Packing heat

It was a warm weekend and I did a long shift as a postal sorter for a random company. The other agency workers and I were greeted by a woman who had booked twice as many staff than were needed. She rambled at us unintelligibly for twenty seconds, all the time wearing earplugs so she couldn't hear herself or us, then assigned each of us to another staff member and walked off mumbling to herself. In hindsight, she could have been someone off the street, rather than anyone in charge.

I was put with a guy who was sorting letters in a specified order. It was quite a challenge to find and sort all the missing numbers between two hundred boxes of paper, but he had worked out a logical system that made sense and he taught it to me. It was a bit like reorganising a library, if libraries could be turned upside down a few times. Then I was left on my own to carry on the job, which I had only just learned how to do.

I wasn't aware of having met a manager yet, but, given no other information at all, I thought that copying the person who showed me how to do the job was a good plan. Things were going okay until someone came up to me and said I should put the letters in the boxes in any order so they could be counted. I said I was told to file them in order. He insisted I was wrong. Having just spent six hours sorting all the numbers carefully, I thought it was worth checking with the manager, but no one knew where the hell she was. I was inundated with various staff members telling me the job needed to be finished within the next two hours and that the numbers only had to be roughly within a thousand of the mark. Some said that the letters were to be shipped out in the morning, others didn't know, but all agreed that the job had to be done and dusted quickly.

I became aware at this point that the job itself was to put the letters in order again after someone else had muddled them up. Some of the envelopes had footprints on the them... A couple of other agency workers were assigned to the same job as me. They proceeded to randomly put letters in whichever box was closest. Papers were flung around and bent in the wrong places; a total contrast to the care I'd taken earlier with the first colleague dude. All those hours of cataloguing were instantly void, so I resigned myself to doing what I was repeatedly told by the hoards of 'people in charge'. Everything was stuffed in boxes and sealed. The sheets of paper detailing what was in each box were screwed up and thrown away, leaving no way to know where anything was.

That's when the manager, who I hadn't met until then, appeared out of the ether to check on the work. Of course, she wanted the letters in the right order because that was the only way to know what was in the boxes. Instead of trying to work out the best course of action, she had a go at us for mucking it up and went off in a huff. It's baffling to me for a manager to hide somewhere for several hours, leaving all her employees to work out blindly what they're meant to be doing and then leave it right to the end to check what's happening in her workplace. The agency workers seemed to get the blame whenever anything went wrong, and perhaps at times it was true, but the real fault seemed to be with the manager who couldn't find her own leg if her hands were tied to it.

I wonder how many hours are spent correcting mistakes resulting from mindless workers and incompetent managers. It seems mad to employ so many people for so many hours to do something that could have simply been done properly the first time. The sad is that not enough people care if they do a job right. Some people seem happy to muck up a job and do it all over again, as long as they're paid to do it and they have a bumbling boss to blame. Then again, for those hours, I was a cog in the malfunctioning machine, so perhaps I'm not entirely blameless.
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Making 'The Chasist'

The BBC are premiering 'The Chasist', a music video that I made with Rishi Thaker, a fantastic director and a great friend. It'll be shown on Derby's Big Screen in the town centre, which will be perfect for the number of people who have shown an interest in being there. This also means a bit of preparation, including the promotion of the event on Radio Derby. The Telegraph are usually pretty good at coming along to local interest events and East Midlands Today sometimes get in on the action.

The initial idea came about when Rishi and I listened to 'Masquerade' by Fluyd, a talented group from Luxembourg. Rishi had a chat with Jeff Seyler about the possibility of using the song to create a music video based in and around Derby, an idea that Jeff and the band were happy to go with.

Showing Derby as a city in transition was important to both me and Rishi. We wanted to create an enjoyable showcase to take in the full cityscape. This idea evolved into a six minute sequence that would take Nigel Woodings' character from one side of the city to the other. He chases a masked tormentor who poses the question, "Do you want to know the future?". He gives chase on foot, soon escalating into a car chase. We planned this section very carefully because we had to keep to speed limits and think about safety. We made full use of a suction mount, attaching the camera to various parts of the cars. The more angles you get, the more there is to play with in the edit, which is especially important for a frantic narrative.

