Skip to main content
 

#NaNoWriMo2016 - Day Nine

10 min read

Poste Restante

Contents

Chapter 1: The Caravan

Chapter 2: Invisible Illness

Chapter 3: The Forest

Chapter 4: Prosaic

Chapter 5: The Van

Chapter 6: Into the Unknown

Chapter 7: The Journey

Chapter 8: Infamy

Chapter 9: The Villages

Chapter 10: Waiting Room

Chapter 11: The Shadow People

Chapter 12: Enough Rope

Chapter 13: The Post Offices

Chapter 14: Unsuitable Friends

Chapter 15: The Chase

Chapter 16: Self Inflicted

Chapter 17: The Holiday

Chapter 18: Psychosis, Madness, Insanity and Lunacy

Chapter 19: The Hospitals

Chapter 20: Segmentation

Chapter 21: The Cell

Chapter 22: Wells of Silence

Chapter 23: The Box

Chapter 24: Jailbird

Chapter 25: The Scales

Chapter 26: Descent

Chapter 27: The Syringe

Chapter 28: Anonymity

Chapter 29: The Imposter

Chapter 30: Wish You Were Here

 

9. The Villages

Within 20 minutes drive in his van, Neil could reach a number of village shops, roadside convenience stores and petrol stations that sold food and drinks, as well as a few other useful items. He wasn't able to carry everything he needed on his coach journey to the caravan, so being able to buy things locally was vitally important to his plan.

Because he wasn't driving a road legal vehicle, Neil had to stick to small country lanes. Where there was a major road, Neil would find a crossroads so he never had to drive any distance on a route where he might encounter police.

It hadn't been Neil's intention to stay so long and he had planned to avoid visiting any establishment more than once. It was winter and there were few tourists in this remote rural area anyway, except further towards the coast. Inland, it was quite possible that residents would start to discuss where he was living, if he started to be recognised more and more in the local viscinity. However, he had been getting more and more tired and sick and had little option other than to visit the places that were most likely to stock whatever he needed at the time.

Living in a caravan without running water for weeks and months, posed some practical issues when Neil came into contact with the general public. The caravan's water tanks were empty, so he washed with bottled water. In fact, buying and carrying back as much water as he could, without attracting undue attention, was his main problem. Washing himself used a lot of his precious drinking water, but it was necessary because his appearance and odour would otherwise betray the conditions of his existence.

At first, Neil had set aside some clothes to be kept clean and only used for his forays into the civilised world. With wet wipes and deodorant spray, he spruced himself up adequately. However, he had become thin, pale and sickly. He looked exhausted. He was dirty and smelly. Washing his hair and cleaning his body became necessary to attain the bare minimum standard of presentability to allow him to even enter shops without risking shock, fear and mistrust.

Knowing that there was a wild and dangerous looking vagrant sleeping rough somewhere in their community, the local residents would be on alert to find whereabouts this frightful creature kept appearing from. Neil was afraid that somebody would tail his van, as he made his way back to the caravan, to see him disappearing deep into the forest.

Buying larger and larger quantities of food, drink and other supplies from small local shops meant that he had to make fewer trips, but it drew considerable attention when he would clear the shelves of all the bottled water and a substantial proportion of the tinned goods. Neil's diet consisted mainly of cold beans, cold spaghetti hoops and cold ravioli, all in sweet tomato sauce. He ate very little anyway. He was increasingly gaunt and malnourished each time he went out for supplies.

Neil considered various cover stories he might use if confronted by 'innocent' smalltalk with the shopkeepers. Every story he could conceive of was likely to generate more questions that he didn't want to answer. At some point he might give a hesitant or regrettable reply. Instead, he chose to say that he was "just restocking" to which he had received mirthful replies to say that the shop would have to as well after his visit.

"Restocking again?" one woman had asked him, worryingly. He vowed never to return to that particular shop, which was frustrating because it was conveniently nearby and had most things that he needed.

Being deliberately vague was becoming increasingly hard.

"Have I seen you around here before?" asked a man.

"I don't think so" replied Neil, although he had seen him before.

The man hadn't pressed him further, but he knew that the questions would not always be so easily dodged.

"Do you live locally?" asked a female shop assistant.

"No, I'm just visiting friends" replied Neil.

"Oh. Where abouts?" she said with raised eyebrows, studying him.

Neil said that he had friends in a couple of the nearby towns. He had started to get to know the area quite well, and was able to name two towns that meant it was plausible he was travelling between them. The towns were larger than any that he would visit and outside his area of operation.

"I know Harminster quite well. Where abouts do your friends live?" she pressed him.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I've really got to hit the road. I'm running late, sorry" he said with an apologetic smile, picking up a couple of bags of shopping. Embarrassingly, he had to return to the shop a moment later to collect the bottles he had bought, which he carried loose. The shop assistant held the door open for him, watching him load everything into his van and waving as he drove away. Another source of supplies was off-limits. His paranoia grew.

Neil cursed not using his expertise in CCTV and intruder detection to allay some of his fears of discovery. There were battery-powered motion sensitive cameras that had night vision, that could transmit their pictures wirelessly. Installing one of these cameras, hidden in the trees, would be able to monitor the track. It would be an early-warning system to know if anybody entered the forest while he was inside the caravan. When he parked his van, Neil would walk down the track to see if there were any tyre tracks or footprints indicating activity other than his own, but it didn't allay his fears, when he had only the sound that penetrated the walls of the caravan to alert him of approaching danger.

How much sleep had he lost? How many meals had he skipped? He reckoned he slept only a few nights each week. He would go days without eating. His stomach had shrunk and he didn't feel hungry very often. He was hypersensitive to noise and movement in the shadows. He was on high alert, despite his exhaustion and malnourishment. He had stopped sleeping in the conventional sense and instead started to micronap with his eyes open. The real world and the dreamworld sometimes melted into one. He would have blackouts and jolt suddenly back into consciousness, suffering confusion about where he was and what was going on.

It was thirst that usually spurred him into self-preservation activity. Despite a sense of hopelessness accompanying his pain, discomfort and suicidal thoughts, he was desperate for something potable to drink.

Neil wondered if he should waste time and energy trying to rescue some knotted and stretched clothing, damp and dirty, lying on the floor. The urgency of his thirst drove him to abandon his worries and make his way painfully to the outside door or the caravan. An immense fear of what was outside caused him to hesitate, swaying as he tried to support himself on his damaged legs.

Finally finding the nerve to open the door, Neil was blinded by daylight even though it was grey and overcast. The clearing was shady, but his eyes struggled to adjust from darkness inside the caravan. His temples throbbed with pain.

Deposited by the entrance was a shopping bag. Neil reached down, grabbed the plastic handles and hauled the bag into the caravan. He shut the door to stop heat escaping and the warm moist air inside being replaced by the cold dry wind that blew through the treetops outside. Depositing the shopping on the kitchenette work-surface which was covered with dirty food wrappers and empty plastic bags, he began to rifle through the contents in search of something to drink.

Bright blue mould completely covered a loaf of bread inside its plastic wrapper. Sliced ham and chicken were well past their sell-by date. Neil couldn't possibly risk food poisoning in his fragile state. He had purchased these food items when his eyes were bigger than his belly. Eating had become a sporadic thing where he greedily gulped down the contents of a can before curling up in a ball and falling asleep, with uncomfortable sensations of nausea and indigestion washing over him.

There was a bottle of Worcestershire sauce that he had purchased in order to add more flavour to his bland diet of canned food. There were bags of jelly sweets, containing high quantities of glucose that his body desperately needed. There were salted crisps intended to keep up his salt intake, but he had previously found these to be inedible with his mouth dry and full of sores and ulcers. Then, finally, Neil spotted a can of cola amongst the food that he had bought. Grabbing the can, Neil didn't allow his hopes to soar too soon. Too many times he had picked up a container with joy, only to find it opened and the contents consumed.

The sweetness and the refreshment of the liquid in the can was divine and Neil guzzled as fast as he could without burping or throwing up. It was unfortunate that the cola was fizzy, as it meant he had to take small hiccuping gulps rather than quickly pouring the can down his parched throat into his empty stomach.

Neil paused to momentarily examine the rest of the contents of the shopping bag, but he knew he had purchased only this one can of drink, as a treat that he had intended to consume on his drive back to the forest.

After his last trip for provisions, Neil had hastily made his way back to the caravan after parking the van, only bringing with him a single bottle of water, bag of shopping and the precious envelope that he had collected. With his heart pounding with excitement, his body shaking with anticipation, his palms sweaty, he dumped the shopping bag outside the caravan and went inside with only the bottle of water. How long ago was that? A week maybe?

The envelope was now torn open on the floor with a leaflet for a tourist attraction half unfolded next to it. The writing on the leaflet was in Chinese.

 

Next chapter...

 

#NaNoWriMo2016 - Day One

10 min read

Background Info

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) takes place every November, when aspiring authors attempt to write a 50,000+ word novel within 30 days. This means averaging 1,667 words per day.

My 360 odd blog posts to date have averaged 1,246 words per day, so it shouldn't be too much of a stretch for me to write a bit more each day and achieve the goal. Plus, I have the support & encouragement of all the other authors who are taking part in this challenge.

Since leaving school, I have done very little creative writing, so a whole novel may be rather more difficult than I anticipate.

Hijacking my blog for the next 30 days seems unusual, but the general advice to authors is "write about what you know" so you may find that my novel is a natural extension of my blog, in actual fact.

Anyhoo, the working title of my novel is "Poste Restante" and without further ado, I shall begin .

