Failing Forwards

As another half dozen stores find themselves approaching bankruptcy and feeling the brutal hammer of retail failure, I find it rather timely for us to ask ourselves; is this the right way to progress in our society?
There is no denying that I am something of a technophobe, largely down to my almost fantastic failure in regards to it. If John Connor was assigned an Arnold Schwarzenegger cyborg to deal with him, I got saddled with Johnny Vegas, just sat there not really doing too much, just quietly failing in every conceivable way. And it is for this reason that I cannot abide internet shopping. The concept of just clicking at something I want to purchase is revolutionary for many, but just a painful missing of the point for others.

Shopping isn’t just about acquiring goods, it’s a pastime, a hobby, and even a tradition for many. Just take a moment to think - as Christmas begins to loom each year what do you do? Do you get all of your presents in advance, or do you leave it until the last few weeks and take part in the cultural significance of the Christmas Spree? Whilst it’s incredibly feasible and convenient at times to go to a HMV or Tesco Express on December 23rd and grab the perfect gifts - now undoubtedly at a fraction of the price as stores prepare for January sales - internet shopping doesn’t hold the same convenience. You are completely at the whim of the seller to when you will get this product; even if you don’t leave it to the last couple of days, as internet shopping takes over more and more of us are going to be forced to turn to the likes of Amazon and the like for our buying needs, and this is not going to help improve the postal system that people already complain comes to a standstill during the holiday seasons due to the influx of Christmas cards! I envisage a future where cyber-shopping dominates the market, and families gathered around their Christmas tree waiting for the appropriate branded packaging to be delivered several days after Christmas Day has ended.

There is of course more concerns than just pseudo-preaching of a miserable Christmas to worry about. Why do we shop online when we are asked to purchase and then wait for the product without ever seeing a physical copy until delivery, instead of making our way into the store and looking at a copy we want (checking through to see which is in peak physical condition, naturally) purchasing it from a human being, and then immediately being able to get use out of it? Because even with the added postage & packaging we are required to pay, it is still often a little cheaper to buy online / at least works out roughly the same as it would to have made the effort to go outside. However if we allow stores to disappear due to our own laziness, than we are giving a monopoly to the websites to charge whatever they wish. If play.com decides the retail of a game is now no longer £34.99 but instead worth £64.99 what can we do? Nothing because we have allowed all competition to sieve away into bankruptcy and thus are left in the hands of any potential greed that can ensue.

And so, all I can ask at the end of the day, is that we become more aware of what we as a society are doing with our spending, and make sure to at least investigate stores for a product rather than just cave in to the convenience of a super-store app on our phones, because at the end of the day, it can only come back to bite us and by then we’ll be just left scrolling for a more convenient app to save us.

Waking Up In The Land Of Dreams

Do you ever just have a moment where you take a step back and appreciate everything that's changed? 

I do too. And it always freaks me out, like that jump scare in a film you've seen a hundred times but you'll be damned if you don't still leap out you're chair. 

                                                

So, what's really changed in the two years since I last took an interest? Well my facebook has almost tripled in value, I've earned money from selling my own art, got a job, and I seem to have woken up in Hollywood.. 

The dawning of my new life of the British tinsel town was looking at my friends. Last time I looked my friends were collective bums or favour-jobs types. Now I somehow seem to know at least 6 people who live their life as models, a couple of professional artists, novelists and even professional singers.  

How is it you can wake up from the coma of unemployment and discover your friend is releasing a hotly anticipated single whilst another helps net over 20k in 9 months for charity? I mean hell I'm in the process of writing a novelisation to a feature film! How the hell did the reality of this slip past me?  

There was a brief moment I contemplated reality shortly after publishing From The Inside Out and getting the first wave of #BookSelfies but it was left with a bemused irony. Yeah I had lived the dream at least once, but I was still poor this was hardly the life of success. 

