#oneaday Day 758: Keep Moving!

Thus far the return to a regular fitness routine has been going pretty well. I've shaken off all vague feelings of illness, so I can't use that as an excuse any more, and I have a variety of activities that I'm able to do so I don't get bored. Also, as stupid as it sounds, associating the act of running with one of my favourite characters from Katawa Shoujo — that's Emi, for anyone not tuning out when I mention that game now — gives me a positive attitude towards it, even if I suck in comparison to people who are fitter and slimmer than me.

Fitness is tricky business, though, as anyone who has tried to get themselves into a decent routine and struggled will attest. Just arbitrarily deciding that you are going to "get fit" isn't enough for most people, in my experience. You need things to aim for and the means through which to motivate yourself.

I thought what I'd do today is share what I'm doing in the hope that it might rub off on some of you. Feel free to pinch any of my ideas if you're struggling with the whole "motivation" thing.

First up, I have a selection of things to do — I don't do the same thing all the time. If you're a gym member, it's easy to think that you should be using the gym as much as possible, and when you're there, it's also very easy to get stuck in a rut doing the same routine over and over and over again. And sure, sticking to a routine can allow you to work on the parts of the body that you'd really like to focus on, but good grief it gets boring after a while.

So mix it up. When you're at the gym, try some different machines. If you do weight training, use the machines sometimes and the free weights at others. Try using barbells if you normally use dumbbells. Challenge some different cardiovascular machines. Bump up the difficulty. Set yourself more lofty targets — ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes. Challenge yourself to meet those targets without stopping for a rest, or with only a certain number of rests, or completing a certain amount of distance in that time period.

But don't necessarily stick to the gym. Go outside and do something like cycling or running. While you may feel horrendously self-conscious attempting to perambulate your wheezing carcass at a faster speed than your normal zombie-like shamble in an environment that contains other people, there are plenty of ways to tune out the outside world. Loud music, for example — and we'll come back to that point in a minute. The clothing you wear makes a difference, too — hide your face under a hoodie or a hat and you'll feel much less self-conscious, plus you get the added bonus of being able to pretend you're Ezio Auditore running away from the city guards. That and keeping the windchill off your ears, too. Also bear in mind that there's a strong possibility that anyone who sees you running — especially in inclement weather conditions — will be impressed at your dedication to bettering yourself. (This rule is also known as the "Fat People Shouldn't Be Ashamed To Be Seen At The Gym Rule".)

On the subject of music, pick something that inspires you. No-one else is going to hear it (unless you have crap headphones that leak sound everywhere, and even then only if you're exercising around other people and playing your music at full volume) so it can be absolutely anything you want, even the most shameful of crap in your iTunes library. In fact, in the age of Spotify, you can feel free to try out different genres of music to see what gets your pumped up. You may find that 80s cheese does the trick, or thumping dance beats, or — God forbid — dubstep.

Podcasts are a good thing to insert into your earholes while you're exercising too, not because they're inherently energetic in themselves, but because they provide the illusion of time passing more quickly. By concentrating on the sound of peoples' voices and what they are saying, you'll find you naturally stop clockwatching, simply letting your body run on automatic while you listen to, say, the Minotti brothers yelling at each other on the Exploding Barrel Podcast, or the Squadron of Shame waxing lyrical about chin-strokey gaming topics.

My personal recommendation for listening material is to check out some soundtracks, both movies and games. Action movie soundtracks and games that are full of spectacle typically provide excellent soundtracks to work out to — particular favourites of mine include the soundtracks to Speed, the Matrix series, Metal Gear Solid, Split/Second, Shadow of the Colossus (particularly awesome when lifting weights), the bizarrely cheerful soundtrack to the iPhone version of DoDonPachi Resurrection and Space Channel 5. If you're a JRPG fan, battle themes are particularly awesome to work out to. If you can create a crescendo of intensity culminating in the most epic final boss themes you can find, so much the better. There's no better feeling than finishing that last set of reps as the choir starts belting out One Winged Angel.

Finally, and I think this is probably the most powerful motivational factor in my case: track your progress. It's very easy to get stuck in a rut, but to see measurable results provides powerful inspiration to push yourself harder and go a little further. Exactly how you do this is up to you, but as a gamer and social media junkie I use Runkeeper to track cardiovascular workouts (including mapping my runs when I go outside) and the very excellent Fitocracy social game/network to log complete workouts. I also share my completed workouts on Facebook and Twitter. While some may not like the "spam", it's easy enough to ignore, and the few people who do congratulate me on a job well done after the fact makes it worthwhile.