 

Poste Restante

Contents

Chapter 1: The Caravan

Chapter 2: Invisible Illness

Chapter 3: The Forest

Chapter 4: Prosaic

Chapter 5: The Van

Chapter 6: Into the Unknown

Chapter 7: The Journey

Chapter 8: Infamy

Chapter 9: The Villages

Chapter 10: Waiting Room

Chapter 11: The Shadow People

Chapter 12: Enough Rope

Chapter 13: The Post Offices

Chapter 14: Unsuitable Friends

Chapter 15: The Chase

Chapter 16: Self Inflicted

Chapter 17: The Holiday

Chapter 18: Psychosis, Madness, Insanity and Lunacy

Chapter 19: The Hospitals

Chapter 20: Segmentation

Chapter 21: The Cell

Chapter 22: Wells of Silence

Chapter 23: The Box

Chapter 24: Jailbird

Chapter 25: The Scales

Chapter 26: Descent

Chapter 27: The Syringe

Chapter 28: Anonymity

Chapter 29: The Imposter

Chapter 30: Wish You Were Here

 

1. The Caravan

Neil's consciousness sparked back into existence. This was not like waking up, as if he had been dreaming. This was not like coming round after an operation in hospital, under general anaesthetic. It was much more akin to a sudden re-ignition of his brain activity, after head trauma, perhaps after being knocked out cold by a punch or a blow to the head with some other blunt object.

At first, Neil's mind was confused; everything was jumbled up. He could make no sense of what was going on. His thinking was cloudy; cognition impaired. Then, the blurry mess and unfamiliar shapes that had previously filled his field of vision now came into sharper focus. He started to see things in his surroundings that he could identify, even though he still didn't know where he was or why he was there.

Neil lay on a bed at one end of a caravan. The bed filled the width of the caravan and extended all the way to the bedroom door, which was wide open. At the opposite end of the caravan was a dining table, surrounded by a U-shaped bench of seating, with windows behind. The bench was upholstered with a pink floral pattern. The table had a wood veneer, although it was clearly made of chipboard, exposed around the edge. A small kitchenette was on one side and a toilet and shower cubicle on the other.

The interior of the caravan was not in good condition. Mildew stained everything. The ceiling had dark black patterns where the permanent dampness had allowed everything that was water permeable to fester in the moist atmosphere. The carpet, which seemed to have been some sort of dark maroon colour originally, was soggy and stained. Mud was trodden into the pile of the carpet around the entrance to the caravan. The carpet had started to rot and there were patches of blue furry mould growing in places. A lightly coloured textured wallpaper peeled away from the walls in places, revealing a layer of polystyrene insulation, as well as the glue behind, which had now turned an orangey-brown colour as it had aged and dried.

The bedroom windows were covered by navy blue curtains. These had been neatly stapled to the wall below and at the sides, so that little light could penetrate through each of the three windows at the bedroom end of the caravan. Where the curtains hung on the curtain rail, a small amount of light crept in and it was clear that it was daytime.

The other windows had been covered with self-adhesive opaque plastic, which allowed light into the caravan, but you could neither see in nor out. The plastic had been applied with little attention to detail: there were air bubbles and the edge had been cut rather raggedly, exposing some of the clear glass near the white plastic window frames. Paper masking tape had been applied around the edges of the windows, to cover the gaps between the plastic and the frame. The large window at the opposite end of the caravan from Neil had newspaper stapled above the curtain-less windows, draped down so that it covered two thirds of the window. On the left hand side, a bedsheet had been stapled above and at the side of the window. The staples were haphazardly placed and the sheet had folds and creases in it, hanging hopelessly from the wall, and no use as any kind of curtain. The staple-gun lay on the dining room table, abandoned.

In places, there had been small craters scraped crudely in the polystyrene insulation of the walls, so that the thin aluminium exterior skin of the caravan was exposed. In each of these craters in the wall, a hole had been punched through the aluminium. Beams of sunlight shone into the dingy interior of the caravan through the holes. These beams illuminated swirling mists of moisture within the caravan, almost like the silken threads of a spider's web, heavy with morning dew and shining in the sun.

Clothes were scattered throughout the caravan. Some were torn, others stretched or unusually knotted; all seemed ruined in some way. There was the debris of habitation: discarded food wrappers, dirty plates and cutlery on the floor. There were many other objects made of bits of broken plastic, rubber and string that seemed to be the twisted, mangled and knotted remains of other things that had been dismantled, torn, bent and otherwise manhandled to the point that they were no longer clearly identifiable as anything in particular. Things were strewn all over the floor, with no discernable pattern.

There were many containers distributed around the caravan: plastic bottles were filled with fluid in various hues of yellow and orange. Then there were mugs, saucepans, bowls and glasses that were filled with orangey-brown liquid. A glass on a shelf near Neil's bed had a layer of red at the bottom, then an opaque layer that was milky pale yellow and the topmost liquid - which filled the majority of the glass - was clear and brownish in colour.

After his sight, the second of Neil's senses that returned was his sense of smell. His nostrils were assaulted by a strongly pungent but not putrid smell. The smell was extremely unpleasant, but not so much so that it was causing Neil any feeling of nausea. The smell had a kind of nasty allure, like a strong ripe cheese. There was the smell of mould, damp and decay of soft furnishings, mingled with the smell of bodily odour, and distinctly a smell of urine. Sweat intermingled with the general dampness in the caravan and ran down the walls in droplets. The windows were completely misted up with condensed moisture. The cheap sponge of the upholstery and bed had soaked up a lot of this foulness. Clothing and bedding had also absorbed some of the humidity from the air.

Neil's memory of how he found himself in this position now slowly returned to him. Things made little sense to him. They had found him; they had surrounded him; they had been readying themselves to storm his little stronghold and they would tear him from the private surroundings which he had attempted to create for himself. They had antagonised him; they had spent an incredible amount of time making noises and assembling themselves for the onslaught; the invasion of Neil's privacy, now that they had found him. They had hidden in the shadows and attempted to remail unseen, but Neil had seen them: fleeting glimpses, as he looked out of the peepholes. Counter-espionage: they were spying on him, so he would spy back at them.

Neil had no idea what their motivation was. Why was he so relentlessly pursued? Why were they so voyeuristic, wanting to intrude on his private world? Why were they so childishly antagonising? Why did they tirelessly toy with him, so close, but waiting and waiting before they made their move? He was angry with them. Quite rightly too. He had gone to such incredible effort to create a bubble of privacy, far away from anybody he could possibly disturb, or who might happen upon him by accident. He was in such a remote hidden location. How could anybody have possibly taken offence at his presence?

His final memories before he blacked out were of a night filled with terror and blind panic as the people he had tried so hard to avoid and evade were now making their final advances. All the dim shapes he could make out in the surrounding gloom of the trees were of figures, coming towards the caravan. He could see the movement of people in the shadows that danced on the ceiling and walls of the caravan. He could hear twigs snapping underfoot as they were stepped on. He could hear the sound of bushes being brushed past and branches being bent to make way for the advancing horde.

He passed out. When he came round they were gone.

Tentatively, he started to try and sit up and make his way to one of his peep holes so he could look out, but he realised he had blacked out with his leg jammed awkwardly underneath himself. His foot had gone to sleep. Incredible pain swept through his leg as the blood started to flow again and the feeling came back into his numbed limb.

There was momentary relief as the pain in his leg subsided, but then he was flooded with pain from multiple parts of his body. His hips ached, many parts of his legs seemed bruised and swollen, his back and neck were very stiff and painful; his body was covered with cuts and grazes, especially his knees and elbows.

In agony, Neil managed to prop himself up by the nearest of the peep holes and pushed his face up against the wall so he could look out. He saw nothing. Just trees. Where had they gone?

How long had he been unconscious for? It had been night time when he had blacked out and now it was daytime, but there was no way of telling whether it was the next day, or the one after that. He had lost all sense of time: days and nights had blurred into one.

Neil had spent a long time, afraid to leave the caravan. How long, he couldn't be sure, but he knew that they had laid seige to him and now his situation was desperate. He was dying in that caravan. He was so thirsty. He was in a great deal of pain. It was clear that there was a lot of blood in his urine. He felt so weak. He really didn't want to confront his persecutors and he had hoped that they would act first so that he didn't have to make the decision. Now he was confronted with the dawning realisation that they had won. Surrender was his only option if he wanted to live.

He collapsed back onto the bed to contemplate his next move, not at all able or willing to fully comprehend the staggering unpleasantness of the situation he was in.

 

Next chapter...

 

An Anatomy of a Market Crash

9 min read

This is a story about a fictitious bear and an imaginary bull...

Market Graph

To explain how a speculative bubble bursts is very easy indeed. Investors are like a herd of cattle. They are not rational actors. When a critical mass of investors become spooked and start selling off their investments, this creates a market with more sellers than buyers, which means the asking price for financial instruments has to be lower to attract more buyers. Pretty soon, there is a stampede, as all the investors try to 'cash in' their investments and take their profits or minimise their losses. The asking price drops lower and lower, and buyers simply wait, knowing that the ever growing crowd of panicked sellers will underbid each other in a desperate attempt to offload their devaluing assets.

Anyway, that's so simple and obvious that it doesn't warrant further discussion. What I want to write about is what causes a speculative bubble in the first place.

We could look at historical examples, like the tulip mania during the Dutch Golden Age, with tulip bulb prices peaking in 1637, before crashing spectacularly. The Madness of Crowds explains the crash, but not the initial price bubble, in any satisfactory way for the modern financial markets.

To understand your average investor in publicly listed companies on the major stock exchanges, you only need to understand two human characteristics: greed and laziness.

The greed part is simple. Any of your friends who have reached a point of economic prosperity where they have disposable income are likely to have 'invested' some of their wealth. It's highly unlikely that they made angel investments in small startup companies where they knew the founders, the business model and understood the domain in which the embryonic enterprise operated. Instead, they thought they could make a quick buck by buying shares in a major corporation.

The laziness part is slightly more complex. The lazy divide into two groups. The speculative private investor looking to make a quick buck isn't interested in doing any actual work in order to earn their extra wealth. One phonecall to your stockbroker, having read a stock tip in your preferred newspaper does not count as an investment of labour, and so it is clear that these investors are lazy.

The second group are institutional investment managers: the people who look after pension funds. Now, you can ignore profit:equity (PE) ratios, yields, earnings per share (EPS), turnover and EBITDAs (Earnings Before Interest, Tax, Depreciation and Amortisation). You can ignore the philosophy of Warren Buffet, who is an active shareholder. The pension fund manager is passive and invests for one reason and one reason alone: the market capitalisation of the public company has reached a certain threshold. That is to say, the market values a public company above a certain amount of money.