The incorporation of free-running elements during certain sections of the video has created a nice dynamic that was greatly needed. James Fogerty stepped in as the masked free-runner, after a couple of false starts by other athletes. Injuries and time constraints do seem to be a regular occurence in a sport such as theirs. It was such a good feeling to fill in the missing scenes so that we had everything we needed.

The weather didn't help as it changed from day to day, creating all kinds of filming issues and leading to colour matching problems during the edit. It's lucky that I enjoy hours of colour editing! If people don't even mention the editing after watching something I'm worked then I feel like I've done my job right. I did the camerawork too, so it's only when people critique the choice of shots and camera angles that I start to fret!

I took a back seat on the producing side for this project and concentrated fully on the cinematography and editing. Rishi has worked hard to keep everything going and he deserves much credit for his multitasking. I'll get the producing hat on again soon, now that I have more time.

It'll be amazing to see it on the big screen knowing the amount of work that the crew and cast have put into it. Doing things on a low budget is often tricky because there are only a few special souls who will work for free with the belief that the project might go somewhere. The aim is to obtain funding for future projects so that we can pay everyone a fair wage for their time and effort. The people who have given their time already will be the first on the list, whether they know it or not. It's pretty unusual to include end credits on a music video, but that's what we've done for ours. It's only a small gesture, but Rishi and I see it as important.

It'll be great to have friends coming along to watch. I'll bring my camera to document the event for the Stickmen Pictures website. As it's outdoors, hopefully the weather will hold for us. If not, it'll just be the really dedicated who come along... Fingers crossed for a nice evening!
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Driving over toes

I've just finished my second day of driving work at a car auction. I've always enjoyed driving, so doing it all day long isn't too taxing. Having only driven automatics a couple of times, it was a bit of a challenge to get used to the clutchless situation of some of the vehicles. Because I'm new to the job, I'm still seen as the rookie and I only seem to ask silly questions or make minor blunders when the boss is watching. Always the way.

The job is to drive cars through a rostrum area at a very low speed, where people can have to look at them. An auctioneer takes the highest bid from the gannet-like crowd, then the car needs to be driven out to a parking area and the keys returned to the office. During the lead up to the bidding area, people often walk right across in front of the cars. They're meant to keep behind a yellow safety lines, but not many seem to obey the rules. If someone gets their toes run over, at least they were warned repeatedly beforehand, but I've been doing my best to avoid it if at all possible. It can be a little disconcerting when people want to turn the steering wheel, open the doors, rearrange the seats, pop the hood to see the engine, try out the radio, the air conditioning, the windows, etc, all while I'm driving the car through the hall.

It's crazy driving so many different types of car in one day. Within a few seconds of being given the keys, it's necessary to assess the vehicle as entirely as possible. It could be any shape or size, manual or automatic, with or without central locking (central locking that works at least). I had no idea just how many kinds of key there are now. There are the standard keys that I'm used to, keys that flip out from the fob Swiss Army style and strange-shaped keys that look more like the end of a cigarette lighter. Then there are key cards that need to be inserted into a slot by the radio and then a 'Start' button needs to be pressed where the key would usually go.

Smart cars generally have an ignition keyhole under the handbrake. They're kind of eerie to drive because they don't have much of a bonnet and it's a bit like hovering over the road. They're like those little toys that come out of Kinder Eggs, but are spacious enough as long as you don't load the car with more than a passenger and a small tin of tuna.

The speed limit on site is 10 mph whether it's a Fiat Cinquicento, a Ford Focus or a Lamborghini Diablo, so restraint is a must. When driving around thirty cars in a day, there are bound to be a couple of Ferraris in the mix. Not a bad job for a car lover :)
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Detour

Normally it would take me twenty minutes to walk into town, but an inner ring road must have appeared when I wasn't looking.

