The Apex of Boredom

In the week or so since my last entry, I have been busy being not particularly busy, by which I mean I have been at work. Okay, perhaps that is a little flippant; I am merely trying to point out that the day-to-day life of a sales assistant is at the whim of his customers. And as I have come to learn over the past few days, the vast majority of this particular sales assistant's customers have better things to do during the middle of the week than buy greeting cards for distant relatives, not to mention even more distant occasions, that they really couldn't care less about. Not that I blame them; after all, such trivial concerns can usually wait until the weekend when instead of trying to find time, they are trying to fill it. However, as a direct result, this means that working during the week can often be a particularly tedious affair and this brings me to the crux of this post: boredom. Now before you decide to stop reading, I would just like to mention that it is not my aim to induce crippling ennui in the minds of all those who read this (although, as a sort of rudimentary disclaimer, I should also say that I cannot rule out the possibility of such an ironic eventuality). No, rather this is a meditation born of boredom, on what it means to be bored.

Confessions of a Sales Assistant

You know it's going to be a long day when the most interesting thing that has happened thus far is receiving a text message from an unknown phone number that has obviously been sent to the wrong person, that is to say, me. Unless I know a "Hayden", which I don't, and she likes to refer to me as "Brit", which I'd highly doubt even if we were acquainted, then I think the likelihood is that I am not the intended recipient; and that's fine, I didn't want to go to the "prom" tonight anyway. Perhaps that isn't the most interesting thing that has happened today. After all, I have been removing promotional stickers from diaries for the past hour only to replace them with exactly the same stickers except in a slightly different hue... You may think I'm being facetious, if so well done, but, as I've come to learn in the retail business, even the most repetitive of menial tasks is infinitely more preferable than having nothing to do. Having said that, thank god it's lunch time.

Coffee 101: An Epiphany

Like many recent graduates, I am currently honing my skills in the retail industry. Whilst the situation that I have found myself in is undoubtedly a sad reflection on the current state of the economic climate, it is not something that I like to dwell upon; after all, some people enjoy working in retail. As for me, I simply treat it as a means to an end. Admittedly, after standing around on my feet for hours at a time, subject to the petty whims of over-zealous customers and occasionally being treated as a second-class citizen, that end seems very far away indeed. Nevertheless, it isn't all bad. For instance, I like to think that after spending the past four months in such close proximity to others, as the other so to speak, I've become something of an amateur psychologist. Either way, I always look forward to my break, at which point I reconnect with the society I've been spectating all morning by ordering a drink and blending in to the background of a busy cafe. The resulting coffee is invariably disappointing, more token gesture than poor imitation, but the desire for a warm drink has always outweighed the aversion to an insipid taste. Until today, that is, for what I received this afternoon was quite literally the worst cup of "coffee" I have ever had the misfortune of sipping. Although it would be fair to say that my tastes have become somewhat refined since taking up coffee as a hobby, I imagine even the most ardent fan of the cheap instant variety would be repulsed by the terribly burnt, acidic swill that I was served, which neither a will of iron nor a tongue of stone could shake. This regrettable experience has led me to reconsider my own journey towards an understanding of what makes a good cup of coffee; the results of which I feel compelled to record lest my faith in my favourite drink is ruined forever.

Music Wot I Like: Brian Eno - Another Green World

When I first conceived of the idea to write a blog, the whole concept of "blogging" had only just begun to emerge as the mainstream phenomenon that it is today. For an impressionable young teenager, such as myself as I was at that time, the very notion of being able to occupy one's own space within the vast ecosystem of the internet was incredibly alluring. But alas, for better or worse, I never did start my own blog all those years ago; mainly because I didn't know what to write about, which, as you might imagine, was a major obstacle. Nevertheless, around the same time I did begin to post a number of very amateur music reviews on the wonderful RYM. Although this was a fairly short-lived hobby, sadly of which no evidence remains, it has since become a source of great nostalgia. So it is with some excitement that I look forward to writing about music once again and what better to begin with than the album from which this blog earns its namesake; Brian Eno's Another Green World (1975).

The Adventures of Tilly: An Atypical But Not So Unexpected Morning

After suffering a night of miscellaneous back pain, I awoke this morning not to the sound of Tilly whining to be fed, nor to the scrambling of her feet as she clambers haphazardly over the duvet, but to silence. A year ago this would have been a good thing but these days such blissful peace is a worrying sign. There are two things that you should know about Tilly. Firstly, she was found abandoned in a shed within the first few weeks of her life, suffering from a form of feline muscular dystrophy. This unfortunate ailment primarily affects her back legs and has rendered her tail almost completely insensitive. As a result, she occasionally finds it difficult to traverse the wilds of our apartment and I think it is fair to say that she lacks even a modicum of the graceful elegance of movement that you'd normally expect from a cat. As if that wasn't enough, Till is also particularly prone to urinary problems and has recently been diagnosed with a heart murmur. Now, before this post descends any further into a cheap parody of a charity plea, the second thing that you should know about Tilly is that none of the above bothers her in the slightest. In fact, she is as tenacious and inquisitive as the next kitten. Given this none too insignificant fact, waking up in the morning outside of Till's normal routine only ever means trouble.

On Camus, Indifference and Truth

Over the last couple of days, I finally found the time to leaf rather lazily through a copy of Albert Camus' The Outsider (1942), which has been waiting patiently on my bookshelf for the past six months or so. When I say that I "found the time" what I really mean, and what I suspect most people mean by this particular phrase, is that I finally mustered the effort required to commit myself to something outside of my everyday routine. And yet even so, The Outsider hardly battles to keep the reader's interest. Rather, it gently ebbs and flows with the same stark indifference displayed by its seemingly dispassionate protagonist. As a result, I found my thoughts occasionally drifting away from those of Meursault before casually picking up where I had left off half a page later; none the wiser to his predicament during my impromptu interval and none too concerned either. Whilst this may seem like a damning indictment of one of the twentieth century's most celebrated philosophical novels, perhaps I am giving you the wrong impression? 

A Magnificent Birth

Meet Tilly (left) and Mona (right)

Today is a day much like any other. For instance, the sun rose in the morning as it is prone to do, the cats spent the afternoon asleep at entirely opposite ends of the bean bag, and this evening I am once again staring into the glowing abyss that is my computer screen. And yet today is not so much like any other. After all, this morning I received an espresso tamper in the post, I had a bath in the middle of the afternoon, and at this exact moment I am writing the first entry of this very blog.