Sicky and Ickey

The swine flu epidemic is back according to many of the papers, and I’m thinking that I’m a swine. I have a temperature, I’m not to sure whether I am way to hot or too cold. My vision is blurred and even the thought of food is making the sick feeling in my stomach heighten.

I think that my fever may have gone to my head and probably is affecting my thinking, as I don’t think writing a blog is probably a great idea as it may not make sense. I haven’t properly gotten out of bed in two days and it’s absolutely doing my head in. I hate being ill and I hate winter. I want it to be summer so that I can wear my shorts and breathe through my nose.

The other alternative is to be like the birdies and fly south for the winter; I think that would make a really nice Disney film, the delirious thought’s of a sick person.

 Speaking of which in my cold and shivering state I have decided to watch Marley and Me and I’m suppressing small sobs every so often as this is such a soppy film. But then again that could just be because of the fever. I also think everything would be slightly more realistic if Jennifer Anniston and Owen Wilson actually aged at all.

My own dog, Cookie is doing my head in. I have my laptop on my lap as I watch the film surrounded by tissues and Cookie has spent the past half hour trying to get on my bed, but keeps giving up to bark at Marley on the TV.

Anyway I think it might be time for my one hundredth Lemsip and another nap, mainly because a nap would mean I’ll miss the horrible ending of Marley and Me.

Feeling a little festive

The heady smell of pine fills the air, my mum manically saws away at the base of quite a magnificent Christmas tree and the dog takes advantage of the mayhem by eating biscuits foolishly left on the coffee table. My 10-year-old brother and five-year-old sister squabble over who will put the fairy on top of the tree. A tin of celebrations is knocked onto the floor with the contents spilling everywhere, my Nan walks in stumbles on the chocolate and swears loudly- it now officially feels like Christmas.

 This mixture of seasonal cheer yet festive frustration seems to be echoed throughout most of society. The Independent on Saturday morning took this approach- the seasonal news is oppositional; fun nibs about Christmas parties amid such scurrilous scepticism that would make Ebenezer Scrooge blush, yes that is a Dickensian allusion. But ‘tiss the season and if you haven’t guessed this is a Christmas blog.

 The Independent’s Alice-Azania Jarvis makes a valid point of how starting Christmas shopping early results in spending far more than you would normally and attributes this to the smell of mulled wine, which does seem very plausible. There is something enchanting (alcoholic) about mulled wine that does make otherwise quite dull things very fun- like Christmas shopping.

 However, as another tax increase looms Personal Finance Editor Simon Read warns of the dangers of over spending especially at such an over indulgent season. But as a nation of frivolous spenders with debts that match the deficit, I think this warning will fall on deaf ears.

Closer to home, my family every year attempt to cap the amount we spend on each other. I get told every year that this will be the last time I get presents from Santa- though none of this ever comes into fruition and on Christmas day me, my sisters and my brothers (all five of us) wake up in the same room with stockings that Santa has left for us and all money worries melt away.

I wrote this while sat at work on Saturday morning, I don’t think there is much of a point to it- perhaps just that I love Christmas and cannot wait for Christmas day. To be drunk by midday, shout myself horse from trying to compete with the hundreds of relatives all wanting to have their say and then eating so much dry turkey that I feel very very sick.  Bring it on!

Newspapers, novels and lack of sleep

I seem to be suffering from a mixture of sleep deprivation and insomnia. So I am incredibly tired, but can’t actually for the life of me get to sleep before… Well okay normally I’m asleep by about half 12- but I’m just not meant to stay up too late. I need at least 10 hours of sleep or I am a grump- which probably explains a lot.

During my long evenings there seems to be only a limited amount of things I will do- one of which, bizarrely enough is go through old papers. On my journalism course we get a mixture of papers every day, some might say a dubious selection but I feel compelled to try and read them all.

Though because we are worked like kids in a sweat shop there is little time to read the papers during the day and sometimes for a couple of days- so what I’ve been doing is reading a weeks worth of papers in one sitting- mental I know.

On Monday night I was having a read of last Thursday’s Guardian and I discovered that I had missed the Guardian’s first book prize. I have pretty much loved anything that has ever won so I read on.

A familiar name crept up on the list of those who had previously won- Jonathon Safran Foer. It might sound odd but even reading the name of his 2002 text, Everything is Illuminated made me tingle with pleasure.

I think everyone has fallen in love with a book and this is mine. I was actually trying to read Crime and Punishment at the moment, but I might just give it up and re-read Foer.

So this is really just a plea for everyone to go and read it, I will be until this years winner lands on my doorstep. Romantic Moderns by Alexandra Harris, an exploration of English writers and artists during times of war.

It should keep me preoccupied when I can’t sleep anyway. 

