The (Not So) Fabulous Life of Cal

Go To Italy, Break a Toilet.

2011-07-28T00:40:00.000-07:00

My adventures in Italy came to a complete stop last Saturday when I decided it was time to pick up my bags and leave, and whilst racking my brains for the most blog-worthy story to share, there is one that sticks out more than any other.

It involves tuna, raw eggs and copious amounts of toilet roll.

I moved in with a lovely bright and bubbly Italian family who greeted me with arms full of gifts and enough food to feed the entire student population of Derby, they showed me around their apartment, showing me the enormous plasma they had hanging in the living room and all the games consoles I was welcome to use, showing me the balcony with an enormous jacuzzi tub and the grand bathroom which looked like it had been stolen from the Ritz. It was all wonderful- and then they told me I wasn't living there.

They lugged my suitcase out of the apartment, down eight flights of stairs and unlocked the door to the grandparent's flat. They pushed open the first door on the left and my suitcase was thrown into a dank room with a single slightly damp mattress lying in the corner- this would be my bedroom for the next week. Mosquitoes buzzed around my head and the humidity made me sick. I wasn't allowed to put the air-conditioning on though, they were worried I might catch a cold. I was told that there was a bathroom down the hall but under no circumstances should I use it. If I needed to use the bathroom I was to traverse the eight flights of stairs, knock, and politely ask if it was okay to use their bathroom. I nodded along and acted like this wasn't a problem, which d'uh, it definitely was.

That evening when they prepared me a cold soup made of tuna and raw eggs I didn't think things could get much worse. With every swallow my stomach turned and I had to fight my gag reflex to maintain the placid smile spread across my face, then, when nobody was looking I tipped the tuna-egg slosh into the bin and excused myself for bed.

All was well until 3am came around and my stomach was violently churning- I had to get to the bathroom and quickly. It had occurred to me that I could probably dash upstairs, bang on the door, wake everybody up, and politely ask if I could use the bathroom but that seemed somehow... impolite. So, with first impressions in mind, I did my best ninja impression and slowly crept down the hallway to the forbidden bathroom. I slowly opened the creaking door and closed it silently behind me.

As I sat there in the forbidden bathroom, thinking about the tuna and raw eggs that had made me so horrifically ill I managed to get through a whole roll of toilet roll before I pulled on the chain to flush.

There was no flush.

There was a loud noise that sounded like a broken car engine trying to start. I stood up in a panic and tried again. Still there was no flush and an even louder sound boomed out from the toilet. As I tried a third time, willing the toilet to be quiet and to flush just this one time, there was a bang on the door and an elderly woman yelling something in Italian. I tried flushing again and she only banged harder. I quickly tossed sheet after sheet of toilet paper into the basin and casually answered the door.

"Hi," I said with the most sweet and innocent smile I could muster. She had no desire to make casual small talk, she pushed me aside and marched her way over to the toilet, yelling and making wild hand gestures.
"Mamma Mia!" she yelled and ran out of the bathroom to go and wake her husband. Things could not get possibly worse. I sat there for a whole hour while they tried to fix the toilet and finally there was a triumphant flushing sound and all was well again...

It was the most excruciatingly painful and embarrassing moment of my entire life, yet it seems to be a sort of right of passage to break a toilet whilst travelling across Italy, just ask Laura.

PUR-PLE

2011-06-09T03:36:00.000-07:00

Where have I been? Ask And Ye Shall Receive asked that very question in their review of my blog, and it's exactly the kick up the arse I've needed to start splurging stories again.

A lot has happened since I last posted, I got engaged, I turned 21, I graduated and I flew out to Italy to teach for a few months, it's really great to be back...

On the third day of training to teach English as a foreign language we were thrown straight into the deep end with teaching Italian children, we were advised to go out into the playground to mingle with the wee things and I confidently approached the first child I could find. A little girl called Georgia.

"Hello! My name is Calum," I exclaimed with a big smile, "what's your name?"
"Georgia," she told me. I grinned happily.
"What colour is this?" I said grabbing my purple t-shirt and holding it up to her. She gave me a quasi-terriconfused expression but said nothing.
"PUR-PLE," I said slowly and obnoxiously. "PURPLE."
"Purple," she answered nodding slowly.
"PURPLE," I said again in an even more patronising tone than before.
"Yeah... it's purple," she said, "I speak fluent English."
"Oh." I was completely and utterly stumped for words. "Do you like DANCING?" I said and began to dance. She walked away un-amused and entirely unimpressed.

"I think I've been a condescending twat," I told my friends and they had no qualms with agreeing. Whoops!

You've Got Mail...

2011-02-22T09:19:00.001-08:00

My fingers trembled rapidly as I began opening the first of the two letters that had been delivered. Two letters from two of the universities I had applied for had arrived on the same day. Terrified of the contents I sat on the living room floor, declaring that I couldn’t open them to the boyfriend who continued to laugh at me…

I couldn’t handle much more disappointment. On Valentines Day I received a letter in the post covered in love hearts. I took one look at my grinning partner and decided instantly that the letter was probably from him. He insisted that it wasn’t. I mused over all the people it could possibly be from and finally tore it open.

It was from the sodding NHS.

