I’m Martin, about to hit 50, and my life feels like one long holding action – except that I don’t expect the cavalry to come riding over that hill anytime soon.
I’ve always been a voracious reader, ripping through a book to extract the storyline essence, and then having to re-read it for the nuances. Unfortunately I made the transition from children’s fare (Famous Five, Swallows & Amazons) straight into ‘tough guy’ pulp fiction courtesy of my Grandmother’s literary preferences as dictated by the mobile lending library (along with ‘slave plantation’ romances and cowboy novels).
Thus from an impressionable age I was exposed to hard-boiled cynicism and questionable motives, making me unsatisfied with the conventional happy endings in most 1970’s media. It is no wonder that I enjoyed the final series of ‘Blake’s 7’ featuring an increasingly psychotic main character (Avon) and I found myself frequently rooting for the ‘bad guys’, who always seemed to have more style.
I was one of those academic underachievers driven by a fear of failure rather than expectation of success, thus I did OK as school where I felt under constant pressure and terrible at university where I felt much more relaxed; sex, drugs, rock & role-playing all took their toll.
I lapsed into a ‘career’ as a computer programmer and subsequently systems analyst, where my slightly autistic mania for asking ‘obvious’ questions and periodic over-attention to detail stood me in good stead. That, along with my first marriage, home and 4 cats all came to an abrupt end back in 2000 and since then I’ve had a series of short-term administration and telephone support jobs which my friends all say I’m over-qualified for.
Oh yeah? Well, I don’t see any posse of prospective employers beating a path to my door, so I take what I can get.
Mentioned the cynicism, did I? Well, you can also throw in self-depreciation as an art form.
I’ve always had a thwarted artistic temperament – good enough at art to realise I wasn’t that talented, although I have a good eye for colour and I’m definitely a loss to the world of interior design. In terms of writing it’s not something I could do for a living as I would come to resent ‘having’ to be creative – my mind will give rise to a ‘bare bones’ storyline and in writing it down I’m trying to clothe it with narrative before the concept fades, like a half remembered dream.
I know I’m damaged goods, and that some wounds never heal, but that doesn’t stop me.
Only forward!
I’ve always been a voracious reader, ripping through a book to extract the storyline essence, and then having to re-read it for the nuances. Unfortunately I made the transition from children’s fare (Famous Five, Swallows & Amazons) straight into ‘tough guy’ pulp fiction courtesy of my Grandmother’s literary preferences as dictated by the mobile lending library (along with ‘slave plantation’ romances and cowboy novels).
Thus from an impressionable age I was exposed to hard-boiled cynicism and questionable motives, making me unsatisfied with the conventional happy endings in most 1970’s media. It is no wonder that I enjoyed the final series of ‘Blake’s 7’ featuring an increasingly psychotic main character (Avon) and I found myself frequently rooting for the ‘bad guys’, who always seemed to have more style.
I was one of those academic underachievers driven by a fear of failure rather than expectation of success, thus I did OK as school where I felt under constant pressure and terrible at university where I felt much more relaxed; sex, drugs, rock & role-playing all took their toll.
I lapsed into a ‘career’ as a computer programmer and subsequently systems analyst, where my slightly autistic mania for asking ‘obvious’ questions and periodic over-attention to detail stood me in good stead. That, along with my first marriage, home and 4 cats all came to an abrupt end back in 2000 and since then I’ve had a series of short-term administration and telephone support jobs which my friends all say I’m over-qualified for.
Oh yeah? Well, I don’t see any posse of prospective employers beating a path to my door, so I take what I can get.
Mentioned the cynicism, did I? Well, you can also throw in self-depreciation as an art form.
I’ve always had a thwarted artistic temperament – good enough at art to realise I wasn’t that talented, although I have a good eye for colour and I’m definitely a loss to the world of interior design. In terms of writing it’s not something I could do for a living as I would come to resent ‘having’ to be creative – my mind will give rise to a ‘bare bones’ storyline and in writing it down I’m trying to clothe it with narrative before the concept fades, like a half remembered dream.
I know I’m damaged goods, and that some wounds never heal, but that doesn’t stop me.
Only forward!
) and am addicted to DVDs! I'm also a casual anime and manga fan. 