On that note, if you can build up a support network for yourself — be it people you regularly work out with or online friends who cheer you on from afar — you'll find yourself motivated to succeed, particularly if they're the sort of friends who would rib you mercilessly if you give up. If you're going through a programme like the Couch to 5K thing I shared with you all the other day, then work with a friend or team to get through it together.

Above all, though, have fun with it. It may feel like work at times because it is — it's something you need to make yourself do, and made of activities that your body often doesn't feel like doing if you tend to live a fairly sedentary lifestyle. But unlike going to actual work, you're free to tackle it and make it fun in whatever manner you please rather than sitting in a cubicle allowing your soul to be sucked out through your ergonomically-designed management keyboard.

I hope that's made some of you think a bit. C'mon, if I can get off my arse and get active, I'm pretty sure that you (yes, you, with the beard/glasses/pointy nose/weird hair/lovely hair/nice tits/flatulence/worryingly prominent erection/kind face/greasy trout in your hand/jar of olives clutched to your breast/smelly armpits [delete as applicable]) can do it too.

#oneaday Day 756: Emi's Inspiration

Bettering yourself is a difficult thing to do. First of all, you have to really want to change, which isn't necessarily the same as not liking something about yourself. It's the difference between self-pitying cries of "I hate that I'm like this!" and inspirational yells of "I may be like this now, but you better watch out, cause I'ma kick your ass!" or something equally obnoxious.

There are lots of ways you might want to change yourself. It could be eating better, working on a new creative project, getting more exercise. Chances are, there is something you would rather do better — probably even several things. Once you've picked one, that's where the challenge comes in — motivation to begin.

Inspiration can come from the strangest places. In this post back in 2009, I commented on the strange effect that changing my Second Life avatar from one which loosely looked like me to someone rather more buff an' ting had on me. I suddenly felt inspired to better myself, and to attempt to hammer and chisel my flabby body into some sort of shape, to be more like my virtual self.

Well, I can't say that it had a massive effect on me — I'm still overweight and would very much like to change that — but that initial push over the edge gave me some preliminary interest in fitness, and the knowledge that yes, I could do it if I applied myself.

Later on, I tried the Couch to 5K running programme, which takes 9 weeks to get you from wheezing, sweating mess up to someone who can run continuously for half an hour without stopping. It's an excellent system, and one which has a very positive impact on anyone who tries it. But again, it can sometimes be difficult to get started.

One of the interesting things that those of us who have played Katawa Shoujo noticed was the inspirational effect that some of the characters had on members of the community. I'm not necessarily even talking in the "overcoming their disability" sense — rather, I'm referring to certain admirable character traits which a number of the girls in the game demonstrate to both protagonist Hisao and the player themselves proving to be a powerful motivational factor.

The most oft-cited example of this is Emi, an amputee girl and track star who describes herself as "The Fastest Thing on No Legs". She overcame her disability to become a strong, fit runner, so why shouldn't a person without a physical disability be able to do the same thing, too?

You can probably see where this is going.

What would happen, then, if you combined the infectiously cheerful, never-give-up personality of Emi with the well-paced Couch to 5K programme? Well, you get the following chart, which I include here after the break as a courtesy to that certain subset of you who have played Katawa Shoujo and are considering taking up running but having absolutely no idea where to start. Indeed, even those of you who haven't played Katawa Shoujo but would like to be able to run for more than five seconds without HHNNNGGGGing can benefit from this. (To support the programme, I also recommend downloading this app for iPhone.)

As for me, I'm back into an almost-regular gym routine but haven't done a long run for quite some time, so am planning on ploughing through the whole Couch to 5K programme again — with Emi's help, of course — very soon. I shall be providing occasional progress updates on here when I can be bothered and/or when I don't have anything interesting to write about that day.

Why don't you get up off your arse and join me? See you on the track.

(Click Continue Reading if you're on the front page to see Emi's chart.)

Continue reading "#oneaday Day 756: Emi's Inspiration" →

#oneaday Day 754: Hindsight

Every so often, I like to look back over my old blog entries and ruminate on everything that's come to pass in the time since writing them. Since starting this site back in 2009, and particularly since starting daily posting early in 2010, I think it's fair to say that a lot has changed. And, pleasingly, mostly for the better.

My early #oneaday posts largely focused on how miserable I was working as a teacher. I had a feeling before I even started that position at that primary school that it was going to be a difficult time — my previous stint as a secondary school teacher had ended with me suffering a nervous breakdown, after all, and I wasn't keen to return to that place in my mind.

