Author: Scott Andrews

The Queue Of Life

I am nearly 31.  I take the bus everywhere.  I don’t have a house, a company car, a white picket fence, a pension, 2.5 children or a good job.  All I have is an imagination, a good woman, a sense of righteous indignation and a belly full of anger.

The striking fact is that as I get closer and closer to the half-way point of my life it has become crystal clear that I will never realise what little potential I have.  I will remain just me.  Neither an achiever nor a failure.  Just another idiot waiting in line to die.  And that infuriates me even more.

The problem with fulfilling these expectations is that they are not things I aspire too.  I don’t want to merely shuffle along the line until I drop dead.  I want to be happy.  I want to feel alive.  I don’t want to be an accountant.  I don’t want to be stuck in a classroom.  If the sum total of a mans worth is his CV and his pension fund then I am mere amoeba.

Unless man is the total of his actions.  Then I am still fucked.  I remain a dreamer, at odds with himself, desperately awaiting the 60 seconds of inspiration it takes to change someones life.  And there’s the problem.  I have spent my life avoiding the possibility of waiting in line until I drop dead, and instead wasted far too much time waiting for a miracle.  It’s only now I am coming to terms with it.

I need to get out of this queue.  The only way to do it is to take action.  And that is the hard bit.  At least I am half way there.

Nothing A-musing

In the past 5 years the price of almost everything has doubled yet life has not got twice better.  I am talking about everyday things such as food, petrol and travel tickets.  Meanwhile my wages haven’t increased for 6 years.  If I was an alien I would look at these signs and interpret them as evidence that this world isn’t working.

It’s not just the cost of living, it’s also the way we live too.  In many arab nations there have been uprisings in the name of freedom and democracy whilst in the UK there were riots because we have freedom and democracy.  All over the planet people are pissed off because if anything it just keeps getting worse.

Yesterday saw the tenth anniversary of 9/11.  Ten years on there are still suicide bombers and jihad fighters in Afghanistan and Iraq.  Many Western countries still feel at risk to the threat of terrorism. It is yet another example of how trouble never disappears, it just changes location.

The world has stopped evolving.  Our races cultural output is restricted to twilight and Harry Fucking Potter.  Our environmental contribution is the sum total of fuck all.  All over the planet governments are spending money which they don’t have in a desperate attempt to maintain the illusion that everything is just fine.  But it’s not.  If anything it just keeps getting worse.

The Rules Of Making Up Rules

Are there any?  Should there be some order in trying to put the world in order?  Are there some can’t do’s and must do’s when inventing a system of guidance?  I am pretty sure I can think of one.

If I declare myself King and demand that all monkeys start speaking to humans in English will it happen?  Given them monkeys are independent beings who aren’t capable of vocalising their thoughts, it’s rather unlikely.  To be able to put things in order you need power.  So perhaps if I invaded England, dissolved parliament and declared myself Emperor on national television and gave the same order would it work?  No.  What you need in conjunction with power, is control or perhaps the tools of control.  So what if took the same steps to become emperor, ordered the British army to invade the zoo’s and order the monkeys at gunpoint to speak English?  It still won’t work will it.  So what on earth is the rule of making up rules?

I am talking about the death of Baha Mousa and many others.  I have absolutely no intention on delving deep into these cases.  Last night I was watching a report on BBC about the circumstances surround this tragic case and was absolutely gob smacked by an American ambassador who claimed that the overwhelming cause was the failure of the soldiers in question to follow the rules of war.  The first thing I want to say is that the death of Baha Mousa and the numerous acts of torture and murder which have been committed around the world in the name of war are wrong.  The second thing I want to say is rules of war?  Rules of fucking war?  What is wrong with you bureaucrats?

We routinely send the mostly heroic young men and women of our nations to places where strangers try to kill them.  When they arrive there we insufficiently arm them, often medicate them with amphetamines and blithely grasp in the darkness hoping that if we hang around long enough the baddies will stop.  In the midst of these stress we try to subjugate them with often bizarre and banal rules which in many cases cause innocent people to lose their lives.  Whether it be the U.N troops who were refused permission to engage without being fired upon in Rwanda or Srebrenica, the cost is the same.  You cannot apply rules which require active participation from both sides of an armed conflict.  Mainly, it’s due to the fact that they are in conflict.  They are not going to stop and say ‘look here, you just broke rule number 42, you just poked me the eye you rapscallion’.  It is not boxing.

