The title of my new Blog, ‘Comfortador’, is a word which was invented by writer extraordinaire Joss Whedon, the man responsible for films such as 'Alien:Resurrection' and 'Toy Story' as well as the excellent comic book series ‘Astonishing X-Men’. His television work however is what he is most famous for, having created the critically acclaimed cult television shows ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and ‘Angel’
The word is a play on ‘Conquistador’ a word that literally means ‘He who conquers’ but I believe can used to also mean ‘He who seeks conquest’. It is from the second meaning that Comfortador is derived from - meaning ‘He who seeks comfort’.
I had a text from my friend Michael (Nigel) yesterday asking me to describe him in just one word. I couldn’t do it, I came up with ‘witty’ which was, to put it plainly and politely, rubbish. But comfortador is my ‘one word’, my descriptive. All I want is to live a quiet and happy life. I don’t seek fortune or fame but I equally don’t want to constantly struggle and be unremarkable. I don’t care if I’m the best or if I win or lose, I have no interest in conquest I just want to be happy, to be comfortable.
I know that might seem a little boring, a little unambitious, maybe even a little old fashioned - but I’m comfortable with that.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Grandfather
Have you ever thought that the life your parents have led is far more interesting than your own? I certainly have, In my family there used to be a new shocking discover just about every year. The most shocking of which from my perspective came when I was between 10 and 13 and found out that my dad had been married to someone before my mum and that I had a brother and sister I never met.
My parent’s stories are filled with gangsters they socialise with, murders and murderers, secret births and weddings – and this is just the stuff they tell us about! Most fascinating to me however is the kidnapping of my mother when she was a baby by her father.
Martin Wedlock, my Gran’s first husband, was at some point in time, was stranded on a raft for three days by himself. I don’t know what had happened that caused him to be on that boat and neither does my Mum, but, she had been told that when her father had left to go to war he was said to be a kind man and loving husband. When he came back his time in the water had changed him, something had splintered his mind while being stranded and he had apparently developed a terrible temperament.
I apologise if the details here are a little sketchy but the fact is that I don’t think my Mum, who told me about this, knows all that much about it. My Mother had never met the man and in fact only saw her father for the first time a few months ago in some pictures that she was able to get from some of his family that she was able to track down.
Some time after the change in Wedlock’s personality my Grandmother had filled for divorce, whether she had already given birth to my mother or if she was pregnant I do not know. All I know is that when my Mum was still an infant in her crib Martin Wedlock took her and jumped out of her first story bedroom window with her in his arms. As dramatic as this was my mother was soon back home after my Gran and her sister went round to where Wedlock was living and simply took her back home.
I wish I knew more to tell you, if fact I just wish I knew more about the man full stop, but, anyone who could tell me about him and this incident is sadly dead or simply unapproachable for comment. The family that gave her the photographs of him told that he my mother that he had been a very kind man who was always smiling and joking. Having apparently having got over his problems Martin Wedlock, as my Mum always refers to him never as ‘my father’ or 'dad', remarried and lived a happy life in Fife until he died at some point in the last decade or so.
My parent’s stories are filled with gangsters they socialise with, murders and murderers, secret births and weddings – and this is just the stuff they tell us about! Most fascinating to me however is the kidnapping of my mother when she was a baby by her father.
Martin Wedlock, my Gran’s first husband, was at some point in time, was stranded on a raft for three days by himself. I don’t know what had happened that caused him to be on that boat and neither does my Mum, but, she had been told that when her father had left to go to war he was said to be a kind man and loving husband. When he came back his time in the water had changed him, something had splintered his mind while being stranded and he had apparently developed a terrible temperament.
I apologise if the details here are a little sketchy but the fact is that I don’t think my Mum, who told me about this, knows all that much about it. My Mother had never met the man and in fact only saw her father for the first time a few months ago in some pictures that she was able to get from some of his family that she was able to track down.
Some time after the change in Wedlock’s personality my Grandmother had filled for divorce, whether she had already given birth to my mother or if she was pregnant I do not know. All I know is that when my Mum was still an infant in her crib Martin Wedlock took her and jumped out of her first story bedroom window with her in his arms. As dramatic as this was my mother was soon back home after my Gran and her sister went round to where Wedlock was living and simply took her back home.
I wish I knew more to tell you, if fact I just wish I knew more about the man full stop, but, anyone who could tell me about him and this incident is sadly dead or simply unapproachable for comment. The family that gave her the photographs of him told that he my mother that he had been a very kind man who was always smiling and joking. Having apparently having got over his problems Martin Wedlock, as my Mum always refers to him never as ‘my father’ or 'dad', remarried and lived a happy life in Fife until he died at some point in the last decade or so.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Idol Chat
Think about your hero, think why they are your hero and what it is you admire about them. I only bring it up because I mentioned my own hero, Muhammad Ali, in last night’s blog and thought that I should qualify or explain that statement.
Born Cassius Marcellus Clay to a poor family in Louisiana Ali fought his way to the top becoming Heavy Weight Champion of the world for the first time in 1964. After retaining the title for 3 years beating 9 challengers, Ali was stripped of the title in 1967 for refusing to be drafted into the Vietnam War. He would twice regain his stolen title becoming the first man in history to win the belt three times and becoming the greatest boxer of all time. Despite his sporting achievements, which are impressive and worthy of note, it was Ali’s actions outside of the ring which merit my idolism.
