30 is not what you think, but it may be who you are...

So. Turned 30 then? Yeah, so did I. So did many of the good folks I know and love. Its that tender year of all your old friends truly becoming Old Friends, all fascinatingly in the order you did at school, rather than observing the calendar year cycle.

So. Feeling old then? I'm not. And nor should you.

Let me put it to you this way. 30 is likely to be somewhere around a third to a half of your mathematical lifespan. So in that sense it can seem a little scary. But you're missing a number of points there.

Yes, you've existed for 30 years. But how long have you been truly alive? Think about your life and childhood; the first ten years are certainly something of a blur, even when you're living them. You're just a ball of energy, reactions and saturday morning cartoons, really. In fact, I'll go further and bet that you really only start to remember with proper clarity a few years later than that, say 12 or 13, when you really felt the growing process begin to take a hold and memories take root.

Oh, yes, like you I have some memory of my extreme youth. I have memory of when I was three, I remember Lisa Anderson's third birthday (our neighbours at the time). I remember many things from being a child; travelling france with the family, being good at school, realising I was mad as a brush, even the time I was suspended from school (one day). I remember lots of it, but that also misses some of the point.

In retrospect, much of it feels like it wasn't Me. It was proto-me. Me before I became Me. Yes, literally speaking I did those things, but in my adult life I am quite a different person. And that, dear people, brings me to my point.

When did you feel like the person you are now? For me, I only really started to become truly me in sixth form. And it was then largely cemented by university. So from my perspective, whilst I have existed as a separate entity for 30 years, the person metaphorically in front of you has probably only been here a decade.

And look at what the decade has wrought. I have travelled three continents. I have worked on, integrated and designed aircraft capable of astounding feats. I have learnt language, I have learnt instruments, I have learnt tools, I have stood on my own feet.

I have fallen in love. I have fallen into brilliant luck. I have fallen over in a riverbed in Thailand and been stuck to the waist.

I have stood my ground. I have stood on the highest mountain of this land. I have stood with my family through birth and infirmity.

I have seen events both massive and tiny and found beauty within them all.

I have done a lot in this decade. And I'm willing to bet all of you have too. You've travelled, moved, married, divorced, worked, played (often with fire), you've loved, you've lost, you've held, you've run.

And i'll bet you've done so much of it, like me, in the last decade when you were finally You.

So what is 30 years? Its maybe 10 years since you've really been here, and it a celebration of a decade of kicking ass and taking names. It isn't a moment to feel sad.

Because if you can do everything you have done, all of you, every single one, in a decade - think what you can do with 3, 4, 5 or 6 more decades. When you are very firmly You. With your friends, loved ones and children all with You.

This is not the moment to lament the passing of time. This is the moment to stand in awe of the power you have before you, a marching army of Beings ready to bring the world to proper account.

And so I have no pity for you, I salute you, one and all.

Fire and Ice

Now, for once, there aren't going to be many words to this post. Instead, I'm largely going to let the photos do the talking. And whilst I'm normally very much a skyscapes person, this kind of photography takes me every now and then.

First I'll set the scene. Whisky. Water ice. A sneakily brilliant test set up. And a camera. I did something similar a few years ago with Southern Comfort, but this is far better. Click on the images to see a larger version. I give you:

Fire and Ice.

 

 

Love beyond words, personified in a gifted dream.

So, two things happened to me in recent times that ellicited big changes in my life. In January I turned 30, as you likely know. But at the beginning of October last year, I took up the piano.

now these things may not seem related at first, but one change, combined with the other, led my Beloved to a Plan.

When I started the piano, it was with Her full support, love and backing. Which enabled me to overcome any nerves and go on to find that I actually could play, and maybe even had an iota of talent.

Now that, dear people, is a truly wonderful gift; to enable a loved one to find something that makes their heart sing every time they play. And for that I will always be grateful to my Beloved.

But this, it seems, was not enough of a length to go to for Her. She was prepared to enact Her Plan, to pull out every stop She could.

And so, dear reader, She saved. And I cannot tell you how long for, and I will not tell you how much, but dear reader... it was A Lot. Enough that I wonder how She did it in such a timescale, enough that it must have been one hell of an effort.

And this Woman, dear reader, this gorgeous, loving, beautiful, brilliant Beloved of mine...

Had decided to buy me a piano.

Now that isn't quite the full story. Because what She actually did was decide that I should choose my instrument, and so she gave me the money that She had scrimped and saved in the form of a piggy bank adorned with 'Piano Fund'.

We then started looking seriously at second hand pianos on eBay and tried to find some delicious bargain. And, dear reader, even when I ummed and erred about what to purchase, thinking for a while that the perfect bargain would always ellude me, this Woman, my Beloved, was patient, supportive and brilliant, even when I was an idiot at times (the affliction of all men; idiocy).

