of my past, of the bad luck, of abandonment, of everything that you associate with sick negative thinking, feeling a deep sense of self pity, injustice, being wronged and huge anger.
I looked up to the sky and screamed on top of my voice 'Fucking hell God make it fucking warmer. This is taking the fucking piss now. This has lasted long enough. Fucking sort it out."
Then on my work and personal situation I screamed 'Give me some fucking help down here. Ive prayed, I've helped others I've been a decent human being but for fucks sake stop throwing me bad news you cunt and fucking help me here',
Granted it's not a textbook prayer. Nor really is it a petition to God, more a demand and apparently the big fella doesn't do demands but I'd reached the end of my tether. At that moment I realised I do actually believe in a higher power otherwise why am I shouting out to something? If I am agnostic I'm just shouting to myself but i was shouting to something. I don't know why but at least it confirmed my faith.
At that point I realised my utter futility as a human. Who the fuck am I to start barking angry expletive ridden demands to a God based on my own little life? Why not scream 'fucking hell god can you please sort out a fucking cure for cancer'. At least I'd be demanding bigger things for lots of people other than little old me.
Also 2 passers by just saw an angry runner screaming 'CUUUUNNNNT' to the heavens. This helped me to look down on myself and see how utterly ridiculous i was being. It made me smile at myself even though they looked petrified like an inmate from Broadmoor had escaped (in Lycra)
I must believe in God otherwise I wouldn;t have screamed out to something. An agnostic would have screamed 'Fucking hell Scientific climates of cold pressure and easterly wind can you sort the weather'. An Atheist would have just screamed at themselves. It feels better to have a faith, at least to get angry with on certain occasions. It makes me feel better to believe in 'something'.
I then attended a Welsh funeral. Auntie Joan. my father's sister. One of the few surviving links to my Father. It's been quite a week. Anniversary of my father's death, anniversary of my rock bottom and realisation i had a problem with alcohol. My business receiving a crushing blow, being skint, a barn storming comedy night and finally a funeral.
I learnt more from my past. I learnt about my Father;s father being an Apostolic Minister after a spiritual awakening from being a drunkard into an ultra Religious Zealot. I suppose these things put me off God as that was the history I grew up with. It was good to learn about the insanity of my father's side of the family. Completes me and makes me understand my own a little more.
Organised religion is not for me but it is for many others and I respect that. I respect different beliefs and faiths. Instead my faith in a God works through people. Through experiences of myself and others. I see small miracles every day which are wrapped up in normality and that's good enough for me.
So my conclusion is that there is a God of sorts. There is a higher power. As a pig farmer from Bury once told me. "The only thing you need to know about God, Nick. Is that you're not fucking it." Amen to that
Nicholas Edward
xx
Granted I haven't warmed you up yet, broken you in gently. I agree that was a little direct but as you will have noticed I back tracked immediately and wrote some gentle inane shit, self parodying the beginning to pad out an intro. I think that's called being ironic or in other words 'disapearing up ones own arse and trying to be pretentiously clever'. Let me start again.
Do you believe in God? I have been mulling over this concept and topic. I recently realised my utter futility on this planet and my relationship with God. I realised my overblown sense of importance as a human being and it was quite a moment. It made me question my belief system and faith.
I was on Mile 4 of an afternoon run. I was by the Thames in Petersham, by Richmond. A lovely spot usually but it was freezing cold and had a stronger wind than a taster at a Chile factory. It was grim.
I'd had a bad day. I admit i was in a filthy negative horrible angry mood. Some work stuff I'd been doing for months was pulled at the last minute. Affecting my livelihood and the entire nature of a business I'm trying to grow. It was a devastating and frustrating 'out of the blue' crushing blow. It hit me hard.
My mind started going into anxious and fearful mode. 'How will I earn money?', 'What will become of me', 'I should be more successful now'. Negative Nick was in full bloom. Not only that but my 'rights' moved in too, just to compound the thoughts.
'We deserve that deal'. 'We have worked so hard to accommodate them', 'it's a disgrace'. 'Poor us'. 'Those wankers'. All of these thoughts were swirling through my mind.
I decided an 8 mile hour long run would clear it but it just made it worse. Sometimes running is a superb to clear away negativity but sometimes all it does is give you an opportunity to really focus on the problem and concentrate hard on the resentment and injustice. That was what happened to me.
