Welcome all, my first point of call in this blog would be to say a belated Merry Christmas to you all, I hope you all had lovely days and got everything you wanted from Santa Claus and, as this is likely to be the last entry before the New Year, I wish you all a happy New Year, may 2012 bring happiness to all.
So, 2012 is upon us. Which means its time for the endless "a new year, a new me" routine which never really means anything because they remain the same. It's the same nonsensical madness in relation to "New Years Resolutions" - who actually sticks to them past the end of January, let alone all year? No-one I know, that's for sure, so please don't bother humouring me and more importantly, yourself. But what else does 2012 bring for people? Well, apart from everyone being scared of the world ending, which it clearly isn't going to. I love being able to say that in the knowledge that if the world does end, I don't have to eat my words about being wrong, because we'll all be dead.
But for me on a personal note, 2012 is a huge year. Some would say my biggest yet, but realistically, everyone so far has been that. But this could perhaps be a life-defining year. Why you ask? Final year of my degree, exams, graduation, scary times ahead. Hopefully my passage into the real world. And whilst on topic, I'd like to say that I imagine this will be my last blog for a while, I struggle to find time/motivation for it now, but now that I have essays and revision to be doing, I suppose I should prioritise those if I feel like writing. But back to the point. Exams. Funny situation I find myself in, I've had my life all planned out since I was about 12, what I wanted to do etc. But university has changed that, and I now find myself with no plans whatsoever as to where I want to be this time next year.
To me, the exams aren't just the typical "degree career prospects" and such and such. On a personal level, my degree is much more. It's the chance to finally realise all the potential I had. A ridiculously intelligent youth if I may say so myself, blessed with amazing talents, I had the whole world in front of me. At the age of 3, I could tell you every fact about every dinosaur there was, I could even spell the words involved, which I probably couldn't do now, aged 20. Yet for all this, I struggled to grasp such simple things as to how to hold a pen properly. Although my love for dinosaurs died, my intelligence remained the same. As most of you will already know, it was decided that it would be best for me to advance straight from Year 1 to Year 3, based on what I knew. The decision was certainly vindicated with my SATs results, dropping a mere 8 marks over 3 papers, without blowing my own trumpet. But the possibilities were endless. Nothing seemed out of reach. Offered scholarships at private schools, but not full ones, my parents had to reluctantly turn them down on grounds of finance. In retrospect, I'm glad, I wouldn't have wanted to go to a private school. For all the extra you learn, it seems life skills aren't among them. And so I went to Houghton Kepier. My tenure there was short, lasting just a year, as my parents relationship broke down completely, and so we moved off to Ferryhill.
Nothing against Ferryhill B+E College, but that's what I accredit my downfall to. Some of it has to be accredited to myself, granted, for acting like a dick in some classes, but the standard of teaching was poor. Don't get me wrong, there were some great teachers there (Mr Houchen, Mr Jones to name two), but for every good teacher there were 5 bad ones. During my time there, I found a correlation between whether I enjoyed the subject and whether I did well. That's what makes a good teacher to me, the ability to make a boring subject enjoyable. And this is probably why I flourished in their subjects but not so much the others. At the end of Ferryhill, my grades were respectable, and above average. But nowhere near the standard you would have predicted a mere 5 years ago. And then came QE 6th Form College, billed as being, at the time, the 4th best 6th form college in the country. Yet still, my talents weren't realised. I chose subjects I didn't enjoy nearly as much as I expected, and the split teaching was to my displeasure, as for Psychology I did really well on one side of the course with one teacher who I enjoyed, but poor on the other. And so my grades declined even further.
So off to uni I went, and as a result of my grades, probably wouldn't have got in to a top university to study Law. Not that this bothered me slightly, without knowing which unis were 'good' or not, I had my heart set on Leeds Met anyway, so all worked out in the end. Even if I had fulfilled all my earlier potential, the fact that I wasn't private schooled, put me at a massive disadvantage to the so-called elitist universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Into my final year, and I'm looking at a 2:1, with potential for possibly a 1st class honours if I do really well this year.
Funny how it works out like that isn't it? If I had lived up to all the hype, I would potentially be leaving a good university with a 1st or maybe a 2:1. Yet, even though I suffered a big decline in my middle years, the end product remains the same? And I've managed to live a pretty good social life in my eyes, the perfect balance between a life, and my work. To me, it isn't just about the simple career prospects of the degree, I feel a sense of urgency to get a good degree, because I can finally end the guilt I feel of not living up to expectations. Because like I said, the end product is the same, so why wouldn't I feel good? But perhaps more importantly than the personal gain, the pride in my family's eyes when I graduate. To make them feel justified in supporting me all the way through my life, both when younger through helping me, and in the later years financially. Words can't even begin to describe how much I owe them all, and for that I am eternally grateful. I just want to hurry up and get into the real world so I can start repaying the faith. But first, I need to find out exactly what path I want my life to take.