I had thought I should give primary teaching a shot, however, as several family members and friends had said they thought I'd make a good primary school teacher. (I have since forgiven them for saying these things.) Given the amount of unnecessary fighting and workplace bullying I had to put up with to get a foot in the door of primary teaching, I also wasn't about to give up easily.

But give up I did. Not for lack of trying, but because I recognised the signs of my own decline from last time and wanted to escape before my brain collapsed again. That and I had the opportunity to go to PAX East in Boston, which was something I desperately wanted to do and proved to be, to date, probably the happiest, most fun time of my life.

Subsequently came the chaos that was the end of my marriage. This, in stark contrast to PAX East, was the most difficult, unpleasant experience I have ever been through. The way I felt after breaking down at school that first time was absolutely nothing compared to the sense of guilt, rejection, anger, stupidity, frustration, sadness, regret and all manner of other feels I felt during this dark period of my life. I felt like I was going under, and that this time I'd never make it back up again.

Ironically, I think some of my best writing was done during this period. I guess it's true what they say: inner pain fuels art.

Make it back I did, though, thanks to support from family and friends. I moved away from the city I'd called home for nearly ten years (even during the periods when I didn't actually live there) and moved back in to my childhood home.

I was in two minds about this. On the one hand, to be pushing thirty and back living with my parents felt kind of pathetic, like I'd failed at life. On the other hand, I was and am grateful to them for supporting me at that difficult time. I felt hugely depressed for much of the time I lived there as I desperately tried to rebuild my life, struggling to find a job when the only thing I was really qualified was teaching — the career that had nearly killed me.

By a stroke of good fortune, I eventually found myself working for GamePro, initially on a fairly casual basis, then gradually building up my contributions until I was effectively a remote full-time employee, responsible for the majority of the site's news output. I had a noticeable impact, too — the traffic figures showed that my work was attracting lots of new visitors to the site, and I was developing a good reputation as the face of GamePro's news posts.

By a further stroke of good luck, I found myself in a new relationship with someone who understood me and my likes a whole lot better than my wife ever did. This developed quickly and eventually gave me the means and the opportunity to fly the nest once again. This, coupled with my work for GamePro, made me feel my life was finally getting back on track.

To date, I think GamePro was my favourite job I've ever had. Which is what made it all the more upsetting when GamePro met its unceremonious demise late last year. I saw a variety of panicked-looking emails from other members of staff but since I wasn't physically present in the office, I'd obviously missed out on some sort of important news. I hoped against hope that it wasn't what I thought it was, but it was.

I thought for a horrible moment that it was all over again, that things had come to a disastrous close thanks to my reliance on a volatile industry for my career. It had been going so well, though, and right up until the plug was pulled, GamePro's traffic figures were skyrocketing. But it wasn't enough.

Now I find myself writing regularly for specialist business sites Inside Social Games and Inside Mobile Apps. I find myself using terms like "monetization" (a word for whom I have expressed considerable disdain in the past) and "user acquisition". I compile reviews and a weekly business-to-business report on trends in the social and mobile gaming industries.

And y'know what, I'm enjoying it. It's satisfying work of a different kind to that which I did on GamePro, and not as high profile to the public, but that's okay — it means less likelihood of being denounced as a paedophile by psychotic commenters simply because I posted a news story about an academic institute's game exploring LGBT issues, after all. (Yes, that really happened.)

Life is pretty good right now. I'm in an awesome relationship, I have a job I enjoy where I learn new stuff regularly, I live in a nice place and for the first time in quite a long while I'm reasonably financially stable.

It's been a long road to this point, and there's plenty more steps on my life's journey (unless I get hit by a bus tomorrow, obviously, and even then I might survive), but things are looking pretty sort of kind of okay right now. Long may it continue.

If you've been following this nonsense for years, another hearty thank you for sticking by me through all the past angst. I hope my catalogue of misfortunes, my fall and rise has been entertaining, enlightening and/or helpful to at least some of you.

And if you're a new follower, uh, welcome. You caught me at a good time.

#oneaday Day 748: Life Story

Do you think your own life story would make for an interesting read? Playing Katawa Shoujo rather extensively today has made me give some consideration to the thought, since that game, despite its distinctive — perhaps even unique — premise ("This is a game about disabled girls") is in fact simply about human relationships and real life struggles. There's no "epicness" whatsoever; the world doesn't come to an end; there's no "save the princess" (except metaphorically speaking in a few instances) — it's just about normal people (albeit normal people with disabilities) living their lives.