I reached mile 4 and the wind picked up, the freezing temperatures dropped and it became really torrid. I snapped at this point. I could take no more. I thought of all the bad news we'd had, of my past, of the bad luck, of abandonment, of everything that you associate with sick negative thinking, feeling a deep sense of self pity, injustice, being wronged and huge anger.
I looked up to the sky and screamed on top of my voice 'Fucking hell God make it fucking warmer. This is taking the fucking piss now. This has lasted long enough. Fucking sort it out."
Then on my work and personal situation I screamed 'Give me some fucking help down here. Ive prayed, I've helped others I've been a decent human being but for fucks sake stop throwing me bad news you cunt and fucking help me here',
Granted it's not a textbook prayer. Nor really is it a petition to God, more a demand and apparently the big fella doesn't do demands but I'd reached the end of my tether. At that moment I realised I do actually believe in a higher power otherwise why am I shouting out to something? If I am agnostic I'm just shouting to myself but i was shouting to something. I don't know why but at least it confirmed my faith.
At that point I realised my utter futility as a human. Who the fuck am I to start barking angry expletive ridden demands to a God based on my own little life? Why not scream 'fucking hell god can you please sort out a fucking cure for cancer'. At least I'd be demanding bigger things for lots of people other than little old me.
Also 2 passers by just saw an angry runner screaming 'CUUUUNNNNT' to the heavens. This helped me to look down on myself and see how utterly ridiculous i was being. It made me smile at myself even though they looked petrified like an inmate from Broadmoor had escaped (in Lycra)
I must believe in God otherwise I wouldn;t have screamed out to something. An agnostic would have screamed 'Fucking hell Scientific climates of cold pressure and easterly wind can you sort the weather'. An Atheist would have just screamed at themselves. It feels better to have a faith, at least to get angry with on certain occasions. It makes me feel better to believe in 'something'.
I then attended a Welsh funeral. Auntie Joan. my father's sister. One of the few surviving links to my Father. It's been quite a week. Anniversary of my father's death, anniversary of my rock bottom and realisation i had a problem with alcohol. My business receiving a crushing blow, being skint, a barn storming comedy night and finally a funeral.
I learnt more from my past. I learnt about my Father;s father being an Apostolic Minister after a spiritual awakening from being a drunkard into an ultra Religious Zealot. I suppose these things put me off God as that was the history I grew up with. It was good to learn about the insanity of my father's side of the family. Completes me and makes me understand my own a little more.
Organised religion is not for me but it is for many others and I respect that. I respect different beliefs and faiths. Instead my faith in a God works through people. Through experiences of myself and others. I see small miracles every day which are wrapped up in normality and that's good enough for me.
So my conclusion is that there is a God of sorts. There is a higher power. As a pig farmer from Bury once told me. "The only thing you need to know about God, Nick. Is that you're not fucking it." Amen to that
Nicholas Edward
xx
Friday, March 29, 2013
Good Friday - DIY Worship & Remembering my Father
Happy Easter bloggers. Today is Good Friday. For the religious amongst you a hugely significant time of the year. For the non religious. A welcome Bank Holiday and excuse to do DIY or nip away on a short break.
I am somewhere in between. neither religious or agnostic. Faith is part of my life but for me an orthodox organised religion doesn't appeal. I respect this time of year of course & those who celebrate it, however the whole Jesus on a cross thing followed by resurrection passes me by.
Don't get me wrong I'll join in with the classic celebrations by gorging on over priced eggs and slapping as much shelving up as possible. It's good to pay respects to the good lord by over eating and improving ones home.
DIY is THE most popular activity over the long weekend. Men up and down the land do their annual pilgrimage to the Great Mecca of Homebase or pray at the Altar of B&Q. Of course the Holy Grail is Ikea, however you must have the patience of a Saint to attempt this. Worshippers of all things home, blankly walk around this holy place. Ironically it usually takes from Good Friday to Easter Sunday to reach the altar of the till to pay for your holy stuff (2 wall units, a wardrobe, a rug, 3 plants, an office swivel chair that will be impossible to put together and 3 hot dogs)
More people will visit this Holy land than the church this Easter. Need i say more as to why we're so morally and spiritually bankrupt? Maybe the church should do mini hot dogs/Meatballs and self serve Ice cream out of a machine. People would be flocking then. In fact if the Church bolted on a DIY outlet and Garden centre they would be packed out. I'll WhatsApp the Arch Bishop later to put forward my ideas.