To understand market cap, let's take Apple Inc. as an example. We take the number of Apple shares that are issued (5.4 billion at time of writing) and multiply that by the share price ($118 at time of writing) and we arrive at a market capitalisation of $637 billion. That is to say, if you had a spare $637 billion in your bank account, you could buy Apple outright*: every single share. You would be the sole shareholder of Apple, which is the biggest company in the world, by market capitalisation.

Now, Apple might have absolutely dog shit products lined up for the next 10 years. The CEO, Tim Cook could be an absolute moron who's going to run the company into the ground. The institutional investment manager doesn't give two hoots. They're going to buy Apple stock simply because it's highly valued. In fact, they're going to buy ALL the highly valued companies, above a certain market capitalisation.

In the UK, we have a kind of football league, with the premier league being the FTSE100 and then the league below being the FTSE250. As the market caps change, companies drop in and out of these 'leagues'. Consequently, investment managers will buy the new entrants and sell the ones that drop out. Easy as pie, right?

The laziness that drives all this is retirement. People saving for retirement are too lazy to make their own investments that ensure the value of their pension is not eroded by inflation, so they get an investment manager to 'track' the value of an index like the FTSE100, which generally outperforms inflation, over a long period of time. That makes sense, right? Money invested in the 'best' companies, should outperform money that's just sitting in the bank earning interest.

Furthermore, when people come to retire, they want their pension pot to be managed for income not for growth, but they're still too lazy to shop around to make sure that the yield or dividends that they are receiving on their pot of money give them the best possible income, while also protecting their capital.

In essence, the biggest part of our economy is driven by greedy lazy people. Instead of the industrious and ingenious entrepreneurs finding it easy to borrow money or sell a share of their company in order to raise the capital they need to grow, the sad reality is that almost all of the wealth in the developed world is ploughed into corporate behemoths that have already extracted all their value from the public, in order to keep people who have nearly reached the end of their lives in the manner to which they have become accustomed to.

Yes, that's right. By the time a company comes to the point where it floats on a stock exchange, it has peaked. It's time for the original founders, angel investors, venture capitalists, private equity and other shareholders to now cash in and fleece the public by offering their shares in an Initial Public Offering (IPO). Because the company has reached a certain 'valuation' (as decided by market sentiment and the bullshit written by the underwriting investment bank in the prospectus) then it has to be bought by the institutional investors, because it is highly likely to have a market cap that will put it straight into the FTSE100 or FTSE250. The companies with the smallest market cap in the FTSE250 are around £400m; for comparison Twitter floated with a market cap of $30,000m, which is 75 times more.

Let's take a hypothetical example. If I was to build a company with a turnover of approximately £20m per month, or £240m per year, then one might say that it could be valued using a rough multiplier of 2x turnover at £500m. That would easily be enough to make for an attractive IPO, because the market cap is going to attract all the institutional investors who have to buy FTSE250 companies. In effect, the IPO is underwritten by the pension tracker funds.

Therefore, greedy lazy people buy dog shit stock, it appreciates in value because of market sentiment - "ooh the price is going up, let's buy more" - and the fact that public companies can use their shares to acquire other companies (growth through acquisition) until they have a dominant market position (some may say monopoly, ahem!).

Growth through acquisition is not really growth. If I have 100% of the shares in company A, and 0% of the shares in company B, and then I use 49% of my shares and a bit of cash to acquire company B, such that I now own 51% of company A and 51% of company B, no new value has been created. There may be cost savings, there may be benefits from anticompetitive practices, but really all I'm doing is increasing the market cap of the parent company, hoping to move from the FTSE250 to the FTSE100, where a whole load more pension funds will have to buy shares for their index trackers.

The same deal goes on in the US, where companies are trying to IPO at a certain valuation in order to get into the Dow Jones or the NASDAQ, such that the US tracker funds will have to invest. The public - mostly pensioners - get fleeced.

So, in conclusion, the cause of a speculative bubble is actually institutional. Because the pension funds are so massive and they are passive investors, using index tracker funds, there is an immense amount of fake value created by mergers and acquisitions, as growth by acquisition carries such huge rewards. This starves the companies - who are truly growing and innovating - of much needed investment capital, stifling the economy and instead creating corporate giants who are too big to fail.

Eventually, the central banks and the rest of the money multiplying machine reaches the limit of how much the value of dinosaur institutions can be artificially inflated. These dinosaurs move at glacial pace and stifle change and competition. The lack of efficiency of markets to deliver capital to those companies who have true growth potential, undermines the economy for years, until finally things reach breaking point.

Overvalued companies, market disruption by venture-capital backed challengers, the faltering of capital gain and the end of effortless profits, are the things that spook the lazy, greedy investors. So, then begins the market crash.

The dying behemoths are dangerous animals. For example, the 'too big to fail' banks were able to hold the world's largest economies to ransom, with the threat of unimaginable disruption to our systems of payment and borrowing that underpin so many mortgages, overdrafts, credit cards, car loans and how we get and spend our wages each month.

For now, the status quo persists, because the idea of smoothly transitioning to truly free and competitive markets is beyond comprehension, such is the web of complexity that has been created by supranational organisations that have swallowed so many competitors around the globe.

Until we move to active investment rather than passive investment, we will always have the cycles of boom & bust.

 

Tags:

 

* - You couldn't actually buy all Apple's shares for $118 each, because the very process of buying up all the available stock for sale would drive up the price. I merely offer a simplified example.

 

20-8 Days Later

2 min read

This is a story about the undead...

Sick

I got sick. I stopped blogging. I'm sad I broke my daily writing routine. I would have hit 365 blog posts by now, if I had kept going just a little longer.

When people say "keep going, you're doing really well" the sentiment is lovely. Keep going where though? Have I been there before? Is it a good place to keep going to? Also, what does it mean to be doing really well? Does it mean superficially? Is the most important thing to look like you're doing really well, on the outside? Are you doing really well even if it's all an act?

I'm no faker; no actor.

I do however have to do something that I can keep going with, while genuinely doing really well. My last contract could not keep going. I was not doing very well.

Perhaps getting sick wasn't an inevitable consequence, but it takes more than letting off steam through personal writing to harmlessly neutralise the 'toxic' build-up, due to months of stress, boredom, lack of stimulation, lack of social interaction, no new challenges, no creative outlet etc. etc.

Equally, my solo hack-a-thons have been challenging and creative, perhaps a little over-stimulating, and have made me sick through social isolation and stress.

There must be a cool project with a team here in London that ticks the other boxes.

Anyway, I need to get well again first.

 

Tags:

 

Feedback Loop

9 min read

This is a story about reality checks...

Valves

When you're amplifying a signal - for example, a microphone connected to a public address loudspeaker - then you have to be careful that you don't get the microphone too close to the speakers, or else you will get horrible feedback.

My blog is read by friends who've known me for years & years, but I very rarely meet up with them. Sometimes I get an email or a Facebook message, and it's jaw-dropping that they understand me and what I've been going through so well. The usual trite platitudes (e.g. "why don't you try getting more exercise?") are certainly applicable to anybody and it does show that you care, but it's a wonderful experience when I communicate with friends and they've got all this background info on me.

Regarding my blog, only very rarely will anybody ever present an alternative opinion, or challenge me. I think I have a fairly persuasive manner of putting a point across, and I write with a great deal of certainty; forcefulness. It must be somewhat intimidating: the idea of potentially entering into debate with me.

A strange thing starts to happen when you think about things in isolation too much. Because I work with boolean algebra for a living, I start to think of everything as binary: there's a right answer and a wrong answer. I can use a lot of deductive reasoning to arrive at a set of beliefs that evolved purely from logic - a priori - as opposed to being shaped by experiences, discussions and human relationships. I labour the same points, over and over again, becoming ever more certain in my convictions and better and better at defending my position; entrenched in my stance.

It's quite satisfying to present your thesis quod erat demonstrandum.

Weirdly, if nobody calls you out on anything, then you assume that you must have made a valid unassailable point. When somebody does call you out on something, then things get a bit more fun, because you have to decide whether to dig into your trenches and defend, or whether to concede the validity of an alternative viewpoint that had not been considered.

I used to have a certain attitude that could be surmised as follows:

"Fuck you. You're wrong"

Once you have constructed a fairly infallible piece of logical reasoning, being told "no, I disagree" is the most frustrating thing in the world. You can't just disagree with something. It's point/counterpoint. You need to make your own reasoned counterargument. Contradiction is just stupidity. It's very frustrating to deal with people who don't even realise that they're complete idiots.

I deal with idiots for a job: they're called computers. If I tell a computer to jump off a cliff, it will do it. Computers just follow my instructions to the letter. Computers follow my logic with 100% precision. Being a computer programmer quickly teaches you how to logically reason things, leaving few loopholes. If you leave loopholes, these are called 'bugs'. Bugs will cause rockets to explode, trains to derail or aeroplanes to crash.

And so, a computer programmer arrives in the real world, and they're experts at spotting cognitive dissonance. "Fucking immigrants, coming over here, taking our jobs"... but, but, but you're an immigrant, stutters the programmer, incredulous that somebody could be so stupid as to not see the flaw in what they're saying.

Anyway, I'm not even part of the debate. I'm watching from the sidelines, writing my manifesto; proselytising my theology; broadcasting my dogma. Nobody is questioning the validity of anything I'm saying. Nobody is challenging my assumptions. Nobody has yet said "you're wrong, and this is why...".

Even to say the word manifesto sends a shiver down my spine. I fear that I might have gone mad. There are so many vilified people and policies, linked to a manifesto. In Britain we are not particularly terrified of communism. Being called "red", "Marxist" or "Trot" is not even pejorative, to me. However, if you were to point out that Anders Breivik also wrote a manifesto, and so did Hitler, then I start to feel a little defensive.

But, how the hell are you supposed to develop a political ideology, if you don't write it down? If you can't express a set of values and ideals for the betterment of humanity, then what? Am I only allowed to select from a menu of just a few mainstream choices? Of course, this is what party politics wants. The idea is that we should vote for party, not policy. If we voted for policies that we wanted as citizens, we'd be getting dangerously close to having a democracy.

If voting made any difference, they wouldn't let us do it.