Prolonging the problem

The snow has finally settled and it’s quite thick on the ground, I am very reluctant to set out when the weather gets like this. So I explore other options, I become bored and pensive and engage in a conversation with a good friend of mine. We get onto the topic of what it would be like to be homeless in these kinds of conditions and then we speak about charity and so on.

Watch this then read on! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpAMbpQ8J7g

This is an animated lecture by the Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek. What Zizek does is use popular culture and current affairs to explain the theory of Marxism and Lacanian psychoanalyses. RSA the animation company behind this have cleverly enforced Zizek’s methods of using popular culture to reflect philosophical thought by turning the lecture into a short film.

The premise of Zizek’s lecture seems to be about the damaging effects of cultural capitalism, or when capitalism is influenced by socialism. The two theories juxtapose in many ways, but have in the last decade or so been fused closer and closer together and this as Zizek says seems to be through the idea of eco capitalism and people’s own sense of guilt.

The West seems to harbor a kind of self righteous guilt at its so called strong economy. What seems to be of interest is that we probably shouldn’t be feeling so self gratified- our countries deficit is no signifier of economic stability and the latest fiasco in Ireland certainly shows that we are not on the right track.

So perhaps before we throw a little money at issues in third world countries, enough as Zizek says to cure a child’s hair lip, we should think about the repercussions. That child’s life will certainly be better, but he will ultimately go back to the slum where he could die of diarrhea from drinking dirty water.

Charity is obviously a very positive aspect to our society but it seems to have become a different kind of issue, one that we turn to because we need our consumerist souls to be eased, as apposed to having any kind of real conviction in wanting to solve the underlying problems.

Zizek goes onto say how, “the worst slave owners were the ones who were kind to their slaves”. This for me anyway, evokes the words of George Orwell and consciousness, “until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious", so whether people are being kept unconscious with kindness or pain, the results are still the same. Perhaps the only way to solve poverty and other issues is through starting again.

An insight into an attempt at becoming a journalist- a bit of background

Sat at a well lit desk surrounded by those who are being paid to do a job that is all I seem to think, eat and dream about.

They all seem to relish in their profession, sat with slightly smug looks on their faces as they happily type away on old computers with their desks covered in papers, notebooks and dreaded shorthand.

With these looks of glee, you would think that they were writing about re-uniting families or a dog that saved a child. But when I strike up a conversation with one of these perky youngsters and ask him what he’s writing, he brightly answers, “Oh it was a child abuse case.” He carries on with his work, happy as a pig in his sty.

It’s not crass to say this, as obviously these things are never easy to write about. On my first week at a local news agency I went and sat in on an inquiry where a three year-old boy drowned in the family pond. Having to sit there and take notes as the neighbor talked about finding the toddler face down, obstructed by weeds in the water, while wearing a Thomas the Tank Engine top. It does make your blood run cold. But after reporting that, hopefully people might think twice about ponds and kids.

Though back to the newsroom of an unnamed local paper and my current situation. I start thinking about my course, a postgraduate NCTJ diploma in journalism. I have been on the course for 8 weeks and I do seem to have done a great number of exciting and at times quite intimidating things, but I will write more about those later, in particular a trip to a certain nuclear weapons establishment.

I have lately questioned my potential career in journalism and as I sit here thinking about how competitive the industry is, I begin to wonder why I’m here? Not in a deep philosophical sense, my days of caring about Descartes and Kafka are over, simply because I have run out of time to allow myself to indulge in such whimsical fantasies.

Often I am asked why I so desperately want to be a journalist, especially as all of our guest speakers have said its shit profession, though this for some reason hasn’t deterred me.

I have an unhealthy obsession with Samira Ahmed and I get a shiver of delight when reading Jon Snow’s blog.

Then there’s me, my main goal at the moment is to wrangle my way into as many well known broadcasting houses and newspapers as possible. Thus far I have managed to worm my way into quite a few well known news establishments and made them give me work experience. This has its ups and downs, being at the BBC made me never want to leave.

My life at the moment is along these lines: Monday to Friday, roughly 9 to 5, I am on my journalism course.

In reality this involves studying the law of reporting; I’m becoming increasingly excited about the prospect of challenging a judge for trying to impose a section 39. As well as public affairs, learning about the council, this is as depressing as it sounds. Then there’s video journalism and SHORTHAND.

Trying to learn shorthand for me is like trying to run a marathon, something else I’ve failed at. It’s arduous, difficult and at times sweaty.

As well as this I work at a gym one evening and then one day at the weekend. I have also lately started work with a charity in Portsmouth. Though I think this will be divulged upon in a later blog.

As this is only an introduction, there will be more to come. So I will blog frequently as to whether I can cope with all of this or whether I have a nervous breakdown, then a descent into madness seems like quite a good concept for a blog.