His refusal to join the US Army came after the draft board, which Ali had been tested by previously, altered their requirements for service meaning that hundreds of men who had been unfit for service suddenly found themselves being fitted for boots and a helmet. Using his position as a public figure Ali refused to fight in war for the same people who would not allow him to sit with them on the bus or eat at their table – In his own words, spoken to a reporter,
It is this firm conviction in what he believes to be right and his
unflinching will power to do what says which I admire. He was poorly educated
but highly intelligent and as fast with his mouth as he was in the
ring.
There is a line in the film ‘Ali’ ,which I am not sure if
Muhammad ever spoke, but I believe it sums up the man perfectly.
What better words to live by are there?
Born Cassius Marcellus Clay to a poor family in Louisiana Ali fought his way to the top becoming Heavy Weight Champion of the world for the first time in 1964. After retaining the title for 3 years beating 9 challengers, Ali was stripped of the title in 1967 for refusing to be drafted into the Vietnam War. He would twice regain his stolen title becoming the first man in history to win the belt three times and becoming the greatest boxer of all time. Despite his sporting achievements, which are impressive and worthy of note, it was Ali’s actions outside of the ring which merit my idolism.
His refusal to join the US Army came after the draft board, which Ali had been tested by previously, altered their requirements for service meaning that hundreds of men who had been unfit for service suddenly found themselves being fitted for boots and a helmet. Using his position as a public figure Ali refused to fight in war for the same people who would not allow him to sit with them on the bus or eat at their table – In his own words, spoken to a reporter,
"No Vietnamese ever called me nigger."
It is this firm conviction in what he believes to be right and his
unflinching will power to do what says which I admire. He was poorly educated
but highly intelligent and as fast with his mouth as he was in the
ring.
There is a line in the film ‘Ali’ ,which I am not sure if
Muhammad ever spoke, but I believe it sums up the man perfectly.
"I don’t got to be what nobody else wants me to be and I ain’t afraid to be
what I want to be."
What better words to live by are there?
The Last(?)
In homage to my first post, simply titled 'The First', I want to give this post the equilly simple title of 'The Last', but I can't help but type that question mark.
The truth is I may from time to time and update the chronicals of my quest for an avarage life - not so much on a day to day basis; more on a 'when there is actually something to tell basis'. This is something I won't be doing on my new blog 'The Comfortador' and tell you the truth I'm worried that if I don't update this site every so often that it will be wiped.
The truth is I may from time to time and update the chronicals of my quest for an avarage life - not so much on a day to day basis; more on a 'when there is actually something to tell basis'. This is something I won't be doing on my new blog 'The Comfortador' and tell you the truth I'm worried that if I don't update this site every so often that it will be wiped.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
The New Frontier
I don’t know how it happened, maybe we’ve all figured out that our lives aren’t as exciting as we might have wished, but it seems that blogging is just about ready for the long dark sleep – at least amongst those I know to participate.
Last week Michelle, Laura, Stuart and Myself spent a few days in Millport, and although there are some stories to tell I can help but feel that I would rather tell my stories in company and hear the laughs and the comments first hand. Don’t you?
In my case I feel I have also began to use my blog as a sound board for my whines and gripes about my job - I’ve become a bore on the subject to the extent that even I can’t be bothered listening anymore.
To that end I will be no longer be writing about the mundane day to day happenings of the work place or my home life, there will be no more tirades about my unsatisfying work my stories will be kept for ears to listen rather than for the eyes that I suspect no longer read them.
Despite all this I don’t really want to give up my own little corner of the internet. I still love being able to Google myself. From now on my blog will concentrate on the stories I have told hundreds of times before - the ones I know will bring a smile to faces. I’ll also look the little oddities and peculiarities that happen and go unremarked upon in everyday life – In short I’ll look for those things that are worth writing or at least that people might just find at least mildly interesting, amusing or worthy of their time.
I don’t think it will be easy, but as I tell anyone who’ll listen I would love to write for a living and if forced I might even tell you that I think I have a aptitude for it, so here’s my opportunity to prove it.
To mark this change of pace I’ll be giving the site a new look soon, wish my venture luck and I’ll see you in the new frontier.
Last week Michelle, Laura, Stuart and Myself spent a few days in Millport, and although there are some stories to tell I can help but feel that I would rather tell my stories in company and hear the laughs and the comments first hand. Don’t you?
In my case I feel I have also began to use my blog as a sound board for my whines and gripes about my job - I’ve become a bore on the subject to the extent that even I can’t be bothered listening anymore.
To that end I will be no longer be writing about the mundane day to day happenings of the work place or my home life, there will be no more tirades about my unsatisfying work my stories will be kept for ears to listen rather than for the eyes that I suspect no longer read them.