Easter is personally an exceptionally poignant time for me. Today is the 3rd anniversary of my Fathers death & 12 years on Easter Sunday since I first realised i had problem with drinking and wanted to something about it
I can't believe it's 3 years since David Michael Evans' long lonely battle against alcoholism was finally ended. 3 years since he was found dead in his warden controlled flat from a severe hemorrhage with liver damage at the age of 65.
I don't need to rehash last years blog, I've written about it before. Basically he had a 25 year suicide. Chucking in his life to full blown alcoholism around 1985 leaving any kind of normal reality, family, wife, job, home behind to live a life of an alcoholic. Pretty sad and tragic waste of life. But then again he is not alone. There are several thousand Mike Evans' a year. His death though is not in vain.
He does act as some kind of example to me as to what alcoholism is and can do. So he does live on in me and others and his is a powerful story.
I'm not sad. I'm reflective and it always makes me think of him. It's like my mind is stuck in the late 70's and early 80's as that is the only memory and time I had with him. Perhaps why I'm so nostalgic for the 70's era and The Sweeney. They were on the whole happy times as a kid. plus he just wanted to be Regan, but don't we all?
I remember his massive purple 70's pants. His beard, his charisma, his humour, his Cortina, his stash of porn mags under the drivers seat. His B&H, his 80's nylon trousers, his swearing, grandiosity, his massive fucking ego. (As I said only a man as grandiose as my father could be born on Christmas day and die on Good Friday, nice one Dad)
I remember much about him but if i could ask one thing. If the clock could be turned back I would ask my Dad please Dad when i was 11 could you please not pin me down and squeeze my blackheads after picking your arse. I'd rather not have skid stained fingernails on my face.
We are all flawed and I do not blame. I'm not sure what the rest of my family feel about it now but it's a long time ago and it's just one of those things. Everyone has shit go on in their family (not usually under their fingernails though) and we are all damaged in some way - but on the whole I have fond memories of him and in so many ways without realising it i want to emulate him, be part of him, make him proud. I never want to forget.
His death remains a powerful example of alcoholism to me and in some ways helps to power me to remain sober and also increase my passion in recovery and flagging up addiction as a disease. I don't want to get all preachy and wanky about it as most of the general public get turned off. But it's real and it happens and it''s everywhere. It just so happens my father was a classic example.
So today Mike Evans you are remembered. Certainly by me and I suppose in their own way by others too. Time passes. New generations are born. The world moves on. But today on Good Friday i remember my father, the religious of you will remember Jesus dying on the cross for others. Well my Dad had a beard......he was also born on Xmas day.....just saying he could have been that's all. Not sure Jesus wore Farah trousers though, drove a Sierra and drank Tenants Super.
From what little I know Jesus died to help others. I'm not in any way comparing my father's death with his. (That would be insane) But by sharing his story I like to think Mike Evans could have died for others too. As an example as a story about how the long lonely path of alcoholism is played out. There is only one winner when it comes to addiction. It is more powerful than any human power and if you have it, it will take you down and others around you. It will devour everything in your path. It will do it slowly and cunningly without you knowing but it will take you down. It wants you dead and unless there is a spiritual experience, unless the sufferer really wants to stop, there is little hope. There is only one winner.
How do I know this? Well the facts are in my family. The facts are in my father. This is not make believe theoretical bullshit. They are hard nosed facts. He had a wife, job, home, 3 kids and much going for him and lost it all to live alone for 20 years in various doss houses, warden controlled flats and drink on the streets in Shepherds Bush green. He died alone, undiscovered for 6 days with nobody around him in a flat that had no semblance of humanity to it. There were 8 people at his funeral.
Don't believe in alcoholism or addiction? Well take another look and maybe you will readjust your attitude. I know i did. Just because alcoholism or addiction is not put on a death certificate it doesn't mean it isn't what killed them.
In my father's case it took nearly 25 years. But the good news is it doesn't have to be that way. I certainly hope it wont be for me or others. I guess that's why I'm so committed to a 12 step recovery programme. He's a top example so I'm going to raise a cup of tea, diet coke, cigarette (because I love a replacement addiction) to him today and salute his soul, who he was and alcoholism.