When I think back on my own life, there are certainly plenty of interesting stories there for the telling, and given that we human beings are creatures of habit, often doomed to make the same mistakes over and over, it's fairly unlikely that there's nobody out there who could relate to some of them.

This makes the concept of autobiographies an interesting one. The shelves in ailing book retailers such as Smith's and Waterstone's are crammed with celebrity "autobiographies" (and I use the term loosely, since a large proportion of them are ghost-written), all called things like My Story, My Struggle or My Tits. (I made the last one up, but it's arguably what anything written by Katie Price should be called, given the thing that most people seem to know her for.)

The thing is, though, I almost feel like I'd rather read the autobiography of someone who hasn't led a remarkable life. Someone who hasn't shot to stardom, done something remarkable with their life. It works for fictional narratives, as anyone who has read Generation X by Douglas Coupland will attest — a narrative in which nothing happens (relatively speaking) means that you can focus more on the people and their reactions to everyday, relatable situations and then, crucially, compare your own experiences and prejudices to the same situations. This is something that you simply can't do with most celebrity works — they live in such a different world to the rest of us, almost like caricatures or fictional characters.

The "fiction" part of celebrities is arguably at least partly true. Their public perception is something which is carefully managed and controlled by their publicists. The truth behind their lives is often a lot more mundane, but by extension, more relatable. The trouble is, the only time we ever see that mundane everyday life is through the snooping lens of a paparazzi, or in some cringeworthy ITV documentary showing Peter Andre having a wank or something. The very nature of their celebrity makes them feel different, makes observing them doing "natural" things feel like an alien thing to do. Celebrity Big Brother proves this particularly aptly by being actually rather boring. In this case, it's because they're in an artificial situation where they're forced to be mundane, and this, once again, is merely a fictional representation of a real life.

Normal (i.e. non-celebrity) people, though, the non-player characters of society? Those are the ones I'd be interested in reading about. Whether it's the story of how they got into a fight with their supposed best friend at school over what one of them assumed was light-hearted teasing and the other one took to heart, or the tale of how they met their partner. Truth and real life is sometimes far stranger than fiction, and it's worth remembering that sometimes.

I'm not sure what my point is, to be honest. I don't think I'm planning on writing an autobiography (though certain fragments of this blog stray into that territory sometimes, admittedly) but I feel like doing so in one form or another might be an interesting experience. Perhaps writing fictionalised stories based on real-life experiences? It's something I've toyed with the idea of before, but have always shied away from for fear of people connecting the dots too much and making judgements about things I've been through.

That said, despite my shyness in a lot of social situations, I'm generally pretty up-front with talking about past struggles if given the opportunity to do so, so perhaps it might not be such a terrible idea to do, after all. The truest, most resonant creative works come from the creator tapping into their own personal well of past experiences and pain.

Anyone reading this tapped into the contents of their own soul and memory and come up with something great?

#oneaday Day 747: I've Already Done A Post Called "Fun With Portals" So Use Your Imagination

Can you imagine how awesome it would be if portals were real? Portals as in the portals from Portal, not portals as in Web portals. I know those exist.

Let's consider a few real-world applications of said portals.

For starters, assuming the technology could be modified to create more than two portals, a worldwide transportation network — perhaps attached to some large chain of fast food restaurants or coffee shops — could easily be set up. Imagine how much easier it would be to get around and visit friends if you could simply step through a portal in your local Starbucks and come out in a different Starbucks somewhere else. (Pedants may suggest a portal in your own home might be more useful, but that is obviously then open to abuse. Public portals are the way forward in this instance.)

Second of all, the creation of a real-life Resident Evil-style Item Box, where the inordinately huge number of possessions that you dumped inside are inexplicably available any time you open an identical-looking box somewhere else. This would make getting furniture home from Ikea considerably easier. Perhaps they could even sell the boxes in question, allowing users to then drop any future furniture purchases in the public box in store and have it immediately pop out at the other end. (Those who live with others may wish to warn their housemates if they are going to do this, however, for seeing a fully-formed bookcase suddenly bursting out of the floor may be somewhat terrifying for those with weak constitutions.)

Thirdly, those finding the development of an exercise routine troublesome due to lack of space can make themselves an infinite running track in even the smallest of apartments simply by placing two portals opposite one another. Obviously ensure the floor space between the two portals is clear and you have understanding neighbours if you do not live on the ground floor, but you can then run to your heart's content without ever having to go outside and worry about the general public laugh at your pathetic speed and wobbling man-boobs. (Assuming you're a gentleman, of course.)