Not only had they covered the letter in love hearts as a ruse they were accusing me of alcoholism. The bloody cheek. I filled out the form, indicating how many times I drank a week and how much.

Having a gin and orange with your Sunday dinner, and going out for a piss-up once in a blue moon qualifies you for alcoholism, apparently. I’ll see you all at the AA meeting…

So, with my Valentines Day disappointment still in mind I carefully peeled open the first letter.

“We are pleased that you have considered studying at our university, but…”

BUT!?

I folded the letter back up and stuffed it back into the envelope refusing to read it. Never have I been so petrified in my entire life. I couldn’t explain it. I never thought I would feel this way when the letters finally came.

When I finally managed to read both of the letters it turned out they were both extremely out-dated letters requesting forms I’d sent off months ago. Relieved, confused, and devastated all at the same time, I lay on the floor and gave myself a minute.

This counts as a near death experience, I told myself in the heat of the moment. I’m so bloody dramatic; god knows what I’ll do on the day the letters actually come.

All 5 of them...

"I'm Not Gay."

2011-01-29T00:18:00.000-08:00

Stealing Lee's iPod a year ago caused me some trouble, but I figured stealing it a second time would be okay. I mean how much iPod based trouble can a person get themselves into. More than you'd expect, apparantly.

The walk from university back home is a short one, and the ammount of things that can cause any trouble are limited, providing I don't go veering off: I am distracted easily. I popped into the shop on the way home to pick up a couple of bottles of pop, my headphones in my ears blasting out a Lady GaGa track. The only thing I hadn't realised as I was halfway down the confectionary aisle was that the headphones had become dislodged from the iPod and I was playing music out to the whole shop. I had become the riff-raff you usually get on the bus.

When I finally noticed everybody was sort of staring at me, I pulled out my headphones and realised what I was doing.

"Boys, boys, boys, we like boys in cars. Boys, boys, boys, buy us drinks in bars," was sounding out to everyone. In an awkward attempt to resolve the situation I quickly turned off the music and announced, "I'm not gay," to a nearby elderly lady, a good looking boy in a trilby (oxymoronic perhaps, but it happened.) and anyone else who would listen. As if now was the best time to start denying my sexuality after nearly 5 years of being out of the closet. They might have believed me too, I put on my best manly voice and everything, but the jig was up when I accidently followed it was some flamboyant hand-gestures.

I bought my Dr.Pepper and left. I'm just going to stop shopping unsupervised from now on. I clearly can't be trusted.

Service With A Smile.

2011-01-26T12:46:00.000-08:00

Walking into the post office for the second time that week, wielding the second set of envelopes that contained MY ENTIRE FUTURE, I took my ticket and waited patiently in line. You see, these envelopes have been what my life has revolved around recently; applications for my potential future as a student in America.

I've been worrying about these applications 12 days a week and fretting over every little detail for the past two months, so to hand them over to a company who previously unjustly fired me, insulted me and made me want to curl up into a ball and cry, you can imagine, was not particularly my cup of tea.

I put on a brave face and approached the counter. "Hiya," I said to the middle aged brunette lady sat there. "Hi. What can i do for you?"
"Well, I need to pay the airmail on these," I said lifting up the envelopes, "they're going to America."
"Okay, just pop those on the scales," she told me, and I did.
"That'll be £2.80 for that one, and £3.10 for that one," she told me.
"Oh! That's great news!" I exclaimed, feigning my shock to how cheap it was, repeating the exact same words I had used the day before. "I thought it was going to be around £8 each, can't go wrong at that price, can..." my words began to trail off as the blonde lady I had previously overlooked, sat at the next desk, creased into a fit of laughter.

It had been her who served me the previous day, it was to her I delivered this prepared speech to avoid any awkwardness. Both women looked at me, lips pursed, heads tilted forward, and eyebrows raised.

I turned a shade of scarlet and mumbled some sort of excuse involving a saxophone and a monkey.

"That'll be £5.90 then," the brunette lady, now too laughing, said. As I handed her the money she chuckled "bargain, eh'?" and put the money into the till.

I don't know if it made me feel worse or better to leave my LIFE in the hands of two laughing women, but if anything it did make me leave with a smile.

Having a New Year Trauma

2011-01-17T09:50:00.001-08:00

If like me you are suffering the January blues at the mo', fear not! The New Year Having a Trauma podcast is here! Forget that thick layer of stress and depression surrounding everything, sit back with a cuppa and enjoy.

Go on. Press play. You know you want to.

Podcast Powered By Podbean

Out With The Old and In With The New

2011-01-05T04:21:00.001-08:00

"Happy New Year?" we said to each other, it was more of a question than a statement. We were only halfway through the Graham Norton New Year's Eve special when fireworks and the sound of the Spanish cheering surrounded the house. We had somewhat overlooked the fact that while we watched English T.V on English time, we were an hour ahead. "Happy new year," we said again completely dumbstruck and unprepared.
"Shall we get the next one?" my mother said without anticipation as if the turning of the year was like waiting for a bus.