Before i go just a quick memory on the subject of Easter and DIY. He was the worlds worst at DIY. A skill i have inherited. Putting up a wardrobe or shelf was like an object in the art of swearing. He would be there with his bum crack showing and all i would hear is "fucking arseholes", "fuck sake", "fucking wankers", "shit" and "wanker". It was a great lesson for a 10 year old.
He wired a bathroom when i was younger, replacing the wiring in the main bathroom light and the small strip light above the sink. On testing when you pulled the little chord on the strip light the main light came on and when you flicked the main light switch the little strip light came on. Totally classic. And what did my father have to say on the subject? "fucking arseholes" -
This weekend I'm going to do some DIY in his honour, get it totally wrong, swear like a trooper and ultimately give up in a huff. God bless you Dad. You're always alive
Nicholas Edward
xx
I am somewhere in between. neither religious or agnostic. Faith is part of my life but for me an orthodox organised religion doesn't appeal. I respect this time of year of course & those who celebrate it, however the whole Jesus on a cross thing followed by resurrection passes me by.
Don't get me wrong I'll join in with the classic celebrations by gorging on over priced eggs and slapping as much shelving up as possible. It's good to pay respects to the good lord by over eating and improving ones home.
DIY is THE most popular activity over the long weekend. Men up and down the land do their annual pilgrimage to the Great Mecca of Homebase or pray at the Altar of B&Q. Of course the Holy Grail is Ikea, however you must have the patience of a Saint to attempt this. Worshippers of all things home, blankly walk around this holy place. Ironically it usually takes from Good Friday to Easter Sunday to reach the altar of the till to pay for your holy stuff (2 wall units, a wardrobe, a rug, 3 plants, an office swivel chair that will be impossible to put together and 3 hot dogs)
More people will visit this Holy land than the church this Easter. Need i say more as to why we're so morally and spiritually bankrupt? Maybe the church should do mini hot dogs/Meatballs and self serve Ice cream out of a machine. People would be flocking then. In fact if the Church bolted on a DIY outlet and Garden centre they would be packed out. I'll WhatsApp the Arch Bishop later to put forward my ideas.
Easter is personally an exceptionally poignant time for me. Today is the 3rd anniversary of my Fathers death & 12 years on Easter Sunday since I first realised i had problem with drinking and wanted to something about it
I can't believe it's 3 years since David Michael Evans' long lonely battle against alcoholism was finally ended. 3 years since he was found dead in his warden controlled flat from a severe hemorrhage with liver damage at the age of 65.
I don't need to rehash last years blog, I've written about it before. Basically he had a 25 year suicide. Chucking in his life to full blown alcoholism around 1985 leaving any kind of normal reality, family, wife, job, home behind to live a life of an alcoholic. Pretty sad and tragic waste of life. But then again he is not alone. There are several thousand Mike Evans' a year. His death though is not in vain.
He does act as some kind of example to me as to what alcoholism is and can do. So he does live on in me and others and his is a powerful story.
I'm not sad. I'm reflective and it always makes me think of him. It's like my mind is stuck in the late 70's and early 80's as that is the only memory and time I had with him. Perhaps why I'm so nostalgic for the 70's era and The Sweeney. They were on the whole happy times as a kid. plus he just wanted to be Regan, but don't we all?
I remember his massive purple 70's pants. His beard, his charisma, his humour, his Cortina, his stash of porn mags under the drivers seat. His B&H, his 80's nylon trousers, his swearing, grandiosity, his massive fucking ego. (As I said only a man as grandiose as my father could be born on Christmas day and die on Good Friday, nice one Dad)
I remember much about him but if i could ask one thing. If the clock could be turned back I would ask my Dad please Dad when i was 11 could you please not pin me down and squeeze my blackheads after picking your arse. I'd rather not have skid stained fingernails on my face.
We are all flawed and I do not blame. I'm not sure what the rest of my family feel about it now but it's a long time ago and it's just one of those things. Everyone has shit go on in their family (not usually under their fingernails though) and we are all damaged in some way - but on the whole I have fond memories of him and in so many ways without realising it i want to emulate him, be part of him, make him proud. I never want to forget.
His death remains a powerful example of alcoholism to me and in some ways helps to power me to remain sober and also increase my passion in recovery and flagging up addiction as a disease. I don't want to get all preachy and wanky about it as most of the general public get turned off. But it's real and it happens and it''s everywhere. It just so happens my father was a classic example.