Fourthly, the Walk of Shame after a particularly rambunctious night on the town can easily be dealt with by simply popping one portal on your bedroom wall before you leave, and then, when the night/sex is over, simply pop the other portal on a wall near the situation you would no longer like to be physically present in. (Do then remember to either close the portals or put the second portal somewhere else so that the person/situation you are attempting to escape from is unable to follow you into your bedroom.

Fifthly, stairs could become a thing of the past. You know when something you really need/want is at the opposite end of your house and your own laziness precludes you from climbing the stairs to go and get it? Simply ensure you leave a portal upstairs at all times, and then fire the other one immediately in front of you. Wander through and voila — no unnecessarily tiring stair-climbing to worry about. (If you are performing this operation primarily to get food, be aware that you will probably get fat if you're not even getting the exercise that climbing your stairs provides.)

It should, by now, be abundantly clear that real-life portal technology would be useful, practical and not at all intrusive. FOR SCIENCE.

#oneaday Day 743: Out

It occurs to me that I haven't "been out" for ages. Not literally; I left the house both yesterday and today and will probably do so again tomorrow. I'm referring to what people mean when they say they are "going out" for an evening — that is, hitting the pubs and clubs of the local area, and probably drinking heavily along the way. Motivations for "going out" may vary — meeting with friends, going on the pull or simply just for something to do — but the results are usually pretty similar.

The vast majority of my "going out" when I was younger (read: during the university years) was conducted in conjunction with my good friend and Agricola demon Sam. We had quite a few memorable nights over the years, but they often tended to follow a fairly similar pattern.

Sam and I, and possibly a few others, would decide that we wanted to go out for some reason. In fact, there wasn't always an explicit reason — "Let's go to Lennon's" was usually reason enough.

Regardless of whether there was a reason or not, we would get ourselves into whatever we considered our glad-rags to be, and head out for our target — usually either the aforementioned Lennon's or Kaos, two grotty little student-heavy nightclubs within easy staggering distance of most of our homes, and two places with a predilection for cheap drinks that were usually 1) a knockoff of a recognisable drink and 2) out of date. Lennon's, in particular, proudly sported a fridge which noted "contents may be out of date" and the happily sold you said contents for £1 a bottle.

The reason we went to these places rather than somewhere bigger and (arguably) better? Stubbornness, partly, but also none of us were particularly hardcore clubbers. None of us were into doing the drugs (to my knowledge, anyway) and none of us were bigtime drinkers. Both Lennon's and Kaos allowed you the authentic clubland experience of being in a dark, smelly room with music too loud to talk to your friends over, but were both small enough that you never lost track of your friends for very long. Lennon's, in particular, was roughly the size of a large garden shed and entirely contained in a single room, so if you had reached the stage where you couldn't find your friends in there, you had definitely had too much.

Part of the appeal of "going out" for some is going on the pull, hoping to score some sweet lovin' from some trophy guy/girl that you'd had your eye on all night. Or, as the evening went on, anyone who looked vaguely in your direction or accidentally made eye contact.

Suffice to say, our attempts in that regard were usually confined to standing on the perimeter of the dance floor having picked a "target" that we decided we quite liked, and then staring at them off and on for most of the night. When closing time rolled around, we would then leave with the lingering sense of regret that we should have probably actually gone and tried to talk to them, or at the very least danced near them in the vain hope they might pay attention.

I can only remember a single successful instance of "pulling" in my entire life. I was at Kaos, this time with the university theatre group, as it was our wont to invade Kaos every Monday night and enjoy their plentiful stocks of Newcastle Brown Ale and vodka-fake Red Bull. On this particular occasion, I had had a fair amount of vodka and fake Red Bull, and was consequently of the opinion that my dancing was The Shit.

"You ever tried ecstasy, mate?" yelled some Neanderthal I didn't know in my ear as I wildly flailed around the dance floor.

"No," I replied honestly. Almost immediately afterwards I was grabbed by a nearby blonde girl (named Beki, as it turned out) who proceeded to snog my face off.

"Yeah," said the guy to me after Beki had allowed me to come up for air. "You'd love ecstasy."

Quite.

So why don't I "go out" any more? Several reasons, really: I don't really drink any more; I live a long way from anyone who might want to "go out"; but most of all, I'm not sure I see the point any more.

That said, I can think of two people offhand who may well be reading this for whom I would happily make an exception and subject myself to the cavernous depths of The Dungeon or the sticky floor of Lennon's. But that's more because I haven't seen them for ages and miss them rather than any particular massive desire to go clubbing. I certainly don't feel the same pressure I once did that I perhaps "should" go out, head off somewhere by myself and have a miserable experience of the type outlined here.