The endless traditons confuse me, eating grapes at midnight, haggis the next day, no washing up in fear of washing away the new year's luck. As absurd as they are they tend to make things a bit more lively, and that's never a bad thing. The one we all tend to stick to is the New Year's Resolution. Or as my father would call it, a special new year's wish, his inability to remember what a new year's resolution is called spans way beyond all comprehension... though he makes a good point. It is more of a wish than a resolution, like a wish the likelyhood of it coming true is slim.

I decided against making a New Year's Resolution this year but chose a mantra instead. Simply be optimistic. The resolutions we make are always so specific and often negative. Lose weight. Stop drinking. Go to the gym. I think if we really want these things they'll come naturally. A resolution isn't going to change that much, I always break mine within the first week. Saying that, if you have made a New Year's Resoluton, do your best to stick to it. If you made it, you made it for a reason.

Happy New Year, I have a feeling it'll be a good one.

Raise Your Glass

2010-12-24T06:49:00.000-08:00

Today, Christmas Eve, at Midday I awoke on the kitchen floor with an open bottle of red wine beside me. It took me quite a few moments to figure out exactly how this had happened and despite the temptation to jump to the conclusion that I had a heavy evening the night before what in fact happened wasn't quite so debaucherous.

Whilst cooking our festive ham Lee and I treated ourselves to half a glass of the expensive wine my parents gave to us for Christmas, we then left it on top of the oven to 'let it breathe'. This morning whilst on all fours scrubbing the oven to get it spotless for Christmas day I found myself taking a blow to the head...

Luckily we only lost a splash of the wine, we'll be raising a glass of that wine to our friends, our family, and of course all of my readers and the bruise on my forehead tomorrow over Christmas dinner. What injuries will you be raising a glass to this Christmas?

Merry Christmas.
Love Cal. x

Being Naked for Christmas

2010-12-21T10:09:00.000-08:00

With Christmas fast approaching I’ve considered the possibilities of going naked for Christmas- and no, sadly, I don’t mean taking all of my clothes off and sitting by the Christmas tree. As fun as that might be I think it might be disrespectful to the spirit of the festivities.

I’m talking stripping down the costs of Christmas and indulging in the holiday spirit without spending a penny. Over the years, perhaps even long before my time Christmas has become increasingly more and more consumerist. The Christmas presents, wrapping paper, cards, food… the list goes on. Although it is nice to spend that little bit extra to make Christmas extra special sometimes we can be a little frivolous around the holiday season. The tag line for Christmas shopping has always been guilt free shopping, I don’t always feel that though, when spending money I don’t necessarily have to spare on loved ones I still have a niggling feeling of guilt lodged in the back of my mind.

I adore Christmas, and I even love all those consumerist bits and bobs that go along with it, but I’m pretty sure I could strip it all away and still have an enjoyable Christmas. My parents came over to visit from Spain recently and as we sat around watching T.V we shook our heads in disbelief as we watched a middle aged couple complaining about the economic climate; complaining that this year they wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas at all due to money issues. They went on to show how upset the couple were about the whole thing, showing the empty wall where the Christmas décor would usually hang. I found the whole thing absurd.

I understand the financial difficulties we have in this country at the minute, I even suffer them myself, however I don’t think that is a reason to completely write off Christmas. The aforementioned couple had a large house with expensive looking furniture and trinkets: I couldn’t understand why they needed to not celebrate Christmas to get by. They could still hang their Christmas decorations; they wouldn’t even have to turn on the Christmas lights if they wanted to save on electricity. They could play a board game or watch some Christmas T.V. Spending under £5 they could each buy each other a bar of chocolate or similar, wrap it, put it under the Christmas tree and have a mince pie. It just takes a little imagination.

I think it’s shocking that Christmas has become so much about money that people in difficult money situations believe they can’t celebrate it. Are people forgetting the nativity story entirely? I’m pretty sure Mary and Joseph weren’t rolling around in fifty pound notes.

Splashing out is always nice during the festive season, as long as we remember it’s not a necessity. Often when we have less money we are a lot more thoughtful with our present buying since we can’t spend a fortune on extravagant gifts and wrapping. It’s something worth bearing in mind while you’re doing your last minute Christmas shop.

Truly Madly Deeply

2010-12-20T02:08:00.000-08:00

If you never got a chance to see me and Lee in Attitude Magazine, then look no further!

One Rule

2010-12-18T05:14:00.001-08:00

Everything is fair game between my friend LJW and I, she texts me inappropriate things and I reciprocate, she compares me to Liza Minnelli and I compare her to Dawn French. It's a two way street.

There is however, one situation where things get SERIOUS.

That is when a glass of coke and a laptop is involved. "I've got one rule!" I bellowed as she set her glass of coke down next to my new laptop. "No drinks near the computer!" she moved her drink to a safe spot before laughing at me and proceeded to mock my one rule with a serious voice for the following few weeks.

On one Saturday night, as she set down her mug of tea next to my laptop, I shot her a dirty look and said "One rule LJW! One rule!" I lifted up my laptop and set it aside away from the mug of tea.

While she proceeded to mock me she reached for her tea and knocked it half way across the room, hot tea spilling everywhere.

"And that is why I have one rule," I told her as I began cleaning the tea up from the carpet, the t.v, the sofa, the table and both of my legs.