I was going to talk about another topic, but I think I've spoke enough about my life today, so I'll leave it there, and will hopefully come back with that topic in the next couple of days. But like I said, time will be hard to come by, so I hope you all understand if I don't get round to it. And to echo my sentiments earlier, I hope 2012 brings all the happiness, joy and luck you need to succeed.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
Wednesday 28 December 2011
Sunday 18 December 2011
Diary of a Lonely Soul
Welcome again, to a very late instalment of my blog. But again, I haven't really had much to write about of late.
But today I find myself bored with nothing else to do, on day one of being alone in Leeds. Like the money-grabbing fool I am, I volunteered to work over Christmas, thinking the extra money would come in handy and make the sacrifice of not going home until Christmas Eve worthwhile. As usual, how wrong I was. When expecting 3 shifts, I find that we are now closed on Tuesday and I'm not required on Thursday, leaving Friday as my only shift before Christmas (excluding tonight's of course). For the sake of £30 I'd probably rather have spent an extra week at home, but hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it? When I say I'm alone, that's not strictly true, I do have the one friend in Leeds. But unfortunately, she works full time and lives a good 45 minute walk away, so not exactly ideal. But a friend is a friend, I can't complain.
But anyway, it's now a week until Christmas. I hope you've all got your Christmas shopping done. I know I have. And when I say "I have", what I really mean is my sister took my money from home and bought some presents. With my consent of course, I'm not calling her a thief. Christmas when you're older isn't as good of course, as you pretty much pick all of your presents, but shouldn't this be good because you're getting exactly what you want? For me the main annoyance of Christmas has to be the music channels, not being able to watch a music channel without the usual dross songs from the past, and the occasionally shit new one such as Justin Bieber.
I always found with Christmas that no matter what age you are, there's always that one thing that you want that you never get. When you're young there's always that present that was just too expensive. And when you're older there's that one thing that Santa just doesn't have the power to bring you. Like what? European football at Sunderland would be nice. But I don't think anyone has the power to bring that. I live in hope. After all, "hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies." - Who'd have thought a film could provide such a good quote? The film is The Shawshank Redemption by the way, in case you haven't seen it. I hope for a lot of things, some more realistic than others. Nietzsche once said "hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man." Of late I found this the more refreshing quote than the other, but then I realised that this is not true. Only false hope prolongs the torment. If there is genuine hope, and not false hope, maybe there is something you can do about it.
How do you decide between hope and false hope though? I'm yet to find out, I just expect everything to work itself out. Maybe if I do something about it, I'll find out.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
But today I find myself bored with nothing else to do, on day one of being alone in Leeds. Like the money-grabbing fool I am, I volunteered to work over Christmas, thinking the extra money would come in handy and make the sacrifice of not going home until Christmas Eve worthwhile. As usual, how wrong I was. When expecting 3 shifts, I find that we are now closed on Tuesday and I'm not required on Thursday, leaving Friday as my only shift before Christmas (excluding tonight's of course). For the sake of £30 I'd probably rather have spent an extra week at home, but hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it? When I say I'm alone, that's not strictly true, I do have the one friend in Leeds. But unfortunately, she works full time and lives a good 45 minute walk away, so not exactly ideal. But a friend is a friend, I can't complain.
But anyway, it's now a week until Christmas. I hope you've all got your Christmas shopping done. I know I have. And when I say "I have", what I really mean is my sister took my money from home and bought some presents. With my consent of course, I'm not calling her a thief. Christmas when you're older isn't as good of course, as you pretty much pick all of your presents, but shouldn't this be good because you're getting exactly what you want? For me the main annoyance of Christmas has to be the music channels, not being able to watch a music channel without the usual dross songs from the past, and the occasionally shit new one such as Justin Bieber.
I always found with Christmas that no matter what age you are, there's always that one thing that you want that you never get. When you're young there's always that present that was just too expensive. And when you're older there's that one thing that Santa just doesn't have the power to bring you. Like what? European football at Sunderland would be nice. But I don't think anyone has the power to bring that. I live in hope. After all, "hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies." - Who'd have thought a film could provide such a good quote? The film is The Shawshank Redemption by the way, in case you haven't seen it. I hope for a lot of things, some more realistic than others. Nietzsche once said "hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man." Of late I found this the more refreshing quote than the other, but then I realised that this is not true. Only false hope prolongs the torment. If there is genuine hope, and not false hope, maybe there is something you can do about it.