Perhaps I'm just an antisocial old bastard. We can probably all agree on that.

#oneaday Day 742: Being a Treatise on the Nature of Friendship in the Digital Age

Today was a good day, because I took the relatively rare opportunity to take a friendship with an "Internet Friend" to the next level — real friendship. Speaking face to face. Being able to see each other, and having to actually speak words instead of typing things.

My erstwhile Internet Friend Holly and I had been conversing online for some time after a chance encounter — as I recall, it was a Twitter follow and a question on Tumblr that has long since been lost among pictures of cats and pushed Formspring answers. Regardless of exactly how it happened, we got chatting, and we did that Internet Friends thing of talking a whole bunch, going quiet for days, weeks, months at a time, and then picking up where we left off without too much difficulty. A familiar story to many of you reading this, I'm sure.

As it happens, Holly used to live where I now live (not literally in the same house, that would be super-weird). As such, she decided to come on down to visit her friends who are still in the area now she's elsewhere in the country. And we decided that it might be fun to meet each other and hang out.

Now, anyone who's ever broached the subject of a real-life meetup with an Internet Friend, whatever the motives for doing so might be, will doubtless be aware of that feeling of unease and anxiety that comes as the date for your meeting approaches. (Or perhaps it's just me. For the sake of this entry, however, I am going to assume you know what I'm talking about.) Will your friendship successfully carry over into the real world? Will you be able to make the same jokes you do on Twitter/Facebook/Tumblr/text message/however you've been conversing previously? Will the other person take one look at you, think you're some sort of hideous freak and run screaming out of the door?

Statistically, this is fairly unlikely to happen — in my experience, anyway. Out of all the Internet Friend meetups I have had over the years (and I've had a surprising amount, now that I come to think about it), only one encounter was a failure, and even then, it wasn't completely disastrous — we just didn't click in person for whatever reason. Past successful meetups saw me attending a showjumping event; getting married (though, granted, that didn't end all that well, but that's not the point under scrutiny here); flying to Toronto to play a ton of boardgames, see the sights and get sunstroke at the zoo; flying to Boston for super nerd-convention PAX East; having someone other than my brother and his family to visit when I'm in California (not that I don't enjoy seeing my bro!); and, indeed, my current living situation and relationship with Andie can also be attributed to a successful Internet Friend meetup.

That one failure has haunted me a bit over the years, though. Despite all the other successful encounters, I still think back to that awkwardness I felt when I met Julia for the first time, and how awful I felt on the way home, thinking that all our long, heartfelt emails to one another had turned out to be essentially worthless. As those who know me well (and regular readers) will know, I am not the most confident person in the world, so to feel rejected like that — regardless of whether she had actually rejected me or it was simply my own social ineptitude that had caused the awkwardness — well, it hurt, quite a bit. As such, any time I've had the opportunity to meet up with someone I get on well with from the Internet, I've always been wary. All my insecurities and neuroses about my appearance, my personality and everything else all come out to play, and I find myself wondering if meeting is actually a good idea or not. In short, I worry the situation in the image above is what will happen.

Fact: it usually is a good idea to meet, and the situation in the image above is, mercifully, fairly rare. Look at it this way: you get on well online for a reason. For most people (those who aren't making a specific effort to troll, anyway), their online persona is a pretty true representation of the person they are — often sans any insecurities they have in face to face meetings. And if you get on well when speaking in text, it's pretty likely that you will get on in person, too.

You're doubtless waiting on tenterhooks to know whether or not Holly and I hit it off, then. (Maybe not.)

We did. We managed to easily fill several hours of conversation on a variety of topics, and both left feeling good that we'd done that. We're hopefully going to do it again before she has to depart back to far-off climes (relatively speaking). I'd call that a successful Internet Friend meetup, then, resulting in a real-life friendship. Hurrah!

So there you have it. You can make a Real Friend out of an Internet Friend. But you probably knew that already.

#oneaday Day 741: Glee - It's a Feeling You Get When Your Brain Finally Lets Your Heart Get In Its Pants

I posted a short while ago that I had been watching Glee, and had found myself surprised that I was rather enjoying it. Like many other people (I imagine) I had certain preconceptions as to what the show would be about — misconceptions, as it happens. Misconceptions fuelled by media coverage of the phenomenon of "gleeks", and endless playing of their version of Don't Stop Believing on the radio.