In case you hadn't noticed, LJW and I have a podcast: Having a Trauma. Pop over to the Audio page to have a listen or listen to our latest podcast below.

Christmas Tradition

2010-12-14T02:40:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since I last posted, what with it being the X Factor final and all, I found my schedule a little full. – It’s the most important event on the calendar people- what I’m going to do with my Saturday and Sunday nights from now on is anyone’s guess. I don’t think everybody quite understands the passion my dear friend LJW and I have for X Factor: as we watch X Factor, then the Xtra Factor and then stay up all night googling Aiden Grimshaw, Wagner and One Direction while everyone else is pleading to go to bed, we remain fascinated.

All that business aside, I’ve realised as of late how detailed different people’s Christmases are. The traditional things drilled into us year after year by our families make us incredibly unique. Our American friend didn’t know what a mince pie was, to which I shouted at her- oops. Mince pies to me were quintessentially Christmassy, without them I don’t know what I’d do: eat a chocolate Yule log, probably.

There are many things that make my Christmas complete, from the Coca-Cola advert on the tele and burning down the advent candle. A stocking on Christmas day and some sort of family film in the evening. Without these things Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas.

What I do find interesting though, is how my own Christmas traditions clash with Lee’s Christmas traditions. We were questioned just the other day at why we didn’t have a star or an angel atop the Christmas tree. We explained that I had to have a star and Lee had to have an angel so as to not start an argument we had neither.

Then there’s our Christmas dinner, I have to have ham and turkey where Lee has to have sausage meat, I have to have croquettes and Lee has to have parsnips. It’s a trauma, but I indulge in it, the more diverse our Christmas is the more exciting it becomes.

Embracing all of these Christmas traditions, introduced to us by family, friends and partners make our Christmases that extra bit special, and I for one welcome any new additions.

Then again, do you remember that advert with The Spice Girls the other year? Lobster for Christmas dinner... I threw my shoe at the T.V.

Have your shoe at the ready.

Shafted by a Redhead

2010-12-09T05:03:00.001-08:00

The streets being covered in ice, although a little annoying (Oo, hypocrite), does provide a picturesque and eventful walk to and from university. Yesterday, as I made my way up an incredibly icy slope, I found myself staring at an incredibly attractive boy walking ahead of me. I noticed that his shoe laces were untied and although my mother taught me to never cavort with boys with untied shoe laces, his biceps were impossible to resist. He looked like one of The Wanted boys, but better…

You read correctly. Better than this.

I watched intently as I waddled along the ice, trying to keep up, watching his shoe laces flick upwards as he skidded about on the ice. Inevitably he eventually tripped over his laces, skidded around for a few moments and then collided with the floor with an almighty heavy thud.

I noticed a beautiful red-headed girl walking towards us, she had seen him slip too; we were thinking the exact same thing. I looked at her, she looked at me. It was a race to help the good looking man up off of the ice. Breaking into a slight run I glared at her menacingly, I slipped and skidded, my legs went in opposite directions, but I didn’t slow down. I must have resembled a rabid Bambi as I approached the terrified looking boy lying on his side on the ice.

“Alright mate?” I said in my best straight man voice and offered him my hand. I was slightly out of breath. He grimaced and batted my hand away, trying to help himself up. He got to his feet and toppled straight back down onto his firm buttocks – yes, I had noticed- I offered him my hand again, reluctantly he took it, mumbling something beneath his breathe.

The red headed girl looked at me annoyed. I pursed my lips at her. As I passed her she smirked at me and I swear to god slipped on the ice on purpose: I didn’t help her up.

Surely enough the boy with the large biceps ran to her aid and helped her up. They both laughed about it and obviously formed an instant intimate bond. As I looked at the sunlight shining over the houses I literally, and bitterly, watched them walk off into the sunset.

“Bitch,” I mumbled under my breathe- and that is why I owe my apologies to the red head. Who am I to interfere with your rom-com moment? Lindsay Lohan will be there to play you in due course. I’ll be played by Stanley Tucci. And the boy? Ashton Kutcher or similar no doubt. I’d like to name the film ‘Shafted by a Redhead’ – Sounds a little pornographic, but I think it fits. Don’t you?

Just remember next time you take a tumble on the ice, stay possitive. A muscle bound boy, or a sassy beautiful redhead may be on their way to help you up.

Advent

2010-12-07T10:50:00.001-08:00

Lighting our advent candle every evening and watching it burn does get me wondering why we are forever counting away our days.

It seems there’s always something to count down to, whether it’s Christmas, a Birthday or a holiday. Don’t get me wrong I do get filled with excitement during the build up to these things, I just wonder why we are so frivolous in doing what is essentially counting away precious days of our lives.

I realise I’m only twenty years old and I’m not exactly short on time, I have a long life ahead of me and I’m not about to start clinging onto every day because it might be my last, I am going to try a little harder to enjoy each and every day though.

Who’s to say all these days in December that we count away by burning candles or opening cardboard doors won’t be just as good as Christmas day itself, or even better?

Don’t call me Scrooge; just remember that Christmas day is just another day. It’s only special because we make it special, and whereas Christmas wouldn’t be as wonderful as it is if we celebrated in the same manner everyday, doing something a little extra each day up to Christmas may make your count down more enjoyable.