How do you decide between hope and false hope though? I'm yet to find out, I just expect everything to work itself out. Maybe if I do something about it, I'll find out.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
Thursday 8 December 2011
Mr. Writer
Writing a continuous blog is becoming more and more difficult, I seem to have had no time of late to write and not much inspiration. "Writer's block." But I suppose this is a good thing, as my blog has been described as depressing, me personally described as a moany little bitch (which I am), so surely I should be rejoicing that I have nothing to write about, because it means nothing has gone wrong for me. I guess you're right, things are looking up at the minute. Not that anything good has happened in particular, I just seem to have snapped out of my mood. But if I have nothing to write about, how am I writing another entry? Well it kind of gave me an idea, that I would write about my short time as a writer to date.
To put it shortly, I'm quite enjoying it. I've had a lot of good reviews, with some from unlikely sources so it's hard not to enjoy it really. But what do I enjoy the most? The reviews? No. I'm going to contradict myself later, but the best thing is the freedom to write about whatever I want. I've always had a little soft spot for writing, which is strange because I'm absolutely awful at essays. Unless I get a spot of freedom with them. When I feel free to write about anything I want, I could genuinely write for days. Just like I could talk for days. Maybe this was why journalism was my back up to law when I was first in the UCAS process. But why would I want to do journalism? Journalists don't get freedom to write about whatever they want. Although if anyone has read 'The Sun' I'm sure that point can be very easily argued. My opinion of journalists of late are pretty low aswell, with the whole phone-hacking scandals etc, it opened my eyes a little bit as to how parasitic they really can be. But it's their job.
But back to freedom, and my contradiction. Am I totally free to write about whatever I want? I've learned not. Not through choice, but through conscience. There are certain things that I just don't want everyone reading about my life, and out of respect for others whom it may be about etc, or maybe in fear of pushing them away. Maybe this is why I won't make it as a journalist, I really don't have that ruthless streak required. But I'm still learning about this whole blogging lark, and I'm not by any means saying journalism is the route I plan on following, but this is an experience of my own in the world.
Back to the freedom once again, why if I feel I have the freedom to write about anything do I choose to write about myself? It's a simple concept really, what could I possibly know better? Although sometimes even I don't know what goes on in my head, it seems like a pretty obvious topic. It also feels good to, when I have a problem (earlier blogs) to get it out in the open and not have to put up with the ridiculously clichéd advice that is so inevitable from some people such as "everything happens for a reason". That's great, but who does it make feel better, really? Not that I'm not grateful to people who have been there etc, but some things you just wanna talk about and someone to listen. And I have my blog for that.
That's all for today, thanks again for reading and sorry it took so long to post another entry. Don't forget to follow me on Twitter for regular blog updates at @Tpearson6
Thanks again,
Thomas
To put it shortly, I'm quite enjoying it. I've had a lot of good reviews, with some from unlikely sources so it's hard not to enjoy it really. But what do I enjoy the most? The reviews? No. I'm going to contradict myself later, but the best thing is the freedom to write about whatever I want. I've always had a little soft spot for writing, which is strange because I'm absolutely awful at essays. Unless I get a spot of freedom with them. When I feel free to write about anything I want, I could genuinely write for days. Just like I could talk for days. Maybe this was why journalism was my back up to law when I was first in the UCAS process. But why would I want to do journalism? Journalists don't get freedom to write about whatever they want. Although if anyone has read 'The Sun' I'm sure that point can be very easily argued. My opinion of journalists of late are pretty low aswell, with the whole phone-hacking scandals etc, it opened my eyes a little bit as to how parasitic they really can be. But it's their job.
But back to freedom, and my contradiction. Am I totally free to write about whatever I want? I've learned not. Not through choice, but through conscience. There are certain things that I just don't want everyone reading about my life, and out of respect for others whom it may be about etc, or maybe in fear of pushing them away. Maybe this is why I won't make it as a journalist, I really don't have that ruthless streak required. But I'm still learning about this whole blogging lark, and I'm not by any means saying journalism is the route I plan on following, but this is an experience of my own in the world.