Watching the show with an air of objectivity, i.e. having ignored most of the coverage about it because of my misconceptions it was cheesy and lame, has surprised and delighted me with its quality. I'm genuinely enjoying it — cheesy songs and all — and have come to care about the characters. As I've said on a number of occasions before, caring about the characters in something is the one thing that will keep me watching or playing something, even after said piece of media in question might have long outstayed its welcome with other people. And I can see how Glee could easily rub people up the wrong way. It's an acquired taste, but one I have well and truly acquired with aplomb.

Glee is good at high school angst. Above all else, outside of all the cheesy songs and elaborate dance routines, it's about teenage troubles. And some surprisingly weighty issues, too — I'd assumed that it would all be a bit Disney, judging by the saccharine, autotuned nature of the music. But in the space of the season and a quarter that I've watched so far, the show has taken in teen pregnancy, homosexuality, bullying, infidelity, abstinence, discrimination and a wealth of other topics, and it's handled them all in a surprisingly sensitive manner. Most of the "dealing with" said issues involves singing a song that is tangentially related to the issue in question, but somehow this never seems too forced. Sure, if you're going to go over it with a fine-tooth comb and pick apart exactly why a high school could never have the budget to pull off some of the productions they do, you'll come away feeling slightly I satisfied by the whole experience. But accept it for what it is — a heavily stylised depiction of high school that blends realism with escapist fantasy — and there's an incredibly satisfying, well-written and, at times, very touching show underneath.

It's a show of great characters, too. Mr Shuester (or however you spell it) is a great lead. While there's an element of "cheesy choir leader" about him by the nature of his character's role, he's a deep, interesting and flawed character who presents an interesting counterpoint to the colourful adventures of the teen stars. Sue Sylvester, too, makes a brilliant "villain", and is all the more powerful for being a very complex, unpredictable character. It would have been easy to leave her as nothing but a heartless bitch, but even well into the second season, she continues to surprise.

Barring a few missteps early in season 2 — the themed episodes based on Britney Spears and the Rocky Horror Show were a bit silly in that they felt far too shoehorned in, even for a show about retrofitting pop songs to express your inner angst — the show is fairly consistently great. Said theme shows were followed up by some brilliant episodes, however, with the eighth entry of the second season providing one of the most genuinely moving moments I've seen in a TV show in recent years. (I shan't spoil it for those who intend to watch it, but suffice to say for those who have seen it, it's the bit where that song "You're Amazing" is used, if that's what that song is actually called. I'd check, but, you know, I can't be arsed. You know the one I mean.)

I will be following Glee with interest as it continues — particularly as the high school nature of it means that the entire cast of kids will theoretically have to be replaced over the course of the next few seasons.

#oneaday Day 740: A Story About a Girl I Once Knew

Those of you who have been reading for a while will probably know I used to be a teacher. Those of you who are new to this blog… I used to be a teacher. Three years in secondary education, a term in primary.

I had a fairly hellish time for the most part, culminating in having a nervous breakdown and having to get signed off sick with stress. While this meant that I could legitimately sit at home in my pants and play video games all day while getting paid for it (and not having to write about said games), it was a demoralising, embarrassing experience that reflected much of my time in the classroom — demoralising and embarrassing.

But it wasn't all bad, and lest you get the impression that I spent my entire time in the classroom hating every single child who sullied the sanctity of my room with their presence, I wanted to take a moment to appreciate one particular student who has stuck in my mind ever since. She isn't the only one, and if I'm strapped for writing ideas I will talk about my memories of the others at a later time. But she is the one that popped into my head when I was considering what to write about this evening. I attribute at least part of this to the fact she has a memorable name, and is the only person I've ever known with that name.

Her name was Berri, and when I knew her she was in year 8, or the second year of secondary school. I only knew her for a year, as I was only employed at the school in question for a year thanks to the headteacher who employed me officially being Shit With Money. But that's another story.

Berri may have only been in year 8 at the time, but she was incredibly mature for her age. She was the sort of kid you could have an actual meaningful conversation with, rather than simply chasing them up for homework. She was intelligent, witty and had common sense. She also had the patience of a saint, something which I display for the vast majority of the time but sometimes found reaching breaking point when confronted with a class of unruly, uncooperative children who thought their weekly Music lesson was an excuse to goof off. Berri never got annoyed, though, even when young Danny, her classmate who liked to climb bookcases and shout "CUNT" at people, was at his worst.

Berri was also very musical, which meant that the vast majority of the secondary school music curriculum was pitched way below what she was capable of. She never minding mucking in and doing a task that was beneath her ability level, though, and if she finished early she was more than happy to go and sit in a practice room playing her violin. Although classical music isn't particularly cool among kids, seeing a peer who is good at a musical instrument is usually enough to impress even the most unruly child into temporary silence. In retrospect, I should have perhaps taken advantage of this fact more regularly.