Life Lessons

2010-12-05T16:12:00.000-08:00

It’s taken quite some thought to figure out the best way to articulate what I’m about to tell you. I had to take some time before I attempted writing this to let the negative emotions die away. Otherwise I would have ended up blindly scathing those who wronged me rather than taking the positive approach to these situations that I like to pride myself upon. My mantra has always been that optimism will get you everywhere and negativity will leave you with nothing. Although in no way do I dispute this, I think it’s also important for me personally to understand and acknowledge that the reality in which we live is not always as perfect as we might hope.

After being at my new job only two weeks, I was treated in a manner I can only deem disgraceful. As with everything I do, big or small, I put my all into it. I have never been one of those people to just do a satisfactory job, I want to do a great job, whether I’m rewarded for it or not. The company refused to pay me for 12 hours of the work I had done, I found it outrageous and standing up for myself left me not only jobless but hurt by the discrimination directed towards me.

I’ve always believed, and a large part of me still does, that if one stands up for themselves the right way then one will prevail. Whether in the short run or the long run I believe justice will be met.

The whole situation reminded me of a story my father once shared with me, I’m sure he won’t mind me sharing it, even if I don’t get it entirely right…

Long before I was born, as a young man, one of the jobs he partook in was being a waiter for a hotel. As he worked there for a while he got to know some of the regulars and had a very friendly relationship with them. On one day, as he went into the kitchen to collect some food he saw the chef drop some of the food onto the floor, put it back onto the plate and demand that it be taken out. When he refused, the manager was called. In a tight position, the manager had to decide whether to lose his chef or a member of his waiting staff. I don’t think I need to tell you who lost their job.

These things happen, I guess, and enduring them is just another part of life. I’m not going to roll over and play dead, I will fight for the money I earned and will fight against homophobia anywhere, particularly in a work environment, however I won’t dwell upon these injustices: The world is still the optimistic land of possibilities I have always believed it to be.

Despite the many obstacles to overcome, the many people who will try to push us around and the many environments that will attempt to conquer us, believing in ourselves and believing we are doing what is right is worth much more than anything else. I’ll remember what happened for a very long time, but rather than it being another reason to lose faith in humanity, I see it as a lesson learned and a further boost to push me onto finding the environment that I will thrive within.

Tonsil Tennis

2010-12-02T09:05:00.000-08:00

As I was walking along the brook, admiring the snow I noticed two boys romantically kissing on the bridge, I considered going around as to not disturb them but it was already too late, they instantly parted and awkwardly walked in different directions without so much as a goodbye. Whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought. Don't stop on my account boys, by all means, please, carry on.

I gave one of them a friendly smile as he passed me, he looked down at his feet nervously. He must have assumed I was a homophobic gay basher, that's the natural assumption, I guess. It was nice to see a display of affection between two men in public; it's very rare that it occurs. I just felt sad that it was broken up by my presence.

The instinct is to not show affection with other men in public, it's kind of been drilled into us. Whereas I'm a lot more open to the idea I know the majority of gay men just aren't. I wonder if it's fear or something else.

For me, I find it quite rude to play tonsil tennis with another man in the presence of others, yet holding hands would be just fine. As long as I felt like I was in a safe environment. In other words, not walking through a grotty drug-dealer filled subway.

I wonder how much of those worries are present in heterosexual couples. I can't count the amount of times I have been made a complete gooseberry while a friend sticks her tongue down her boyfriend's throat. I know I wouldn't do that, it's just not pleasant. I think it's a very teenage way to act, teenagers want to show off their partner and want to show that they can 'make out' whenever they so chose. It's pretty unnecessary. For a romantic moment, a hello, or a goodbye; fair enough, but otherwise: just spare me the awkwardness.

It would be nice if we lived in a world where everyone felt free to romantically express themselves, but I guess that won't be a reality for a very long time. I think positively though, I'm sure there was a time when a black man kissing a white woman would have been thought outrageous. Feelings will change with time, at least i hope.

My message to all those heterosexual couples: Please, express yourselves; appreciate the freedom you have to do so. Just don't shove it down your friend's throat, it's rather unpleasant.

I'm Dreaming of a Dry Christmas

2010-12-01T00:56:00.000-08:00

I sat down opposite one of my dearest friends and the first thing I could bring myself to say was, “I wish people would stop complaining about the god damn snow.” She looked at me oddly for a moment and that gazed back out of the window at the snow. “I know, it’s well pretty,” she agreed.

We don’t get snow in Derby very much, when the rest of Britain is covered in blankets of pretty white magic Derby is bone dry. Last year the town five minutes down the road, literally five minutes, was covered in snow and we didn’t see a single snowflake. When it does snow, I like to appreciate it.

All day long, as I’m walking along the street, waiting at the bus stop, making small talk with the man who owns the corner shop, all I hear is complaint after complaint about the snow. The radio or the news playing ambiently in the background spouts repetitive nonsense about how the snow is going to devastate all of our lives.

Am I the only person alive who absolutely adores the snow? The moment I see small white flakes falling from the sky I know that Christmas is on its way and I’m filled with an uncontrollable sense of well being. So much so that Lee and I erected the Christmas tree early last night.

