Narcissus is my home boy

Vanity - Pride in or admiration of one's own appearance or achievements.

Mirrors, the bane of any humble soul.

The retail outlet in which I work is plastered with mirrors. I wouldn't consider myself excessively narcissistic or vain but the difficulty that presents itself in tearing my eyes away from any reflective surface is damn scary.

Considering this, it strikes me as strange that vanity is thought of as such a negative trait; we are assaulted daily by media magicians telling us we're beautiful no matter the size, shape or colour we  happen to be endowed with and yet as we witness people catching their own reflection in a Vauxhall Astra wing mirror, pausing for a quick stare.... we judge, I know I do it, and I find it upsetting.
It is sad to me because although I agree that aesthetic value should not be the Summum Bonum, I cannot help but wonder; Why do we want those who enjoy their own reflections to not enjoy their own reflections? Is it jealousy? Is it disgust?

If make-up, new clothes, working out and preening are considered so important in garnering compliments from the big wide world, then why is it that we shun those that feel they deserve the compliments? Now don't get me wrong, I look down upon the bicep tensing, duck faced masses as much as the next high-horsed keyboard wielding Judge Dredd, but why? This is what intrigues me so much. Why do I despise them for wanting the acceptance that so many wish for but keep within a mirrors mind?

Maybe I'm writing this to convince myself that any vain act I carry out is not so bad after all, maybe I want to convince myself that I won't be judged by the witness of a quick glimpse at myself in the toilets of the university library.... Or maybe I'm just so vain and narcissistic that I truly believe people will want to read this vacuous crap.
Whatever the conclusion, when you're having a good twirl in front of the wardrobe mirror, staring at yourself for hours in the bathroom or checking yourself out in a well reflected café window, not giving a fuck when the people on the other side laugh -  remember, almost all of us do it, we're just too vain to admit it.

“People say sometimes that beauty is superficial. That may be so. But at least it is not so superficial as thought is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.” 
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

I never thought I'd say it, but Owen Wilson has enlightened me.

I've been staring at this (previously) blank screen for so long now that it's starting to take on forms, not necessarily in a joyful way, but more of  a blurry and nauseating one. I hate the term 'Writers Block' but that's only in reference to myself, and the reason? Because I'm not a writer in the first place.... and it sounds just plain silly as 'Block'. I'm unsure of the real reasons as to why I am stooping to the lowest of the low; writing about being unable to write. I have a hunch though.

I began to follow a fair number of different blogs and other such things recently and spotted one trend that seems to reverberate through them all in some form or another, this trend is Nostalgia, it oozes. I wouldn't mind if it dripped, or even if it flowed but oozing is just not polite, oozing suggests that something is hard to clean off.

I'm all for nostalgia, in fact I agree that it is a necessary thing to indulge in but aside from getting into some long and pedantic debate over whether nostalgia is just memory with a 'twinge'; I feel that people are obsessed, and far be it from me to judge a stalker, but people tend to forget the whole put the past in the past thing whilst clogging servers with posts about 'how it used to be' and 'the good old days'.

I know it might seem off topic, but I feel like this nostalgia binge that doesn't have a visible end is draining me of any thought for the now and is most definitely robbing me of any vision beyond yesteryear. Why can't people drag themselves away from this exalted past and be excited for tomorrow? I have the explanation in the form of ..... You guessed it, Owen bloody Wilson. 

Owen Wilson, in the film 'Midnight in Paris' begins the same as these oozing nostalgia-addicts. He finds it impossible to be content with his 21st century existence and wishes for a taste of these fabled Good Old Days. But as we see, (and I apologise for the spoiler guys but seriously is anyone going to get that angry? It's fucking Owen Wilson...I mean come on he looks like the kiddy catcher before the meth got a hold on him) he does get that taste of the past, in a literal way... AND he loves it! He truly does. But the point is that he realises that it's not just the spoiled, unsatisfied and greedy 21st century dwellers that revel in nostalgia.... He realises that no matter what year in history you choose, there would be something of the past that the people of said year missed. 

And so I have written something it seems, but it begrudges me to offer my thanks to the past (except for the kiddy catcher thing, thanks. THANKS FOR A THOUSAND NIGHTMARES) anyway,  the moral of this tale in my humble opinion is that we need to turn our eyes and minds frontways..... Nietzsche says we are historical beings, and so we are; but why don't we try and make some history for the future generations to be jealous of, instead of wallowing in a pool of sepia-tone longing.

Peace.

Procrastination is the devil, but at least I can smile about him.

So today I found this whilst procrastinating.

I don't want to turn into that soap-box-corner preacher that people avert their eyes from so as not to get pulled into some weird 1-2-1 Ralph Fiennes staring contest that only ends in you feeling guilty and deflated for being middle class (let's face it, he has mastered the withering stare)....But hear me out I beg of you.

I find it disturbing, disgusting and depressing how much truth such a simple picture can endow. Although yes, we seem to be heading for the big one; the TRIPLE dip recession, yes it's hard to find jobs and yes there is a big possibility that the realistic retirement age will soon be 600+, these are no real excuses for walking about this wonderful earth with a face that reminds one of Britney Spears when she realised she'd done it again.

This is the moment one instantly feels that an innocent smile at said stranger is perceived as a mocking tribute to their early morning commute after 2 hours sleep, a knowing laughter at their lack of successful sexual conquest or maybe a scornful smirk at the bedroom tax that suddenly looms. Who knows but they what it is that they glean from such a thoughtless kindness as this smile. Please understand that I do not mean to suggest that these problems are not problems, because indeed they are and indeed people affected by such issues have a right to be upset, unhappy and unanimous in their complaint.

I only mean to suggest that a smile is worn easy, and that if I'd known that (large generalisation ahead) the human race were such miserable specimens, I might have saved myself the trouble in that delivery room and jumped straight back in the bloody womb.

Peace

The first 'proper' blog post of many I would attempt.

So today I begin my life as devoted blogger, sycophant and tedious bore no doubt. I'm very disappointed in myself. You see I have admired from afar the efforts and achievements of a hundred different bloggers, blogs and what not, like a silent voyeur in the sways of an internet induced slideshow(coma). 

Every other day I believed it to be the time to take up my ergonomic keyboard and battle the apathy that has bogged me down, and everyday I found myself staring at a stream of beautiful but meaningless tumblr posts and thinking 'What do we say to blogging? Not today'(Whilst evidently watching Game of Thrones). But today I said today! Finally I have found my feet(fingers) and started walking(typing) the path of the righteous(screen-obsessed). 

It is a difficult thing to find a niche on which to focus ones efforts of the cogitations, there is no end to picture related blogs, again with the slideshow antics, no end to the alt-LIT scoundrels who experiment in their apple mac cauldrons with a thousand different fonts below a starry sky or situated upon some empty rail-way; "Your love might hurt but my scarred heart will always pull through xoxox </3" - Now I am all for sentimental feels, capturing the emotions of the world whilst backed by a faded snapshot of Brighton pier (or replace with Margaret Thatcher) but that will not stop me wishing an end upon this earnest clawing for nostalgic praise. Anyway you'll be happy in the knowledge that I'll update my manifesto at some point in the near or distant future.

However I am not a nihilist, which might be obvious through my obvious seeking of approval from the cyber-space community; I may decline from defining what I would wish to make the object of my blogging antics for now. Maybe I'll go into crockery, maybe not. Maybe I'll delve into the centre parcs scene-I've heard there's openings-but then again maybe not.

But for now I am satisfied that I've made it to the end of my first ever 'Proper' blog post without mentioning Kim-yong-unlikely. Damn.

Peace out,

Richard