In short, I appreciated Berri for being one person in those classes of 30 that I didn't have to worry about. She was one pupil who actively made my life easier and more pleasant, rather than more difficult and unpleasant. Her practice room was often a haven of calm when the rest of the class, supposedly composing a piece based on Indian raga, were in fact just trying to see who could press the "DJ!" button on the school's keyboard the most in the space of five minutes. She never said anything, but I could tell from the way she acted and looked at me sometimes that she understood how much pressure I was under, and how difficult I found dealing with the unruly mobs. That look of understanding that she occasionally gave me was one of a few things that kept me safe in that hellhole.

I always thought that she was out of place at that school, populated as it was mostly with the sort of twats you'd see on Britain's Chavviest Teens, should such a show exist. I hope that whatever reason brought her there wasn't enough to keep her there, and I hope that in the intervening six or seven years since I last saw her that she has been able to make the most of everything that she had to offer the world. If she went on to university after school, she'd be about halfway through her course now. I wonder what she's doing.

Wherever you are, Berri, and whatever you're doing, thanks for making my life a fraction easier. I wish you the best of luck as you look forward to your life as an adult truly starting, and hope you achieve all that you deserve to.

#oneaday Day 739: I'm Flickin' Me Net

I mentioned it briefly yesterday, but I feel some good, old-fashioned enthusing about Netflix is in order. I know, I know, you American types have been enjoying its streamtastic charms for a very long time now, and us Brits have been watching enviously for the whole time (and occasionally trying to do clever things to see if we can get signed up) — but now, we have it too.

And it's awesome.

As I've noted on some post back in the dim and distant history of this blog, I'm not huge on movies. It's not that I don't like them, it's that I'd rather spend two hours at a time doing something else. I'm not sure why this is. Perhaps there's something in my brain that sets me up to enjoy interactive, rather than passive entertainment — I'll happily sit and play one game for hours at a time, after all. But that doesn't explain why I might take a new TV show discovery and devour large proportions of a season at once (see: Community). That's no more interactive than a film, and yet I have no qualms in doing that.

I think my main bugbear with movies has historically been their perceived "value" when buying them to put on your shelf. I have a bookcase in front of me at the time of writing — look, it's over there — that is almost filled with DVDs. (The bottom two shelves are console games.) Of those DVDs, the only ones that I think I have watched more than once or twice are the TV show box sets. The movies I've kept around… well, I'm not sure why, really, since I certainly haven't watched Human Traffic for a very long time, and my copy of Hot Fuzz actually remained shrink-wrapped for a considerable period, too (it was cheap in HMV, then it was on TV, so I didn't really need to watch the DVD). I guess there's some sort of curious feeling of "attachment" to many of these movies, like I remember the time I bought them and associate them with a particular period in my life. As such, it's never really occurred to me to get rid of them, even though I rarely watch them.

The age of Netflix, however, has me rethinking this. Now for a few quid a month I have instant access (assuming I have an Internet connection) to a pretty huge library of movies and TV shows. Some are complaining that the selection is a little limited at this time — and perhaps it is if you're a big film buff, but it's certainly more than satisfactory for me at the moment. And the reason I mention the "perceived value" vs "time constraints" thing above is that I've been more than happy to just sit and watch a movie on Netflix, because I know that I haven't spent £[x] on it, and have to feel obliged to enjoy it.

It's the same for the TV shows, as it happens. I've been meaning to check out Twin Peaks for a very long time, for example — even more so since I played Deadly Premonition — but never got around to picking up the DVD set. It always seemed a bit expensive for something that was — to me, anyway — an unknown quantity. Would I like it? (As it happens, I love it, 90s hairstyles and all) Would it be worth the money, or would I be stuck wishing I'd spent my £[x] on something better?

This consideration is now irrelevant. Like Spotify allows me to check out music that I might not have felt inclined to buy outright, Netflix allows me to broaden my tastes in film and TV shows without any risk of feeling like I've wasted my money. And through the "creepy" (no it's not) autoshare to Facebook facility, I have plenty of opportunity to check out what my friends are watching, start some discussions about it and become more "well read" in the media of TV and film.

So, then, fellow Brits; if you have a decent Internet connection and like watching people perform for you inside your TV, PC, iPad or iPhone, I suggest you get yourself signed up for a free trial. For me, it's been worth it purely for the iPad compatibility — Netflix on iPad in bed has revolutionised insomnia.