Welcome to phase 2

I'm not far off a month into my "sea phase" and I have heard little from my training company about going to sea.  Many of my fellow Cadets have; so I'm sitting around, feeling frustrated, and generally not liking things.  The word is, that the beginning of April is a likely date for a birth to become available.   Don't be fooled, it's not all been sitting around moping- two weeks ago, I impulsively booked a two night trip to Krakow in Poland.

 It's funny that I said I wouldn't go there again, on the count of so many rude people there; in hindsight, that's not really the problem. I'd rather people act how they really are, than put up a charade of pseudo-friendliness, like here in the UK. For the second consecutive year, I gave up my seat on the bus for an elder, only to be scowled at. I'm beginning to think that manners are quintessentially a British custom. I was pretty inebriated in a bar, in the Jewish district, and I ended up playing some Mercury Rev, and Echo and the Bunnymen songs on a Piano; which was a particular highlight. The low point, being on the first night; my 'beer compass' must have needed recalibrating, as I didn't get back to the hotel til'  5am; after walking up and down in the snow for what seemed like eternity. I wanted to go and see inside the churches; and there was a few orchestral concerts on; I hinted to my mate about going, but I think he was just interested in the beer. Which wasn't a bad thing; but next time, I'm going to go for longer, and do what I want to do, as two nights wasn't enough.

This week I've been attempting to keep busy.  I've done 30 miles on the bike so far; and I'm intending on doing another 70 before the weeks out. 100 lousy miles; Considering last year I'd do 100 in one day; this isn't really acceptable.  Yesterday I took my dog across to Hilbre Island, which is a small group of three Islands off the coast of the Wirral; which you can walk over to at low water.  The intention was to test out my new (ish) camera by photographing the Seal colony; but they were not there; they must have been frolicking on some sandbank somewhere. So I just took some of the Island.

Lifeboat Launch (1849) - Last used in WW11

I made my way across through the morning mist; and when I got there, it was beautiful.  I was the only one there. For a twenty minutes or so; I took my hat off to Tom Neale. I'm reading Tom's book at the moment "An Island to Oneself" in which he tells of his 6 year stay on a tropical Atoll in the south pacific.  Just as I was beginning to appreciate the solitude; a family arrived, running amok; and a group of young hoodlums, one of which was a 'brummie'- he was louder than the American woman on the bus in Poland. Forgot to tell you about her, didn't I?   Anyway...back to the concrete jungle I went.

I bought my self a concert ukulele to take to sea with me; which over the past week, I've managed to master. I've been working on all different types of fancy strumming techniques, and I have to say that I love it. I don't go near my guitar any more!  

Another 6 weeks or so, of PHD level procrastination awaits me, before I finally go to sea.  I suppose I'll get stuck into to some rule of the road; and go over all the academic stuff from phase 1. 

2012

In all, 2012 was a good year for me.  I went from being a 27 year old, retaking his GCSE's; to a 28 year old Deck Officer cadet in the Merchant Navy. Joining the Merchant Navy to train as an Officer has been a goal of mine- for a number of years, and very proud of myself I am. In fact- I initially was happy to be a rating, so to be here now, training as an officer, I have transcended my ambitions.  Lookin' back is a bad habit, but, with one year ending, and another beginning; a little reflection wouldn't be the acme of foolishness.

  High points of the year for me, was firstly beginning my new life as a cadet. A big transition for me. Moving away again. . . . living in halls again . . . . in a really really small room with a single bed- I like to starfish when I sleep; this is not possible in Fleetwood Nautical College's campus beds; especially not for a fuller figured chap like myself. I suppose I should get accustomed to this? The course has been thoroughly enjoyable, and it's baffling to think that, there's only 3 weeks left of my first phase!  It's been a relief that the group of people I am training with are all good seeds; and I mean that. I usually hate everyone! Everything! What's happening here?  If I'd have done this cadetship at the age of 18, I would have probably been sacked by now. This is the right time. This is the right place.  It's all going great, and I'm getting ever closer to fulfilling my ambitions. Sure there's been times where I've been angry about things, and there's about 4 unpublished rants about incidents that have riled me. I decided not to share them with the world, in an attempt to let negativity wash over me. I had a pretty traumatic time in my second month of training. 12 weeks of, well, a living hell. Pure character building stuff- maybe I'll talk about it in years to come. Chapter closed.