I worry like crazy about how isolated and weird I'm getting, honing my ideas and developing my system of values, without very often discussing what I'm thinking over a pint of beer, with a good friend in the pub. Obviously, one must be mindful that Mein Kampf was conceived while Hitler was in hospital, and started when he was incarcerated. It's mad to speak this aloud, but I'm always asking myself: "am I more like Hitler or Jesus".

Christian values are actually pretty cool. Forget the ten commandments, because, I mean, rape isn't even on there. Graven images: no frigging way! Rape: no problem.

Jesus Christ was an awesome dude. He basically founded the Occupy Wall Street movement when he turned over the tables of the money lenders in Herod's Temple. Does that make him an anti-semite though? Could that have been a hate crime, given that it was an attack on Jewish businessmen, in a holy Jewish temple. Certainly a controversy worth pondering.

Then you get to thinking that Jesus Christ, The Prophet Mohammed and Adolf Hitler, all thought that earning interest should be abolished. Hitler was a socialist, as was Stalin, but then so was Tony Blair and he started an illegal war that ended up killing hundreds of thousands of innocent Iraqis. It's all so damn confusing.

To my mind, if you have a political system that's successful for the vast majority of people, the educated bourgeois can go to hell. To hell with your freedom of speech. To hell with your attempts to pervert government to better serve your own needs, at the expense of the majority. Go buy yourself a desert island if you want to run things in your own selfish interests.

Eventually, I arrive at the decision that it might be better to just write a utopian novel that merely disguises my manifesto. It should be no surprise that I've extensively read Orwell and Huxley. However, the dystopian novels seem to have become instruction manuals for our governments. Perhaps novels are powerfully influential, in all the wrong ways.

I love the Roman idea of the forum. The Internet discussion forum is a wonderful invention. The online communities are a lovely place to inhabit.

My writing and debating skils - or lack thereof - were honed in the arena of the online discussion forum. In a way, I did a lot of growing up, by reading, writing, trolling, debating and very often being shot down in flames.

Now, I have brought those writing skills, and the skill of making a reasoned argument expressed in a succinct and persuasive manner, to bear in the world of blogging.

I deliberately chose a non-Wordpress platform, because I wasn't looking for yet another blog and to connect with yet more bloggers. All the bloody comments sections are filled with other bloggers, link building back to their own blogs. It's such a ridiculous echo-chamber of people all clamouring for readers. How can you compose your thoughts and reach conclusions, when embryonic ideas are critiquéd so immediately?

I could have started to write on Medium, and I'm thrilled that my friend whose startup powers this blog, is now working for them. It might sound like intellectual snobbery, but there is a higher standard of writing and comments on Medium, than anywhere else on the 'Net right now.

But really, the biggest win for my blog has been to inform a bunch of my old friends from my discussion forum days, what the hell happened to me when I "went off the rails". It's been an opportunity to defend myself against malicious rumours. It's been an opportunity for me to ward off the shame and sense of failure, for things that happened.

Finally, the nicest thing happened the other day: I met up with a friend at the pub, and he reassured me that I'm still the same person who he knew, all those years ago, before the whole horrid mess in the middle. It's an immense relief to know your personality hasn't changed, your brain hasn't been damaged and the person that friends once knew, still lives and breathes and hasn't been replaced by some demonic creature.

Life is pretty hard without feedback, but equally, it's been useful to write at length without the debate that so ground me down and made me unwell before. It's a horrible thing, to be so misunderstood, and to feel like the people who are supposed to care about you are working against you. It's so hard to argue with multiple people at once. It's so hard to defend yourself against a mob.

Publishing is super powerful. Publishing is like a megaphone, to shout down the bullies.

However, the occasional reality check has very high value.

 

Tags:

 

The Dark Web

14 min read

 This is a story about drug dealers...

Dark Web

The top image shows an official UK prescription. A doctor registered with the GMC prescribed me the medication and a pharmacist registered with the GPHC filled my prescription. The bottom image shows black market prescription drugs for sale on the Dark Web. When you buy from the Dark Web an anonymous vendor will sell you whatever you want, no questions asked.

In order to receive my official prescription, I had to answer 14 yes/no questions. One of the questions was "do you have high blood pressure?". How the hell should I know? The last time I had my blood pressure checked was 11 months ago, and I've gained loads of weight and have been drinking far too much since then.

According to my order tracking, a doctor spent 7 minutes deliberating my 14 answers - 30 seconds per answer - before writing my prescription. I never met this doctor, we never spoke and they never saw my medical records.

Some years ago, with a great deal of arm-twisting from my private psychiatrist, my GP agreed to prescribe me Bupropion for the depressive episodes of my bipolar disorder. In the UK, Bupropion is not licensed for the treatment of depression or bipolar disorder. NICE guidelines do not recommend the use of Bupropion for anything other than as a smoking cessation treatment. Basically, my GP faced being struck off the GMC register if I suffered some horrible medical complications because of an adverse drug reaction.

I've been back in London for 3 years and I've had 2 different GPs since then: one in Camden and one just across the road from where I live. Neither of them has prescribed me a single medication, but the Camden GP took it upon himself to phone me on my mobile in his personal time to see if I was still alive. My GP went out of his way to try and help me.

The average face-to-face GP consultation time in the UK is just under 9 minutes. Imagine having just 9 minutes to establish that somebody is suicidally depressed and then select a psychiatric medication for your patient. The medication could either save them or reduce their quality of life even more. It's not much time, is it?

And so, I became an educated well-informed patient. A doctor I spoke to some years ago said that I would be better off finding a "prescription pad psychiatrist" who would write me a prescription for whatever I wanted. These doctors exist. They're available online, without even having to meet them or speak to them on the telephone, it would seem.

I have no criticism of the ethics of what the doctor and the pharmacist who I obtained my official UK prescription from are doing. It doesn't seem unethical to me.

Interestingly, it cost me £90 for 60x 150mg Bupropion tablets. I could easily buy the exact same medication for less than half that price on the Dark Web. If I was to buy the medication from India, it would cost me less than £6 (plus postage).

On the NHS, a prescription costs £8.40 if you're working and not entitled to welfare benefits.

Basically, you pay for convenience. With the online pharmacy I had a short form to fill in and I got my medication delivered next day. With the Dark Web, I would have had to faff around with Bitcoins, but my medication would also have been delivered next day. With my doctor, I would have had to make an appointment, and there's every chance that they wouldn't have been prepared to take the risk of writing an off-label prescription. With the Indian medication, their postal service is appalling and it takes weeks for a delivery to arrive.

One reason not to order from the Dark Web though, is that you can get anything you want. It's easy to start window shopping. Once you've loaded up your account with some Bitcoins, it's easy to fill up your 'shopping basket' with all kinds of things that you're curious about, or things that you know you really shouldn't be buying because they're bad for you. It's a slippery slope.

One of the reasons why I don't have any drug dealers phone numbers and I've never bought drugs from a drug dealer, is because it's so convenient. I don't believe in the idea of a 'pusher'. People want drugs, plain and simple. The drugs push themselves.

One of the reasons I'm not using internet banking at the moment, is because it makes it too easy for me to buy some Bitcoins, transfer them to a Dark Web marketplace, and have a little jiffy bag containing deadly white powder, hitting my doormat the very next day.

I don't believe prohibition works, but certainly making things a little more inconvenient does offer some protection from temptation. I wouldn't even know where to begin, trying to find a drug dealer, unless I wanted to buy low quality cannabis or terrible quality imitation cocaine from one of the many dealers who hang around by Camden Lock.

Prohibition created legal highs. Prohibition created the Dark Web. Because I'm an IT expert and a sensation seeker, when I read about legal highs in the news I was tempted to give them a go. The rest is history. All of that "moral panic" crap in the media had precisely the opposite effect than intended. A naïve middle-class IT professional working for an investment bank, suddenly became exposed to a world that I would never have become part of, if it wasn't for the fact that prohibition lowered the barrier to entry.

As the legal highs started to get banned, I then took to Internet forums to find out where people who had stockpiled - like me - were supposed to go after we ran out of drugs. That was how I found out about the Dark Web. Yet again, prohibition moved me from a world that was legal, taxed and regulated, towards the dark and murky world of illegal drugs.

One day, in a pit of despair at my spiralling addiction, I decided to order all the drugs. I bought crack, heroin and crystal meth. I didn't even know what to do with them. You can snort heroin and meth, but not crack, as it turns out. How does a middle class homeowner even smoke crack? I didn't even own a cigarette lighter.

A couple weeks later, I had nailed my door shut and put newspaper all over the windows. It's remarkable how quickly a respectable middle-class rich person can turn the house they own into a crack den.

What's also remarkable is how quickly you figure out that you've bought a one way express ticket to an early death, if you have vast sums of money and a reasonable intellect.

One day, I smoked a pipe - I had bought a meth pipe off the Dark Web by this point - that had been filled with heroin, crack and meth. I thought "is this as good as it gets?". The room was bathed with a yellow light, even though it was barely lit. There was a calm serenity. I thought "this ain't even that great" and decided that I'd better stop before I decided that it was great.

It's the strangest thing, flushing rocks of crack and a big bag of heroin down the loo, not because you're addicted and you want to quit, but because you can see how easily you could become addicted.

People think that drug addiction is all about wanting drugs and taking drugs, but it's not that at all. Drug addiction is about identity, routine, habituation, ceremony, lifestyle... things that I even struggle to explain. If you're just locked in a room with a virtually limitless supply of drugs, because the postman keeps bringing your supply and you have lots of money in the bank... you'd think you'd just take drugs and more drugs until you died or ran out of money.

In actual fact, addictions are self-limiting. Given a clean pure supply of drugs, eventually, addiction becomes kinda boring or the downsides start to outweigh the upsides.

I'm lucky, because I'm wealthy and I'm not a total dumbass. I tried so many drugs, and eventually found one that was far better than crack, heroin or crystal methamphetamine, but cost less than £1 a day.

I used to buy a packet of capsules off the Internet for £27. This was a legal high called "NRG-3", which turned out to be MDPV: I've nicknamed it supercrack. The packet contained 20 capsules, and each capsule had 100mg of MDPV in it. I would hide these capsules all over the house, so that I would never have to hunt for very long to get my fix, when the cravings became unbearable.