So today Mike Evans you are remembered. Certainly by me and I suppose in their own way by others too. Time passes. New generations are born. The world moves on. But today on Good Friday i remember my father, the religious of you will remember Jesus dying on the cross for others. Well my Dad had a beard......he was also born on Xmas day.....just saying he could have been that's all. Not sure Jesus wore Farah trousers though, drove a Sierra and drank Tenants Super.
From what little I know Jesus died to help others. I'm not in any way comparing my father's death with his. (That would be insane) But by sharing his story I like to think Mike Evans could have died for others too. As an example as a story about how the long lonely path of alcoholism is played out. There is only one winner when it comes to addiction. It is more powerful than any human power and if you have it, it will take you down and others around you. It will devour everything in your path. It will do it slowly and cunningly without you knowing but it will take you down. It wants you dead and unless there is a spiritual experience, unless the sufferer really wants to stop, there is little hope. There is only one winner.
How do I know this? Well the facts are in my family. The facts are in my father. This is not make believe theoretical bullshit. They are hard nosed facts. He had a wife, job, home, 3 kids and much going for him and lost it all to live alone for 20 years in various doss houses, warden controlled flats and drink on the streets in Shepherds Bush green. He died alone, undiscovered for 6 days with nobody around him in a flat that had no semblance of humanity to it. There were 8 people at his funeral.
Don't believe in alcoholism or addiction? Well take another look and maybe you will readjust your attitude. I know i did. Just because alcoholism or addiction is not put on a death certificate it doesn't mean it isn't what killed them.
In my father's case it took nearly 25 years. But the good news is it doesn't have to be that way. I certainly hope it wont be for me or others. I guess that's why I'm so committed to a 12 step recovery programme. He's a top example so I'm going to raise a cup of tea, diet coke, cigarette (because I love a replacement addiction) to him today and salute his soul, who he was and alcoholism.
Before i go just a quick memory on the subject of Easter and DIY. He was the worlds worst at DIY. A skill i have inherited. Putting up a wardrobe or shelf was like an object in the art of swearing. He would be there with his bum crack showing and all i would hear is "fucking arseholes", "fuck sake", "fucking wankers", "shit" and "wanker". It was a great lesson for a 10 year old.
He wired a bathroom when i was younger, replacing the wiring in the main bathroom light and the small strip light above the sink. On testing when you pulled the little chord on the strip light the main light came on and when you flicked the main light switch the little strip light came on. Totally classic. And what did my father have to say on the subject? "fucking arseholes" -
This weekend I'm going to do some DIY in his honour, get it totally wrong, swear like a trooper and ultimately give up in a huff. God bless you Dad. You're always alive
Nicholas Edward
xx
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Is it Really a Year since last year's marathon?
My new website is currently what is technically known as f**ed. Whilst it's being repaired I'm back on my old blog. You know the one from last year. The one where i wrote every day for 2012. The one I started up for last year's London Marathon.
Guess what. The 2013 marathon is 4 weeks today. 4 f***g weeks!! How on earth did that happen? It's nearly a year since the annual orgy of lycra was let loose on the streets of London. I can't believe it. Insane. Time really does go faster as you get older.
I've been injured and in a permanent state of sloth during this never ending winter and I'm weeks behind on training. I'm not going to be able to get into the proper shape to run it in any spectacular time, but I did my 3rd long run today of 17.5 miles and felt pretty good. That is until I melted on 16 miles and ran the final mile and a half at the speed of Customer Service at Argos.
I looked like a man who had shit himself and was walking briskly home to dispose of his heavily shitted underpants. I wasn't at my aesthetic best but after 15 miles you cease caring about anything, how you look, what people think of you. You can have snot running down your nose, congealed gob all over your face, tongue lolling around like your having a stroke and be bent over like you've been f**ed by a 10 inch strap on and you couldn't care less - Your sole purpose in life at that stage is to get home, stop running and get a brew on.
The run was duly completed which I'm pretty chuffed about but i can definately detect signs of turning 40. My body is falling apart. Of course marathon running hurts but since turning 40 my body and mind has gone into some kind of dirty protest over endurance sports and is on strike. "OK Evans you want to run do you well let's show you who's boss. Ping there goes the hamstring. Boom - Pain to the spine and , Kerpow - lungs on fire. Teach you for smoking" - It's really doing a number on me.
Still I'm on two feet and able to do it so I am counting my blessings and things are pretty groovy really.
