Big Break

I was struggling for things to write about today, and having resigned myself to staring at a wall until it is time to go out, the world decided it would intervene and send me something interesting to do. The world delivered unto me; Dai. The man's name was not Dai, it has been cleverly anonymised for reasons which will probably become apparent.

I work around computers, in a room which also sells food. This is called a cybercafe. Usually my responsibilities stretch only to making sure children are not too loud, do not hurt each other, themselves or the computers, and it occasionally stretches to putting the kibosh on improvised moth-executions. Today, however, I was shanghaied into being a graphic designer. Dai's graphic designer.

Dai was operating under the false assumption that since I was sat in front of a computer that I am a part of a group which he labelled "you tech-types". While Dai was half right, I am an internet nerd and I can touch-type, but simply because I can type a sentence out faster than he could read it, this does not mean that I have graphic designing capabilities. I do not. I am probably getting ahead of myself.

Dai is a short and sturdily-built fellow in a faded yellow polo shirt. He is missing several teeth from the bottom front row, which, since I am being generous, I will surmise that he lost in a sport-related accident. Dai is drunk, and smells it. It is around 5pm. He isn't aggressive, rather he is in a state of exaggerated sociability brought on by blunt self-confidence and the aforementioned prior drinking. Dai has a mission. He wants to make a poster.

I suppose I am doing myself down by opting myself out of the "you tech-types" group, I am very capable on computers and the internet is a key commodity that I hugely enjoy the use of. I blog, create sketches on youtube and release podcasts, which I often edit. However, I am not a graphic designer. The logos on our website are simple, elegant and professional. This is because someone else did them for us (our talented and generous friend over at HLW Design). Even the wonderful looking stand-in we had beforehand was constructed by The Fondantious ACRE, rather than myself. So it was with trepidation, having never used it before, that I opened Publisher.

Clumsily hamfisting my way through clip art, wordart and using google images to supplement these, I came the closest I have ever come to having a yes man. Dai became my goon, my henchman. He was overawed by my gerd (god and nerd) abilities. Clearly he was only overawed up to a point, having no real interest in computers himself, his awe was clearly coloured by his own technophobia/disinterest in computers.

Phrases like "wizard", "awesome", "you are a true gentleman", "this means so much to me", "this is excellent" etc flowed like a torrent, which was quite embarrassing, given the paucity of the actual poster.

It actually turned out quite nicely. It is simple, which is the only way it was going to be, but the simpler something is the less likely it is to look like absolute rubbish. Dai had come in with an idea; it was for a snooker tournament so the poster itself was a snooker table, replete with 6 pockets, with the information posted above and below a triangle of balls and two cues in the middle. It took a surprisingly short amount of time to bash up, given I have never seriously used Publisher, and the last time I opened it I was probably still in school.

I was amused that the superlative praise lavished upon the simplest of efforts was replaced by quite frank dismissals when an idea wasn't working: "No that looks shit" came out once, which I felt was refreshing. It is good that despite knowing the poster was being made completely out of my goodwill/boredom that he was happy enough to speak out if it was going in a way he didn't want. That isn't meant to sound sarcastic.

The experience was made more odd by the question "So what are you doing later?", which occurred a number of times, the answer to which on all occasions was "I'm going to a comedy night", which never really hit home for him. (Wil Hodgson is headlining, I am very much looking forward to it). He also had a habit of entering a manly handshake (mandshake) when anything went according to plan. Which was every few seconds. WordArt is to his liking? MANDSHAKE. This isn't a traditional handshake, but the 'cool' fist-grab/fist-hug/fist-clench, frustratingly I can't describe it accurately or find it's actual name from google.

When we'd printed a number of the posters out, he took me into a final mandshake and drew me into a manhug/shoulderbump which was highly uncomfortable and smelled of being drunk. It was 5:30, I don't want to be smelling being drunk. Also, I was in work.

He also bought me a bottle of diet coke, which was nice. It is unopened, so I wasn't too suspicious.
He knows my name, where I work and where I'm going tonight though, so if it was a clever drunken ruse then I am in for some raping later.

Suffice to say, having heard his profuse thanks, he is pleased and is going to be King Dong with his mates, and now I falsely believe I am the best graphic designer ever to write on this blog.

I have anonymised the poster and print screened the publisher file, so you can see how I cleverly I made the pockets. I am the cleverest person to ever live.

