The Grey Guff: III

I hate getting my haircut. At one time in my life I had that chore of a task minimised to just two or three times a year, but that left me looking pretty scruffy half of the time, so once every couple of months I find myself wandering into the nearest barbers to get the ol' barnet trimmed.

It's nothing to do with vanity or fear that he or she will do a bad job, nothing to do with having to put up with most hairdresser's woeful attempts at conversation. My problem with getting my haircut is this; It forces me into a situation where I must stare at myself, for a substantial amount of time. It is that one time where I think about who I am, what I've done, where I'm going.

Of course, on the majority of occasions, and I would imagine for the majority of people, this is not a daunting prospect. In fact, I would imagine that it would take a certain amount of coincidence and 'perfect timing' for this experience to be a negative one. But in being as self-analytical as I am, the time spent staring at myself has been in the past quite damaging. Before me I have seen, not a man mundanely monitoring the progress of his haircut, but a man realizing that there are things about himself that he is not entirely happy with.

The fact is, the reflection, the person I see has taken on many faces over the years, each time it seemed he had changed, re-evaluated what was important to him, and perhaps he was becoming someone he did not want to see in that mirror. It could be a hard image to look at.

In years gone by, the hair grew long. This year, my mullet has been well & regularly shorn, and I think that is a reflection in itself on how happy I am (one person in particular to thank for that).

The Grey Guff: II

A life of loneliness at one point seemed very much on the cards. Not in a sad, bitter way, but a self-imposed dedication to a pursuit seemed to be leading me to that.

To make dreams reality they had to become goals, but those dreams seemed utterly unattainable unless approached alone. It is in these pursuits that as people we have to become selfish, single-minded and driven, sometimes in the nicest, most innocent possible sense of all those words.

But lines can become blurred, perspectives may get distorted and emotions retreat to total numbess. People met on your path are often precisely that, people you met on your path, past tense. Attachments are not something you crave. Inspiration is taken from wherever you can source it and once that dries up, we move on to a new place, a new idea, a new person.

It took a while to see that my perspectives had altered dramatically since walking my own road toward achieving this dream. Stopping to look back on where you've been, how far you've come, and what you have to show for it is terrifying. I think it is at this point that either your ambition carries you further down the road, further away from what you called home, further away from the people you called friends, or the thing that made you stop to think in the first place is enough to keep you where you are.

Something about that place, that person is different from anything you have ever encountered. It, he or she has the ability to make your dreams change, to restore your purest and truest perspectives, to re-ignite the emotions that seemed doomed to numbness, to make you question your happiness. It is at this stage that you realise you are living your wildest dream, you have reached what you were looking for, and from that day on, your pursuit is only to supplement the dream you have already reached, and to start off on that road in the company of something or someone that you love.

The Grey Guff

I don't want the brute of a vehicle I see before me, nor do I see myself driving one at any point in the near future. There is nothing wrong with Janine. She has been good by me, which is totally altruistic on her behalf, since I have treated her like total crap.

Two washes in three years, a couple of minor bumps and scrapes left untreated, a world of junk inside her doors which I describe to my girlfriend as "all good stuff", but in truth, I just don't want to clutter my room with it.

But I would hate it if she were gone. She gets me from place to place with limited fuss and that is truly all I need. Why would I want something more exotic? My happiness, I feel, is illustrated better by the people in my thoughts, the items in my shopping basket, the smile on my face.

I may be ridiculed with bemusement by those who have worked hard to receive their rewards irregularly in large boxes. Those of a more traditional generation and philosophy may try to tell me that I will regret my actions, that I have wasted my time, that I am wrong.

The thing is, the thing I decided so long ago, is that when life springs one of its less pleasant surprises, I do not want to find myself changing my perspectives & priorities. For me there is no right and wrong, only cause and effect, decisions and consequences, so if life is about balance, then I want my scales to be lightly loaded. And if my happiness must be measured, then tonight I would rather talk about empty tubs of ice cream & bottles of wine, scores of films I have seen recently, the one I love, everyone I love.

Recognising that this is not Black or White, good or bad, right or wrong is perhaps the hardest part. In my most impressionable years, I experienced both sides of the line and I would be lying if I said I had not ever been conflicted. But in taking elements from each side I have found myself in the middle of black and white and for as long as possible that is where I intend to stay.