That was until recently when I read an interview with Ernie Hudson, known to many as the really cool black guy who seems to just pop up in films. In the interview he talked about his role in Ghostbusters and hitting super stardom instantly but still finding himself struggling with the bills. He was a face recognised and cheered by fans the world over, but that didn't change the fact none of them had really been actually paid all that much for the film, and now he found himself losing work BECAUSE of the instant recognition. 

                                                          

That struck home very distinctly for me, and sure for many others; the Hollywood life is not the lucrative playboy billionaire excess we would all associate it by default, it is living whatever dream you've set yourself and living it with your fans. 

I know I sure am lucky to be one of these people now, no matter how brief my 15 minutes may be, I'll always have this. And that ain't a bad way to be.

Vanessa René will be releasing her new single A Part Of Me raising awareness for CCUK as part of the amazing #GetYourBellyOut community on the 1st of Feb, and you can follow her - but only on Facebook and Twitter @VanessaReneUK! The music video of which can be found here 

And as usual you can follow me on Twitter @Chromosoner

and my book is available here 

The Long Road

Speed had always been something of a factor to Paul’s life. Not the drug, indeed much of this fourteen year old’s life was spent surrounded by the presence of questionable pressure from his peers that they span him full circle and, despite a penchant for the odd spirit, the allure of drugs never made their presence known to him. But as he found himself wheeling some sixty miles to the backend of his country tightly clutching his possessions and his Russian blue, he sure as hell felt the downslide of speed.
Entire novels of fictionalised memories of adventures around town with his friends adapted themselves into film as they flicked through his mind over the coming days as he unpacked his belongings. It felt almost cliché that just three years into his puberty he felt the pangs of never having accomplished anything, but sometimes a cliché rings a little too close to home to be falsity. The truth was, he knew his demeanour wasn’t one that attracted many; people came for his friends and they stayed for him, that was the system and for most of high school that system had worked. But he had to adjust to freelance charm; the independent drive-in film, a gigolo without his pimp.

It took two months before he met another soul who didn’t speak with an accent so thick he needed a translator to get past initial greetings. Somewhere between his balance of train-switching to his friends, he bumped into her. Their eyes met and shuddered away like the butt ends of a magnet trying to kiss as they desperately tried to not notice one another too much.
Silence festered between them, or at least it would have were there not a particularly rude set of train carriages scraping up a speed to their right.
Although none of them knew who initiated the discourse, they both found themselves caught up in small talk; their bags slathered with personal ink and badges of their ‘identities’ through an array of bands, and the two struck a chord.
He was awkward but she found something endearing between the stutters and shuffling of his fifty layers of fringe. She made such intentions perfectly clear as they parted ways for their separate trains and he opened his mouth to mutter a thanks but the harsh dryness that came with such incessant talk had robbed him of speech, leaving him to silently pop his lips like a guppy as the train doors clamped shut.



Music being their passion, it didn’t take long for them to take up jamming together, working every idle frustration of their pubescent bodies through the rhythm of whatever beat their limited knowledge could craft. A band was formed; her brother providing the drumbeats, Paul providing the impression of talent where vocals and lyrics were considered, and herself providing the talent. They formed a brutal union of lustful stares and the butchering of their favourite music through any place that would accept them and not insist on a dress code that could curb their creative expression.
And then she disappeared.
A car robbed them of any future that could have bloomed and all that remained of the time they shared was a note taped to a post and the wilting assortment of flowers that occasionally adorned it.
That was when the young boy learned that behind every detail the eye could see told a story. Every spec of dirt was once a tale spun, some of them sad and some of them happy, but all of them a life of their own to have cherished and appreciate.

The real beauty in life is in the imperfections, and through the years Paul went on to live he took it upon himself to show everyone that. Never relish the dark, it only makes works to consume, instead find the beauty within it. No matter how bleak, there is always a twinkling light to take from every shadow and only by embracing that can we truly strengthen in character, and shed the baggage we travel with.