On the 11th of April, 2010, the first entry of this new blog was published. Several hiatuses (hiati?) and breaks down the line, sure, but I've been writing and publishing basically at least once a month for three years. Three years! I've got friends who are leaving for degree courses that last as long. I've already done mine!
When you think about it, like I'm doing now sat in one of the coldest parts of the Scholary (my room, duh), this is pretty amazing. Usually each post is at least a thousand words, (last week's was two thousand), done in a whole continual draft and re-edit process. I've only ever redrafted one piece from scratch, and I don't delete my abandoned posts...merely leave them as they are. Maybe, one day when I'm rich and famous I'll get the whole thing printed in volumes, bound in real leather and lined with gold leaf, printed and bound in it's completeness...ahhh. Yeah right. Since that first post, I've moved house no less than three times,had three short term relationships, three part time jobs, almost £2000 worth of private instrumental and vocal teaching under four different teachers, two different laptops and an almost infinite number of other arbitrary statistics. As I log in to my blogger homepage, I've had 7,700 pageviews, which is no small potatoes for a slice-of-life blog, which mainly focuses on how miserable I am and how difficult everything can be! I know I have a core audience of supporters who fall upon each and every post that gets linked, several of whom let me know how much they enjoy reading my work. To you, thanks and praise. I know it can't be easy sometimes when it's not all sweetness and light...but my intention is to present a true account of how I feel and what's happening. I know that what I've written sometimes has been... interpreted differently though, a dangerous journey into the limited power of authorial intent versus what people actually read into. I try not to use people's real names as well, which sometimes works out well, but I'm sure it isn't too difficult to work out who I'm talking about all the time. I remember coming up with all sorts of nicknames for people in Norwich, like The Chief, Sensei, The Philanderer, The Maestro, and of course The Loser... The Loser like no other.
This will be my 109th published post by the time I get round to finishing it. It doesn't take me especially long to write either, so in retrospect the fact that I managed to hash out a 12,021 word dissertation (with full colour pictures) in 8 days is actually less surprising the more I think about it. I usually make this stuff up off the top of my head, no research material or drafting, rather than having stacks of prepared sources. I still write my blog for the same reasons that I started it: I enjoy writing and it makes getting things off my chest a lot easier, like some sort of spleen vent valve. Delving through the beginning of the archive, it's interesting to see how much my writing has changed. It's quite like a number of other first-time writers without formal training. Of course, all this practice later and well... I dunno. At least I've learned to be less grandstanding. It's still the same ponderous dross, from the same ponderous old git, but I'd like to think it's become more readable since I began.
At this point in my life, things are less than exciting. I'm still unemployed, still with no immediate place to go once I leave the Scholary. Arrangements in Truro aren't especially geared towards those without disposable income. I've been living off the least amount possible, which has been a surprising journey into boring meal solutions, not even going into shops for fear of spending money, and drying my liver out. My dear mother, the greatest Jewess on the soil, sent my Nintendo Gamecube down via courier, which has been installed next to the television in the living room, co-existing peacefully with the resident Xbox 360, jacked in to the scart on the side leaving the usual HDMI well alone. This is shades of Bury street all over again, because everything really does just roll around and it's all exactly the same. The only thing left is for a stray cat to enter the house and we're almost done. It's business as usual as far as my gaming habits are concerned as well, as one of my most important pieces of software is here too: KILLER7. Anybody who follows me on Twitter will know that I am ever so slightly obsessed with this insane thing, which I usually describe as a work of art before I say it's a videogame. I've started all over again on not only that, but Metroid Prime (what the hell is with that control system anyway), Super Smash Brothers Melee and Soul Calibur II. I've also got Metal Gear Solid, Fire Emblem and The Legend of Zelda; The Wind Waker too, but I haven't deleted my precious saves for them. I'm unemployed, single and have little funds: I'm very interested in staying in at the moment, so I'm going to do it properly. I might just get hold of a cheap telly with a scart port in the back after I get paid so I can take the 'Cube up to my room so there's definitely no chance of conflicting with my fellow Housemates' desires for on demand television services or FIFA/Burnout party &c &c. This isn't about having arguments with people, this is just about making everything as easy as possible for all parties. Sometimes it's possible to please most of the people most of the time.
Staying in because I'm poor has actually been an enjoyable experience. Brain-bending odysseys and arcade fighting games make a wonderful panacea when coupled with an almost constant intake of tea, a worthy distraction from NOT going out and NOT drinking. The past couple of times I've been out have actually been hilariously enjoyable experiences - a week ago I managed to reach my physical limit for beer and survived and at the weekend saw Chippie, a really good and honest friend I met at that home from home from home, The City Inn, Truro. The Playhouse Bar it certainly ain't, but a real pub that's far enough away from the Cathedral to matter makes all the difference. The 'clientele', (or patrons as they're usually known) are pretty nice guys, and coming from hard-drinking stock, I find being in a pub a familiar and relaxing experience. The fact that they serve alcohol in large and satisfying doses is... well, just an added bonus! (haha yeah right). The weekend also brought its share of awkward social politics and answers to a lot of unspoken questions about the social state of play. It's all good fun after all.
So, what next for the Songman's Rest? I don't really know, to be quite honest! I'm at an intermediary point in my life still, what with all this employment and accommodation still in the air. I'm still really quite scared about basically not being able to afford to live in Cornwall: being brutally honest, I could be unemployed, unsure of the future and playing videogames and obsessing about washing up literally anywhere else in the country. I do not need to be here, worrying about the ridiculous cost of housing, when I could be somewhere else. I could be back in Norwich for God's sake. But... I don't want to be anywhere else. I want to be a Lay Vicar of Truro Cathedral Choir. I am proud that I have been asked to join the full time team, and I will make a difference and I will succeed here...somehow. I'm not going to let anybody down, especially not myself, or indeed the Big Man. You'll be pleased to hear that I still haven't had a date since... Oh like, the summer now, or indeed that I even have the courage or confidence in order to ask. Of course there is somebody I kind of like, have a crush on I guess, but we'll see how that goes. Maybe I will ask. But probably I won't.
The tagline still stands. This is a tale of love, of life, and the end of the stall (being Decani Alto 1 puts you at the end anyway) which is poor only in a financial sense now. Gone are the days where I am bullied by the senior, or at odds with the director. I am joining a respectable team of good-humoured and skilled semi-professional singers. It's only semi (careful) because the pay is... vocational more than a wage. The attitude brought and the skill and musicality of these people is maybe not quite as high as say, Westminster Cathedral, but is without question the best musical environment I have been in so far. I am fortunate and incredibly grateful to be a part of it not only last year, or this year, but for years to come.
I think I'll be keeping to the almost-weekly schedule. I wouldn't keep writing if I didn't enjoy it, and the weeks where I haven't written anything have been those weeks where I've either been too down to consider it, or very busy; times where writing just hasn't fit into the schedule of either my life or my mood. I will continue to write exactly what I want to, and boo hoo if you don't like it. I've made and lost friends over what's been published before, and I would hate for that to change either. Maybe one day I'll be fortunate enough to take some writing classes, and really improve my form, but until then, I'll keep blithering on, and I'll see you on the other side.
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