I know that a lot of injuries are caused by the snow, I know a lot of people can’t get to work and I know we can’t all afford to turn up the heating, but it’s going to snow so why not just enjoy it? Hundreds of injuries are caused by rain, wet leaves, even the sun (skin cancer) so why do we blame the snow for so much?

I was meant to be riding horses in the peak district today, but that’s not going to happen. I don’t feel the need to complain though, I’ll just build a snowman or start a snowball fight instead- that’s not childish; it’s just knowing how to have fun.

After all didn’t the song go I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas? If it was written in 2010 I’m pretty sure the lyrics would have been I’m Dreaming of a Dry Christmas…

Get out and enjoy the snow: It’ll probably have melted tomorrow.

The Girl Next Door

2010-11-29T14:32:00.000-08:00

One of my favourite things to do is to track down an old movie I’ve not seen for years. I like to watch these films not only for the cinematic value but for the memories that are often unearthed. Memories of what was happening around the time when I originally watched the film. Something is unlocked in the sub-conscious that evokes incredibly provocative emotions.

The other night whilst waiting for Lee to come home from work, I lay awake watching The Girl Next Door, an absolutely atrocious film. When I watched it when I was fourteen I distinctly remember enjoying it greatly, if I had watched it for the first time the other night I would have probably switched over. The storyline was nothing special and the acting was rather dismal, though sat there watching it was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had in a long time. This was purely down to the not so distant memories it unlocked. It’s rather amazing how film, music and art can do that.

Why this ever appealed to me is beyond me.
The Boy Next Door - Now that would have been appealing.

Each and every one of us is reminiscent of our past, whether it’s those happy childhood years, those lustful teenage years, those ambitious young adult years, or those hectic middle aged years: there is always something we’re looking back to.

I know I do, in my third year of university I think back to my first year: leaving home, setting up my very own living space, sitting on the window sill with the smell of freshly cut grass creeping in whilst I watched the topless muscular gardener… Hearing the opening few bars of Jump in the Pool instantly sends me back there.

It is only now as I reminisce I realise that although it is an important part of life to look back and remember fondly, it’s also important to appreciate the here and now. In a couple of years I know I will be looking back fondly to my third year of university and remembering how good things were, I won’t forget that. Appreciate each day, make memories; they’ll stick with you forever. After all memories shape who we are. What would we be without them?

Wait a Minute Mr Postman...

2010-11-26T09:12:00.001-08:00

Bright eyed and bushy tailed I approached my new job as a postman: I considered the thought of wandering through towns and villages delivering post long before I applied for the job and decided I couldn’t think of a better part time job. It would be a few notches above the retail work I’d previously done, that was for sure. I was convinced the job would go a little something like this...

“Those delivery offices are nasty places, though” a friend advised me cautiously. “They are?” I sort of side-stepped the advice and put it to the back of my mind.
It’d be fine.

In a small corridor I was surrounded by skin-headed, pierced, tattooed and furious looking men. I’m a tall person, and the truth of the matter is I’m probably a lot taller than most of the men there, but I find it difficult to describe how small they made me feel. I was Alice in Wonderland reaching for the bottle labelled “Drink Me” and downing the contents.

I was shrinking faster and faster, I would be able to fit through the tiny door at the end of the hallway that was the exit. I’d go through and never come back. I became a speck of dirt to those men. They spoke crudely to one another, and to me, making anti-Semitist, racist, homophobic and offensive remarks. No matter how loud I sang ‘Wait A Minute Mister Postman’ in my head it wouldn’t drown out their intolerance. These men were all working class, white and heterosexual. They knew nothing else. Tolerance and diversity were left at the door.

I felt like a child in there, it’s terrifying. I usually deal with a potentially depressing situation by exuding optimism, being bubbly and friendly to everyone, but here, it didn’t take a genius to realise that would only make matters worse. “Morning,” I said smiling. I got some grunts and a few dirty looks.

At this point I really did feel like Alice down that strange rabbit hole. I was in a strange and unfamiliar place, I felt like I could drown in my own tears- can you imagine the repercussions of that?

I’m not usually one who reacts badly to homophobia. I write and preach against it because I think it’s wrong; I’m rarely ever hurt by it. This was different. This was a whole different ball game. I was hiding who I was, hiding my sexuality. It became a secret again. I hadn’t treated it as a secret since I was 15. I got flashbacks to my teenage years and was reminded why I found it so difficult to come out. With this realisation I really feel for those who haven’t yet come out. After you have come out it’s easy to forget the hardships you had during that transition.

I feel terrified and threatened to be around these people even in a work environment. I feel this really sets the precedent for how homophobia really can hurt. If these remarks and attitudes make me feel like heading straight for the door and leaving a job I otherwise really like, there is obviously something terribly wrong.

I decided to send a message out to the Universe telling it how much I disliked working alongside these men and how low it made me feel. I hid behind a mask, I didn’t change who I was. I was merely acting.

Surely enough the next day, without me speaking a word I was moved to a section full of happy, respectable men and women. I have many more problems to iron out, but I have faith that the Universe will guide me through any rough patches and I’ll come out stronger on the other side.

