I realize I've been very vague recently. All me me, I, I.

I assure you, I'll be back someday, soon, you will see.

I know you're careful. Cause I've been burned before, and I know how it makes you careful....

Right, I've had a good week to digest my good news. I've been feeling so under pressure since I got the news if I'm honest. I guess I thought the pressure would be off, being offered the position, but if anything; it's put more pressure on me, how I deal with it is a pretty significant deal breaker pertaining to my future. It's in my hands. I need to get a B in GCSE maths. I have a lot to do. I also need C's in my other subjects, but I'm pretty confident I can put them on the back burner and still get the required grades.  Christmas is pretty much sorted. I'm limiting my drinking over Christmas. If I drink; it's a few hours wasted that I could have spent going through maths stuff. I'm aiming for an A. I'm going to spend the next 6 weeks learning all the C/D grade shit ( I know most of it, but I want to be as sharp as possible) then start with the B grade stuff, and lastly A grade stuff, then just keep doing practice paper after practice paper, up until June. My maths tutor is very supportive, and he thinks it's achievable. So now I need to not think about failure. I need to get off facebook, and pull my finger out!

I'm still single, and I guess I'm in need of some affection. I keep having this utopian dream...everything is great; and then I wake up feeling repulsive. I'd usually be out getting completely rat arsed, on a bender, drowning my sorrows; but this time I'm keeping it together. I've realized that's not the thing to do. I have been out since we broke up, and got drunk, but I always knew what was going on.  Granted, I'm still not completely out of the relationship, I still live with her; I guess when I eventually fly this nest, I'll have more emotions to deal with; another test for me. I've got two nights out planned over the festive season; I'm going out with people from college, and I'm going out with my brother. I know in her head; I'm going to meet up with X,Y,Z and have all sorts of sexy time- on the contrary.  My confidence for that sort of thing is non existent anyway. As far as finding someone else goes, the white flag is already raised...the towel thrown in. Where would I start? My social circle is non-existent. If I go out, it's to arm pit pubs. Dating sites; the wrong kind of people- Morons. I'm ugly, it's just a fact- how I feel daily.  I want to concentrate on my career anyway. I miss being in love and all that goes with it.   If I can come out of all this, with my grades, down to my target weight of 14 stone; I will seriously be pleased with myself, and hopefully that side of my life will be rekindled.  For now it's fuckin' Stalingrad baby!!!

A load off.

It still hasn't sank in yet; but anyway; I've been accepted for a deck cadet-ship next September. Finally after what seems like an eternity of trying, I have something concrete, to actually work towards. There are a two barriers still standing in the way:- I need to pass my GCSE's- C or above in them all; and I specifically need a B in Maths. So the pressure isn't off . . .far from it. I'm pretty dire at Maths; but I have from now, until June to get myself ready for the exam. I'm a considerable step closer to my dream of becoming a mariner! I think if I pull my finger out; it's achievable! I also need to sort my BMI out; and I have every confidence that it will be fine by the time I have me medical!
Everything else going on my life at the moment seems to be diluted thanks to my good news.  I look forward to what 2012 has to offer me!

We're on the eve of destruction

One more sleep til' my first assessment day for a deck cadetship. I've prepared as best as I can. There's little more I can do . . well, maybe have a look at some algebra later, because I am utterly hopeless when it comes to maths. I'm hoping that it's a level 2 numeracy test; because if it's anything higher, I am going to fail it. I just hope, if explain to them, they'll let me retry again in 6 months; when I'll hopefully be up to speed. I'm half shitting myself half looking forward to it; which I think is about right really. I'm looking forward to it, because I know what's at stake, should I pass it- one step closer to fulfilling a dream, and getting the life I want. If I don't get in; I face the daunting prospect of a third failed interview; I've not gotten other jobs in the past, but I haven't really been arsed about those jobs. My first and second RFA interviews really hit me where it hurts.  Everything else in my life is on the back burner at the moment. 

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.

Ordinary, aimless, and aweful.

The day after I had a little moan about getting rejected by two Merchant navy companies, I potentially got news of two interviews. One assessment day, with a company just over the water, in Liverpool; which I must prepare for, and one of the bigger training outfits told me on the phone, that the next time they interview in Fleetwood, they'll "get me in" - so apart from that, I have been putting it all to the back of my mind; except yesterday, I got an application for Carnival, which needs filling in, and today, I finally sent an email Anglo Eastern, essentially begging for a cadetship in my own idiosyncratic way.  I love the feeling that it's all starting to fall into place. I know I have obstacles to overcome, but I'm 100% about this.

I'm taking a more merciless approached to my affiliates from now. It will result in a more solitary existence, potentially, but I care not. While I might have entertained remedial mind games for a while now; I am no longer doing so. The buck has stopped. It is no longer entertaining. I once played mind games quite a bit; and I was at a pretty advanced level, to say the least; incorporating the lot, guilt, reverse psychology, pity and lies to name a few psychological elements used to further my cause. Playing these mind games became boring; like when the life of a captured sparrow ends- The cat just fucks off, and goes and licks its pussy under a hedge. I'm going to fuck off, and lick my genitals under a hedge now (not literally), find something else to float my boat (literally, hopefully). I’ll be alone under the literal hedge, and I’ll be licking my own literal genitals. Aaahhh.  

 So, Life is like a game of chess; and as funny as it sounds, I never bothered to learn how to play chess- I was more of a draughts man; don't take anything away from me because of this, I'm aware of the fundamentals. I am a prescriber to the Sun Tzu philosophy. I got what I wanted out of draughts; I didn’t need to waste time learning chess. I’d rather read the book, than see the movie as a general rule.

I got off a train last year; when I should have perhaps stayed on it, and been completely honest; maybe I could have tried harder- (Story of my life) - cementing my aphorism that failure is palatable, where as regret is harder to deal with.  Yet failure, and his spotty little twat faced brother rejection, is merely a by-product of trying. When will I be on that train again? Who can say? What I do know, is that I won’t get off next time. I may have had everything handed to me on a plate; the ability, the opportunities, the advice; and yes, I may have not used my ability, taken advantage of the opportunities, or listened to the advice. But I’m here now; and I’m trying, amidst the possibilities of rejection, and that feeling that comes with it.

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.