wordsmith.social/jonbeckett

It's Monday, and that's all I have to say about that. The morning has been filled with meetings and administration work ahead of the start of a new project. It's exciting in a way, but also draining.

I've drunk two coffees, sat through two meetings, and have a third coming down the track at me in half an hour. The washing machine has fallen silent, so after writing this I'll go empty it and hang it's contents out to dry.

This morning I blocked out an hour on my calendar for Friday morning. I have to visit the infant school, pull on a huge red suit padded with various cushions, attach a rather dubious curly white wig and beard, and become a certain visitor from the North Pole. Little did I realise last year that doing it once meant I would then be called upon every year, for the rest of my life.

Let's hope I'm well enough to do it. I'm getting a COVID booster shot the afternoon before my appointment with the red robes – reactions to the shots seem to be a lottery. Fingers crossed.

(three hours pass while more meetings happen)

I almost fainted a few moments ago. I went to the kitchen and made some bread with jam on, purely to give myself some energy. While there I got shouted at for “getting in the way”. Welcome to my world. I'm now waiting for the water filter to re-fill so I can fill the kettle and make myself a cup of tea with sugar in it.

Maybe it's time for an early night.

If you have been receiving my blog posts via email, I'm afraid your regular updates are about to end. I had been using “Mailchimp” to deliver them recently, and unfortunately it looks like Mailchimp just got acquired by Intuit. I hate this aspect of American culture – the rampaging capitalism that eventually destroyes anything and everything that was once good.

Anyway.

No more email subs. Sorry.

At least Automattic (the owners of Wordpress) seem to have their head screwed on right. The formed a foundation years ago to protect the platform against just such eventualities. I guess the only problem there is “wordpress.com” is a separate entity than “wordpress.org” – essentially a business that operates on the back of the development of the platform.

It's tempting to run my own blog – away from external influence. It would have to run somewhere though, and of course that implies dependency on some corporate behemoth or other. There's no escape.

In other news, I just got a letter through the door inviting me to get a COVID booster. Within moments of opening the letter I had booked the appointment. Mid-afternoon this coming Wednesday. My other half just got back from having her booster shot done. The kids are scheduled over the coming weeks.

I'm continually amazed by the ass-hat conspiracy theorists that either maintain COVID is some sort of hoax, or that their freedom is more important than any consideration for anybody else.

I've been learning something new over the last week. A technology, platform, and language that has been around for a few years, but that I've never crossed paths with before. It's been a near vertical learning curve. All consuming. For the last several evenings I've carried on late into the night because I was starting to make progress.

I'm not going to lie – there were times earlier in the week when I began to wonder what I was doing – digging an enormous hole for myself with no sign of a way out. A combination of tenacity, curiosity, and doggedness has seen the beginning of an understanding form. What began as a mountain of seemingly unsurmountable problems slowly gave way to small insights, flickers of understanding, and hour upon hour of research and experimentation.

I can see light at the end of the tunnel at last. A new skill.

I'm hoping this weekend will remain quiet. I'm pretty drained. I could do with some time to recharge – a walk to the park perhaps. A coffee alongside the river. Some down-time.

It just occurred to me that I've been sitting in silence for the last couple of hours – tinkering with this and that, and now writing these words.

(a minute passes while I dick around with my phone, and the enormous bluetooth speaker in the corner of the room)

Carli Simon is now singing “Nobody Does it Better”, on some late night radio station. Perfect. Did you know she was married to James Taylor? Both ridiculously talented. I'm always surprised that so few people know who he is – until they hear one of his songs. I suppose he's a bit like Burt Bacharach, and Hal David – lots of people know their names from somewhere, but have no real clue just how many famous songs they were responsible for.

Anyway.

Time to go grab a drink.

Lionel Richie is singing “Stuck on You”. I think I like this late night radio station.

I've been sitting in front of the keyboard with an empty text editor for the last ten minutes. The well of words I have so often visited seems to have dried spectacularly in recent months.