I had some pretty major dental surgery this morning, which at present is causing me even more pain. Argh. I was told I needed to take my borrowed work boots back to the agency in town, so I set off, dosed up with antibiotics, pain killers and a few swigs of gin to numb the pain.

I could see the area I needed to get to, but it seemed that builders had been busy closing every through-road. I walked by the side of the building works over the brow of the hill, seeing that the works went on even further. Road after road was closed, but I was sure it couldn't be much longer. It turned out to be over half a mile. The throbbing in my face was getting a bit much by this point, but I was nearly there anyway.

Derby always seems to have roadworks going on. A friend mentioned that they'd seen the plans for the inner ring road and said they were alarmed at the number of roads that will be turned into dead ends. At least these routes should be accessible on foot when the works are finished, but I don't know what driving will be like with the new system in place. I'm tempted to say it would be better to leave Derby's roads alone, but I suppose that traffic will benefit in the long term. I won't talk about the one-way systems that are already in place because it would put off anyone thinking that a visit to Derby is a good idea...

Anyway, I walked up to the desk at the agency with five minutes to spare and proudly announced that I was returning the boots as requested. The guy had a word with his colleague and then handed the boots back to me, saying, "It's cool; you can keep them."

Twenty-twenty vision hindsight tells me that I could perhaps have phoned them to check about the boots before embarking on what turned out to be a sixty-minute round trip (due partially to hobbling around in a pain-dazed state). At least I got a free pair of steel toe-cap boots out of it :)

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Carrying things

The kind people at the agency got me some work with a removal company today. This involved moving a whole family's belongings, including all their furniture, up several flights of stairs. The people themselves were very friendly and it was a pleasure to help them out. The job itself was one of the most grueling days I've ever had, but I'm sticking to the fact that I need to do anything I can to get me some money.

Having been kept up for a second night with severe toothache, I felt like pulling off my head and drop-kicking it out the window. Not the best start to the day. Still, the aforementioned prospect of carrying heavy things for a few hours actually seemed quite appealing; anything to take my mind off the tooth pain. The other removal guys were good to work with, each of them grafting as hard as the other. It's always good when the other workers pull their weight. There's nothing worse than a member of a team sitting around while all the work is done.

It became a test of stamina towards the end of the six hours, as three of us were left there to complete the job and all of us were feeling the pain. It being a warm day n' all, we were all soaked head-to-toe in sweat and refused to quit even when we all found it hard to stand, let alone carry more boxes. We must have each carried items up the six flights of stairs 200 times. One more box... One more box... Sheesh. I've never appreciated tea breaks quite as much as today.

Any given day I could be doing camerawork, editing, delivery work, retail, or anything else the agency has to offer. And I'm also training to be a driving instructor, which will become my staple income when I'm qualified. I'm lucky having such a varied work life. It's far easier for me to put every effort into a job knowing that the next job will be completely different.

Making a point of doing manual work that makes you sweat negates the need to go to the gym. It's a full body work out carrying heavy things around, especially up stairs. It's a nice change to do that kind of work sometimes, but doing it every day must be a true test of strength, stamina and patience. I'm happy to work with the same guys again if they offer more work. And, hopefully, next time I won't have to take my mind off this gosh darn toothache!

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Guitar Hero

Used by musicians and non-musicians alike, Guitar Hero is one of the most played games in the country. Some say that the game is highly similar to playing an actual guitar and others scoff at this notion. Many real guitar players seem to get irritated by non-musicians claiming that they are playing actual music using only the buttons of a plastic xbox guitar. After all, it's just a silly game, right?