Positive thinking can get you a long way; thinking negatively will never resolve a problem and will only make matters worse. Whatever trials you are facing at the moment just remember to keep your chin up and you’ll get by.

Just remember some things are impassable but nothing's impossible. ^^

No Unauthorised Access

2010-11-22T06:21:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wondered, like I have, what lies beyond all those "No Unauthorised access" doors scattered around here, there and everywhere?

Well I have.

Yesterday, whilst desperately stumbling from University campus to University campus looking for somewhere to print I happened to stumble through a set of those doors. Searching darkened deserted hallways I managed to find a room with a light on. I approached slowly and peered inside.

CCTV in operation. No Unauthorised Access. Inside I noticed a lone computer and printer, the red standby light blinking slowly. I looked back down the dark corridor from where I had just come from and back into the CCTV protected room.

I gently pushed the door open and made for the computer at the opposite side of the room. As I did, I noticed there was somebody else in the room. Somebody who had previously been out of my eye-line. It was a woman. A woman looking at pornography on her computer. "OH HI!" she said noticing me standing behind her, minimising the pornography and fumbling in her chair nervously. "Sorry," I said walking backwards back out of the room.

And that is why you shouldn't go through doors that read "No Unauthorised Access", it's just jargon for "I'm Watching Porn."

Thou Shalt Not Steal and Other Delusions.

2010-11-20T03:26:00.001-08:00

Religion. It’s a delicate subject and one must advocate a strict and considered approach before blindly slandering it for all its merit. For that reason I would like to say that every point I make is my own opinion and I wouldn’t like to offend anyone.

Religion brings about a vast quantity of good to the world, in no way am I denying that but considering the amount of bad it brings to the world I often think why isn’t all religion abolished? We all have our own beliefs and faith, I personally don’t know how I would go from one day to another without faith. Believing in something is enough for me, I don’t need rules and regulations to abide by and I don’t necessarily know what it is I’m believing in: I’m just happy to feel that there is something watching over us, protecting us and guiding us through everyday life troubles.

You may be sat there thinking, what good does religion bring? So I’d like to clarify a few points.

- Religion brings people together within a community; it makes them feel like they belong to something.
- Religion is more often than not charitable, helping those less fortunate than ourselves.
- Religion often puts suffering into a wider acceptable context.

And the bad points?

- Religion causes arguments, unlawful disputes and even wars.
- Religion often forces non-believers to believe and be a part of it.
- In many places across the world religion is deemed fact and not opinion.

Religion gets away with a lot; many religions openly slander sects of people, (particularly gays) blindly without any real evidence. From my opinion the bible condones homosexuality, though read from a different perspective it slanders it.
Therefore homosexuality is wrong: fact – What? No.

Religion seems to take ancient texts, interpret them how they want to and then deem that fact. It's ludicrous if you ask me. The commandments for instance, there weren't ten commandments at all, there were actually around 252. I guess the top ten favourites were chosen and the rest discarded. So, if the commandments are God's words and we respect and praise him so much, why are we ignoring 242 of his commandments? The option to repent when you sin seems like a bit of a cop out to me. Don't do any of these things or you will not get into heaven - Well, if you kill somebody and apologise that's all good...

Again these commandments leave no room for loop-holes. I'm starving to death and a man with incredible riches choses to burn food in front of me for fun. I'm not allowed to steal any? - Okay, I'm being facetious but I hope you see my point.

The persecution of non-believers, gays and even women across the world due to religion is ridiculously disproportionate to the kind of societies we should be living in. In any other context this would not be overlooked and it would be stopped. In my opinion religion seems to have its own right to vigilante justice, violence and even segregation. These things are all outlawed in most parts of the world, yet when religion comes into it the law turns a blind eye. I personally think it is an outrage.

Hypocrisy within religion I find often proves the point I’m trying to make. Where there is hypocrisy there is usually something not right. How the Catholic Church and the pope can discriminate so widely against homosexuals and not be persecuted for it is beyond me. Particularly after harbouring and sheltering paedophiles. This is a risky topic and without extensive research into the matter I don’t feel I have the right to talk about it, so I’ve made my brief point and I’m going to move on.

I see no reason why religion needs to be organised, I see no reason why religion needs rules, if you believe, you believe, why force those beliefs onto everyone else?

Okay, I do realise I’m being a bit of a hypocrite here, this argument is a bit one sided and in a written context it’s difficult for you to argue back so in a way I am forcing my beliefs onto you. I apologise and would welcome any discussion on religion. If you are strongly apposed to what I’m saying, please leave a comment.

My entire argument essentially boils down to the fact that religion is widely associated with positivity; it isn’t that often that the negative side of religion is openly discussed. Religions are based on spiritual traditions and I don’t understand why they can’t be just that. The bible stories a lot of us are read as young children are positive and teach us morale values, why can’t Christianity be just that?

I personally don’t believe that religion should be passed onto future generations; I believe children should be encouraged to have faith and be given a wide span of religions to chose from should they wish to. Children are often raised into religious families and adopt that religion as their own without being shown the spectrum of religion and where they feel they best fit in. I know little of Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism or any other faith. I was taught Christianity in school, we touched upon the other religions in secondary school but never went in depth.

