Thoughts on podcasts...

It is so easy to let the time slip by. It's been over a year since I last posted on this blog. I'm lazy and easily distracted. But these are just excuses. I have been saying that I've been wanting to blog about podcasts for months now, so here goes. As said, I'm lazy, so I'll see how I go but this may have to be a part one post...

I'm quite an effusive person and I am certainly hyperbolic. I remember reading in Time Out about someone who was overheard saying "I exaggerate all the time. I exaggerate about a million times a day" and questioning if I had been the one overheard. I'm an all in kind of person - I commit to things and it's just in my nature to go all in, I guess. This makes me sound like a mega-tool, I know. But really I'm just trying to give some context to how deeply my affection for things can run - why surround yourself with things that you only have lukewarm feelings about? Sod that! My affection for podcasts... will probably become obvious as I get more and more carried away with this declaration of love, but at least you can now consider yourself vaguely prepared.

Earlier this year I went to Toronto for five days on a solo trip to activate my visa. I haven't been on holiday by myself in a long time and it was one of the best experiences of my life I've had recently. I came back like a living, breathing, embodiment of Eat, Pray, Love. I was irritating. So irritating. I didn't bleat on about 'flow', but I wasn't far off... That said, lentils and tranquillity aside - it was an overwhelmingly positive experience and one which I hadn't really expected to be. I was walking ten miles a day, reading loads and listening to hours and hours of podcasts. I came back feeling happy in myself, in my own company and so much more interested and curious about the world then I had been before I went away. I never once felt lonely, or isolated - mainly I just felt really happy. I think I owe podcasts a lot for that - strange as it may sound - but since moving into a house and living by myself for the first time, they have often kept me company. As much as I love music, it is nice to have patter sometimes - particularly when it is something to laugh along to (special thanks to My Dad wrote a porno!).

I can't remember exactly when I got into podcasts but I'm a huge convert. I am subscribed to about 30-35 and I'd say I regularly listen to at least 20 of those. Others, I have to be in a particular mood for and some I just stopped by for a peruse, have ambled on and keep them as I may return at some point although it's unlikely. I've been meaning for ages to write some words and thoughts about some of my particular favourites and this is what has finally broken the long overdue blogging hiatus.

I think one of the things I like so much about podcasts is that I find them so absorbing. I get completely and utterly sucked into them and have found myself walking along busy streets, laughing uproariously, crying and uttering an opinion out loud as if I'm having a conversation with an invisible person. Also, the absolute GLORY of the fast forward 15 seconds button. Apple piss me off a lot (headphones jack) but I can almost forgive them because of the fast forward 15 seconds button. If I'm not enjoying a story or a segment, boom, it's gone, I've moved on. I am ruthless when it comes to those 15 seconds and I think the entire podcast experience is better because of it - I don't get dragged down listening to something I'm not interested in or that I'm just not enjoying.

But most of all, what I love about podcasts, is how some, (and I'm conscious of not reverting too much back to eat, pray, love mode, here) have had a genuine impact on my life. They have changed how I think about experiences and opportunities I've had and how I approach things now. If I ever met Dan Savage, I would say thank you for opening my mind, for introducing me to things I would never have come across otherwise and for making my life better.

At least, that is what I imagine I would say. I would probably say nothing of the sort and make a fool out of myself. Quite possibly, I would fall over. These things happen.

Now that I have reached the end of this post (spoiler: this is the end), I've realised that this will certainly be a part one post. I started out with the intention of writing about some of my favourite podcasts, why I love them, stand out episodes etc etc - I fully intend to do that but it seems I had more to say then I had anticipated. Next time.

Radio 4 after 11pm

I should start this post by saying that I love the radio and that I love Radio 4 especially, but my car is lacking an aerial, so I hardly ever get to listen when I'm driving. Last night though, I borrowed my brother's car and was driving back from the cinema at about 11. I obviously tuned into radio 4. 

I do not know what I found myself in the middle of. I think it was something from the perspective of the womb. Certainly they said the word 'womb' a lot and then I think, I THINK there was a birth. In a state of relative trauma I switched to radio 1 which seemed to have had a book at bedtime take over except the book was all about urges. Wtf?! Back to radio 4 where they're suddenly talking about Katy Perry. I don't know what happened to the womb or birth. 

I ended up listening to Elton John on radio 2. 

Adrian Mole

I'm pretty keen on reading, me. It's right up with some one of my favourite things to do, which at the moment also includes: Telling the dog I love her, telling the dog she is annoying, pretending to tidy my room, thinking I really should take down the posters on my wall that I have had up since I was a teenager, thinking I really should probably move out again, singing very badly and loudly (this morning it was Teenage Dirtbag) and of course, painting by numbers. 