I would like to say thank you to whichever deity/force of nature/energy/etc deigned to send me Dai, it was interesting and has enabled me to write a blog entry, and coloured my day positively. It was probably Jesus what done it, given that I wrote on twitter:

"I am going to see Wil Hodgson tonight and, not that it's a competition, but that means my night will be better than Jesus'."

Take that you meddlesome godhead, I have defeated you by enjoying the awkwardness. Jesus fail.

Is That a Challenge!?

I spent most of today in a seminar on ‘Dealing with Challenging Behaviour’, which focused quite a lot on challenging behaviour in children specifically. It was hugely helpful, especially given that my work requires me to deal almost exclusively with children.

Hearing some of the anecdotes that came out of the seminar, in particular one from a youth worker who recalled an occasion where a child with learning difficulties attacked her with a bat with a nail in the end and a knife. Being attacked by someone is terrifying enough without weapons entering the fray, but the way which she was able to laugh off being confronted by a dual-wielding youth was quite astounding.

The seminar ran in the centre where I work, which is why I was there, which was handy for me as I then got to go straight to work and put my newfound challenging-behaviour-dealing-tactics into use. And skies above did I deal with some challenging behaviour! The answer is no really, as the commonsense message of the seminar was: the best way to deal with challenging behaviour is to stop it before it happens.

In order to effectively deflate difficult circumstances you pretty much have to pay attention and chill people out before they get to the point of keyboard-duelling and each-others-head-punching. In this way I came to realise how unobservant I am usually. This was also illustrated to me last Friday, when I met up with an old friend who spent most of the night glancing surreptitiously off to the sides of the pub and raising his eyebrows as though to signify “See that guy there?”, to which my answer would be “No”. I realised I am far more inward looking than I ever realised.

This is particularly annoying as I have writing aspirations, and one accepted truth of writing is that rounded, real characters are written by people-watchers. The more people you know/meet/observe, the wider the experience pool you have to draw from in imagining characters. This possibly doesn’t bode well for me, and may also explain why observational comedy often falls flat for me.

Observational Comedian: “Hey, have you seen that aeroplane food?”

Me: “No, I was playing my GameBoy Advance.”

Observational Comedian: “What’s up with that!?”

Me: “I’m not down with that.”

It may also inform my enjoyment of the works of Richard Herring, as the larger theme of a lot of his work is drawn from himself, either things he’s done, or attempting to understand or express himself more fully, rather than drawing on things which he has observed. I’ll end the comedy-philosophising here, for though I am incredibly fond of picking it apart, it is a fondness the world doesn’t share. (Fuck you, the world).

I also misread Facebook as Facebok, and then spent a time splicing famous internet sites with animals, but I could only manage Micepace, Beebo, Foalobucket, Newtube and Titter before I realised that I was wasting valuable living time with this exercise, so I ran out of work, saved some orphans, made poverty history and swanned off into the sunset with a sexy lady. She had a husky voice and was slightly intimidating.

There were fireworks.

But basically I have learned that the way to deal with challenging behaviour is to be nice and personable, and that if people are utterly dedicated to being a pain then they will be regardless of how diplomatic you are. So I have been in a good mood all day, which means I, and those around me, have had more fun than they would have.


I hate it when the answer is as simple as that. I am going to have to find a way to force myself into a good mood every day. And get paid for it.

There'll be fireworks.

Pedantry, Pedantry, Whimsy, Self-Deprication

What a difference a shift makes.

I’m not really sure how I underwent such an about face in the space of four hours. Actually I am fairly sure, and I am about to provide you with a meandering and long-winded account of the occurrences that led up to my fall from contentment.

I was pleased this morning to receive two items of correspondence that were of worth, rather than the vapid, unwanted spam that usually peppers the entrance portal of my domain. They were both related to money, specifically the aspect of money pertaining to my ownership of some. This is good news, as there is a particularly spiffing hat I wish to make purchase of. According to Mr Bill Gates ‘spiffing’ is not an actual word, and I feel it is my duty to redirect you here in order to substantiate my rather antiquated choice of adjective.

