Here's a thing...

This is a question for all the *couples* out there...  I'm wondering - why is it necessary to hold your partner's hand, or have your arms around each other, when doing the most mundane and uninteresting things?  Like, picking which sandwich to buy at a petrol station...  Do these things really cause anxiety?  Do they require mutual support, and the care of those who love you?  Or is it just that you can't seem to do the simplest day-to-day task without clinging to your boyspouse/girlspouse for support and reassurance?

Am I being bitter, harsh, cynical, and generally an all-round bastard?  Yes...  But I'm tired, annoyed, and I don't care...  So there!!

Scrobble me, baby!

I have recently started using "Last.fm" - the music-based social networking site, or something like that... (I am at http://www.last.fm/user/manek43509 if you're interested...) Now, every piece of music that I listen to, either on my iPod, or on Spotify (the brilliant music-streaming service from those fabulous Scandinavian types) shows up on my Last.fm profile, for everyone to see - if they're so inclined...

This is known is "Scrobbling" - a word which ranks perhaps even above "Dongle" in a list of "Hilariously Stupid Technical Terms of the Internet Age"...

There are, of course, plenty of exciting advantages to this, which have no doubt been "blogged" (ooh, there's another for that list!) about already, far better, in all probability, than I could do... However, I'm beginning to find it slightly dangerous, also... "How?!" you ask, a look of incredulity etched upon your finely chiselled features... Well, I shall tell you - so sit up straight, and don't fidget!

It's quite simple, really - I'm at risk of becoming a total music poser... I have always had a philosophy that the only thing which should govern what songs you listen to should be whether you like them or not - if you like a band, listen to their music, if you don't like them, don't listen to them... Seems fairly straightforward, right?

I actually quite like "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley - so I do, from time-to-time, put it on, on my iPod... But now that I know everyone can see my Scrobbles - what songs I've been listening to, who my favourite artists are, etc - I've been more careful about choosing songs that will show me in a good light, in the eyes of others...

I will listen to an experimental jazz trio, for example, just so people will see the name on my Last.fm profile, and draw the conclusion that I'm an open-minded, intellectual free-thinker... (This, of course, only works with people who've never met me!)

I DO actually like experimental jazz - as much as I like big Rick A - but the point is that I'm picking this music for the wrong reasons... I'm putting what other people think of me, based on what bands I like, or seem to like, above my own, admittedly broad, music tastes... And this will never do!

And this is the social networking effect, from top-to-bottom... I make no bones about the fact that I'm a real social networking whore - with accounts on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Last.fm, 365project, and even Bebo, I'm all over that stuff like a bear on a bicycle...

And with every aspect of your life laid bare, for all to see, on the world wide web, you're naturally going to be thinking about trying to present a good image to all these people whom you assuming are scrutinising your every move, from behind their computers, at their desks in Toronto, or wherever... But you must not compromise yourself, for their sake! And neither must I...

The Cinema

I haven't seen Avatar...  I probably shan't bother to, either...

This isn't because I don't think it'd be any good - on the contrary, I expect it would be amazing - but I simply can't be bothered...  What a horrid, lazy, apathetic, bone-idle, layabout-ish attitude!

And yet, it's always the same, with films - "movies" as they are often known...  I rarely go to the cinema to see a film - in 2009, I think I went once to the Odeon in Norwich, to see "Slumdog Millionaire" with my sister...  It was good, I enjoyed it - thanks for asking...

Truth be told, I'm not sure of the reason for this indifference to the cinema experience...  The closest I can come is "I've never liked popcorn" - hardly a worthy justification, is it?

Anyone who knows me will know that I think very little of doing things "on principle" only - it's a incredibly silly habit that too many people get into...  So I do not eschew the movies out of principle - purely, as I have said, out of laziness!  I know that I'm missing out on seeing a lot of great films, and I'm not that fussed...

Well, wasn't that interesting?

Dr Who

I have just watched David Tennant's final outing as "The Doctor"...  Apart from the fantastical storyline, it was really quite OK!

I actually quite like David Tennant as an actor...  I know he has many, many fans...  I would like it, however, if these fans could give the new chap - Matt Smith - a chance...  We saw him, briefly - it was about a minute-and-a-half at the end, where he rabbits on about not being ginger...  Not, in my opinion, enough to judge him on, really...  Already, people are saying that they don't like him?  Why?  Because he's not David Tennant!  Personally, I think it's a shame that David is gone - but I am rational enough to reserve a judgement on the new actor until I've actually seen him acting!  I hope everyone else can do the same...

Lyrical Issue

I'm trying to write some lyrics, and I've hit upon a problem...

I wrote a line which included "different to" - of course, this is incorrect...  Anyone but a moron knows it ought to be "different from"...!  I despise this mistake - along with the other obvious issues of less/fewer, if I was/were, etc - and was horrified to see that I'd written it myself...

However, there is a reason for this...  The song I'm trying to write isn't particularly slow, so with "different from" you end up getting two "fr" sounds in quick succession...  It's harder to sing, and it sounds more clumsy, than "different to" which seems to scan much better as a lyric...  Natural, as a lyricist, I want to write verses that flow, sound pleasing and are nice to sing...  But, I couldn't bear to think I'd written a grammatical error into one of my songs, and allowed it to stay there, like an un-Bazooka-ed verruca...!