I have always been keen on reading. I was quite strange when I was a nipper, this isn't a "by all accounts" sort of statement, I really was an oddo and I have very distinct memories of hiding under desks, away from classmates, reading. This may have been partly because I was incredibly shy but also partly because I was odd. Which is fine, who wasn't odd when they were a kid? I spend most of my time being odd as an adult and it's working out pretty great. 

Anyway, I had some vague aspirations to dedicate some of this blog to writing about books I have read and films I have seen, which I will probably attempt to do at some point, although I'm currently reading Middlemarch so it will be a few years before I do a "recently read review". That was my intention, and will be shall we say, my long term intention, but today I just want to write about Adrian Mole. 

I love Adrian Mole. I love his dysfunctional parents, his thin-lipped grandmother, the dog and the many other characters that drift through his world (special shout outs to Bert, Queenie, John Tydema of the BBC, Miss Elf, Rat Fink Lucas and Nigel). I was reading Adrian Mole before I was capable of spelling my own surname properly. I have actual evidence of this. 

The thing about reading Adrian (or should I say Adrain) Mole is that even on reading it for the thousandth time, I will still find something which I hadn't picked up on before. There are so many subtleties, cultural references and comments hidden in Adrian's ignorance which never struck me. For example, before I was old enough to realise that War and Peace is an epic thousand page tome, I hadn't realised the joke behind Adrian claiming to start it on May 16th and then claiming to have finished it on May 18th with the remark that it was "quite good". 

I'd say that Adrian Mole is my ultimate comfort read. I should probably add the disclaimer that whilst I have read the complete series, my preference is upon the early years. Whilst he is perpetually unwittingly the butt of jokes, both for the reader and almost everyone he has any interaction with, he is easily forgiven. When he gets older though it's harder to comprehend his behaviour and there is a distinctly darker rift throughout. In many ways he is a tragic figure, but then simultaneously he can be deeply unsympathetic. I know it's a cop out but the early years leave no bitter taste behind, they just make me happy. The school trip to the British Museum is practically the definition of my happy place, as well as the ill advised camping trip which he went on and ended up having to survive off cheese because his eggs broke, his biscuits got crushed, his bread got wet and he didn't bring a tin opener. I've been there. Cheese is life. 

Oh and also the parental (well, by parental I mean mother and her lover, Rat Fink Lucas) climbing trip which is so good it deserves a proper shout out:

"It is Mrs Ball's birthday so they all came back to our log cabin to celebrate. I complained about the noise at 1.am, 2.am, 3.am and 4.am. At 5.am they decided to climb the mountain! I pointed out to them that they were blind drunk, too old, unqualified, unfit and lacking in any survival techniques, had no first-aid kit, weren't wearing stout boots and had no compass, map or sustaining hot drinks. 

My protests fell on deaf ears. They all climbed the mountain, came down and were cooking eggs and bacon by 11:30am. As I write, Mr and Mrs Ball are canoeing on the loch. They must be on drugs."

Adrian Mole everybody, the love of my life. 

Yak yak yak

It really has been a long time since I've blogged, I hadn't actually properly registered quite how long... I think perhaps because I am still regularly updating my Myrtle Diaries Tumblr, because I'm clearly only capable of showing commitment to a dog who views me solely as a means to a walk. I'll no doubt dwell on these feelings of inferiority about Myrtle in years of therapy to come so I won't dwell any more for now.

Given how much I am capable of talking it is even more surprising that some of it hasn't spilled over into a post in so long. I'm back working at a Market Research company I was working at before I jumped ship to Canada and they have taken on a new graduate who wasn't here when I last was. Because of the nature of the company and of the work, quite often it is just me and Wes in the office, which is really just a room. He puts up with a lot. Sometimes I just can't contain my speech, it bubbles out of me before I've had a chance to reflect on what I'm actually saying or what I may have just asked. Examples include:

• I'm going for a wee! I haven't been for a wee all day! Madness!
• What time do you tend to go to bed?
• Do you like zombies?
• What did you have for breakfast?
• Do you like KFC?
• What are your thoughts on a McDonald's breakfast?
• What are your thoughts on the election?
• Do you like sharks?
• What are your thoughts on ebola?
• Have you seen Misfits? (I have since quoted Misfits to him extensively on numerous occasions)
• What's in your sandwiches?
• What's your favourite type of monster munch?
• Approx a thousand million more. 

I just clarify that these are on top of the "standard" questions I tend to drill anyone I meet with such as what music/film/tv shows do you like and the thousand "have you seen?". 

He is, fortunately, an incredibly nice and tolerant man who as yet has not shown signs of involuntarily twitching every time I open my mouth. 

