Posts Tagged ‘obsession’

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stand up. (Chancery Lane + Russell Square)

November 7, 2012

Last night I went to the Wilmington Arms (which, for the record, is inconveniently not near a Starbucks) in Clerkenwell in East-Central London to watch Toby deliver a 10-minute stand-up routine about being a “knitting geek” for a Science Showoff event. I got off at Chancery Lane:

 

stopped off at Pret and then settled myself in for an evening that was pleasantly surprisingly funny: I learned about Steven Seagal being an actual sheriff; that there is a new animated series of My Little Pony that sounds utterly hilarious; there was a celebrity a few hundred years ago who allegedly gave birth to bits of rabbit; the 4 ghosts in Pac-Man actually have names and personalities; and that my boyfriend is incredibly witty, funny and charismatic on stage. I am so proud of Toby for getting up in front of us all and entertaining us – he didn’t look nervous at all, and got lots of laughs. Perhaps in the near future I’ll get to go onstage again too! It’s been too long and internet delays / actually having a social life for once has prevented me from releasing my new album, but I swear and promise it’s coming!

We walked to Russell Square tube station and rather excitingly, got the Piccadilly line to Turnham Green (where it only stops early in the morning, and late at night – yes, we were out on a school night!) and then changed to the District to get home. I was thinking about my geeky qualities – at first, I couldn’t find any other than being a bit of a music obsessive, but then I realised: my London underground photo project (which is going quite well by this point – I think I’ve done around 80 stations!) is quite possibly the epitome of geekiness; also, my fondness for spreadsheets (e.g. the blood pressure spreadsheet, the annual Christmas gifts / winter birthday presents spreadsheet, the useful but ultimately ill-fated “have I snacked this evening?” spreadsheet) as an organisational tool for daily life might be evidence that beneath my exquisitely fashionable exterior lies the beating heart of a nerd. Enough!

 

I’m done.

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balance of power.

July 28, 2009

Growing up with my parents and their perennially “stormy” relationship (that is one of the most accurate and yet most polite adjectives to describe it), I have always been acutely aware of the balance of power that exists in relationships, friendships and even day-to-day interactions.  For example, many a time have I apologised to my mother after doing something wrong.  But I can count on one hand the amount of times my mother has ever apologised to me after upsetting me.  The reasons for this are simple: although generally, being man enough to apologise when you have done something wrong makes you “the bigger person”, it also means that you cede a massive amount of ground in the balance of power that exists between you and that other person.  Acknowledging your fault equates to acknowledging their lack of fault and thus their superiority (obviously not in reality, but in power-struggle talks, this is fairly accurate).  That is why “sorry seems to be the hardest word” – because it involves swallowing your pride and giving away a small part of it to your opponent.  And when you have to apologise just to clear the air, because you don’t want to fight anymore but you don’t feel you are to blame… well, I don’t bother with that anymore, because I have done enough of that already in my short 23 years of life, and another thing that my mother has taught me is how to hold onto anger.  The silent treatment is a fantastic invention for testing the balance of power, and me and my mother have gone 4 weeks without speaking.  Of course, I am not recommending not apologising, or refusing to speak to somebody for weeks on end, because it is childish and it’s better just to get on with your life.  I am merely explaining the logic that exists in my family of how important it is to maintain a position of strength in the balance of power that exists between you and everyone else.  The moment you are seen as weak or a pushover, that’s the end of you (until you find a devious way to turn the tables.  But no ground lost = no scheming necessary).

So I move onto the situation I have been experiencing recently.  My father has become pathetically obsessed with this online game called Evony (if you want to look it up, more fool you, but you can find info on it on youtube and all the usual places) where you build your own medieval town and then defend it from other people’s armies while trying to make your town more powerful and take over other towns.  And when I say obsessed, I mean it – he spends every waking moment of his time at home on his laptop playing the game, which doesn’t seem to consist of much more than staring at the screen and occasionally clicking on a little house, while reading inane commentary between other users in a chat box in the corner.  He is back at work now (he was off for 3 weeks on holiday) and still stays up until midnight playing the stupid game, despite having to get up at 5:45am the following morning. He drinks cider and shovels crisps in his mouth and does not allow me to sit on the sofa nor watch the tv.  And I am 30 years his junior, so I am DAMNED if I am going to go to bed before him without enjoying even 5 minutes of peace and quiet downstairs in the lounge, watching what I want on tv (the only chance I get to watch what I want is when my parents are not present, which is usually once they have gone to bed) and having a cigarette outside on the patio and listening to my music undisturbed.

This is where the balance of power comes into play.  I don’t know if my father has decided on purpose to stay up until stupidly late to try and annoy me, but it certainly does the trick.  I of course refuse to go to bed, and my advantage is that I do not have to get up stupidly early for work the next day (though I am, as of today, employed again!!! The hospital came through, yayyyy 😀 😀 😀 )… Whether this is, in his view, a struggle for power and supremacy by despatching me from the lounge or whether he is just single-mindedly playing his pathetic little game, I now view it as a competition for control of the television at least 1% of the day, and establishing myself as more than just another piece of furniture around the house who disappears without causing any trouble.  I will not be ousted from my own house by my own father who is 30 years older than me and playing an idiotic little game.  I will not be sent to my room before I am ready to go, and I will not cede control of my bedtime nor of my right to enjoy myself in my home.  I will stay up until he goes to work if necessary… I don’t care.  This is a battle of wills now, and I promise you one thing: Like Rocawear, I will not lose.