Saying that, many people who have never picked up an instrument of any kind before have been given the chance to become music legends in their own home. Air guitar has never been so good. The Guitar Hero format is challenging and addictive in its own right with thousands of people all over the world rockin' out to all kinds of familiar tunes. It's amazing to see people begin the game with little or no sense of rhythm and go on to complete the solo career on Expert. Music takes so many forms and who's to say it's not real music that gamers are creating. After all, if you muck up the notes they make a sound like a duck choking, kind of like playing an actual instrument.

I guess the thing about any simulator is that it's a skill in its own right. After all, not everyone has the kind of job where it's necessary to blow up aliens with laser guns or fly planes like Maverick in Top Gun. Also, no one can dispute that it takes a lot of practice to get good at something, whether it's a game or a real-life skill.

So what do I think about the Guitar Hero phenomenon? I'm a guy who can hold a basic tune on an acoustic or electric guitar, so I'd consider myself a semi-musician. I feel that learning new songs and appreciating the artistry behind them is something that everyone could benefit from, musicians or not. Throughout the course of the career mode, it's likely that everyone will come across at least one song they've not heard before, which can only be a good thing. And the artists receive good publicity having their songs available for anyone to play along to. Surely everyone's a winner, royalties galour!

When I managed to get through my first song on Expert, I fell to the floor in relieved joy like I'd just won the Wimbledon final. I didn't do such a thing even after braving my first real-life open mic set. There's something highly fulfilling about mastering a song, whether it's on an 'actual' or a 'fake' guitar.
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Kickboxing

Coming back to kickboxing after an eight month break was certainly a shock to the system. Even though I've been going swimming and running, my fitness levels were tested for sure. The warm up varies, but generally includes running, sit ups, push ups, star jumps and sprinting on the spot.

There were very few familiar faces, but everyone was as friendly as ever. They run children's classes and the adult group has a good spectrum of men and women. Kickboxing is certainly a sport that attracts testosterone-filled guys who love pounding an opponent in the ring, but more commonly people are there to keep fit and have fun. I'm definitely in the later category. Kicking the punch bags is my favourite thing, especially the ones where you take off from the ground and kick more than once. I couldn't imagine delivering a full-power kick to a person, unless they'd just killed and eaten my family or something. The idea of punching genuinely nice people seemed a little strange to me at first, but I suppose that is what the sport is about.

I've got a little more used to sparring since I first started. I'm still at a stage where I hit more lightly than necessary to make sure I don't hurt the other person. I would say I punch like a girl, but most girls punch harder than me, so it wouldn't be quite true.

In terms of actual fights I've been in, there really haven't been many. Being the tallest kid in school meant that lots of the boys would have a go at me verbally, but it was rare for someone to start an actual fight. It was always the same format. One: they would punch or kick me to provoke a reaction. Two: I would say, "If you hit me again, I'm going to kick you". Three: if they decided to hit me again I'd kick them hard in the shin. This would inevitably cause them to fall to the floor crying, which I guess I saw as their own fault for not listening. It's always easier to hit someone after they've already hit you. It's feels more like fair play. Cause and effect.

This permission seems to apply to fighting sports of any kind. It's not likely that sparring partners will punch each other as hard as the possibly can. However, if one person starts hitting a little harder than before it provides a kind of permission for the other person to hit harder too. I guess that's how you get used to taking such ferocious punches. If every punch you receive is a tiny bit harder, you don't really notice it.

I admire people who can step into the ring knowing that the other person has most likely reached a stage where they can take any punch that you can throw. That's a scary prospect. It means a fight goes on for a while and a boxer will have to take numerous blows to the head in order to stay in the fight long enough to win. I salute you, you brave souls.

Maybe one day I'll want to get in the ring to give someone a pounding (or most likely get pounded), but for now I think I'll stick with doing it to keep fit. Punch bags don't mind when I go all fire-fists on them, so that's good enough for me.
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Alone in the dark

It was my dream as a kid to have my very own cinema to use whenever I liked. This dream has manifested since a mega multi-level multiplex opened in the city centre. The out-of-town cinemas have become as empty as tennis courts in the rain. The benefits of going to the less-frequented movie machines are numerous. One: there's often absolutely no one there. Two: parking is never an issue. Three: there's nobody to laugh at you if you start crying at the sad bits.