I would divide the 100mg contents of a capsule into 3 equal piles. Then, I would divide one of the piles into 2 lines. I would snort one of the lines, which would weigh approximately 17mg.

17mg of MDPV is a very strong dose. Basically, it's enough to be bat-shit insane for 24 hours. I would pretty much always end up going back for the second line... so that's 48 hours of insanity, with no sleep. I would go back to work for a rest.

120 days of bat-shit insanity for £27.

Cheap.

Deadly.

You spread 120 days over the weekends, and you've got 2 years worth of hiding a drug habit. If you do anything for 2 years, it becomes an integral part of your life. It's hard to change the habits of a lifetime. Again, you've gotta be smart and spot the changes in your behaviour.

I started cancelling plans, because a 1-day drug binge turned into a whole weekend drug binge.

I started not making any plans, because I was planning on taking drugs all weekend.

How the hell I held down a job during this time, I have no idea.

My psychiatrist and my GP thought I was self-medicating for depression. They thought I was in control. They actually told me "don't stop what you're doing... just try to cut down gradually". My GP signed me off work for 5 weeks, and I thought "great! I can take drugs for 4 weeks and then spend a week recovering".

It's true that my clinical depression and abusive relationship had led me to self medication, but when it became drug experimentation, I lost control over the course of a year. I started with a legal drug called Methylone, which I took every day and it worked to alleviate my depression. Then, when I found NRG-3 during a messy breakup, I was completely hooked.

Less than a month after becoming addicted to NRG-3, I started carrying a letter with me and a £20 note in an envelope. The letter said:

"I am a drug addict. If you have found me with breathing difficulties or unconscious, please put me in a taxi to A&E".

In actual fact, the letter was far more detailed and contained some information that would have been useful for any medical professionals who had the misfortune of trying to look after me... but you get the idea. The penny had dropped. I knew I was in trouble. Self-medication had turned into experimentation, which had unleashed addiction.

For others, there are 3 valuable lessons I learned:

  1. Depression, stress, relationship difficulties, money worries, housing worries: these are the things that create a festering swamp. Addiction will take hold, not because of the drugs, but because somebody's life is already awful. If you want to prevent addiction, you need to improve people's lives, not ban drugs.
  2. Even though it sounds disingenuous, it does make sense to shop around. Think about all those Oxycontin addicts who haven't yet figured out that heroin is stronger and cheaper. They're going to one day. How much money are they going to 'waste' in the meantime?
  3. Addictions are naturally self-limiting. People need to quit on their own terms. There's an oft-quoted line about how addicts and alcoholics "can never get enough of their drug of choice". In actual fact, very few people can actually afford to take as many drugs as they want. Look at the mega wealthy: aren't you surprised that so few of them drop dead from drug abuse?

Alcohol is a dumb choice of drug, because it's so damaging to the liver. In a way, benzos are the smart alternative. GHB/GBL makes you 'drunk' but it doesn't have the same hangover, and it's not so damaging to the body. You can buy 10 litres of "alloy wheel cleaner" from BASF in Germany for about £500. That's equivalent to 7,000 shots of vodka, and it won't give you cirrhosis of the liver.

Cocaine is a dumb drug of choice, because it's so expensive and the adulterants are highly damaging to the mucous membrane in your sinuses, to the point where you might lose your nose. You can buy nitracaine from China in bulk for just a few dollars per gram, and it'll be 99% pure.

Heroin is damn cheap. It's the injecting that causes the problems: collapsed veins, abscesses and dirty needles leading to blood-borne diseases. With an adequate supply of medical grade diamorphine, a heroin addict can live a long, healthy happy life, and will probably "grow out" of their habit in their 40s or 50s.

Crystal meth is cheap anyway. Smoking meth is undoubtably incredibly destructive to teeth and lungs. It sounds crazy to say this, but given an adequate supply, at least crime will go down and the need for prostitution goes away. With higher self-esteem because people are not selling their body to get drugs, surely a large number of addicts are going to stop using eventually?

I'm not saying "legalise all drugs and have your local supermarket stocking crystal meth". Drugs are so widely available and so cheap, we're at the point where prohibition is like a bad joke. Shutting the original Silk Road marketplace on the Dark Web just caused dozens more imitators to spring up and fill its place. You can't legislate to control human nature. It doesn't work. Supply and demand are the only forces that you need to understand.

If you have a loved one who you think is at risk of addiction, or struggling with addiction, you can prevent that journey from even starting by making their life vastly better so that addiction never takes hold. Once an addiction has started, you're not going to be able to cut it short by cutting off their supply of money or forcing them into some rehab program. An addict will simply go around any obstacle. An addict needs to quit on their own terms, when they've had enough.

Perhaps I will never have had enough, because perhaps my life will never improve. Certainly, when you're depressed, stressed, bored shitless by your job, worried about money, isolated and lonely... those things are perfect breeding conditions for addiction to take hold. Why the hell are you being clean & sober, if your clean & sober life is utter bullshit?

This is how I've arrived at the decision to start using drugs again.

Except, I'm being smart... I think. I think I'm smart. Correct me if I'm wrong. Am I smart?

What am I doing differently? Well, nothing really. I'm combining my experience from far too many years of ups, downs and dangerous self-experimentation. However, I have meticulously gathered data. I have documented pages and pages of details on my drug and medication use, and cross-correlated that with my mood diary, earnings, movement data and every other data source that I could harvest.

My conclusion: I need a fast-acting antidepressant that gives me a mood improvement.

So, I decided to prescribe myself Bupropion.

It arrived today.

I took it.

The experiment continues. It's a big relief to finally change something, after 6 painful months of controlling the variables, even though it was causing me untold mental anguish.

Actually, two things changed today, which is a shame, in terms of conducting a decent trial.

Today, I'm unemployed.

Anyway, I need to get another job, and it might just be a little easier, now that I have relented and I'm taking happy pills... let's see, shall we?

 

Tags:

 

Structure and Routine

9 min read

This is a story about unhealthy coping mechanisms...

Work shoes

I've been surviving on a combination of barely concealed loathing and contempt for my job, copious amounts of alcohol, occasional use of tranquillisers and a lot of passive-aggressive blogging. It seems to have worked, according to my bank balance and my CV.

In four months, I had one day off sick and a one-week holiday. That's not bad. Just 6 working days that I was unproductive. 1 out 82 working days unwell is only 1.2%.

It's been killing me in unusual ways though.

I've been comfort eating a lot. When I first started my contract, I was munching my way through loads of sweets and nuts at my desk. I was having a great big lunch. I was having cakes and pasties. I was having super-size meals at McDonalds. I was coming home and stuffing my face with crisps, ice cream and unhealthy meals.

I've been drinking far too much. To begin with, I was picking up a bottle of wine on my way home, every single day. I switched to beer because I could drink more of it, but there would be less alcohol in it. There's 94ml of alcohol in your average bottle of white wine. There's 75ml of alcohol in 3 cans of lager, even though the beer is double the volume. Then, things got out of control briefly. I was having two bottles of wine, or 6 cans of beer. The alcohol was a real problem, but then so was the job. Sobering up at my desk was a way of getting through the day.

Early on in my contract, I decided that I wasn't going to blog at work. I wanted to do my best to look busy. I didn't even want to surf the web and read the news websites that I like. I certainly didn't want to be looking at Facebook on my phone all day long. However, that just made things worse. Getting through the empty boring days was excruciating agony. By the time I got home, I was so relieved, but so stressed out, that I felt I needed alcohol to relax and face the next day.

Then, I started to read the news. I found myself constantly clicking refresh, willing something to happen. The summer months are fairly dreadful anyway. The politicians have gone off on holiday, the markets are quiet. Not a lot was going on. Brexit provided a very unhealthy obsession for a while, and I took great delight in trolling the closet racists and xenophobes. Post-Brexit was quite anti-climactic, and just tragic.

I decided that the only way that I was going to stay sane was to write 3 times a day. I was briefly mailing short stories that I was writing to a couple of friends. They helped to keep me sane by being the willing recipients of my bleak allegorical tales of wage slavery: read Alan the Alcoholic if you want to know what I mean.

Finally, I decided I would allow myself to blog at work. I had the additional problem of being told I could no longer use my personal MacBook and I would have to have some piece of shit PC "because data security" or whatever. Anyway, I then didn't have access to my photo library - I try to use images that I own the copyright for - and I didn't have Photoshop to be able to make high quality edits. There's also a slight worry about what kind of corporate spyware is watching what I'm doing.

Somehow, I've nearly limped through to the end of my contract, and I even managed to work my notice period, which is something I haven't done for 6 or 7 years. I'm even getting a couple of leaving dos, as opposed to being escorted off the premises by security (that's never actually happened, but things haven't been wrapped up 'neatly' in recent years).

Obviously, I'm on really dodgy ground, because I'm going to be looking for a new contract in a fortnight or so, and I suppose prospective new employers could stumble on my Twitter profile, Facebook page or this blog. So, to be sensible, I probably have to blog "nicey nicey" for a couple of weeks, so that all the juicy gossip is buried deeper than most miserable corporate drones would ever dig.

I'm not sure what the magic formula is for recovery from clinical depression / major depressive disorder, bipolar disorder, substance abuse (dual diagnosis), borderline personality disorder, functional alcoholism and all the other labels that get bandied around. However, I'm pretty sure that it looks like this:

  • An absolute imperial fucktonne of cash. I mean LOADS.
  • Rest & recuperation. I don't just mean a couple of weeks. We're talking months or years
  • Surround yourself with addicts and people with mental health problems. Nobody else 'gets' it
  • Cut horrible toxic people out of your life
  • No compromise
  • Force yourself to do things you don't like very much
  • Do something that requires discipline and routine, and stick with it for months, if not years
  • Set yourself some achievable goals, where you're in control

That last one is probably the most important. I absolutely love the fact that I've been blogging for over a year, and I'm on track to write 365 blog posts and 450,000 words in less than 13 months. I've blogged from psychiatric hospital. I've blogged from San Francisco. I've blogged from a desert island off the coast of North Africa. I've blogged through a couple of projects from hell. I've blogged through depression. I've blogged through addiction. I've blogged through isolation. I've blogged through loneliness. I've blogged through suicidal thoughts and self harm.