So given my (evident) capacity to talk endless about any number of pointless and inane subjects I shall attempt to put more outpourings into my blog. My life is currently in an immensely frustrating period of limbo whilst I wait for the outcome of my visa application to Canada. Once I finally have an answer I will be able to decide whether I move to Toronto or New Zealand in September. Pretty different parts of the world and although I obviously won't be doing any planning for either it would be nice to at least be able to know which hemisphere to shoot for.

Stay tuned for MORE QUESTIONS?????!!!?!?!?

The Mac is back

I went to see Fleetwood Mac last night. I am a massive fan. Massive. I don't think a week has gone by since I first bought Rumours that I haven't listened to them. I saw them on their first reunion tour back in London last September at the O2 and the differences between the two shows left me wanting to put a few words down on metaphorical paper.

I should probably apologise first. 10 months of living in Canada has taught me, if nothing else, that it's always good to start with an apology - just to cover all your bases. But this will probably be a very sycophantic, rambling and ultimately boring post. I'm not a music journalist, a writer or anything really, other than someone who can type. And let`s be honest, I'm such a huge Fleetwood Mac fan that Stevie Nicks could wander onto the stage in jeans and a hoody, half cut and announce that the band just isn't really feeling it, SOZ and I would still probably declare it one of the best experiences of my life. "Man the way she sauntered onto stage, talk about presence,  y'know". So, yeah, in advance, sorry and all that.

Anyway, so last night was hands down the best gig I think I have ever been to. It has left The Breeders gig I saw in 2008 a toppled champion. The Mac were incredible and notably better than when I saw them last year. Last year will always hold an extremely special place in my heart because it was the first time of seeing them live and because I was with the wife and everything is better when you are with your one.

That said, the O2 is not a great venue. It's huge - and therefore I'd challenge any band to really succeed in mustering a satisfying atmosphere. In my opinion the only song which got the entire stadium going was Go Your Own Way. Whereas last night, it was a much smaller and better suited venue. The acoustics were incredible and the atmosphere was fantastic. It was almost palpable - which is more than I can say for the O2.

But the biggest difference was Christine McVie. McVie is hands down my favourite member of Fleetwood Mac. Consistently, my favourite Mac song has been You Make Loving Fun, and without McVie Fleetwood Mac were incomplete. They, understandably, didn't play any of her tracks and to me the set always seemed to be missing something.

Seeing them onstage last night - all 5 where they should be, they looked complete. I can't describe how happy it made me to see McVie jamming away at her keyboard. But more than that - she brings a real warmth to Fleetwood Mac. Her songs aren't heavy guitar, Buckingham esque anthems - they are keyboard driven. Her vocals too have a real warmth to them which brought a depth which was missing to the harmonies on the previous occasion. And her songs were just fantastic, to put it bluntly. You make loving fun, Don't Stop, Everywhere, Say That You Love Me, Over My Head, Little Lies and the entire set finished with Songbird. I could not have been happier.

Overall, the band felt much more... together. At the O2 there was a lot of hand holding between Nicks and Buckingham as if to say "look how much we still love each other. We are going to be best friends forever." which to me, felt a little forced and over the top. There was a bit of that last night, but really no where near as much and it seemed more genuine. Even the backdrop animations (or whatever you would call them) were better, just more engaging and exciting. I think they had also put more graft into adjusting the songs so that Nicks no longer had to reach such high notes and it really, really showed. They are the songs that you know and love, but with a more mature, deeper sound almost. Really excellent.

I won't dribble on forever about how amazing they were. I feel incredibly lucky and dare I say, #blessed even. I will just finish with what was a standout highlight of the show for me. 

Nicks told this story about how when she was living in San Francisco with Lindsay, there was this clothes shop called `The Velvet Underground`(amazing), which was where all the successful female artists living in San Fran went to buy their clothes. So she saved up her money for a couple of months and went to check it out. Upon arriving, it immediately became apparent that she had no where near enough money to buy anything at all. She gave quite a detailed description of the shop and how the floor was elaborately decorated with lace and paper flowers - it was cool. And then she said she had this overwhelming premonition that she would one day be in a successful band with Lindsay and that she would be able to afford to buy clothes at the Velvet Underground.

So I'm back, to the Velvet Underground / Back to the floor, that I loved / To a room with some lace and paper flowers / Back to the gypsy that I was. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AM_iTNtdvYM 

Canada: WERK

I have been very slack about blogging recently, but then I am very busy and important (lies) and lazy.

My first post about life in Canada was about finding somewhere to live, which I did with an incredibly fortuitous amount of ease, #blessed. So I just want to write about finding WERK. 