Does this not strike anyone as absurd? You wouldn’t show a child the colour red and no other colours and then ask them to select their favourite, so why would you show them one religion and then ask them to choose their faith?

Perspective

2010-11-18T06:18:00.001-08:00

It’s very easy to go about our lives and forget about the tragedies happening in the world. Every day hundreds, thousands, millions of people suffer. Whether they’re starving with nothing to eat, a victim of a natural disaster, or simply can’t afford to feed their children. These things are on-going and as much as it hurts me to say, probably always will be. We cannot control a lot of these things, though we can offer our help and support.

Feeling sorry for ourselves is a part of our nature as human beings, but it often helps put things in perspective when you compare your life to those that are suffering. There is always someone worse off than you. Perhaps the boy you’re in love with doesn’t love you back, it’s sad: I’m not arguing that it isn’t, but just think of all the great things you have going on in your life.

The majority of us have a supporting friendship group and family base, the majority of us have food on our plates every day, the majority of us have a roof over our heads. The majority of us laugh on a daily basis.

Just remember those less fortunate than yourself next time you’re feeling like your life is over, remember how good you actually have it.

I know I try, and it helps.

As Years Go By...

2010-11-17T06:16:00.000-08:00

It was today, the 17th November last year when I first started this blog: a black background and a brief four line post about Christmas. How things have changed.

Happy 1st Birthday The (Not So) Fabulous Life of Cal!

That’s not the only thing that has changed in such a retrospectively short period of time. This time last year I hadn’t a single thing published: now I have a long list. Having a Trauma wasn’t in any kind of existence, plans are set in motion for moving to New York and overall I think it would be fair to say I’ve grown up considerably too.

As I think of my own future, as a person, as a writer, I wonder how things will have changed in another year’s time. I wonder how my blog will have changed in a year- I do so hope I’m still writing it.

It’s been a delight to hear your feedback, messages from every last one of you. Messages from Germany, American, Spain, Austria, New Zealand all blow my mind. The few messages I have received saying that I reached out and helped somebody have made me feel an overwhelming amount of pride. I adore writing my blog but what I love even more-so is knowing that somebody has enjoyed it. I thank each and every one of you for reading. I invite you to leave a comment below telling me your favourite post over the last year: hopefully with enough feedback the top five will go into “The Best of” section I’m planning to implement at the top of the page.

I’m sure as time passes I will have countless more stories to share and I do hope you stick around to hear them. Who knows what the future will hold? I know what I want for my future and I’m putting all of myself into assuring everything I want to happen does.

Thinking to the future positively will always spur you on to making those things happen; think forward; think positive. Where do you see yourself in a year’s time, and where do you want to be? Wherever and whatever that might be, I’m 100% behind you.

Go for it, believe in yourself, and things will happen.

Blondes, Brunettes and Gingers.

2010-11-16T04:26:00.000-08:00

“I don’t have a type,” a friend told me recently. Puzzled, I thought for a moment, what is my type? What do I look for in a man? Okay, I’ve already got a boyfriend but I can still have a type, can’t I?

Between the age of 18 and 24, tall, smart, funny…

We all tend to list off the same characteristics but when push comes to shove more often than not the people we fall for aren’t in those defining categories.

(For those of you that can't read it it says: Brave, Intelligent, gentle, polite, energetic, non-alcoholic, industrious, self-organized.)

So why do we insist on putting a label on our interests? Why can’t we just say anybody who takes our fancy? I know I’ve found 5’6 men and 6’5 men attractive; blondes, brunettes, even gingers; skinny and muscley; intelligent and yes… not so intelligent too. Putting labels on the men we chase after can be detrimental to our future love-lives too. You never know, your friend might stumble upon somebody just right for you but she doesn’t pass his number on because he has brown eyes not blue.

I’m going round in circles a little here, but I think you see what I’m saying.

Men and women, don’t box in possibly lovers, take a chance on him; who cares if his hair is completely the wrong colour, that’s what they made hair dye for.

Learning to Laugh

2010-11-14T09:51:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we need to learn to laugh at ourselves in life, adopting a serious nature when somebody playfully shoots an inappropriate joke our way can often be the easier option. Embracing a joke however can often leave to better relationships and better well being for yourself. I could get all high and mighty about every gay joke I see, for instance, but I don’t.

That doesn’t mean if somebody made a completely offensive out of line joke that I wouldn’t defend myself – I would.

All of us seem to fit into some type of stereotype, whether it’s your nationality, your skin colour, the colour of your hair, your intellect or your sexual preference, nobody is immune to mockery. I come across gay jokes on a day to day basis and for the most part I find them genuinely funny. Programmes like South Park and Family Guy continue to ridicule gay men: I don’t see it as an attack though, I see it as satire. I personally believe that these jokes are actually mocking homophobes and not gay people at all.

A lot of people cast off programmes like these, considering them low art, unintelligent and offensive but I believe if we look underneath the surface they have a level of intellectual depth. I entirely sympathise with those people who are genuinely offended, I just feel that perhaps sometimes we may act offended because we feel we should be, not because we actually are.

Laughing at ourselves is important, falling over in the street can be tremendously embarrassing, you only make things worse if you act angry about it though; just relax and embrace the joke. You’ll feel better for it. It’s inevitable.