I will resist the temptation to run over the past year since the last marathon but since I finished writing the blog on 31st December 2012 I effectively retired from any creativity or action. I retreated to a familiar place of sloth, self pity, self hatred and self which is no good to me, you or anyone. I'm just coming out of that place now and look forward to the remainder of 2013. It can only get better can't it? There's plenty to be getting on with.
That is starting from now. I'm going to have a long bath and play with my balls. Then it's a meeting for me tonight and work tomorrow, Yes you heard that right. I'm off to work on a Monday. It's insane. Obviously I'll reward myself with 3 days off afterwards. It's not easy working for yourself is it? I mean Minder is on ITV every morning at 8.30am usually followed by the Professionals and The Sweeney. How on earth is a man supposed to get out the door to work with all that on?
Such a hard life us men have girls. On top of that I've had one of those militant 'Man Colds' for the past couple of weeks. Not once have i complained or moaned...much, but on the same token nobody has applauded me for showing up and getting on with stuff. When men are ill we want constant attention and validation for the most menial task. Such brave little soldiers aren't we?
Have a groovy week people. It's good to be writing again, it helps with the self critical negative head.
Oh and if your feeling generous you can sponsor me for the marathon which I'm doing for my usual Charity I support, Action on Addiction. I would appreciate any donations
www.justgiving.com/thenickevans
Toodle pip
xx
Guess what. The 2013 marathon is 4 weeks today. 4 f***g weeks!! How on earth did that happen? It's nearly a year since the annual orgy of lycra was let loose on the streets of London. I can't believe it. Insane. Time really does go faster as you get older.
I've been injured and in a permanent state of sloth during this never ending winter and I'm weeks behind on training. I'm not going to be able to get into the proper shape to run it in any spectacular time, but I did my 3rd long run today of 17.5 miles and felt pretty good. That is until I melted on 16 miles and ran the final mile and a half at the speed of Customer Service at Argos.
I looked like a man who had shit himself and was walking briskly home to dispose of his heavily shitted underpants. I wasn't at my aesthetic best but after 15 miles you cease caring about anything, how you look, what people think of you. You can have snot running down your nose, congealed gob all over your face, tongue lolling around like your having a stroke and be bent over like you've been f**ed by a 10 inch strap on and you couldn't care less - Your sole purpose in life at that stage is to get home, stop running and get a brew on.
The run was duly completed which I'm pretty chuffed about but i can definately detect signs of turning 40. My body is falling apart. Of course marathon running hurts but since turning 40 my body and mind has gone into some kind of dirty protest over endurance sports and is on strike. "OK Evans you want to run do you well let's show you who's boss. Ping there goes the hamstring. Boom - Pain to the spine and , Kerpow - lungs on fire. Teach you for smoking" - It's really doing a number on me.
Still I'm on two feet and able to do it so I am counting my blessings and things are pretty groovy really.
I will resist the temptation to run over the past year since the last marathon but since I finished writing the blog on 31st December 2012 I effectively retired from any creativity or action. I retreated to a familiar place of sloth, self pity, self hatred and self which is no good to me, you or anyone. I'm just coming out of that place now and look forward to the remainder of 2013. It can only get better can't it? There's plenty to be getting on with.
That is starting from now. I'm going to have a long bath and play with my balls. Then it's a meeting for me tonight and work tomorrow, Yes you heard that right. I'm off to work on a Monday. It's insane. Obviously I'll reward myself with 3 days off afterwards. It's not easy working for yourself is it? I mean Minder is on ITV every morning at 8.30am usually followed by the Professionals and The Sweeney. How on earth is a man supposed to get out the door to work with all that on?
Such a hard life us men have girls. On top of that I've had one of those militant 'Man Colds' for the past couple of weeks. Not once have i complained or moaned...much, but on the same token nobody has applauded me for showing up and getting on with stuff. When men are ill we want constant attention and validation for the most menial task. Such brave little soldiers aren't we?
Have a groovy week people. It's good to be writing again, it helps with the self critical negative head.
Oh and if your feeling generous you can sponsor me for the marathon which I'm doing for my usual Charity I support, Action on Addiction. I would appreciate any donations
www.justgiving.com/thenickevans
Toodle pip
xx
Friday, March 22, 2013
2013 and all that........
I'm back..on here for one post only.
Just to say I've been doing fuck all during the winter and any creative spurt I had from last year left me long ago. I've stalled. I've hit a road block. Here is the latest attempt of me not to be me and get my arse into gear.