Since now I am, as they say in The Hollywood, in the money, I hastily made purchase of an album I had had my sights on for awhile, No Torso’s Several Brains. I originally picked up a few of their tracks when they allowed them to be downloaded for free on MySpace, back when it wasn’t a grievous faux pas to have such an address in your browser. The tracks were Fight the Blue Horizon and Fatal Fraud, and appear on the album, though Fatal Fraud has undergone radical sonic surgery since I originally heard it. For me Fight the Blue Horizon is by far the best track on the album, though this choice is likely slightly biased, as it is the track I was the most familiar with from beforehand, even serving a brief stint as my ringtone. Not many of the other tracks instantly endear themselves, though they seem considered and nuanced enough to warrant proper and repeated listens, rather than a snap write-off, especially considering I only bought the album today.

On the way into work I listened to the Precious Little Podcast, a spanking new baby making its way into the podcasting world. It features comedian and all-round angry man Michael Legge and also James Hingley, who from what I can glean with my far-from-Holmesian abilities is a good-comedy enthusiast. A trend I’ve noticed in my preferred podcasts of late, notably including The Collings and Herrin Podcast and also The Trap Sodcasts, is the habit of the podcasteers to declare “No one will have made it this far”, suggesting that due to the perceived awfulness of the recording everyone will have stopped listening. This isn’t the case, as at the absolute least, I am still listening. So I would suggest that either this line is dropped or is amended with “except for Adam Gilder, who is such a tenacious listener he will most definitely be listening”. They’ve nothing to lose, as at the point that that is uttered, it’ll only be me listening. I am hoping that it will catch on in a “Who Is John Galt?” style, where people will utter “It’s like speaking to Adam Gilder”.

Actually, thinking about this, I have been found to be ‘Best Listener’ through a consensus of my peers, as proven here:


I am also voted the ‘Best Sense of Humor’, and I am equally pleased and displeased with this vote: pleased to have my good humour acknowledged, displeased to have it misspelled. I’m also uncertain with the ‘Best Sense of Humour’ as this isn’t the same as ‘Funniest’, it seems to suggest that I cannot write a joke, but I can bloody appreciate the fuck out of one. So perhaps the gentlemen of Precious Little will be heartened to know that their podcast was received with enjoyment from this comedy nerd. Like a rabid Gremlin fed after midnight, I eagerly await more. That analogy doesn’t really work as Gremlins aren’t famed for waiting patiently.

I do find it quite sinister that the other aspect that is considered most notable of me is that I am ‘useful’. I am unsure what use these people believe they have for me, and it is almost certain that I will not enjoy their nefarious plans.

Since there were no news stories that sparked my curiosity, I spent roughly three hours reading entries in the Chortle forums, which I wrongly believed would not suffer from the forum-based-idiocy of every other forum. I believe it was Elis James who first alerted me to the process called a ‘Brain-Wrong’, and this extensive reading of forum entries certainly fits this category. Apart from the very occasional sensible and engaging entries (usually from Steve Bennett, Bethany Black, Paul Sinha or Wil Hodgson) there is such a huge mountain of idiocy, all the colours of the cuntbow. Whichever your bigotry of choice, you are provided for. There is a strong counter-current of rational entries fighting the tide, but some people refuse to understand. It was this slew of what I will tentatively call ‘bad vibes’ that put me into such a sour mood, alongside a child of 11 asking me how to spell ‘changer’. Like change, but with an R on the end. How do you spell change? D-E-P-R-E-S-S-I-N-G.

The ignorant forum entries highlighted such a huge difference of world view between myself and the posters, I had to wonder whether it was actually the same world that we inhabit. This topic is dealt far more wonderfully by Daniel Kitson, whose podcasting techniques I cannot fathom but utterly adore. Mr Kitson must be possessed by some strange madness, as he has opted to release some of his old Edinburgh shows for free in podcast form. I’m unsure as to why he opts not to get in touch with gofasterstripe, as this tag team of comedy production and distribution would cap the decade off wonderfully, in my opinion. Regardless, I am overjoyed to partake of these shows for free, and I will be intellectually self-medicating with deconstruction, deconstruction, deconstruction, whimsy and callback in order to cure myself of the forum-induced brain haemorrhage I have suffered. Kitson is the antithesis of internet posters, which makes this blog entry so very bittersweet, as I aim to poorly pay homage to his work, using the medium of idiocy.

Bum.

I Hate Hiatus

I have been shanghaied into a routine that sees me outside and active, which means that my agreed upon schedule for blogging has been vaporised. Any move away from the plan in terms of writing, in my case, means nothing gets done. Hence I am late in breaking out a September blog.