It almost feels like I've forgotten how to do it – forgotten how to empty my head. I find myself second guessing every word I might write – the thoughts I might share. The weight of twenty years of storytelling is oppressive. While reading the distant past, it's like reading the words of a different person.

I guess we all change though. We might not recognise it happening, but we do.

I find myself railing increasingly at injustice, thoughtlessness, and prejudice – far more than when I was young. I'm not sure why. Perhaps being a parent changes you somehow – makes you more aware of equality and fairness.

Isn't it interesting how thoughts become introspective late at night.

Writing these words – if only for a few minutes – has felt like opening a rusty tap. A tap that hasn't been turned for some time. If feels good.

Somehow a week has passed since the last blog post. I can't remember the last time that happened. I suppose I should really fall back on the John Lennon quote – “life is what happens while you're making other plans”. I sometimes wonder if the quotes you commonly see attributed to various people are true – if they really said what people claim.

Anyway.

There's not much to report, which perhaps indicates why there have been no blog posts. Work has continued as it always does, the chores have continued as they always do, and our family is largely surviving from day to day as it always seems to. I sometimes wonder if there might be some value in inventing a time machine, travelling into the past, and telling myself “one day you will have a family, and will struggle to make ends meet for several years in a row – but don't worry – you'll always manage it somehow”.

This morning my middle daughter took part in the 5K “Santa Fun-Run” around town, and then continued on to play rugby where she scored a try. I on the other hand stood in the cold to watch her run past while minding my younger daughter who is on crutches at the moment (long story – read the blog a few weeks ago). My other half wrapped up like an eskimo and waited in the park for middle daughter to finish the run. Our eldest holed herself up in the junk room at home playing a bizarre Manga inspired video game called “Catherine” about a guy having strange dreams about girls trying to kill him – or at least that's what I could make of it.

The clock just ticked past 10pm and I've switched the dishwasher on for the second time today. In a few minutes I'm loading the washing machine for the third time today. It just seems to be like this at the moment. I get a few minutes – usually after getting into bed – to catch up with friends inside my mobile phone.

Hopefully the world will slow down soon. I woke up the other morning with a stiff neck, and a book propped on my chest.

While reading the posts of distant friends, I sometimes find myself drawn into their lives – their hopes, dreams, happiness, and sadness. It fascinates me that so many of us struggle to find our place in the world, or to find our way back to the path when lost. In this vast connected world, it seems we have never been more alone.

The words of Tennyson come to mind:

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down. It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

We self analyse so much – recalling past adventures, both good and bad. We judge both decisions of the past, and those we have yet to make. And yet we never really change – we are still filled with the hopes and dreams of youth, but perhaps burnished a little by the experiences of adulthood.

I used to wonder if my lot was to sail across the shipping lanes of other people's lives – crossing paths from time to time, making friends, sharing experiences, picking people up, setting them gently down, and moving on. I used to think it was all happening by chance.

But sometimes you cross paths with people that change you – and you them.

After circling ever closer in a whirlpool of the universe's making, the machinery eventually flings you apart – leaving fragmented memories, unfinished thoughts, wistful smiles, and an appreciation that you never quite know what tomorrow might bring. You are reminded that you matter – that you saw, and were seen.

You never forget.

The clock is ticking past four in the afternoon and I'm taking my first break of the day. I have a pretty bad habit of not stopping – I tend to work straight through lunch every day – eating over the keyboard in a madcap pursuit of seeing how much I can get done each day.

I should really force myself to go for a walk and get some fresh air. Maybe walk into town, buy a coffee from Starbucks, and sit in the park watching the river for half an hour. I wonder if it will be therapeutic in some way? Knowing me, I will end up writing notes en-route about something I've forgotten to do, or an intractable problem I've just solved. I've lost count of the things I've figured out while away from a computer or notebook, and then not been able to remember later.