The only thing I haven't quite done yet is to blog through happiness and contentment, but either that's coming or blogging is keeping me trapped in a certain mindset and stopping me moving on with my life.

I don't think writing like this is keeping me stuck in a rut. I can't imagine my life without writing now. Writing has become such a part of me. I'm more a writer than anything else. There's nothing else I live for, as much as writing. There's nothing else that I put as much passion and energy into. There's nothing else I'm as enthusiastic about.

I guess for many people, work is what defines them. "What do you do?" is the classic middle-class party icebreaker question, when meeting new people. What do you even say if you hate what you do, or you're flailing around to find something new? What should I say, on Thursday, when I'm out of a job again?

If I tell people I'm an IT consultant, that's slightly misleading, because that's a thing that I do just to get money when I'm desperate, and I won't even be consulting for any clients on Thursday, or for at least a fortnight or so after that.

However, I'm not going to stop writing when I finish my contract. I can't see me ever stopping writing, now I've started. What would I do with myself? How would I structure my day, without writing?

Obviously, writing is not a panacea, and it's a dangerous strategy to turn yourself into an open book. So many people will gleefully abuse your honesty, in order to gain a competitive advantage over you, put you down. So many people are looking for an excuse not to hire you, or to sack you. I'm giving my enemies all the ammunition they could possibly want.

However, isn't there something poetically wonderful about loading the gun, handing it to your enemy and turning your back on them? If they choose to shoot you in the back, with the bullet that you loaded in the weapon that you gave to them, isn't that going to eat away at them for the rest of their life?

Isn't there something exciting about deciding to say things that you're not allowed to say because of the conspiracy of silence? People are so afraid about becoming unemployable, and tainting their professional reputations. I almost want to start linking to this blog from my LinkedIn. Of course, every time I write the word "LinkedIn" the higher up the Google search index I will climb when somebody types "nick grant linkedin" into the little search box.

I'm not sure how much the 9 to 5, Monday to Friday routine has given my life some useful structure. I think, on balance, it's been more damaging to my mental and physical health to have a shitty project and an offshore team, than any benefit that I have gained by forcing myself to get out of bed every morning. I have no difficulty getting up and getting on with being productive, when I'm working on something that isn't mind-numbingly boring and depressing anyway.

The suffering has been worth it, financially, and with money comes opportunity: the opportunity to find something better to do with my limited time on the planet. Life is short: too short to be working a job that's like death itself.

Who knows how I'm going to feel when I wake up on Thursday. Will I feel elated, depressed, motivated, anxious?

I'm not exactly in a rush to get my CV out into the marketplace and find myself in another shitty contract. I want some time out, and I want to be more picky about the project I choose next time, even if I am still in a precarious financial situation. It's unwise to become complacent about your employability. Catastrophic market events can happen at any moment, and work can dry up overnight.

Will I be able to cut down my drinking, eat less, exercise more, or will the task of job hunting loom large and make me unbearably anxious? I certainly lost a lot of sleep during the week that my contract was terminated early and my flatmate revealed that he didn't have any money to pay his rent & bills for the 4th month running. Life's never straightforward, is it?

Health vs. wealth. That seems to be the battle that is being fought. Is it possible to have it all? Watch this space.

 

Tags:

 

Sprint and Coast

13 min read

This is a story about IT projects...

Bipolar Mood Chart

I'm sorry steady eddies, but if you want to get anywhere with a big complicated project, you're going to need somebody who's a little bit of a madman. There's this idea that building a piece of software is a bit like building an aeroplane. Plan the work, work the plan. The idea is that the software architects will come up with a brilliant design specification, and then programmers can just come along and build it. Wrong.

Firstly, you have to plug together all the bits of tech, and make them work with each other. From the front end to the back end, you have the "full stack" and it takes a special kind of masochist to declare themselves to be a "full stack" developer, because you're liable to be asked to change the buttons to a slightly different shade of green far more often than you're likely to be asked to make a working piece of software.

For me, I'll start with a database design - a schema. I will model the data. Most applications have a CRUD element: create, read, update and delete data. If you think about the classic example of a database that holds all the data on your customers, most of it will be performing CRUD operations to keep the data up to date.

Then the next thing is the data abstraction layer. How is your software going to store and retrieve the data from the database? Software talks one language, databases talk another. Interfacing between them is easiest when you use a bit of software that does the 'translation' for you.

Then you're going to need a bunch of business logic. Sure, you have all this data stored, but you're going to want to do something interesting with it. Maybe you want a piece of code that tells you who all the customers who you need to contact today are. That's a bit of business logic, and you wrap it up in a service.

Then you're going to need APIs. APIs are Application Programming Interfaces. APIs let one bit of software talk to another bit of software, which can be done over the Internet. You need an API so that your website running in your Internet browser, can talk to the server to call the services that get the data to display, and call the services that have the business logic in them. When you click a button on a website, a request goes off to another computer somewhere in the world, which is processed, and then the response comes back. The API describes how this can happen: it's a contract.

Once you've built your APIs, you can build the user interface. The user interface is the pretty bit you see when you download an app from the App Store, or when you visit a website. When you visit a website, the user interface is actually downloaded and it runs on your computer, in your Internet browser.

With a website, the user interface will be built in code that's very different to the code that runs elsewhere. Because web servers execute millions of requests, their code is highly optimised. Because your Internet browser needs to support millions of different websites, developed by millions of different developers, the code is designed to run on almost any computer.

Then, when you've written all this code, you need to set up your infrastructure. You need a server, you need to connect it to the Internet, you'll need to connect your domain name to your server, you'll need to configure the server with website hosting software and the database, you'll need to protect your server against hackers, you'll need to deploy your code onto your server. Then, people can visit your domain by typing www.yourdomain.com and the user interface code will be downloaded to their computer's Internet browser, and then the API on your server will be called to get the data it needs. Bingo! Your software is live.

Just getting a basic website running requires you to be:

  • A system administrator (a.k.a. "sysadmin") so you can configure the server
  • A security specialist (a.k.a. "pentester") so you can protect yourself from hackers
  • A networking specialist, so you can configure your domain name, load balancing, traffic routing
  • A database administrator (a.k.a. "DBA") so you can configure the database
  • A serverside developer (a.k.a. "backend dev") so you can write the service code
  • An API designer, so you can define the interface contract between backend and user interface
  • A web designer, so you can make the website look all pretty
  • A front-end developer (a.k.a. "UI dev") so you can write the scripts that control the user interface
  • A mobile developer so you can make an iPhone or Android app that does what the website does
  • A QA engineer (a.k.a. "tester") so you can make sure the damn software works
  • A release manager, so you can package up your software and deploy it
  • An operational support engineer, so you can diagnose and fix problems when they occur

That's 12 different roles, or "hats" that you have to wear. Also, bear in mind that all your users care about is what colour the buttons are.

If you're a "full stack" developer, you're highly in demand, because you can take a piece of software from an idea, to something that actually works and can be used by people anywhere in the world, via the gift of the Internet.

Do you notice that none of those roles are "programmer". There is no such job as programmer anymore.

Back in the 1970s, you used to ring IBM up and they would wheel a dirty great big cabinet into your basement, and then a zillion wires would connect every "dumb" terminal in the building to it. The dumb terminals would just display on their screens what the mainframe would tell them. Essentially, it was just one computer that had hundreds of monitors, and hundreds of keyboards.

Programmers in the 1980s had everything they needed all in one box. User interfaces were just green text on a black screen. There weren't buttons to click on, that could be different colours, so nobody had to waste their time changing the colour of the buttons. There weren't pretty graphics for people to argue over. There was just green text on a black screen.

Because everything was on one box, everything was the same computer code. The data and the code and the different parts of the system were seamlessly interconnected. There wasn't computer code flying around over the Internet, being executed in billions of different Internet browsers all around the world. There was just one blob of code, running on one computer, with hundreds of users. That was programming: writing programs to run on one computer, not billions.

Programming's not even that hard: if this, then that. That's about the gist of it. If you know what the words AND, OR and NOT mean, you're well on your way to being a programmer. If you can write a list of instructions for another person to follow... that's how you become a good programmer. You just get really good at righting really good instructions for a really stupid person to follow.

IF you see some gold THEN go and pick up the gold

Looks pretty easy, right? Well, then you find that your program doesn't work very well when the gold is on the other side of a Plexiglas window. The automatons following your instructions are going to get stuck on the "go" part, and will find themselves just walking on the spot, with their nose pressed against the glass, trying to get to the gold that they can see.

Fast forward to the present day, and you might have the situation where your website looks absolutely awful because granny is still using Internet Explorer, but you only tested your code in Google Chrome. We have the situation where your website works perfectly fine when one person is using it at a time, but when millions of visitors are trying to access it at the same time, they're all treading on each other's feet and the whole thing falls in a heap.

A lot of techies want to be programmers, but programming is such a tiny part of anybody's job. If you hire a bunch of programmers, and they all insist that they only want to do programming, you're never going to have a website.

If you hire a bunch of web designers to build you a website, you'll have a very pretty looking thing, but it won't work very well. It'll be fake. It'll be window dressing. It'll be a film set, where the buildings don't actually have anything behind them: they're flat fronts, propped up from behind.

Film Set

If you hire a bunch of back-end developers to build you an application, you'll have a beautiful set of services and APIs, but you won't have anybody to tell to change the colour of the buttons. If you tell the serverside developers how important it is that the button colour gets changed for the millionth time, they'll just say "yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm writing down on my invisible TODO list".

So, you hire a full-stack developer, because they can do everything. Trouble is, they're all a bit mental.

If you can do everything all on your own - you can wear 12 different hats and context-switch between them - then you're going to be driven mad if you have to work for somebody else.

Even though I can do everything, it's not like I should do everything. It's not healthy, to have constant interruptions, and to be pulled from one thing to another all the time. In fact, it's distinctly unhealthy.

The only way that a full-stack developer can make any progress is to work really, really quickly.