I have decided to stop criticising the top ten every Sunday, as this allows me to not listen to music I know I won’t enjoy. There is also enough bile on the internet without me needlessly, and feebly, adding to it for no reason. Should an appropriately evil song appear, I will mercilessly spear it.

My unplanned hiatus from blogging occurred because I have been busy starting a new job. Despite having been offered the job in the spring, administrative bumph has ensured that it is only now I can begin, to be fair I am just glad to be starting. Most everyone there seems glad to have my post filled, as various people had to multitask and take on the responsibilities of my job on top of their own. I am glad to be of use, and needless to say, but I will regardless: the money is also welcome.

My role is, largely, to make sure children playing on computers behave themselves. For the most part this is an easy enough task, though I was forced to be stern/firm with a group of potential miscreants who were attempting to act out a moribund “Outside, then” scenario, with another young sir who clearly wasn’t interested. Children should just grow up.

It is odd how little changes from generation to generation, the same kids wanting to fight, the same other kids getting dragged into it. Cyclical, repetitive and pointless, though sometimes amusing. However, I mostly find the behaviour of the children distracting and abrasive. I’m sure you are thinking that it was necessary to apply a significant amount of tongue-biting in the interview for this job, there wasn't I promise, I’m not actually as distant and disjointed as this blog perhaps suggests.

What is particularly weird about this job is that I get to see the sort of activities the computer-friendly youth of today partake in. The biggest surprise for me whilst observing was that very little has changed since I was their age (roughly 10 years ago). The appearance of YouTube is the only huge change, allowing cackling kiddos to huddle together suspiciously to electronically watch people falling over ad infinitum. Aside from that, it is flash and browser-based games that still rule the internet-use sweepstakes when it comes to children. The only major changes in those fields are graphics and connection speed.

Direction-button games involving BMX tricks and just rag-dolling a hapless, faceless blob around the screen abound, as well as an extremely basic and ugly first person shooter involving what looks like Lego men that have been pimped with steroids and a neon trim. Amazingly, though, Runescape is still being played. It has undergone huge graphical changes since I used to play it, but it is very much the same grind-happy rubbish MMORPG. I am mostly annoyed that most of the kids have characters of a higher level than any of mine ever achieved, though that only proves they are dorks. Take that lame-Os! Shaaaa~

Since I now have to travel to daily, I am driving again. I am very glad to be back behind the wheel of a car, I feel like Hercules at the end of Hercules (the Disney one, yeah) where he has got his immortality and power all back up on it. Podcasts are best enjoyed behind the wheel of a car leisurely doing 30, with the easy banter summoning Jon Richardson into the passenger seat, and Tim Key and Fordey in the back. This doesn’t mean that I am not paying attention to the road though, so calm down, anyway you are not my mother, unless of course you are.

I have a meeting for a community radio station tomorrow, as do you Dafydd, which I am looking forward to as I am itching to receive training and get some radio done. It’s an early one though, which will make the driving experience unpredictable, I am a much bigger fan of late night driving, when the roads are empty and dark. Tranquillity is hard to achieve when other human beings are out and about. Similarly, my job would be so much easier were there less humans to bother about. Human beings are so inconsiderate.

I have been broadening my musical horizons this weekend, with a foray into jazz (Duke Ellington) and ambient indie (The Mercury Program) resulting in enjoyment. I have also taken a stroll down movie soundtrack avenue, listening to the works of Ryuichi Sakamoto and also of Joe Hisaishi. Hisaishi’s live orchestra concert showcasing his Ghibli tracks is breathtaking, I’ll probably be partaking of more orchestral scores in the near future. The Cribs new album is out, I believe as of today, and I have been enjoying that, though their track referencing ‘Hari Kari’ annoys me, partly because I’m not sure the mistake is purposeful (it should be hara-kiri). The opening track ‘We Were Aborted’ is a particular personal highlight.

I will bring this entry to an abrupt end, as I must away to enjoy Andrew Collins and Robin Ince on the iPlayer, eat and following these two activities I will bathe and read more of ‘Kafka by the Shore’. I can only undertake activities in twos. Whilst writing this I have been listening to the music described above. Who says its only women that can multitask? Eh? Whoever they are, find them and tell them to stop lazily conforming to stereotypical trains of thought.