Back to the freedom once again, why if I feel I have the freedom to write about anything do I choose to write about myself? It's a simple concept really, what could I possibly know better? Although sometimes even I don't know what goes on in my head, it seems like a pretty obvious topic. It also feels good to, when I have a problem (earlier blogs) to get it out in the open and not have to put up with the ridiculously clichéd advice that is so inevitable from some people such as "everything happens for a reason". That's great, but who does it make feel better, really? Not that I'm not grateful to people who have been there etc, but some things you just wanna talk about and someone to listen. And I have my blog for that.
That's all for today, thanks again for reading and sorry it took so long to post another entry. Don't forget to follow me on Twitter for regular blog updates at @Tpearson6
Thanks again,
Thomas
Friday 2 December 2011
The Leopard
Carrying on from where I left off last time, I want to talk about change. Do people really ever change? And if so, why? Why would anyone want to change who they are?
I'm sure you're all familiar with the saying "a leopard never changes its spots". But what does that saying really mean? To me it seems like a pretty poor analogy, of course a leopard never changes its spots. It has no choice in the matter, it is nature. But people have a choice in change. Do I believe that people can change for the better? Of course I do. But do they change for another person? I'm sure many of you out there will claim to have done so, I say bullshit. People change when it suits them. Admittedly, sometimes it does suit them to change for someone, but changing for that person in particular is a lie. Change is all about motivation, some people are more motivated than others, usually in that they're not happy with the track their life is currently embarking upon. It doesn't happen overnight though, it is a gradual process.
Why am I writing about change anyway? Isn't this meant to be a blog about ME? Well yes, but I've noticed some minor changes in a lot of people I know of late, some for better, some for worse. People who have previously been horrible (not proper horrible, banter horrible) have started being nice, and vice versa. Is this a change in personality? The simple answer is no, it's just an adaptation to the situation, whatever the situation may be. Different situations in life bring about different sides to peoples personalities, someone you didn't expect to be sympathetic for example will be, and it makes you think "why can't you be like this all the time?" But it would soon lose its novelty, right? If everyone was nice to you no matter what. Not that I'm using this to justify me behaving like a bellend all the time. But why do some people start behaving differently in a bad sense? Surely we've all been there, you think you're getting along with someone then out of nowhere they change.
"Hang on a minute," you say, "I thought you said changes don't occur overnight?". These cases aren't personality changes, these are just the minor changes that I referred to earlier. But why would people who were nice turn not so nice? The reverse change can be easily justified, but this one not so much. Unless of course you do something wrong then it should be surely obvious. As I fall into the category of the "usually a dickhead, pleasant surprise when nice" category I can't answer why the other change is brought about. As someone who just loves to make people laugh and smile, this phase perplexes me.
Am I the leopard who never changes his spots and just can't see it and justify it with this "adaptation" shit? Answers on a postcard please.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
I'm sure you're all familiar with the saying "a leopard never changes its spots". But what does that saying really mean? To me it seems like a pretty poor analogy, of course a leopard never changes its spots. It has no choice in the matter, it is nature. But people have a choice in change. Do I believe that people can change for the better? Of course I do. But do they change for another person? I'm sure many of you out there will claim to have done so, I say bullshit. People change when it suits them. Admittedly, sometimes it does suit them to change for someone, but changing for that person in particular is a lie. Change is all about motivation, some people are more motivated than others, usually in that they're not happy with the track their life is currently embarking upon. It doesn't happen overnight though, it is a gradual process.
Why am I writing about change anyway? Isn't this meant to be a blog about ME? Well yes, but I've noticed some minor changes in a lot of people I know of late, some for better, some for worse. People who have previously been horrible (not proper horrible, banter horrible) have started being nice, and vice versa. Is this a change in personality? The simple answer is no, it's just an adaptation to the situation, whatever the situation may be. Different situations in life bring about different sides to peoples personalities, someone you didn't expect to be sympathetic for example will be, and it makes you think "why can't you be like this all the time?" But it would soon lose its novelty, right? If everyone was nice to you no matter what. Not that I'm using this to justify me behaving like a bellend all the time. But why do some people start behaving differently in a bad sense? Surely we've all been there, you think you're getting along with someone then out of nowhere they change.
"Hang on a minute," you say, "I thought you said changes don't occur overnight?". These cases aren't personality changes, these are just the minor changes that I referred to earlier. But why would people who were nice turn not so nice? The reverse change can be easily justified, but this one not so much. Unless of course you do something wrong then it should be surely obvious. As I fall into the category of the "usually a dickhead, pleasant surprise when nice" category I can't answer why the other change is brought about. As someone who just loves to make people laugh and smile, this phase perplexes me.