There's something extremely eerie about an empty place at night. Perfect for watching a horror film, with moments of tension punctuated only by faint explosion-booms from the screen next door. One time, while watching 'Aliens VS Predator: Requiem' (someone had to watch it..), a couple of kids came in the fire escape and started making alien sounds in the exit corridor. They must have felt quite pleased with their xeno-foolery. Little did they know I was sneaking past the screen with my arsenal of predator noises and unusually large teeth brandished. The speed at which they exited the building made me realise that even the simplist of real-life frights outshone anything offered by the movie.

It's strange how such a large room can become very much like your own living room when there's no one else there. While watching 'Next' starring the immortal Nick Cage, a guy shuffled into the back row with his girlfriend. They didn't notice me initially, so it was a little awkward when they started desperately fondling each other. Just as I heard an unzipping sound, the guy looked up and noticed me, exclaiming, "For God's sake, not again!" I'm not sure of the subtext of the exclamation, but I can speculate that they were hoping for slightly more ideal 'public-place privacy'. I guess they had to put up with actually watching the movie they'd paid to see, which thankfully turned out to be an all right Cage caper.

I would recommend going to the cinema on your own as I do, but I've decided you're not allowed to. If you were there too, like the alien kids and the young couple, I won't be alone. So stay away from neglected cinemas. They're all mine! :)
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Doctor's orders

Do you think it strange for a doctor to tell you to make yourself ill? Well, that's what happened to me recently. Okay, it's not quite as it sounds. There is a purpose to the 'ill on demand' thing.

I've been avoiding gluten (wheat, barley and rye) for about two and half years, because whenever I eat anything with those ingredients in I get a stomach ache, mouth ulcers, constricted throat, etcetera. Since I was a kid, whenever I ate those foods, which was all the time, I felt lethargic and hungry, even if I'd just eaten a huge meal. Coeliac Disease, which is what the specialist hospital dude thinks I've got, causes all these kinds of problems, so I'm kinda hoping it's definitely that, just so I know. I have an even worse reaction to oats, so flapjacks are tempting but painful :S

Since giving it up and getting it totally out of my system, I've felt great. I feel like Superman in comparison, but it was normal for me to feel wiped out all the time. I've lived a great deal of my life feeling tired and drained, not feeling able to do all kinds of normal things that involve energy.

I was told that I would have to go back on the gluten for six months to prove that it makes me ill. I had to decide when would be a good time to be ill again, but there really was never a good time, so I just carried on avoiding it. The benefit of doing this though is to get a season ticket for prescription food because gluten-free stuff is so darned expensive. So, I've decided that there will never be a good time but that it has to be done. I've been back on it for two weeks and some good news is they only need me to do it for another four weeks, rather than the full six months.

The problem is no one can tell how I'm feeling, as it's not something obvious. I feel lousy, but I tend to be all smiles. It does get to me sometimes when a friend says, "But I thought it was meant to make you ill..." I hate explaining all the ins and outs of the disease every time because it gets boring. If someone doesn't understand after three or four times of explaining it, I just let them believe I'm a naturally knackered and drained 'healthy person'.

I'm trying to do the things I normally do, like performing at the open mic and going for acting auditions. With my throat closing up, it's kinda hard to project my voice. It's just more of an effort, but I'm sort of glad people don't really notice I'm suffering. I hate feeling like an invilid, so it can be better if they think I'm fine. I guess it's like a swan gliding along smoothly on the surface while paddling like a bandit under the water. That's the only comparison between myself and a swan. I'm not one for wearing feathers!

At least this time I know it's not forever. I know I can recover from the bad stuff. It might take a couple of months to get it out of my system, but I'm sure I can return to feeling like Superman again. The only thing I wanna know is: Where the hell is Lois?!
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