Despite all this I don’t really want to give up my own little corner of the internet. I still love being able to Google myself. From now on my blog will concentrate on the stories I have told hundreds of times before - the ones I know will bring a smile to faces. I’ll also look the little oddities and peculiarities that happen and go unremarked upon in everyday life – In short I’ll look for those things that are worth writing or at least that people might just find at least mildly interesting, amusing or worthy of their time.
I don’t think it will be easy, but as I tell anyone who’ll listen I would love to write for a living and if forced I might even tell you that I think I have a aptitude for it, so here’s my opportunity to prove it.
To mark this change of pace I’ll be giving the site a new look soon, wish my venture luck and I’ll see you in the new frontier.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Emergency Call
I’ve just played a message that was on the phone in my work on the speaker phone. The message played as follows: -
"Aargh shit! Awright, Ah’ve cut ma willy on a barb wire fence, ah need help. Ah f**kin’… Whit ah need is a tube of Savlon, a plaster – big plaster, and ah f**kin wet suit and a divers helmet. Bye."
The time of the call was early Sunday morning the caller was unknown.
"Aargh shit! Awright, Ah’ve cut ma willy on a barb wire fence, ah need help. Ah f**kin’… Whit ah need is a tube of Savlon, a plaster – big plaster, and ah f**kin wet suit and a divers helmet. Bye."
The time of the call was early Sunday morning the caller was unknown.
Gucci Shoes
How many people are working today? Just me? I thought as much. Never the matter, despite the fact I’m sure you’ll all be too busy with your free time and your sunny day to read my post I’ll write it anyway.
In truth though I did have a good weekend and was out all day on Saturday there’s not much to tell. As I had mentioned in my last post, Saturday was Nigel’s birthday day out. We had lunch/dinner in town at Underworld late in the afternoon, I went home to get Michelle, who had been at work, and we rejoined everyone at Shaw’s. As per usual in this kind of night there was lively debate and much laughs were had by all but, as anyone knows these laughs are best left to the night and never retold in a way that does them justice.
The only story I will tell from that night is the socially awkward conversation I had while trying to explain how I was socially awkward. As an example of a social situation in which I felt strange was when Shaw and I found ourselves sitting in the flat playing the X-Box. “So, what?” I’m sure your saying much as everyone did on the night. I explained to them, as I will explain to you now, that in spite of knowing Shaw for over a decade through school and being friends with him for quite a few years I had never found myself in his company when we were not in a group. Now if I sit with Nigel, I sit with Sparkie, I sit with David, Jim, obviously Michelle and these people know I’m not a conversationalist and are comfortable with that. Bottom line they know me. As much as one person can know another they know me, and it comforts me to know that they know, you know? I’m a comfortador (my new favourite word) and when I find myself with people other than this I feel a tension fill the room, I have to talk, and I have to say things, any things.
Understand? No, neither did Shaw who, no doubt helped by the drink, summed up my explanation to the result that I was exclusively uncomfortable in his company alone. This was, I think, mostly he and everyone else having a laugh at my expense but that did not stop me fervently trying to back pedal to extent that my throat was raw and my voice was hoarse.
In spite of this hole digging exercise in ridicule and misunderstanding both I and Michelle had a great night which lasted into the wee hours of the morning.
The other point of interest from the night was the fact that there may be a new addition to our one bedroom flat, but I don’t want to say too much until I’m sure there’s something to say.
For now I’m off to clear the shite from my desk and reflect on my social issues.
In truth though I did have a good weekend and was out all day on Saturday there’s not much to tell. As I had mentioned in my last post, Saturday was Nigel’s birthday day out. We had lunch/dinner in town at Underworld late in the afternoon, I went home to get Michelle, who had been at work, and we rejoined everyone at Shaw’s. As per usual in this kind of night there was lively debate and much laughs were had by all but, as anyone knows these laughs are best left to the night and never retold in a way that does them justice.
The only story I will tell from that night is the socially awkward conversation I had while trying to explain how I was socially awkward. As an example of a social situation in which I felt strange was when Shaw and I found ourselves sitting in the flat playing the X-Box. “So, what?” I’m sure your saying much as everyone did on the night. I explained to them, as I will explain to you now, that in spite of knowing Shaw for over a decade through school and being friends with him for quite a few years I had never found myself in his company when we were not in a group. Now if I sit with Nigel, I sit with Sparkie, I sit with David, Jim, obviously Michelle and these people know I’m not a conversationalist and are comfortable with that. Bottom line they know me. As much as one person can know another they know me, and it comforts me to know that they know, you know? I’m a comfortador (my new favourite word) and when I find myself with people other than this I feel a tension fill the room, I have to talk, and I have to say things, any things.
Understand? No, neither did Shaw who, no doubt helped by the drink, summed up my explanation to the result that I was exclusively uncomfortable in his company alone. This was, I think, mostly he and everyone else having a laugh at my expense but that did not stop me fervently trying to back pedal to extent that my throat was raw and my voice was hoarse.
In spite of this hole digging exercise in ridicule and misunderstanding both I and Michelle had a great night which lasted into the wee hours of the morning.
The other point of interest from the night was the fact that there may be a new addition to our one bedroom flat, but I don’t want to say too much until I’m sure there’s something to say.
For now I’m off to clear the shite from my desk and reflect on my social issues.
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