So I will be writing a weekly blog on my new format and new blog.
Go to www.thenickevans.co.uk and follow me on there to see if I can be arsed to actually drag myself out of this slothful winter mire.....If nothing else it's better than Dancing on Ice. Hopefully
Bye
Evans
Just to say I've been doing fuck all during the winter and any creative spurt I had from last year left me long ago. I've stalled. I've hit a road block. Here is the latest attempt of me not to be me and get my arse into gear.
So I will be writing a weekly blog on my new format and new blog.
Go to www.thenickevans.co.uk and follow me on there to see if I can be arsed to actually drag myself out of this slothful winter mire.....If nothing else it's better than Dancing on Ice. Hopefully
Bye
Evans
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Day365 - Mon 31st Dec - So that was 2012 - What next?
Holy f**k juice It's the final day of 2012. The end of the year. The final blog post. The end of this year's blog. What do I do now? Do I continue? Do I change it? Do let it go? Will people read on? Is it getting samey? Boring? Dull? Do i go weekly? Video blog? Stop all together? So many questions
Today is a time to traditionally go to overcrowded parties, pay £20 to get in, hang out with loads of bell ends, link arms with them, sing a song you have no idea of the lyrics and then hug lots of strangers, make resolutions about your life and then break them within 20 minutes. It's New Years Eve people. Classic.
Traditionally a time to look back on 2012 and look forward to 2013. Resolutions. I think they are going out of fashion now. People don't make resolutions anymore. They have 'goals' now. Sounds far more professional doesn't it? They still get broken within days though
Are you making any? Have you had a good year? Have you changed? What score out of 10 would you give your 2012? Obviously someone like Bradley Wiggins would be a 10. For me personally it's been a bit of a roller coaster so I'll give it a 7. Not a bad year. Many positives and a few downright highs. But also a few lows and 'emotional ringers'. 7 is an accurate reflection of my year.
I think making resolutions/goals is essentially a waste of time. Especially if they involve giving up things. That's just denying yourself something and setting yourself up for a fall. I'm more of a fan of introducing simple changes that you can implement gradually.
The most common resolutions are 'lose weight', 'get fit', With over 30% of the population Obese the gyms will be popular. At least until mid January anyway when old habits come back and the cream cakes look mighty fine again.
The other one is 'cut down' or 'stop drinking'. The AA helpline is particularly busy on 1st January as people who have completely destroyed Xmas with their drinking seek help. Other 'social drinkers' stop for January or cut down to give their year a kick start. I'm expecting a New Years call and i was disappointed getting one at 10am New Years day from someone in trouble. #classic.
Then you have a word that has seeped into society recently and spurned a multi billion pound industry. 'Detox'. People will spend January 'detoxing'. Essentially not cramming in the 5,000 calories a day they have been loading up with over the festive season and drinking more units of alcohol than an Ollie Read convention. What on earth does detox mean?
Magazines & papers are full of it. Products are being sold by the bucket full promoting detoxes as good for you. Spas, retreats. Just the word detox is so appealing after a gruelling period when most people feel more sluggish than a slug on Tramadol. Most of it of course is a load of bollocks but people are so desperate for quick fixes we go along with it.
The secret? Drink more water, eat less shit, get more active. Make 3 positive actions a day and hey presto the corner is turned. We don't have to pay £100's for that. It is all in our control. Trouble is it takes effort. Something I'm not very good at.
I reviewed 2012 yesterday so no need to go back over it again today. Seeing as this is the last blog of the year i give myself a pat on the back for continuing it every day. I've enjoyed it and although some days have been a pain in the arse and I've just 'churned it out', other days have been immense and i love writing. The feedback has been mostly positive and I feel good about it.
I'm not sure it has brought about many changes in me. I certainly feel more confident in myself. I feel a sense of achievement. There is a validity to myself it has brought. I'm not getting carried away thinking I'm a bloody genius or anything but it certainly makes me feel i have a voice. I feel i have found something I am reasonably good at and it's given me hope for the future. A vital ingredient in a happy life. Hope and faith.
Have i changed this year in the ways i set out the questions at the start of it? Day 1 was full of these kind of questions. Well in some cases yes in others no.
I still find myself repeating similar patterns of behaviour and thinking. I still cut corners and put off the hard yards I know deep down I need to address in order to be truly happy. People pleasing, co-dependence, isolation, emotional detachment, commitment, honesty and discipline.