It was tough for a few weeks. I hate being unemployed. I can entertain myself as well as the next person, but not having anyone to play with really loses its appeal after a week or so. Also living in a huge and unfamiliar house wasn't ideal. I found myself at one point creeping around the kitchen in a state of terror because of a very loud and persistent growling noise which was emitting from a mystery locaiton. I couldn't determine if it was a cougar (unlikely, admittedly)  or a very angry owl/pigeon. I had no housemate to consult and the signal the growling was sending was that I would be best to get the fuck out, asap, which I did, dignity thrown to the wind. I subsequently found out it was actually the fridge making the noise. 

This however encouraged me to leave the house and to relocate permanently to the Vancouver Public Library. There I spent hours pretending not to be watching "It's always sunny in Philadephia", whilst trying to subtly eat falafel without being told of by a roaming librarian. Fortunately my years at University have left me highly trained in terms of avoiding overly zealous librarians. In between watching it's Always sunny and eating falafel I would occasionally apply to a job on craigslist. Which was a mammoth waste of time and did the square root of fuck all in terms of making me feel an iota more confident that I was definitely employable and it was just a matter of time. Nothing is worse than replying to an ad, which is almost definitely a scam and may or may not require you to retire all morals, principles and ethics for which you are definitely overqualified for and yet still here nothing back from. Imagine doing that 10+ times a day and you can start to think, maybe it is me after all, 

I was rescued from the very brink of despair however by the reassurance that I was not alone. Whilst looking in the job section of Craigslist I saw a post with the title "WHY CAN'T I GET A JOB". That looks like something I'd be good at I thought, lets investigate further. Alas, it was not a call for a position which solely required you to endlessly list your faults but a rant. I love a good rant and this one was particularly brilliant. Some woman had clearly just reached the end of her tether and was venting for all and sundry to see. It felt very encouraging to read that others were facing similar struggles. I evidently had been perhaps slightly over the top in my endless whinging about not finding work as anyone I shared it with assumed that I was the anonymous author. 

I finally had a breakthrough (or so I thought), when I got a call from a recruiter to come and have an interview. Off I scurried, suit hastily uncrumpled from bottom of rucksack and hair tamed enough that it didn't block the sun, ready to try and impress... 

Things didn't go great. The offices were on the ground floor, and were made entirely of glass. Which was obviuosly distracting - but  more so for the bloke conducting the interview than for me. When it came to the end of the interview and I was asked if I had any questions I asked why he kept looking out the window. Needless to say I never heard from him again and I cursed myself for somehow managing to channel a version of Hugh Grant who very occasionally cuts right to the chase with no forethought to consequences. 

Anyway, it all worked out in the end and I plan on writing soon about my attempts to make friends at work by waving. IT'S GOING TO BE GRIPPING. 

Canada: Step 1

I moved to Canada in February. I knew literally no one when I arrived here, and this is no exaggeration. Life circumstances have meant that I've never had to find roommates on gumtree/spare room etc, but obviously moving to a new country where I was starting to consider the girl who worked in 7/11 who I'd over excitedly talked to about the fact they sell cadburys chocolate here (FYI it's not the same, it's rank) the closest thing I had to a friend, moving in somewhere with strangers was clearly the best option.

So I did what all Vancouverites for some inexplicable reasons seem to do on these situations, I used craigslist. My knowledge of craigslist was pretty limited before I moved here. My impression of it was something along the lines of that if you're looking for a short-lived life craigslist is your best bet for finding someone who is willing to step up and help you. That sounds super!

However, once I'd manned up and told myself that moving to a new country was all about the challenges and if that involved being horribly maimed and possibly killed then so be it. I then had to get past the fact that craigslist is the crappest website that has ever existed. When I was 11 and the internet FIRST started, I made a website in my IT class, it took me half an hour and if memory serves right was a documentation of how much I loved my cat, Scott. This, was better than craigslist. And yet despite the fact it looks like the internet with a permanent hangover and is basically drawn in crayon, everyone uses it. So I used it too.

Now like I said, I've never done this before, so I did a bit of googling to get some tips. And obviously, it was the housing equivalent of googling "I have a cough what does this mean" which was that I was probably going to die. No matter whose ad I had responded to, the chances were I was going to be killed. But the best thing to do was alert someone you love, someone who cares about you that you're going to see a strangers house and that if you're not back in 45 minutes, call the police, call the army, whatever, ACTION is required. This is a challenge when the closest you have to someone who might care about you in  the entire city is a crackhead who thinks you look like a soft touch.

However, as should be fairly obvious from this post, I did not get horribly maimed or killed. Thanks for nothing, internet! Step 1, complete.