And at last I came across that bargain. A piano in my town, in desperate need of rehoming due to the owner moving. In excellent condition and fine voice.

And so, dear reader, with the money my Beloved had so painstakingly put together, I was able to not only buy my dream bargain, I was able to move it. I was able to tune it. And most importantly I was able to Play it.

Here in my home, dear reader, was not only a piano, but the single greatest gift I have ever known; Love beyond words, personified in a gifted dream.

And so here I end, dear reader, with a message not to you, but to my Beloved.

Thank you. Not just for this wonderous gift, but for your love, your endless patience, charity, your warmth, intelligence and brilliance. You have not only gifted me a dream, you are my dream, lived every day, experienced every moment. You are the kindest, greatest person I know, and I love you beyond measure.

My Beloved. I am forever yours.

Doors aren't two way, you always pass through them in one direction, but sometimes people follow.

So here we are, it's basically been a week at my new work now. And, to be honest, it's been bloody hard.

It's not the fact that there is more work to do in this job, and it's not to do with the delightful fact that I've apparently gone up a level without even realising it was about to happen.

More than anything, it made me remember how hard it is to start anew in any situation in our lives. For me, it's largely been frustration here about not knowing what I'm doing, and feeling like a numpty. Now, in my sane moments I know, and am frequently told, that I'm being too damn hard on myself; expecting to run before I can walk. And that is true, in any of these situations, those around you should adapt and accept the fact that there is going to be some time taken before you're kicking ass and taking names.

In the past 48 hours I've gone through the depths of feeling wretched about hte whole job thing, largely due to one bad day, and right back to realising that its the right thing to be doing and I'm just being too damn hard on myself. Awesomeness will come back to me, and there will be no charge (for there is no charge for awesomeness)

But it made me think about new starts in general. I know a number of people who've had new starts, not just in jobs but in their entire existence almost. I for one have had to, at least what feels like, restart my existence a couple of times, and whilst they're never that catastrophic in hindsight, they certainly feel that way at the time.

Lest I forget that this is far from being the worst time that I've had a new start. In 2006ish when I first moved up to Preston, I did it properly. A job lined up, a place to stay temporarily. But you forget how achingly lonely it can be in a first start like that. It was only the fact that I deliberately lined up martial arts classes up there that allowed me to stay sane with it all. Through those lessons I met a martial arts teacher, now sadly functionally deceased (or at least the version I knew... That's one for another day...), who did his damndest to get me to every bloody class possible and meet everyone there. And through that I've earned some awesome life long friends (Dave, Kirsten, Rich, Kat, Yates (Tiffany), James Davey, Craig, Jamie, Graham who broke my ribs, Eddie the soul of Iaido, Gary Knight on hand with filth on tap...).

But you can't see all that coming at the time that the new start comes, and it is difficult for everyone. I myself have been lucky to have the ever loving and awesome Jess supporting me as always, as well as kind words and a damn good hug from my mother (you're never too old - for a hug or a cuff round the ear...) as well as all my family and friends. They help me keep the logical side running with the ball when you're sat there not knowing what to do or how to act for ages.

It's all looking good here, and I'm confident things will go well with the job, but I wanted to share this with you and implore more than anything:

If you know someone who is going through a new start, whether it be a new job, moving out, divorce, marriage or simply picking a new and weird supermarket, be supportive to them. Because on the ridgeline running between lives, its always a little more lonely.

And for those of you doing it now, look out for the rest of us, because we'll be there for you. And the change is normally worth it.

Bittersweet symphony of Leaving and Revelations

So last week I finally left my job and the defence industry as a whole. Leaving the job was expected, but I had originally thought I was retained tenuously within the grip of defence, but we'll get to that.

Due to a combination of having changed projects recently, people having been away and the project subsequently being cancelled, I expected a very quiet departure from my job. In some ways it was, definitely a whimper rather than a bang, but in some ways it surprised me. In a job where the work never really materialised properly, it became clear that the company and the people would actually miss me. Which is not to say that I thought them unfeeling, but in both the projects I worked there, one long lived and one not, it was always the case that some political or monetary intervention prevented them getting truly off the ground and meant that I couldn't fill a critical position in them because the work wasn't there. Certainly I worked well and contributed as much as I could, but the roles never hit the responsibility that they should have.

So it was a very pleasant moment to be given a send off, to be told how much they would actually want me back if I changed my mind. Retrospective statements were made about having had 'plans' for me. But none of these things would have changed the situation, because I wanted out of defence, not the company persay.

So now I've started anew, and to my delight the role is entirely civil, working on aircraft and has distinct potential. So we will see what we shall see.

But now I am Masamune. Not Muramasa.