If you throw together a fully working application in the blink of an eye, you can get it done before anybody asks you to change the colour of the damn buttons. These herculean efforts are incredibly draining. Holding so many different competing tasks, and also the big picture, in your head, while working as fast as you can... that's exhausting.

Most software ends up in the bin anyway, so you might as well throw together these hastily built applications, that at least prove that things can be done, technically. There's already too much useless vapourware crap out there that doesn't actually do what it purports to be able to.

And so, I end up working on project after project that's clearly going wrong. I hastily cobble something together. I get something working end-to-end. Then, I'm burnt out and I have to take the money I've earned and go have a lie down in a darkened room.

I actually don't think software can be built without some nutter who's actually going to fill in all the blanks and prove out the concepts. Every important computer system that I've ever worked on has had one madman who's single-mindedly taken the project to the point of MVP - Minimum Viable Product.

It's unhealthy for your moods, to be expected to sprint as fast as you can, and then reap the rewards but be burnt out, but it's certainly lucrative and a good career strategy. The financial incentives can't be ignored. Also, if you're a complete-finisher personality type, it's the only way you're ever going to see a successful IT project, because so many people are happy to bumble along until the project eventually goes so far over budget and has spectacularly missed its deadlines, that it gets cancelled.

My current project - which is getting cancelled because it's over budget and late - has been slightly better for me than other projects have been in the past, because I just concentrated on making sure my team was on time and on budget, instead of thinking about the overall project. Net result, I'm out of a job again, but at least I've got a happy customer and a good reference, plus I'm not totally burnt out. It's a damnsight easier to only think about my 1/8th of the project, rather than feel responsible for the whole thing.

God knows how I'm going to reconcile my personality - a completer-finisher - with IT's staggeringly bad track record of ever successfully delivering projects on time and on budget. My health is suffering as I've tried to single-handedly get projects back on track, and I never get any thanks when I do that. I'm not saying I'm a hero. I'm just saying that I don't like to bumble along and fail.

Although I can do full-stack development, I don't think I should because it's just too much stress, being spread across 12 different roles. I reckon I'm going to look for some kind of development manager job, where I can have more management input into the way things are run.

It'd be interesting to know what my mental health would be like without the kind of external pressure to rush, rush, rush. It'd be nice to work on a project where I could take my time, take pride in my work, do the things I'm good at. Do those projects even exist?

I think it's the engineer's curse. "Can you do this?" is always answered honestly. Yes, I can probably fix your damn car, but should I really be doing that if my skill is as a software developer? "Yes I could, but I'm not sure I should" is the correct answer, but engineers aim to please. So few managers understand that it's a dumb idea to ask their capable engineers to do everything and anything, and expect them to spread themselves so thinly.

Even though management doesn't agree with me - too frustrating and boring - at least it gives me the opportunity to throw a bubble around my development team and protect them from bad managers. At least I can create the kind of culture that I'd like to have, as a developer, for my team.

It's hard to know how to balance your skills, your needs, your values, and the fact that life's a lot easier if you're paid a lot of cold hard cash.

Anyway, it's all rather academic until I've dug myself out of the debt hole.

 

Tags:

 

Never Allow Yourself to be Measured

12 min read

This is a story about conformity...

A grade

Why would you ever consent to being graded? Isn't that extremely degrading to have somebody sit in judgement over you and decide where you fit in the pecking order?

We don't have an education system. We are not educating our children.

Instead, we have a system that's designed to give us the best grades we can possibly afford, so that we will have better employment opportunities. Schools are businesses, and they need pupils to get funding, so they can pay all those lovely salaries. Teachers are judged on their students' exam results. Schools are chosen based on their exam results. Universities will offer places to those students with the best exam grades, but universities are money making machines, taking at least £27,000 for an undergraduate degree, from every student. Finally, employers will select prospective employees who have the best grades.

Imagine you gave up your childhood and a few of the prime years of your young adulthood, in order to get "A" grades and a first class degree from a top university. You worked your little socks off from the age of 5 to the age of 21. That's 16 years of hard labour. It wasn't an education. It was an exercise in grading. Your teachers didn't teach you. Instead, you were trained how to pass exams. The whole balance of incentives is such that only the grades matter. You just want the piece of paper at the end of it, so you don't have to take a shitty minimum wage zero hours contract McJob.

So, what happens when you graduate, take a graduate job, and then find what you're doing is utterly pointless bullshit?

What happens when those 16 lost years of your life mean that you're saddled with debt and working some drastically underpaid job that won't even buy you a house anyway?

In the US, every man woman and child has a debt of $60,000, even if they don't even have a bank account and never personally borrowed any money. In the UK the figure is circa £30,000. This is money the government borrowed on your behalf. Even if you're financially prudent, and you don't spend money until you've earned it, that's certainly not what your government is doing.

In order to stand a chance of getting a half decent job, you reckon you need to go to college/university. In the US the average student loan debt is $35,000. In the UK you have to spend £27,000 on tuition alone, for a 3 year degree course. Of course, the UK figure doesn't include the money you need to live on. You can borrow a further £32,000 in order to pay your rent, food, transport and other costs of living at university. Basically, you're going to spunk the best part of £60,000 getting your degree.

So, you've spent 16 years of your life, having no life - your nose has been stuck in those books and you've been doing all your homework - and you're £90,000 in debt. Imagine you met the love of your life at university, you both graduated and you'd like to have a couple of kids. That means your household is going to be £240,000 in debt, before you even take out a mortgage. That's £60,000 of government debt for your two kids, £60,000 of government debt for you and your other half, and £120,000 for your two university degrees. God damn! You'd better get a job and start paying that debt off, because you haven't worked a day in your life at this point, even though you're now 22 years old.

Because you worked so damn hard to pass your 11+ exam, your grammar school entrance exam, or private school entrance exam, your GCSEs, your A-levels, your university entrance exam, your final year exams, your dissertation... you're pretty heavily invested now, aren't you? You gave up playing outside in the sunshine with your friends so you could do extra Latin and calculus. You gave up swigging cider in the park and shagging in a bush, so that you could be at home poring over your books. You gave up being debt free, so you could now have a £60,000 student loan like a millstone around your neck.

Guess what? Even having a good degree from a good university isn't enough. You probably need to become a lawyer or an accountant to set yourself apart from the McJob fodder. Lawyers in the US run up student debts in excess of $100,000. Here in the UK, you're going to have to pay an extra 2 years of tuition and living expenses, before you can even get a job in a law firm. You're going to pay the the law school £21,000 in tuition fees, plus you'll need another £20,000 for rent and living expenses, while you study. So, your student debt is now £100,000 before you even enter one of the professions.

Even a graduate with first-class honours from Oxford or Cambridge is not a professional. Having read classics does not seem immediately useful, given the lack of living people who speak Latin or Ancient Greek. While you have clearly marked yourself out as 'clever' in a rather abstract sense, you're not obviously employable because of your education. It is merely your grades that make you attractive to prospective employers.

Is it even very clever, to spend so much of your parents money on a private or public school education, squander your childhood on homework and piano recitals, saddle yourself with the best part of £100k of student debt, and then have the prospect of doing legal or accountancy work to help billionaires avoid paying tax.

The more you invest the more exposed you are. You're not going to take some lowly entry-level job, because you've got a goddam degree dontcha know? You're not going to question how absolutely dreadful the work is that you're doing, and how appalling the salary is, because it's a graduate job apparently. The job spec said "must have 2:1 degree from respected institution" so therefore it must be a good job, right?

Yeah, at least you're not flipping burgers for a living.

But, can you buy a house?

Nope.

You were conned. You studied hard for 16 long years. You stressed yourself to bits over every exam. Writing your dissertation was pure agony. You were so worried that you were going to fail. You could have failed at any moment. You could have failed to get into a good secondary school. You could have screwed up your GCSEs. You could have screwed up your A-levels. You could have screwed up your finals. You could have screwed up your dissertation.

You were so damn relieved on graduation day. Sure, it felt good to have your picture taken holding a scroll of parchment tied up with a red ribbon, wearing a black gown and a mortar board. Your mum has that picture of you up on the wall in the downstairs toilet. Every houseguest sees that photo of you, a fresh-faced 21 year old graduate, proudly clutching the bit of paper you worked hard for 16 years to get. They imagine that you must be terribly clever but little do they know that you're now working some dreadful office job, copying and pasting numbers in spreadsheets, like some kind of factory worker.

Maybe you were a bit smarter and you realised that everybody's got a damn degree these days. Perhaps you did a masters, a PGCE, went to law school, studied accountancy. Now you have a profession. You're a teacher, a lawyer, an accountant.

You studied the extra years. You did the training. You took the shitty entry-level salary. Now you're a qualified professional. You're a member of The Law Society, you're a chartered accountant, you've got Qualified Teacher Status (QTS). Guess what? You still can't buy a fucking house.

My suggestion is this: if your parents have money, don't fucking work your bollocks off and study hard. Get your parents to buy you a house and give you some money. You don't need to work. The world does not need any more corporate lawyers.

If you don't come from a wealthy family, for God's sake don't waste the prime years of your life following the same path as all the other drones. There's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. School, university, graduate jobs... it's all just a miserable path that leads to debt and misplaced gratitude for a 'better' quality job, which is actually nothing of the sort.

I'm financially incentivised to stay doing what I'm doing, because I can buy a house and afford to have my family live in considerable comfort. My earning potential is a function of how able I am to say "fuck your shit" and go and get a better contract elsewhere, because I'm not driven by fear: fear that I have invested 16+ years of my life in a pointless piece of paper; fear that I have £60k to £100k of student debt that needs to be paid back; fear that I've been measured, graded, and that I know my place.

I don't know my place, because I never allowed myself to be graded. If somebody is turning me into a commodity, then I change my role. I'm very hard to pigeon hole. I'm very hard to label. I'll brand myself up as whatever I need to be in order to get the job, instead of harking back to my most recent academic or professional qualification. I have no qualms at saying "this bullshit job just ain't worth the pittance you pay" because I don't have this fetish for "graduate" or "professional" work.