So now, there is a battle, between my inner artist, and my inner grammar pedant...  They're not just having a fight - they're actually jousting!  In my head!  Horses, lances, suits of armour - the lot...!!  And it's giving me a headache...  Maybe I should give the songwriting a break, and try and get some sleep?!

Cash Machines

Here's something which came up the other day...  When you take cash out of a bank account using an ATM, it asks you whether you want an "advice slip" with your cash...  Now, I've never said yes to this, so I wonder what advice it gives you - is it advising you on how to spend the money you've just taken out?

"Hmm, those trainers look a bit worn, so I'd start of by getting some new shoes, and then, ohh, it's nearly six o'clock, you must be getting hungry - there's a nice Thai restaurant not too far from here which is excellent value-for-money..."

Rail Travel

Something I've not done for quite a while now, is travel any great distance by rail…  Since passing my driving test, I have relied on the comfort, convenience and familiarity of my own car - perhaps too much, but certainly no more than many other people I know…

On the face of it, this seems mad…  Rail travel over any distance is likely to be less expensive than running a car, for a start, and you can hand the responsibility for the route, the handing of the vehicle, indeed, everything, over to the rail service operator…  It sounds relaxing - the idea that you can sit back while somebody else drives you to wherever you want to go…  Without the need to concentrate on driving the thing yourself, you can sit back and read a book or magazine, write a song, listen to music, or just to sleep…  I'm surprised that there are any cars left on the roads at all!

However, when one actually experiences a long-distance rail journey, it is not difficult to see why I, and many others, prefer traveling by road…!  To begin with, the relaxed, carefree picture of rail travel painted in the previous paragraphs only holds true if everything runs smoothly…  It only takes one small thing to go wrong, and the picture is hanging skew-wiff, the colours are running, and the artist himself is found dead in an alleyway with stab-wounds in his side and his money and passport stolen…

And there are many things that can delay or disrupt a rail journey - from a swan on the line, to the engine breaking down…!

But the worst bit of it all, is that you, as a mere passenger, are powerless to do anything about it!  As you sit frustrated in Coach D, Seat 30(A) listening to crackling announcements in what sounds like a foreign tongue over the speakers - "we apologise for this inconvenience" - you get later and later for whatever it is you're traveling for, and you realise that, had you been traveling in your own car, you could at least have tried to do something to help yourself…

Delays on the road are irritating, of course, but at least each driver is the master of his own destiny, the captain of his fate…  On the train, we are in the hands of others, and it never feels so bad as when you're waiting for news, and no news arrives, and nobody on the staff seems to know what's going on, and the unexplained delay drags on for hours, with no respite, no chance to get off and stretch your legs, and only the questionable fare of the "buffet car" to sustain yourself…

Furthermore, another large problem with traveling by rail is the vehicles themselves…  Hot, cramped, and poorly equipped, the trains of today are a far cry from the glamourous mode of transport those living in the golden age of steam came to know and love…  Perhaps it is my fault, for picking a career that doesn't (yet) seem to pay well enough for me to afford a First Class ticket, but I firmly believe that even Standard Class could be greatly improved from the unnerving experience it currently is…

Passengers - sorry, "customers" - are packed into the railway carriages as tightly as possible, and the result is a distinct lack of comfort, privacy, and individual discretion…  Everyone in the carriage can hear your telephone conversations, see what book you're reading, hear the spill from your iPod headphones, read what you're writing over your shoulder - you have no choice but to share these details of your life with whoever happens to be in the same train as you, for the duration of the journey…

And the rail companies don't exactly make life easy for you either...!

You are asked not to leave any luggage unattended "at any time", but nobody is on hand to explain how those traveling alone can visit the toilet, or buy a coffee, without dragging heavy suitcases and handbags everywhere with them…!

You are instructed to "familiarise yourself with the safety notices displayed around the train" which, on inspection, are rude and unhelpful…  (Much like some of the station staff one encounters on these journeys!)

"Please do not put feet on the seats" requests a sign displayed next to every group of four seats around a table - I am always tempted to write "I wouldn't need to, if you provided adequate leg-room!" underneath it…  (The tables themselves are small, and if more than one of the four passengers grouped around them wishes to read a newspaper, or work on a laptop computer, it presents a taxing logistical problem…)

A man in the corner, in a tie-dye shirt and leather skull-cap, picks his nose as he describes, in detail, his recently sexual exploits to whichever luckless individual is on the other end of the 'phone line…  Normally, I would run a mile from him - on the train, I can go about two inches in any direction, before colliding with something, or someone…  I can only sit in my seat, squirming with discomfort, turning up the volume on my iPod and hoping against hope that he dies within the next five minutes - or at least gets off at the next stop…  Disappointingly, he clings onto life, and not only stays on the train, but stays on the 'phone, for the next hour and a half…!

So, surrounded, at close proximity, by strangers, many of whom are very strange indeed, too hot with a jacket on, but too draughty without it, hemmed in, not just by people, but by absurd safety regulation, and with barely enough room for oneself, let alone one's things, the attractions of traveling in one's own car dangle temptingly before one's eyes…

The ability to make stops whenever, and wherever, you choose…  The ability to put in an extra piece of luggage, which you may or may not need, just in case…  The freedom to choose the temperature, the speed, the route, the radio station, the refreshments, and so on…  And not have a hundred other fraught travellers virtually sitting on your lap as you do it!