Am I the leopard who never changes his spots and just can't see it and justify it with this "adaptation" shit? Answers on a postcard please.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
Wednesday 30 November 2011
Toying With Ideas
I'm going to open up this blog with an apology, I started this blog with the full intention of it being daily where my social life would allow it, but this is the first real chance I've had to write it. But to be totally honest, I think I prefer to leave it for a couple of days for a few more events to occur.
So where do I start? I've had a fair few appraisals from unlikely sources about the content and writing style of my blog, and one or two criticisms. One of the criticisms particularly stood out, in that the content was a little too "derogatory". Although this wasn't the official word used, it is the word that I would choose to display it as. I would like to clear up at this point that in no way shape or form is the blog aimed at insulting, or offending anyone. Why am I clearing this up? Everyone knows I insult people regularly. Well because I personally don't see how the entry could have been interpreted to be offensive, but I can see from the point of view of an outsider how it may be. So for that reason, I won't be "naming names" or what they've actually done, because some things I'm not comfortable sharing with everyone, so why would the people they're about like it?
Which brings me onto my next point. Of late I find myself insulting people without intending to, and actually realising how. Whether it's just because I'm oblivious to my behaviour, or whether for once I'm not actually in the wrong. The other day I cracked a joke, not particularly offensive, and got bitten in the ear for it. Why? I wish I could tell you. It wasn't a rude, derogatory joke. It wasn't offensive in any way, shape or form, and people concur with my point of view, which is a rarity. Last night I was told by a complete stranger that I was behaving like a complete nob. How? No idea, a girl flicks her drink at me repeatedly and I'm the nob? Well, I am, but again I'm surely not to blame here but yet I find myself in that situation. But then again, I'm not really going to beat myself up about someone I don't know not liking me.
So why am I writing about this anyway? I seem to have found a different side to me of late. Usually one to put a shield around what I'm actually thinking/feeling, I've talked about it of late, mainly to set the stories straight, people not strictly being truthful with what they tell people, but it's made me feel a lot better! Why didn't I try this before? People are noticing the change, maybe I'm just as susceptible to these emotions as other people no matter what shields I try to put up to avoid them.
Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment/leave feedback wherever.
Thomas.
So where do I start? I've had a fair few appraisals from unlikely sources about the content and writing style of my blog, and one or two criticisms. One of the criticisms particularly stood out, in that the content was a little too "derogatory". Although this wasn't the official word used, it is the word that I would choose to display it as. I would like to clear up at this point that in no way shape or form is the blog aimed at insulting, or offending anyone. Why am I clearing this up? Everyone knows I insult people regularly. Well because I personally don't see how the entry could have been interpreted to be offensive, but I can see from the point of view of an outsider how it may be. So for that reason, I won't be "naming names" or what they've actually done, because some things I'm not comfortable sharing with everyone, so why would the people they're about like it?
Which brings me onto my next point. Of late I find myself insulting people without intending to, and actually realising how. Whether it's just because I'm oblivious to my behaviour, or whether for once I'm not actually in the wrong. The other day I cracked a joke, not particularly offensive, and got bitten in the ear for it. Why? I wish I could tell you. It wasn't a rude, derogatory joke. It wasn't offensive in any way, shape or form, and people concur with my point of view, which is a rarity. Last night I was told by a complete stranger that I was behaving like a complete nob. How? No idea, a girl flicks her drink at me repeatedly and I'm the nob? Well, I am, but again I'm surely not to blame here but yet I find myself in that situation. But then again, I'm not really going to beat myself up about someone I don't know not liking me.
So why am I writing about this anyway? I seem to have found a different side to me of late. Usually one to put a shield around what I'm actually thinking/feeling, I've talked about it of late, mainly to set the stories straight, people not strictly being truthful with what they tell people, but it's made me feel a lot better! Why didn't I try this before? People are noticing the change, maybe I'm just as susceptible to these emotions as other people no matter what shields I try to put up to avoid them.
Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment/leave feedback wherever.
Thomas.
Sunday 27 November 2011
The Misunderstood Illness.
Welcome everyone to the third instalment of my blog. Today my entry will consist of a different nature, a rather hypocritically journalistic article. The blog is meant to be about my thoughts etc, which isn't strictly incorrect, as today, like most football and sport fans in general, my thoughts are with Gary Speed's family. To those of you who don't know, former footballer and Wales manager Gary Speed was found hanging this morning in his house, with police not suspecting suspicious circumstances. Which can only mean suicide. Which brings about the point of my blog. Why would a man aged 42 with a considerable life ahead of him do such a thing?