In some narrow niche, you'll find that there's somebody who wants it worse than you. You'll find that somebody is prepared to study harder, longer, put more effort in. If you enter into the arms race, you'll find yourself competing in a completely unnecessary battle for something that's been created with artificial scarcity. Grades are not a precious rare metal dug out of the ground. There's a finite amount of gold on the planet, but there is no shortage of "A" grades or bullshit jobs.

The professional bodies are there to limit the numbers of people becoming lawyers, accountants, doctors, teachers and a whole host of other jobs that are better paid than flipping burgers. The only reason why those professions pay more than minimum wage is because artificial scarcity is created, by limiting the number of people who can qualify and practice those trades.

I never let my schooling interfere with my education. I taught myself how to program a computer, with the help of a couple of schoolfriends. I don't advise becoming a programmer today, because it's a crowded market, but there'll be something better that your kids can be doing instead of their damn homework. There's something you can be doing better than saving up money to help get your kids through university: buy them a damn car and a house, because they're never going to be able to afford things on their own, with the way things are going.

The education system was there to break our will and our sense of individuality, and prepare us for the workhouses. The education system is used for societal control. Your government wants obedient debt-laden citizens, who are grateful for a shitty made-up job. The plutocrats who rule your life want cheap labour, even though you think you've got a prestigious well-paid job. In actual fact, you know your place, and you have no social mobility at all.

We're moving beyond the era of the CV with your exam grades and other qualifications on there. The idea of sifting and sorting everybody, like grains of sand, ending up with the very finest particles graded right up to the grittier stuff... this is a flawed model.

Take your average super indebted grad today. Could they rewire a house? Could they fix the plumbing? Can they cook a fine meal? Could they organise an event? Can they lead people? Can they mend a car? Can they dress a wound? What are they like on a mountain? What are they like out at sea? What are they like in a crisis?

We're churning out people who are only good for one thing: regurgitating established facts and ideas. Parroting answers they've learned but don't understand. Passing exams.

Our kids these days don't pass exams because they've reasoned the answers from their knowledge and experience. Our kids these days don't make theoretical deductions. We have an exam passing machine that teaches our children how to pass tests, as opposed to educating them.

Everything's going to hell in a handcart because original ideas and critical thinking have no place in our education system or the world of bullshit jobs. We spend at least 16 years brainwashing our 'best and brightest' to be exam passers, box tickers, compliant little drones who all think and act the same way. The homogeny of bland corporate wage-slaves, churned out by the cookie-cutter 'education' system is frightening.

When sufficient numbers of people realise that they've been conned into giving away their youth, in return for a soul-destroying desk job that's mind-numbingly boring, but yet they can't buy a house, there's going to be rioting that far exceeds the disruption we saw in 2011, when it was the disadvantaged youths who took to the streets to protest their lack of opportunities and general contempt that is held for the underclass.

Debt will not prop things up forever. Without a wirtschaftswunder - debt forgiveness - the capitalists will destroy everything by demanding their pound of flesh. Empires always fall when debts are not forgiven and the proletariat are crushed by the weight of the idle elites who live in decadent luxury, while ordinary people struggle.

Teach your kids practical things. Let them play. Don't make them do their homework. Don't force them to practice an instrument "because it will look good on their university application". A new world is coming, and moulding kids in the shape of every other underpaid, underemployed corporate drone is not going to do them any favours.

 

Tags:

 

Dumbing Down

9 min read

This is a story about spoon feeding...

Cartoon Stick Men

There are a number of writing guides that suggest cutting out unnecessary words, shortening sentences and generally dumbing down what you write to appeal to the lowest common denominator. I personally think that would be an insult to the intelligence of anybody who takes the time to read my writing.

The academic equivalent of willy-waving is to try and pepper your text with obscure vocabulary and other curios. At best, you're going to impress some sneering pretentious elites. At worst you're going to write impenetrable text that's virtually unreadable without a dictionary. Somewhere in-between the best and the worst, you're going to trip yourself up and have those who are highly educated chortling at your clumsy use of language, while everybody else just thinks you're a stuck-up twat.

I write in a conversational manner, very much in the voice of my internal monologue. You, as the reader, must hear the stream of my thoughts, as a facsimile in your head as you read my words.

With editing, I could produce more concise text. With some rewriting, I could represent ideas and concepts, experiences and stories, in a much more concise manner. I could write to convey things with much more simplicity. But then, wouldn't you just be reading yet another yawnfest of Internet banality?

To try to be original is impossible: we are all just a product of our experiences. Monkey see, monkey do. However, to be authentic merely takes bravery... or is it stupidity?

I'm not writing a Wikipedia article. I'm not writing a self-help guide. I'm not writing a scientific paper.

This is a secret diary that has been made public. This is my psyche, laid bare so that my distress, confusion, isolation and the hideous complexity of the circumstances that I find myself in, are not obscured from view. I'm genuinely concerned for my safety, and without my detailed account of who I am, I might die completely misunderstood.

Don't we all fear that we might die misunderstood? Well... it's more complex than that.

If you have kids, you fear that you're not going to get to see them grow up. The fact of the matter is that you're unlikely to outlive your kids, but you've set yourself some unspoken milestones:

  • "As long as I get to watch them grow up to the age of 18, I'll be happy"
  • "As long as I get to watch them graduate from university, I'll be happy"
  • "As long as I get to watch them get married, I'll be happy"
  • "As long as I get to meet my grandkids, I'll be happy"

Perhaps you're concerned about how elderly your parents are getting, and you want to be around to look after them. Perhaps you're loved by your brothers and sisters, and your nieces and nephews. You're aware that you'd leave a hole in your family's life if you were gone.

Things are a bit different for me.

This is what my mum said to me, when I asked her why she never travelled the 45 minutes on the train to come and see me when I was in hospital:

"The police will tell us when you're dead and we can come and identify your body at the morgue if we have to"

I think it's pretty clear that my parents have faulty genes that need to die off. I can understand that you might not want to spend £5,000 on an operation to save the life of your pet hamster. However, I would spend thousands if my cat or my dog got sick. I would spend every penny I had, to save my child. My parents didn't think I was worth the £20 for the train fare from Oxford to London, and the 45 minutes of their time.

If you want to understand how or why I arrived at the notion that my family would not only be better off without me, but they actually actively want me dead then you only have to study that one example.

Whether you like it or not, you are responsible for your children's lives. Your children didn't ask to be born. Your children are not supposed to be grateful to be alive. You're supposed to be grateful if you have healthy children.

It's a risky decision to have a child: they might be born with birth defects, they might be disabled. Your child might be suffering and in pain. Instead of adopting one of the many children who don't have a family, instead you decided to create an extra mouth to feed on the overcrowded planet, and take a chance that your shitty genes might leave them with terrible quality of life. Instead of considering what you could give the child, you thought about what you could take in terms of feeling satisfied that you have procreated.

Being brought up to feel apologetic that you even exist is an awful thing. Being told you're a bad kid because you didn't pop out of the womb ready to serve your parents like some subservient sycophantic butler is an awful thing.

"I taught you how to use a spoon"

Don't make me fucking laugh. If you don't feed your kid you're a negligent parent. What do you want, a fucking medal for taking the bare minimum responsibility for the life that you chose to bring into existence? If my parents didn't teach me to eat using a spoon, I would have eaten with my hands, or somebody with more of a nurturing instinct would have taught me to eat using cutlery, or I would have died earlier and suffered less.

Yes, I've reached the point now where I'm basically saying "what's the fucking point?".

What is the point, really? Surely, it's a fucking gift to rear a child and be pleased you actually took some fucking responsibility. There can only be shame in neglecting your responsibilities. There are no medals and ticker-tape parades for parents, because you wanted to fuck, you wanted to experience the miracle of life, you wanted it... your kids didn't. Remember that: nobody asked to be born.

If your kids are miserable and want to die, you have failed miserably as a parent. Victim blaming is no use to sidestep the responsibility. On the day of judgement, can you say hand on heart that you acted in your child's best interests, given your decision to create that child in the first place?

We are not fucking fish! We don't just spew out eggs and sperm into the ocean in the hope that some of our spawn reaches adulthood. What the fuck happened to your brain? What the fuck happened to your education? My parents both had the benefit of free university places. My parents both think they're oh-so smart. It's not like you can hide behind the defence of saying you're just a dumb animal.

I'm smarter than an animal. I'm smarter than my genes.

I know that my genes program me to want to procreate, but I can choose not to. In fact, on the evidence of the behaviour of my parents, passing on their genes would be the most irresponsible thing I could possibly do. Clearly this line of genes needs to die out, because I detest parents who don't take responsibility for their choices, their children.

My parents are too stupid to even read, as it turns out. I suckered them in with some honeyed words, to get them hooked reading this blog, and then I dialled up the honesty. They could not have cut & run any faster. Like Usain Bolt, they sprinted for the hills. The truth is hard to deal with when the only way you can look yourself in the mirror and sleep at night is by pretending your son is already dead.

It's a bit strange to write and write and write like this, labouring a point, but until they die from old age, smoking and drug/alcohol abuse related illness, I feel there needs to be this constant reinforcement of the consequences of their mistreatment of me.

Instead of thinking "my friends would miss me" I think "what if my parents attempt to corrupt the truth after I die". In a way, I'm staying alive to defend my memory, but when the truth is fully told I can finally collapse with exhaustion and rest in peace.

Sure, my parents spoon fed me. I wish they hadn't. If you're not going to go the distance, what's the fucking point? Why even start? It's fucking cruel, to bring someone into the world who didn't ask for it, and then to fuck them over. If I'm here just to pass on your genes, guess what? I'm not going to.

Why am I seething with such anger about something in the past? Well, it's in the context of how much of my life I felt secure, happy, loved (not much). It's in the context of how suicidal I feel (very). It's in the context of how things will look, when I'm gone.

The most loved I ever felt was when a lovely family in Ireland took me in. That just ain't right... what the fuck is wrong with my parents? Is it because they're drug addicts and alcoholics? I doubt it's the drugs or the alcohol because I'm very loving and nurturing, so I must conclude that there must be genes in me that haven't yet been expressed. I fear that I may be a terrible father, if I had kids, even if I was a loving caring husband, and I cared for my pets more than I even cared for myself.

Oh well, maybe it'll all be over soon and I can leave the final analysis to somebody else.

 

Tags: