#oneaday Day 954: I Love Cock

“Cock” is possibly my favourite word in the entire English language. I don’t care if you’re using it to refer to a rooster or an erect penis (I always felt that “cock” implied “erect”, as does “dong”, “schlong”, “wang” and numerous others; meanwhile “winky”, “dick”, “willy” and “tallywhacker” imply flaccidity, but I digress) — it’s just a fantastically satisfying word to say.

You have to say it right for it to be satisfying though. Try it with me.

Take a deep breath, in through your nose. Now open your mouth a little as if you’re going to cough up a big ol’ flob and pronounce a nice, crisp, hard “C” sound. Immediately follow with a round, fruity “O”, where your mouth makes the perfect shape of the letter it’s pronouncing, leave a short gap, then follow up with the “CK”. Ideally, you should throw back your head slightly while doing the “CO–” bit and give a pervy smile while doing the “–CK” bit. Advanced “COCK”-ers should feel free to add a crescendoing “mm” or “nn” sound beforehand for added amusement. “mmCOCK!” “nnCOCK!”

Lest you feel I’ve lost it here, let me explain my love for this gloriously expressive one-syllable word. It came about back in secondary school. Some friends and I were hanging out, and I, for some reason, happened to pronounce the word “cock” in the manner described above, and everyone fell about laughing. According to my friend Craig, it was hilarious because it, I quote, “sounded like a porn star saying it.” (It sounds even more like a porn star saying it if you also say the word “SUCK” in the same manner as the word “COCK” described above.)

Anyhow, the word “COCK” became our go-to insult or space-filler when there was a lull in the conversation. This use of the word, completely devoid of its usual context, came to a head one summer when my parents had gone on holiday and I was left alone in the house for the first time. My friend Woody and I had recently discovered Final Fantasy VII and, having both finished it possibly several times by this point, were doing a communal playthrough together, fuelled by tequila which we had decided we would attempt to drink despite the fact that both of us felt that it tasted like what a glass of water would taste like if you dropped about fifteen cigarette butts in it. As night fell, we decided that The Thing To Do would be to switch over and play Resident Evil 2 very loud while absolutely munted off our tits. (We also left a metronome ticking outside the room our friend Ed, who had flaked out early, was sleeping in.)

For whatever reason, during our Resident Evil 2 session — and remember we were absolutely twatted by this point — we then decided that The Thing To Do would be to turn to each other and repeatedly say the word “COCK” in the manner described above to each other while attempting to continue normal play. Normal play was already somewhat difficult due to the amount of alcohol we had imbibed coupled with Resident Evil 2’s cumbersome controls, so it largely degenerated into just the shouting of the aforementioned syllable over and over and over again.

I don’t know for how many hours we kept this up, but it was certainly a long time. Probably at least one hour and possibly more. I’m pretty sure that we somehow got most of the way through the game while repeatedly bellowing “COCK” at one another, because I have a vivid memory of collapsing in a drunken, exhausted heap after failing to kill the final boss and waking up the next morning in an awkward position with the PlayStation still running.

So there you go. That’s how much I love cock. I’ll go all night with it.

(Aside: WordPress recommended “wine tasting descriptors” as a tag for this post. I’m not sure I need to make any further comment than that.)

#oneaday Day 899: I’ll Be There For You

I have social anxiety. I may have mentioned this before once or twice.

What that means is that sometimes I get tongue-tied and don’t know what to say. Sometimes I let conversations run inside my head but worry about what the possible outcome of them will be, and end up saying nothing. Sometimes I quite literally have nothing to say whatsoever. And sometimes I do say something and don’t get the reaction I expected and consequently feel weird.

As you might expect, this makes the prospect of “making friends” a fairly terrifying one. Obviously I have made friends over the years, otherwise I wouldn’t have any right now, but I can never quite remember how it happened. In some cases, it was a simple matter of being thrown together in some context — living together, studying together, working together — but in others, it’s not quite so clear.

While I am more than happy with the friends I do have, I do sometimes wish I could have more. That may sound greedy, but the fact is that I don’t get to actually see the friends I have all that often. The vast majority of them live in the States (thank you, Internet) and the others live just far enough away for it to be A Big Effort to go and see them. And, you know, sometimes I just want people to play board games with. I bought a copy of Legend of Drizzt, one of the cooperative Dungeons & Dragons adventure games, this week and I’m hoping I get the chance to play it more than once or twice. If I had more friends (who liked board gaming) then I’d be able to play it more often — at the moment, however, it’s determined largely by mutual availability and whether at least one of us can be bothered to drive about 50 miles. I’m more than happy to for the prospect of board game fun, but it’s the former bit that can be tricky sometimes. Hopefully if and when Andie and I manage to move a bit closer to Southampton it’ll be a bit easier to be more spontaneous — as it stands, however, it’s a relatively rare treat to see people.

This is all rather self-pitying I know, but I direct you back to the first line of this post. Social anxiety makes the act of making new friends — even the prospect of just talking to strangers — a terrifying and difficult prospect. Even in an environment that should be “friendly” — I know there’s a local board game shop in Bristol that does games evenings, for example, but I don’t even feel especially confident about that. My mind gets caught in a cycle of “what ifs” and I just end up deciding not to go.

Perhaps one day I’ll get over this social anxiety and be more confident about making new friends and considering that people might actually want to spend time with me if they don’t have to. That day is not today, however, which means that I’m all the more grateful for the friends I do have and the time I do get to spend with them.

Anyone fancy a game of Legend of Drizzt?

#oneaday Day 877: Far Away

It’s not been a great week to be in my mind. You can’t control how or when or for what reason depression will hit you, but it’s been getting me down somewhat recently for a variety of reasons. The events I outlined yesterday are one contributing factor, but as I said there, they aren’t directly affecting me and thus I have to think that the exaggerated feelings of disappointment and upset I have been feeling may be caused by, rather than be the cause of, depression. Or perhaps there’s a whole mess of contributing factors.

I don’t know. And thinking about it inevitably doesn’t help.

One thing that is getting me down a bit at the moment is how far away I am feeling from all my friends. I live in the middle of nowhere a long way away from pretty much everyone I know, and thousands of miles away from the people I talk to literally every day — friends, coworkers, confidantes. I have Andie in my life, a fact which I am incredibly thankful for every day, but that unfortunately doesn’t stop the occasional feelings of loneliness and disconnection.

It’s partly my fault in some cases, of course. When you have disparate, unconnected friendship groups scattered around the globe, it’s difficult to keep up with all of them. (Hell, it’s difficult to keep up with disparate, unconnected friendship groups in the same city sometimes.) Some necessarily fall by the wayside as a sort of natural atrophy. In many cases, this gradual contraction of your worldwide friendship network is a sign that one or all of you have evolved and changed from the people you were when you first knew each other, and you’re just going in directions too different to stay together. In others, yes, it can simply be laziness, but mental states play a role in all this, too, particularly if you struggle with social anxiety as I do — sometimes even the prospect of hanging out with a longtime friend can be terrifying if you haven’t seen them for ages. What if you have nothing to talk about?

Mostly, though, my daily life, my work and my hobbies have led me to the position I am in now, where the vast majority (though not all) of the people that I would consider my closest friends live many thousands of miles away across the Atlantic Ocean, and in some cases even further afield than that. It’s great that I can talk to these people every day thanks to various forms of social media and other online happy funtimes, but sometimes all you want to do is get some people together in the same room, play some couch co-op (or couch competition games like the rather wonderful Hidden in Plain Sight), play some board games, eat some pizza/curry/Chinese/other takeaway goodness and simply, you know chill out together. It happens all too rarely these days.

Ah well. Not a lot I can do about it right now at 1am in the dark in Chippenham, is there? Someday I’ll buy you all a drink. Just probably not all at the same time.

#oneaday Day 809: PAX Pact

Disclaimer: I’m aware that I wrote almost exactly the same post as you’re about to read at this time last year, and for that I make absolutely no apologies.

It’s PAX East time! Yay! I’m not there! Boooo.

I’ve not been to many conventions or big shows like that over the years, so I have very fond memories of those I have been able to attend. My decision to attend PAX East in 2010 was very much a spur of the moment thing — I’d decided I wanted to leave my primary school teaching job because I’d given it a chance and determined it wasn’t for me, I was trying as hard as I could to pursue a career in the Writing Words About Games industry, and I was feeling a bit miserable and lonely. So, with a little financial help, I flew across the pond to Boston and went to my first big show in America.

It was an exciting time for a number of reasons. I’d just started working for Kombo.com which, while it didn’t pay particularly well, provided me with a position where I could legitimately say I was a professional member of the games press. I knew that a large number of my buddies from communities such as Bitmob and The Squadron of Shame would be in attendance, so I’d have the opportunity to meet some people face to face. And I always love the opportunity to visit the States. I’d never been to Boston before, and while I was under no illusions that I’d be seeing much of the city while I was there, I was looking forward to being Somewhere New.

It was also terrifying. As a sufferer of social anixety at the best of times, the prospect of meeting people I’d only ever talked to on the Internet in the past was a scary one. What if we didn’t get on? What if it was a massive disaster and it destroyed the carefully-cultivated relationships we’d built up with one another? What if I had nothing to say? What if I got lost and it was actually because they wanted to lose me? All these thoughts whirled around my head as I was on the plane, but I was very happy to discover that PAX was, in fact, a happy, inclusive and wonderful place for geeks of all descriptions to call home — whether they were someone who just liked video games or was also into collectible card games, role-playing games, board games, cosplay, the history of technology… anything like that.

That word — “home” — is an important one. Because it felt good to be there. It felt like a world which I wanted to belong to, surrounded by people that I wanted to be with. It was a world that accepted and embraced each other’s differences and brought people from many different walks of life together in the name of common interests. Perhaps most importantly, it made friendships real. It’s all very well chatting to people online on a regular basis, but once you’ve spent time with those people in person — seen them, heard them, hugged them, tickled their beards in a homoerotic manner where applicable — your friendship is on a different level. I haven’t seen some of those people I met at PAX East 2010 in person since that weekend two years ago, but in many ways I feel closer, more connected to them than many of my — for want of a better word — “real” friends. Perhaps it’s because they’re also “Internet friends” that I speak to most days via Twitter, Facebook and G+.

Whatever the reason, knowing that lots of people I know are at PAX East right now and undoubtedly having a great time (and/or queueing for hours) makes me a bit sad — not that they’re there, obviously, but that I’m not there with them.

I propose a pact, then, faraway friends: PAX East 2013. Be there. You have a year to prepare. Get cracking.

#oneaday Day 738: Diversifying

In a recent blog post, one Ben Goldacre described Spotify’s auto-sharing behaviour as “creepy” and called for greater transparency in opt-out procedures. While I don’t disagree that users should have the option of whether or not to share what it is that they’re doing, I do disagree with the good Doctor’s assertion that showing off your tastes to others is somehow “creepy” or “wrong”.

The reason I don’t find it either of those things is because of discovery. Spotify is built in such a manner that it’s easy to check out an artist or album you’re unfamiliar with in a risk-free environment. You don’t drop any money on the album directly, so if you wind up hating it, you haven’t lost out. And if you end up loving it, you can whack it in a playlist or star it for future reference.

Combine this ease of trying things outside of your usual comfort zone with social features and you get a powerful tool to expand your own tastes. Because music is an ever-present part of society these days — silence, it seems, is frowned upon by most people, particularly those of more tender years — conversations about what artists are awesome are less common than they once were in the age of buying CDs (and, heaven forbid, cassettes). Music is just there for many people — a disposable thing that people may well have a strong connection to but perhaps don’t always think to actually discuss,

What Spotify’s sharing feature does is allow you to see what friends have been listening to and, if it takes your fancy, jump right in there and have a listen yourself. I’ve discovered more than a few new favourites this way, and I’m certain other people will have been curious about some of my tastes too. I don’t have any objection to people seeing what I’ve been listening to and I’m certainly not ashamed of it. The same is true for Netflix, newly launched in the UK and nicely integrated with Facebook to allow you to share what you’re watching. On the whole, I’m much more inclined to pay attention to new releases if my friends are enjoying them rather than if they’re simply “critically acclaimed”. See: The Squadron of Shame

Goldacre suggests that people will make judgements based on what you have been listening to, and your playlists which, if you weren’t already aware, are made public by default. And perhaps people will — but the attitude I have always taken with personal taste is that it is just that: personal. If you’re the sort of person who ridicules someone else just because of what music they listen to, how they dress, or their appearance… I probably don’t really want to know you. Everyone is free to make their own choices with regard to what entertains them (unless, you know, if you’re into something fucked up and illegal) and so people should not feel ashamed or embarrassed to share what it is that they have been enjoying.

In fairness, it’s entirely possible that there is the scope for cyber-bullying among schoolkids based on what they might have been listening to with Spotify, or the content of their playlists. But there’s the scope for cyber-bullying based on their photos, their status updates, all the other stuff that’s on Facebook, too. This isn’t excusing it. However, it does mean that Spotify itself isn’t some sort of creepy bully-magnet. As with all forms of social media and teens interacting with others on the Web, it’s important for parents to be involved and aware of what their offspring are up to. If it looks like causing a problem, they should be familiar with the options that are there to protect people — and Spotify has those options if, for whatever reason, sharing things does become a problem. But someone’s listening habits are public by default — and why shouldn’t they be? There’s nothing to be ashamed of there.

Perhaps I have a naïve view of social media and sharing information on the Web. But I just don’t see how sharing your entertainment consumption is particularly harmful. Sharing deeply personal information, yes. But the fact that you listened to the Lazy Town soundtrack today? For me, that’s the start of an interesting conversation, not something creepy.

#oneaday Day 137: Say My Name, Bitch

I have something of a — what — phobia? I’m not sure it’s that serious, but I have something of a thing about saying people’s names, for some inexplicable reason. It might be something to do with the fact that I never really liked my own name or the way my voice pronounced it when I was a kid (hence my habitual shortening of it to “Pete” everywhere in the world these days) or it might just be one of my many strange and inexplicable neuroses.

I can’t even pin down why I sometimes find it difficult to say the name of the person who is standing right in front of me and who, in most cases, I know quite well. Perhaps I worry I’ll mispronounce it (granted, it’s kind of hard to mispronounce most of the names of people I know, though I have no idea how to say the surnames “Ohle” or “Honea” to this day and worry if I ever meet the people in question face to face I’ll pick the wrong possibility and make a big tit of myself) or perhaps I just think that someone’s name is somehow a window on their soul, a piece of their person that is, well, personal.

I don’t mind people calling me by name, though, that’s the weird thing. And I’m aware it’s silly to feel odd about saying other people’s names — particularly if you’re calling out for someone. “Hey! You!” really doesn’t cut it in a room full of people — although to be honest, I’ve never really been one for calling out anyway, as I generally much prefer to just go over to the person in question and speak to them, as yelling just draws attention to 1) you and 2) the person you’re yelling at, who may not be grateful for the attention.

Of course, it’s easy to go the other way and start calling people by their name far too much. Then it gets a bit weird, people start raising their eyebrows and wondering why you’re “acting suspiciously”. Saying someone’s name too much is often seen as a sign of guilt, like you’re trying to avoid accidentally referring to the person as someone else, like an ex, or a hilariously deformed person you saw on TV that you can’t get out of your head while you look at your friend, however awful a person that makes you.

Maybe it, like so many socialisation things, is something you just need to practice a bit. It is, after all, one of the things about “growing up” — the moment when you stop calling adults “Steven’s mum” or “Mrs. Stevenson” and start calling them “Geoff”. (Steven’s mum’s parents didn’t like her much.) Perhaps there’s still some sort of residual hang-up in my mind about that, like so many things.

Ah well. One more to add to the list.

#oneaday Day 121: First of May

Good evening all! It’s a little late, I know, but I’ve just got back from the weekend of my birthday celebrations which actually turned out to be rather more of a big deal than I originally anticipated. Still, nothing like seeing in a significant milestone in your ageing process with a bang, is there?

I can safely say that this weekend just gone has been pretty damn awesome. Definitely the best birthday I’ve ever had and certainly one of the best — if not the best — weekends I’ve ever had. So wins all round on that front, then.

A big public thank you to everyone who helped make this weekend what it was, and an extra special thank you to Andie, who not only took me to London on Royal Wedding day (a less unwise thing to do than it sounds, surprisingly) and spoiled me rotten with dinner, a show, awesome company and a lovely hotel, but is also the reason I am now in possession of the only existing canvas print (to my knowledge, anyway) of one of my silly cartoon strips. Pictures to come.

Thanks, too, to everyone who came out last night — there were a lot more of you than I was expecting, which was awesome, though I’m pretty sure it made the nice men who ran the restaurant want to kill us. But oh well — we ate lots and left them a pretty generous tip, frankly, so I’m sure they can deal with it.

Sorry that some of you weren’t able to make it out, but I’m almost certain I will catch up with each and every one of you. I’m talking particularly to my friends in the Southampton area here, obviously — those of you who are further afield (such as in different countries!) I will come and see you when I win the lottery!

I think I’ve mentioned this before (in fact, in four hundred and *mumble* entries, I’ve probably mentioned most things at least once) but I find it interesting how somewhere can still feel like “home” even when you don’t live there any more. Southampton may not be the nicest place in the universe, but I spent a significant proportion of my life there, and as such, every time I go back — and see the people whom I associate with that place, even if they also don’t live there any more — it feels like coming home. The familiar streets, the same old shops, the same old throngs of zombie-like pedestrians congregating like a gibbering horde outside WestQuay. It’s a comforting sense of familiarity, and while I may never live specifically in Southampton again (possibly) it’s nice to know it’s a place I can definitely hang my hat on and call “home”.

Conversely, the place I currently live in — the home I grew up in, in deepest darkest Cambridgeshire — hasn’t felt like home since I left for the first time back in 1999. This may be because of the fact I barely know anyone here any more and thus don’t really socialise or get involved in nightlife around here much (nor do I have any real desire to, to be honest, as at some point I’ll move on again) or it may be the fact that I moved back here last September out of necessity rather than a desire to. It may also be something to do with the fact that the majority of my worldly possessions are still in cardboard boxes in the garage, meaning I haven’t really made my living space completely “my own” — because, well, it’s not. But needs must and all that.

But enough of that. It’s 20 past midnight and I am absolutely exhausted after a long drive. I am going to sleep like a log tonight. Starting now.

Thanks again to all who made this weekend what it was. I’ll see you all — along with the people I didn’t get a chance to see — soon!

#oneaday Day 120: Communal Blogging II

Hello! I am in the pub with good friends celebrating my birthday. As a result, it seems like a good time to take the Communal Blogging approach, where everyone present gets to write a short paragraph. This also absolves me of responsibility for any drunken grammatical errors because they probably weren’t my fault. So there. Without further ado, here comes the first paragraph from someone who isn’t me.

Aren’t kittens awesome. I mean like cats in general to be honest, all fwuffeh and cute and slinky and tired and stretchy and shit. Like I said. Awesome.

Luke is being all kinds of mean on twitter. I think that Amy may destroy him at some point. Sometimes, I worry about Luke. And then sometimes I just don’t care.

So Luke just tried to steal Pete’s iPhone how rude!?? Honestly I had to resort to telling him off like one of my students, I’m not so sure that I can achieve the standard Q31 in a pub on a Saturday night!!

“What’s a lovely curry” said pete and Graham sneezed on Laura, in which she replied “you need to be wiped down” pete then jokingly laughed and called graham a “dirty boy” ..which he liked a little too much.

Thanks pete for a great night. Was also really nice to meet andi who I forgot I met before. Is good to see you happy. Ultimately it’s been fun to be around people who make me laugh and who are interesting. Happy 30th.

Absolutely splendid night with my mate pete-not entirely sure what should be written here, but I’ve had a few pints and honestly life is quite good! Great to see friends grow up, although not too much thankfully-and its nice to have a chat with new people-with a lowest common denominator (that’s you pete). Right, should stop- fact from tonight-9 out of 10 people have an iPhone…..if you believe tonight’s statistics…

Pete! What more needs to be said? You’re amazing. Good job!!

Well, here we are again. It’s a Saturday night on the whiskey. Curry has been done (full!) and gin has been given. Why are we here? For wholly celebratory purposes, of course. Unless you mean life, in which case I haven’t the foggiest, save to say it doesn’t involve a god of any sort that I know of. Music is probably the answer. That or inevitable death. Cheery, eh? Yep, that’ll be the whiskey talking…

Well done everyone. Thank you for your contributions. Good night!

#oneaday Day 118: Among Friends

It’s said that you can’t switch on your TV and not be able to watch an episode of Top Gear, Friends or Scrubs. And far from being a bad thing, I feel this is very much a good thing. Your opinion on the matter will, of course, vary according to your opinion of the programmes in question. But I happen to like them all very much.

Friends in particular, it has to be said. Friends finished long ago now, of course, but it will always hold a fond place in my heart. I started watching it when I was back at school, and it quickly became one of those shows that I felt the need to tape every single episode of, and ended up with several bajillion VHS cassettes’ worth.

I’m not sure exactly what it is that I like about it. I think it’s the fact that the characters are very strong and recognisable — so much so that their own mannerisms have entered the realms of popular culture.

There’s also the fact that most people can relate to at least one of the characters. Amongst all my friends, I know plenty of people who are Joeys, Rosses, Chandlers, Monicas, Phoebes and Rachels. And plenty who are combinations. (I also know plenty of people who are the cast of The Inbetweeners, too, but that’s another story altogether.)

Mostly, though, I think it’s the fact that every episode is both inoffensive and amusing, easy to watch and seemingly infinitely rewatchable. The ultimate in disposable TV. Comfort viewing.

It’ll be a sad day for me if E4 ever stop showing episodes of Friends. For one, it’ll mean I finally have to bite the bullet and purchase the complete DVD box set, something which I’ve successfully managed to avoid doing for the last ten years.

In unrelated news, it’s my birthday tomorrow. I will be 30. How exciting! Or possibly depressing, I haven’t quite made my mind up yet. (Except my lovely girlfriend is whisking me away for a fantastic birthday weekend, so the event itself will be totally brilliant and awesome, so that’s pretty much decided. Hurrah!)

#oneaday Day 112: Standing on Ceremony

It was the wedding day of my friends Ben and Amy today. It’s been a long time coming and they’re going to have a very long and happy life together, I’m sure.

One thing that struck me during the ceremony, though, was how odd ceremonies as a concept are. Very formalised and based in tradition, they’re a far cry from the way you act in regular day to day life.

And I guess that’s the point; a wedding ceremony isn’t something you do every day (hopefully) so it stands to reason that something should make it extraordinary. So why not infuse rings with meaning and symbolism, and why not insist that people are facing each other at the correct time, and why not delve into Old English when necessary?

It’s all about tradition. Concepts such as marriage and the like are almost as old as society and civilised living itself. To modernise them after they’ve been the same (or at least similar) for so long would be to break with years, decades, centuries of tradition.

That doesn’t mean people don’t do it, of course. Unconventional weddings are great fun to be a part of. But there must be a reason that so many people choose to do things in the “traditional” and apparently antiquated manner. For all the trappings of modernity we have these days, it seems that there are some traditions and ceremonies that we still respect.

I wonder if we’ll still be theeing and thouing in two hundred years time? Smart money’s on yes.