Whenever I hear the saying "money can't buy you happiness", I instantly respond "tell that to the man with millions in the bank and a gorgeous wife and family waiting for him at his mansion." But I'm not really that naive, I am fully aware that money doesn't always buy happiness. But what could cause a happily married, model pro to do such a thing? Although no official reason has been given, it can only be assumed that depression is the reason.
So what is depression? There seems to be a common misconception amongst people that depression is caused by a trigger event, for example the loss of a family member etc. But depression is worse than this, can arise from nothing and leads to feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and perhaps worst, worthlessness. The latter would explain the alarming levels of depression-related suicides.
"But how would the man with millions in the bank and happily married contract such feelings?" Are people really so naive to believe that footballers etc have such a happy life? Put yourself in Gary Speed's position, manager of the Welsh football side, and although not the biggest country in the world, having 70,000 passionate football fans who have paid £50 or thereabouts each to watch your team, screaming at you everytime you put a foot wrong. And that isn't mentioning the expectancy of the remaining nation at home. Put that into context with the pressures of your job, and suddenly being a footballer/manager doesn't seem like such a great job after all does it?
But people don't realise this. Depression in sport is too rife, but not many people come forward. Look back to the case of Robert Enke, the German goalkeeper who committed suicide by jumping in front of a train. Enke first suffered depression in 2003 whilst playing for Barcelona. While at Barcelona, Enke suffered the tragedy of his daughter being born with a severe disability, and later dying, and this played a contributory factor in his depression. But when he suffered from depression again later in his life, there was no trigger. No-one knows how or why it came about, it just did. Why didn't he come forward? Or actively seek help? Even talk about it to his wife, who happened to be a psychiatrist? It was revealed by a close friend who released a biography, that Enke intended to collaborate with, that he was too scared to admit to them because of the stigma that is attached to doing so. Which when you think about it isn't such an illogical thing. Who would expect the general public to understand that someone earning thousands of pounds a week could possibly be depressed? A few sportsmen of late; Stan Collymore, Mike Yardy, Marcus Trescothick etc have successfully battled against depression, and decided to speak out about it in order to raise awareness and make other people suffering not feel so bad about admitting their problems.
But if depression was the reason for Gary Speed's untimely death, the sporting world has lost a fine man because awareness still isn't high enough, and I'm sure there are plenty of others suffering from it scared to admit their problems. But hopefully, in light of the circumstances, maybe more people will be able to accept their problems. If anyone watched the minutes silence in the Swansea v Aston Villa match today, they will have seen Shay Given, a close friend of Speed's reduced to tears, and such emotion on a football field nearly had me in tears too. I can't even begin to imagine how Speed's wife and children must be feeling right now, to lose a husband and a father. But awareness of depression in sport must be acknowledged, and raised, as it can happen to any one of us for no apparent reason.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
Whenever I hear the saying "money can't buy you happiness", I instantly respond "tell that to the man with millions in the bank and a gorgeous wife and family waiting for him at his mansion." But I'm not really that naive, I am fully aware that money doesn't always buy happiness. But what could cause a happily married, model pro to do such a thing? Although no official reason has been given, it can only be assumed that depression is the reason.
So what is depression? There seems to be a common misconception amongst people that depression is caused by a trigger event, for example the loss of a family member etc. But depression is worse than this, can arise from nothing and leads to feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and perhaps worst, worthlessness. The latter would explain the alarming levels of depression-related suicides.
"But how would the man with millions in the bank and happily married contract such feelings?" Are people really so naive to believe that footballers etc have such a happy life? Put yourself in Gary Speed's position, manager of the Welsh football side, and although not the biggest country in the world, having 70,000 passionate football fans who have paid £50 or thereabouts each to watch your team, screaming at you everytime you put a foot wrong. And that isn't mentioning the expectancy of the remaining nation at home. Put that into context with the pressures of your job, and suddenly being a footballer/manager doesn't seem like such a great job after all does it?
But people don't realise this. Depression in sport is too rife, but not many people come forward. Look back to the case of Robert Enke, the German goalkeeper who committed suicide by jumping in front of a train. Enke first suffered depression in 2003 whilst playing for Barcelona. While at Barcelona, Enke suffered the tragedy of his daughter being born with a severe disability, and later dying, and this played a contributory factor in his depression. But when he suffered from depression again later in his life, there was no trigger. No-one knows how or why it came about, it just did. Why didn't he come forward? Or actively seek help? Even talk about it to his wife, who happened to be a psychiatrist? It was revealed by a close friend who released a biography, that Enke intended to collaborate with, that he was too scared to admit to them because of the stigma that is attached to doing so. Which when you think about it isn't such an illogical thing. Who would expect the general public to understand that someone earning thousands of pounds a week could possibly be depressed? A few sportsmen of late; Stan Collymore, Mike Yardy, Marcus Trescothick etc have successfully battled against depression, and decided to speak out about it in order to raise awareness and make other people suffering not feel so bad about admitting their problems.