On the other hand I feel more at peace with myself and through a daily discipline have found it is possible to do anything if you put your mind to it. The only thing that stops me in life is me. So this year has been a great learning curve in that respect. The hope and confidence and deep faith that I have found this year is special and I like it. It seems that by doing something every day it has taken a life of it's own and the feedback and identification from people has been especially pleasing. It makes it worthwhile when people say good things. Not because you do it for a pat on the back but to get confirmation you're on the right track from others always gives you a boost.
I fired into 2012 after coming back from hols with lots of plans and intentions, it took a bit of a dip in Feb/March but picked up again in April with the Marathon. May/June was a little bit of a dip but then the Olympics in the summer and doing the TV advert gave me a real high. September and October were awesome as I passed 40 and the advert gave me lots of hope of a glittering future only for me to suffer a dip in November and December as that hope faded and reality set in.
That is how I end off the year. Not quite firing on all cylinders and feeling a little flat and unhealthy. The graph is up and down as in everyone life but i go into 2013 with a quiet optimism. Not swinging from the chandeliers nor in a deep darkness. I have quiet optimism that things will be OK and a loose plan of how to get there.
It seems I have 3 months to give my business a go. I have no idea where to begin or what to do but will be asking people who do know. That's a challenge and one I'm looking forward to.
The writing I want to maintain, either weekly or daily and build a new website, blog and video blog and make it more appealing, different, entertaining and slick. I like doing it and will stick with it. Hopefully world domination and infamy will kick in at some point.
I will look to keep building the comedy club and writing material, even doing some gigs when time allows and try to be true to myself in the material. I'm not sure I have the desire or time/energy/obsession to try and make it as a stand up but I enjoy dabbling and writing. It's a good hobby.
The health. Well i could say stop smoking, quit diet coke and get healthy but I will keep those goals to myself right now. Otherwise I'm just setting myself up for a fail. Suffice to say I realise I can;t keep abusing my body and get away with it forever. I'm getting on a bit now.
I'm still considering whether to do an Ultra marathon or the Wales Ironman later in the year. Depends on time and training. We shall see.
Personally there are some changes I'd like to make and do the hard yards i know I need to do which will be painful and scary but I'm pretty sure putting them off will be worse, so I'll be trying to move towards that.
Romantically? Love? Settle down? Marriage? kids? Responsibility? Whoa, Steady on, can i postpone that for another year? See above sentence for the hard yards. I know what I need to do. It's fucking doing it I find hard. Especially when I suffer from such chronic deep rooted fear. Still at least I recongnise it. Next thing will be to act on it. #HardYards.
Overall it's quite a positive time. I'm looking forward to it all. Obviously if the business doesn't succeed I'll be fucked around the spring time so the pressures on. However other than that If i can single out one thing I feel I really want to do and this may sound wanky - it's to try and develop more faith in my life and hand everything else over to a higher power. I do that with alcohol and it works but continue to look after everything else which invariably goes wrong.
It seems that the big fella upstairs would make a better stab at it than me and it's about time I let him. Lets see how it goes hey - I think about the loss of my Nan this year and her tremendous life force and spirit. I like to think she is looking over us as a family, though not when I'm up to no good. But it feels good to have a faith/guardian angel - something bigger than humanity with you. Kind of comforting.
Finally I'd like to thank everyone for following me on this 2012 journey, I hope you enjoyed it as much as i did. I will feel like something is missing without the daily blog. I have revealed so much, possibly far too much and laid myself open for stick. But I hope I remained true to myself and my word at the beginning of the year to make the blog me. Not what i think people will like or how well it will sell but to be open, honest (ish) and accessable. I hope you've laughed, identified and in some parts allowed you to open up a bit too.
I wish you all a Happy New Year for 2013 and if you really want me to, I will keep it going but my plans are to go weekly and add videos to it aswell, just as soon as I can be arsed to sit down and design a website, which is tough for me seeing as I'm a total dinosaur and moron when it comes to IT and digital stuff and the only way i want to sit in front of a computer for 4 hours is to search for Shaven Asian Haven 24. (I had to end on a base note and reference to a porn addiction didn't I? Nobody said I was that well)
I Love you all very much and remember, If I can do it anyone can. Dare to believe and even if you don't. Do it anyway
Nicholas Edward Evans
1st January 2013
xx
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