I'm listening to the Hackers soundtrack album while writing this. It's one of the best 90s dance compilations I know of – filled with the likes of The Prodigy, Underworld, Leftfield, and Orbital. I need to download more dance music – it's great to put on in the background while working because it doesn't have a distracting vocal – just a rhythm.

Since wandering back into Wordpress over the last few days it's been wonderful to catch up with old friends. I've always been something of a rolling stone when it comes to blogging – never really settling, although Wordpress has always been a “home” of sorts.

Anyway. Break over. Coffee cup is empty and emails are arriving. I'll be back.

As the clock ticks past 11pm I've cracked open the programming text editor I've been using for the last several months to write blog posts. I guess when it comes to emptying my head, my brain works best when distractions are removed. If all I can do is type, I don't get distracted by typefaces, line spacing, or anything else. It's just me and the words.

Some time ago I experimented with turning my laptop into a computer from the 1980s running Wordstar. It's amazing how much more you can concentrate without a multi-tasking operating system offering the possibility of listening to music, browsing the web, reading emails, and countless other very important distractions.

Anyway.

Today was something of a slog.

From the moment Alexa began filling the bedroom with radio early this morning it felt like I was walking out to bat over, and over again. Here's hoping the rest of the week gets a little easier.

Time to go brush my teeth and fall into bed. Perhaps a few pages of a book first.

Every so many months I find myself retracing paths I have walked before. Repeating decisions. Revising judgement. Changing my mind one way or another. Becoming brave and then not so brave. Stepping out, and retreating.

It's all very perplexing.

A girl I used to work with found my changes of heart amusing. She connected them to the seasons. I seem to be retreating at the moment. Falling into shadow. Perhaps she was right – the weather has grown cold in recent days – frost has arrived, leaves are falling, and I'm becoming increasingly insular.

At times interacting with the world feels like such a struggle – a battle I have to wage with myself in order to write emails, reply to messages, post to the blog, or share happenings of note.

I'm not really sure I have a point to relate. I'm just sharing the way I feel at the moment. At least if you don't see much from me you'll understand why.

I'm sitting in the junk room listening to the radio, typing into a text editor. The clock is ticking towards 9pm and I'm wondering where Saturday went.

Clothes and dishes got washed and put away. Visitors arrived to see Miss 16, who continues to make progress after having her leg re-assembled by surgeons a few days ago. She made it up the stairs today and broke into a huge smile en-route. Her confidence is starting to return and it's wonderful to watch.

I saw a humorous book title on the internet a while ago – “How to do nothing, with nobody, all alone, by yourself”. It's an actual book – you can look it up. While it's aimed at parents of young children, I found myself relating to it quite a bit more than I should have. Oh to be left alone sometimes.

The wonderful Micky Flanagan did a standup comedy routine years ago where he decried the lost skill of “f*cking about”. He talked at length about the many and varied strategies you might employ in order to get nothing done – I will admit to bursting out laughing when he advocated buying the cheapest electric kettle you possibly can – because it will take longer to boil, affording you more time to stand in the kitchen waiting for it.

The man is a genius.

You might argue that most of my writing is “f*cking about”. Maybe I should re-title the blog accordingly. I used to tell myself I was sharing my life with the online community – but let's face it, the blogging phenomenon of the early 2000s lasted about a year. The hipsters that arrived during the Web 1.0 explosion and took ownership of “cyberspace” left shortly afterwards to cultivate their MySpace profiles before vanishing into the emerging “social” internet.

I write to escape. I sit in a room on my own while writing these journal entries as an escape from daily life. Sometimes I tell stories, sometimes I grapple with the mundane, and sometimes I just wonder about the most random rubbish. Sometimes I sit in front of the keyboard and get no further than the first sentence before being called away. Sometimes my fingers can't keep up with the torrent of inconsequential thoughts that pour forth. There's no pattern to any of it.

I suppose in a strange sort of way the title the blog has ended up with – “Jonathan Wrote This” is quite appropriate. It's the most accurate description of it's contents – both in a good, and a bad way.