But if depression was the reason for Gary Speed's untimely death, the sporting world has lost a fine man because awareness still isn't high enough, and I'm sure there are plenty of others suffering from it scared to admit their problems. But hopefully, in light of the circumstances, maybe more people will be able to accept their problems. If anyone watched the minutes silence in the Swansea v Aston Villa match today, they will have seen Shay Given, a close friend of Speed's reduced to tears, and such emotion on a football field nearly had me in tears too. I can't even begin to imagine how Speed's wife and children must be feeling right now, to lose a husband and a father. But awareness of depression in sport must be acknowledged, and raised, as it can happen to any one of us for no apparent reason.
Thanks for reading,
Thomas.
Friday 25 November 2011
The Need For Space.
Welcome all to my first real blog, hopefully the introduction didn't completely put you off reading.
The day is Friday, which means a day off uni just for a change. 7 hours a week is pretty ridiculous when I'm paying £2,000 a year to attend, but looking on the bright side, next year Leeds Met are charging £8,500 a year so I can thank myself lucky. Not much usually occurs on a Friday for me, except the inevitable catching up on Countdown, so I'm going to take you through what has been a pretty up and down week for me.
After a surprise gambling win on Saturday, I went into the week on a high, feeling that nothing could knock me down. How wrong I was. Monday brought about the inevitable boring lectures and the purchase of a panda hat. But Tuesday was different. Waking up to a text from a girl you'd been seeing giving you the elbow is never a good feeling, and so my downward spiral was underway. I had no qualms with the way things ended, and we part on good terms, so not all bad. But just like Nelly Furtado, as my iTunes shuffle politely decided to play first song, I was questioning 'why do all good things come to an end?' But I'm a realist, and there is nothing I can do to change anything, so I just have to accept things and look to the future. Marley knew exactly what I needed, and that was a trip to the pub.
Wednesday brought about a belated birthday trip to Frankie and Benny's and the cinema to see Tintin, which for lack of a better phrase was what I call 'fucking awful'. The day saw an upturn in my mood, but not because of the trip out. What started as a simple request for an Orange Wednesday code descended into a full on heart-to-heart, but I wasn't doing any of the talking. This was our first conversation for at least a month I'd say with someone I consider a very close friend, although we hardly see each other despite the fact she now lives in the same city as me, it's always good to know you've got more than your best set of friends that you trust to tell anything to, and I consider myself very lucky to have such a good set of friends. But the conversation really put things into perspective for me. And I advise anyone who is going through a rough patch to just think about things in perspective, there are always people somewhere in the world with a problem worse than yours. Sometimes a lot closer to home than you may realise.
Totally excusing Thursday, today is now Friday, and after my boring exploits of nothingness, I find myself gearing up to get ready to go to work, an 11:30pm-4:00am shift at a nightclub called 'Space'. For once, I seem to be looking forward to work, different surroundings, different people, and although there will be the inevitable drunk bellend behaving like one, and the people who find the way I say "80 pence" amusing and make a few jokes about it, after reading someone else's blog about the almost impossible quest for unemployment, maybe I shouldn't take my job for granted.
If this week has taught me anything, it is to always have a positive outlook on life, no matter what may go wrong.
Thanks for reading, and as per usual, hopefully this was a little more interesting and insightful to read.
Thomas.
The day is Friday, which means a day off uni just for a change. 7 hours a week is pretty ridiculous when I'm paying £2,000 a year to attend, but looking on the bright side, next year Leeds Met are charging £8,500 a year so I can thank myself lucky. Not much usually occurs on a Friday for me, except the inevitable catching up on Countdown, so I'm going to take you through what has been a pretty up and down week for me.
After a surprise gambling win on Saturday, I went into the week on a high, feeling that nothing could knock me down. How wrong I was. Monday brought about the inevitable boring lectures and the purchase of a panda hat. But Tuesday was different. Waking up to a text from a girl you'd been seeing giving you the elbow is never a good feeling, and so my downward spiral was underway. I had no qualms with the way things ended, and we part on good terms, so not all bad. But just like Nelly Furtado, as my iTunes shuffle politely decided to play first song, I was questioning 'why do all good things come to an end?' But I'm a realist, and there is nothing I can do to change anything, so I just have to accept things and look to the future. Marley knew exactly what I needed, and that was a trip to the pub.