I just finished reading a motivational book. Yes, I know, it makes me sound like a weak minded fool, who needs guidance from some greater mind. Reading it has just made me feel better about the way I've conducted myself over the past few years. It was looking bleak for me at 24; but I set long term goals, and I set short term ones, and I've slowly been getting over each hurdle accordingly. The book is by the great American athlete Michael Johnson. It's called "Slaying the dragon" - the ethos?  What do you want to do? How are you going to do that? - Methodical. I like it! That box was already ticked Michael my friend, but it's good to know that I'm on the right track. Some parts of it have given me a fresh approach to getting over these trials and tribulations. Why a motivational book by Michael Johnson though? Well- I was watching the Olympics this year, and he was on there as a pundit, as he usually is.  I have a massive amount of respect for him. He knows his sport. He is clear, concise, intelligent, humble, and there isn't an ounce of national self righteousness about him; a trait that can often be found in Americans. I remember him giving his summary about Usain Bolts qualifying run. He went into so much detail; and analysed it beyond repair. The presenter then asked Kelly Holmes what she thought, and she just muttered timidly "I agree with what Michael said" - I laughed to myself, and then looked up Michael on Google, noticed he had a motivational book, and thought to myself, "I'll have me some of that..this Sun Tzu puddle is drying out"


I've been watching a considerable amount of David Attenborough documentaries over the past few days; prompted by the "60 years in the wild" thing on the BBC. I think if I could live any one life lived by any Human, I'd live his. A truly remarkable man. I mean Hugh Heffner comes a close second! I hope he continues to make programmes despite his old age.  A highlight for me was this Cargo Cult documentary, made in the 60's! Being a long time follower of the John Frum movement (not an actual follower, just someone interested) I was aware this documentary existed, and for years longed to see it. A highlight of Christmas was watching it for the first time. I paid tribute to John Frum in my power pop band, writing a song on the subject- it can be heard here- John Frum - The HardSocks - ignore my scrappy vocals!! On the subject of music. I'm thinking of getting myself a decent UKELE to take to sea with me. I left my guitar in Fleetwood, when I came home for Christmas and I miss it. I'd miss not being able to play something when I join my first ship.

I guess I'll be back in a few days with some resolutions.

Take away the adjectives, and you are left with the facts . . . .

I decided to swerve my usual cycling club run at the weekend for a night of standing in a pub with my mate Goodlet on the quiz machine in wetherspoons. I guess I had a laugh at the time; and the rest of the night is somewhat of a blur; I blame cheeky vimto. I punished my self with an hour long tubo session last night; but I still can't help but feel guilty. I don't think I should drink any more. I say it...too much; but I really can't deal with hangovers. I feel rotten for days after. Alcohol is a depressant, and boy do I feel depressed right now. I'm not sure if it's because I've just been handing CV's out in Liverpool; I handed two out, in four attempts- the two failed attempts, were basically them saying, 'sorry, we've already got staff'- but I'm interpreting it as, "sorry, but you're an ugly bastard".

****

I started writing this earlier on, in a bit of a foul mood. I had to dash out, as I was on a time limit.  I had to go the gym; and I had to pick Evelyn up from school. I feel alot better after my gym session; if a little sore. A mate of my from college works in the place; and from the looks of things he knows how to build muscle; which is exactly what I'm looking to do over the coming months. I want to sort my posture out; by working my back more than my chest; work my upper body, because it's been neglected to fuck with all this cycling, and if I carry on, I'll do some serious damage to my back. I also want to build muscle the upper regions to complement my legs, which have had their fair share of working out over the past three years.  So yeah; evident inferiority complex right there. I feel repulsive to the opposite sex; I am too fat; despite losing a mammoth amount of weight- the job is not finished. Even if I'd lost the weight, I'm not sure I'd ever be confident. I guess this all stems back to Junior school; Fancying a girl like hell; only to have her toy with me; and pursue all my friends; then going out with another girl, only to come back off holiday to find out she dumped me, and was with another person. Despite it being early in my love-life operations; I feel these moments  had a devastating impact on my self consciousness to this date. I remember in Primary school, I fancied a girl called Sarah Evans; and I have not seen her since primary school. I occasionally wonder what happened to her. If I carry on at this rate, I'll be going all "high fidelity" and I don't think now is the right time.