The problem is not a question of breaching someones human rights or any Geneva convention.  It is the fact that recent wars have been fought with 24/7 media coverage in a shameless effort to garner public support against an action which was unequivocally wrong in its beginning.  Due to the close proximity of the PR machine to all aspects of modern conflicts governments are desperate to avoid being attached to any act which demonstrates the brutal reality of war.  It’s as if the aristocratic officers of the first world war have been promoted one step higher and are now in government.

The basic rule which underscores the terms of war is its overwhelming objective.  The complete destruction of the opposition.  Another term synonymous with war is collateral damage.  War causes thousands of people to die.  Every time.   The longer it goes on.  The more people die.  The higher percentage of innocent people die.  It’s not rocket science.  It’s a fact.  If any statesmen was really serious about stopping the murders of innocent people in conflict zones they would only need to do one thing and one thing only.  STOP FUCKING WARS!   It does not matter how much smoke you try to screen it with.  People still have their own noses.  And they are very familiar with the smell of bullshit.

It seems to me that the rules of making up rules are quite simple.  Rule number 1.  Don’t be fucking ridiculous!  Rule number 2.  See number 1.

Wasting Time

With my novel wrapped up, and no work for another week I have found myself with very little to do all week.  I have tried my level best to keep a promise I made sometime ago that once I finished my manuscript I would start to try to focus my efforts on joining the world of grown ups.  Being 30 years old with no retirement plan to speak of is hardly an ideal situation, so it’s with great trepidation that I now have to start thinking about what the bloody hell I am to do with the rest of my life.

The first morning after sending my manuscript was the most difficult.  For just over a year two things have been my companions every day, writing and the pain in my leg.  Actually stopping writing is proving to be quite similar to give up smoking(which I quit about half a year ago).  I found myself sketching out details for another novel before I reminded myself that I cannot do that.  The time and attention required means that it serves as a massive distraction from life.  It’s sad but I have to accept the fact that it is time to live like a grown up.  The same goes for this blog.  I promised to give myself one year.  At the end of November I will close this blog.  Unfortunately life is not a Hollywood movie.

The actual waiting of this process is quite awful.  I currently fill my time by trying to think of things to do which do not require the use of my brain.  The worst thing is that it hasn’t even been a week.  I can’t even bear to think about the future.  The idea of becoming bored, unfulfilled and miserable for the rest of my life terrifies me.  Sadly, I don’t see any other option.  Life,  you stink.

Those Without Sin – Reflections Of A Hypocrite

Last night I took part in a kind of twitter discussion with a guy I have never met.  I was advising him on the perils of being judgmental.  I told him:

‘being judgmental does not honor any aspect of human decency.  As to be virtuous enough to judge everyone else you must be blind to your own flaws as a human being.’

 

I look back on my comments with a modicum of pride that I was able to articulate my thoughts so well.  However having a day to reflect upon them I realise now that in one statement I have massively contradicted myself and exposed myself as a stinking hypocrite.  It is not that I do not believe in what I have left.  I do believe it.  I think it is an absolutely vital moral concept.  What troubles me is the fact that I stand at a crossroads in my life and this very statement is at odds with myself.

In the past year and a bit I have done my level best to come to terms with myself.  I have accepted that I am either a writer or a child trapped in a mans body.  Whichever I am I decided to give myself a year to find out, and that year is nearly up.  Conceptually being a writer does not meld well with my above statement.  Supposedly a writer should be an acute observer of the world.  He should make judgments of those around him in order to create a story which resonates with other humans.  If the prior statement is true and the above statement too, then a writer is morally bereft of human decency.  Especially one with a readership of zero and a category entitled people studies.

I confess.  I am a hypocrite.  However I deny that I am a liar.  I believe what I said.  I am just not able to live by it.  Therefore the only question which remains is whether it’s better to be an honest hypocrite or a dishonest liar?  Who am I to judge?