Wednesday brought about a belated birthday trip to Frankie and Benny's and the cinema to see Tintin, which for lack of a better phrase was what I call 'fucking awful'. The day saw an upturn in my mood, but not because of the trip out. What started as a simple request for an Orange Wednesday code descended into a full on heart-to-heart, but I wasn't doing any of the talking. This was our first conversation for at least a month I'd say with someone I consider a very close friend, although we hardly see each other despite the fact she now lives in the same city as me, it's always good to know you've got more than your best set of friends that you trust to tell anything to, and I consider myself very lucky to have such a good set of friends. But the conversation really put things into perspective for me. And I advise anyone who is going through a rough patch to just think about things in perspective, there are always people somewhere in the world with a problem worse than yours. Sometimes a lot closer to home than you may realise.
Totally excusing Thursday, today is now Friday, and after my boring exploits of nothingness, I find myself gearing up to get ready to go to work, an 11:30pm-4:00am shift at a nightclub called 'Space'. For once, I seem to be looking forward to work, different surroundings, different people, and although there will be the inevitable drunk bellend behaving like one, and the people who find the way I say "80 pence" amusing and make a few jokes about it, after reading someone else's blog about the almost impossible quest for unemployment, maybe I shouldn't take my job for granted.
If this week has taught me anything, it is to always have a positive outlook on life, no matter what may go wrong.
Thanks for reading, and as per usual, hopefully this was a little more interesting and insightful to read.
Thomas.
Thursday 24 November 2011
An Introduction.
Hello everyone, and welcome to my very first blog. If you're reading this I'm assuming you know who I am, so there is no need to introduce myself. So let's cut to the chase.
Why am I writing a blog? There are a few answers to this question. The in-depth one would be the bullshit (but in my case, actually true) story about autobiographies. When I read my first autobiography; David Beckham's for anyone curious, it made me wonder how people remembered so many stories from their childhood, and I always toyed with the idea of keeping a diary to keep track of everything interesting that happened in my life, which admittedly would have been a very short diary. So just on the off chance that I became famous and needed to write an autobiography, this was why I wanted a diary, but as the unmotivated lazy man I am, I never really got round to it. At 20 year old, in my final year of university, I finally find the time. The real reason for writing a blog? One word. Bandwagon.
What do I intend on getting out of this blog? In all honesty, not a lot. Apart from the inevitable publication of it for being so awesome. Jokes aside, there is no real gain for me. I just thought people might be interested in what goes through the head of a 20 year old law student with a lot of time on his hands. Or to those who know me, what in my head causes me to be the way I am?
Hopefully the blog will be daily, only if my social life allows for it, and if there are enough incidents/thoughts of note in my day to make it worth wasting your time reading it.
Anyway, I've waffled on for long enough, I just wanted to give a basic insight as to the who, why and what and hopefully I didn't bore you too much with this first entry. Thanks for reading and I hope you look forward to hopefully the blog starting tomorrow,
Thomas.
Why am I writing a blog? There are a few answers to this question. The in-depth one would be the bullshit (but in my case, actually true) story about autobiographies. When I read my first autobiography; David Beckham's for anyone curious, it made me wonder how people remembered so many stories from their childhood, and I always toyed with the idea of keeping a diary to keep track of everything interesting that happened in my life, which admittedly would have been a very short diary. So just on the off chance that I became famous and needed to write an autobiography, this was why I wanted a diary, but as the unmotivated lazy man I am, I never really got round to it. At 20 year old, in my final year of university, I finally find the time. The real reason for writing a blog? One word. Bandwagon.
What do I intend on getting out of this blog? In all honesty, not a lot. Apart from the inevitable publication of it for being so awesome. Jokes aside, there is no real gain for me. I just thought people might be interested in what goes through the head of a 20 year old law student with a lot of time on his hands. Or to those who know me, what in my head causes me to be the way I am?
Hopefully the blog will be daily, only if my social life allows for it, and if there are enough incidents/thoughts of note in my day to make it worth wasting your time reading it.
Anyway, I've waffled on for long enough, I just wanted to give a basic insight as to the who, why and what and hopefully I didn't bore you too much with this first entry. Thanks for reading and I hope you look forward to hopefully the blog starting tomorrow,
Thomas.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)