 I'm pretty much in obsession mode with this interview. I don't really need to prepare as such; I'm all prepared up to the max, from my previous attempts. I honestly think, if I could just lose 2 more stone before interview, I'd have a better chance  There's little I can do from now until then- maybe half a stone max- I am not interested in these crash diets though. I need to just accept it, and hope that they can see through the extra pounds. But then, the realist in my chirps in with "I'd pick skinny over a fatty if I was interviewing"- .I'm working on my weaknesses; which is the Maths side of things. I'm pretty sure it'll be basic stuff; which I'm covering at the moment in my adult numeracy course (Maths for mongs)  I guess I'm letting my weight manifest, along with my desire for a career at sea. Fundamentally, I yearn for acceptance. My daughter has just came in, and told me that she smells like a man.(She'd found my aftershave) - Doing my weekly fatherly duties; collect her from school; feed her, and then her mum picks her up. That's another thing that troubles me, but I don't feel like going into to it at all. In English literature; in our first lesson, we did a Poem, by Roger Mc Gough, called 'the railings'. I thought it was shit at the time. 'I can write better than this, this is shit' I thought, and to be honest, I still don't really rate the poem; as face value. What was drawn towards was the relationship that the poet had with his son. I sort of felt like I could relate to the father in the  Poem. I pretty much feel like a fish out of water when I'm around Evelyn. I go down to her school to pick her up; and I just want to get away from the place, I don't belong there; and I don't want to belong there. I overhear other street urchin tip-rat parents; with their multitudes of spawn; blathering on inanely about all sorts of crap; from parenting skills to x factor opinions, and what they did at the weekend. I grind my teeth!  Although I despise it so much; I still do it every week. Evelyn loves it when I pick her up; and I think she enjoys challenging my authority; apparently "mummy is the boss" - and she is, but I just can't carry on and watch my daughter dawdling along; and gawping at people across the road. I always feel uneasy when a kid is gawping at me on a bus; or what not. So am I wrong to tell my daughter that starring at people for longer than a few seconds is not on? "It's fine to look at people, but to keep doing it, for a long time is wrong, and you might upset people" I told her. "I can look at anyone I want" she sternly responded.
I did tell her mother; but apparently "It's what 4 year olds do"   I know I'm a shit dad; I was not ready for fatherhood; and I'm still not ready for it now. I am at least making an effort, even if some people would look at it a farcical level of input. I'm never going to be the paterfamilias! There's worse fathers out there than me, let me tell you. The fact I'm talking about it, and that I feel guilty that I'm not there for her more, hardly makes it forgiveable but I've got my life to live; her mother has a partner - I love Evie to bits; but at arms length is probably the best for all parties. Hopefully, when I'm where I want to be career wise; my relationship with Evelyn will flourish; I'll be able to provide more than a few hours a week. I can sleep knowing she's having a decent upbringing, surrounded by love.

Rejection, rejection, and more rejection.

I got an email today from one of the training companies that run the cadetships, saying I have not been selected for interview; which was a bit of a blow; I don't like rejection as much as the next man; but I was sure that on my applications I came across as someone genuinely interested, and serious about pursuing this career, some one academically capable, and possessing  the right personality traits to succeed. I've failed twice with the RFA, but that was different. I passed an RT test, and I made the sift, and I was invited for interview; on two occasions. Maybe it was the fact that I went to Portsmouth; and going through those motions made the rejection somewhat different- there was a sense of achievement there, amidst the failure; my feedback was basically, that I interviewed well, and on another day I would have got in. Tough luck for me.  Getting a generic e-mail is a little more soul destroying; no mention of why, or when I can re-apply; thank you and fuck off.  I then checked my email, and realised it had been over 28 days since I'd applied for Viking training; which meant another rejection; this one not even with anything to to symbolize it; just nothing, but nothing, for 28 days, then nothing.  Only yesterday, I was saying to myself; I need to just concentrate on the present; being at college- when it happens, it happens. When it happens. I was that confident this was for me. There's a slight doubt now; what if they all come back as rejections, where do I stand then? Wait another year? I think I would if I had to. I guess I've got BP to apply for in December, and I'm going to print out an application for carnival UK tomorrow; I think with my customer service background, and obvious interest in a career as a deck officer; could put me in a decent position. Plus, I've got Meridian, Maersk, SSTG, and CMT that I'm yet to hear from. So, it's time to focus on other things, for now.  I hope that when I next mention the Merchant Navy in my blog, it's good news; interview related maybe!

I had an enjoyable day at the races today. Stark contrast to the horrible day I had at Aintree races.  Bangor-on-dee; my favourite course; and my favourite jockey, Charlie Poste got the first winner for me, and I went on to get another winner, and two seconds. I actually bet, and won on a horse ridden by Tony Mc coy; dispelling the belief that he's my bogey jockey; as in, when I back him, he loses, when I don't he wins. How narcissistic of me!

On the way, I seen this car, parked at Wrexham train station.

I'm not sure if I think this is awesome, or pathetic

Here's Charlie Poste, on Milo Milan, before winning the first race.