Some things never change...Others have to

Recently I had one or two thoughtful moments.  Yes, now I know I don't have these very often and the amount I seem to have been having lately really do seem to be out of character but hey there we go, we all live and learn.  A chain of events which are completely unrelated all came together to remind me that some things do not change, nor do they need to, and also that in some cases change is no bad thing.  Sometimes it can really be to the good.

Firstly, last weekend I went back to my old uni stomping ground to bif farewell to an old team mate.  Now, those of you who went to uni with me will already be holding your heads in your hands and groaning.  "Oh God."  I hear you sigh.  "Jim went back to Fal and went out with the Tang Soo Do lot.  That means drinking, bad dancing and general embarassing behaviour."  And you'd be right to be fearful.  Whenever I went out with the team at uni I always returned home steaming, woke up hungover the next morning and was completely useless to man and beast the next day.  Not least my employers.  Well guess what?  That's exactly what happened!

I woke up in the morning with a mild case of amnesia and a MAJOR headache, but was it really a bad thing?  Hardly.  I hadn't seen any of these guys for eighteen months.  Think about that, that's a year and half, and in that time I hadn't kept in touch with a great many of them except the occassional message to and from my Black Belt.  So to be invited to an old team mate's leaving party out of the blue was quite touching that I had been thought of.  What was even better though was that when we all got together again it was as if nothing had changed.  Conversation pretty much took off from where we had all left it when we parted ways at Heathrow.  Its the mark of strong friendship when you can spend long periods apart and come back together like nothing's changed.  My point here is that you need some constants in your life, so some things staying exactly as they are probably isn't such a bad thing.

On the flip side of things, today I watched the guys I joined up with pass out without me.  I wasn't the only back-phaser watching them, and I'd be lying if I said that there wasn't a little bit of jealousy deep down in my guts at seeing the guys march up the steps with their swords.  "And there goes Jim off a bitter rant.  Get the popcorn out guys this one is gonna be a winner!"  Sorry guys, normal service will be resumed ASAP I promise, but there is no rant forthcoming.

The thing is that I stood out on the parade ground, watching my oppo's pass out (did I mention that?!), with my new division.  If you ever need it hammering home to you that things in your fledgling naval career have most DEFINITELY changed then let me tell you, this is absolutely the best way for it to be done.  The man who stood on the parade ground today was not the same man who stood there thirty weeks ago.  Let me tell you now that this is a good thing, because thirty weeks ago I did not deserve to pass out, and it took failure to make that clear.  As such, I changed.  And that's the thing about change, it doesn't always feel good, or right, but it is always for the better.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?!"

This is a post dedicated to the advantages of taking the time out to think a situation through, or to gain some perspective, or just to recharge your batteries.  Those of you who know me will already be worried because, as you well know, those are things which in my entire live I have NEVER done.  It is an established and well known fact;  Jim Robson, 100mph all the time, lots of noise and gesticulation, doesn't really think before acting/speaking/doing anything....doesn't get much actually done.  Well recently I was forced to take an extended break, and it has given me the chance to both gain some perspective and recharge my batteries after running myself ragged with worry and pressure for no real reason since I joined BRNC.

I've been out of the regular training pipeline for nearly nine weeks.  Over two months!  Its not like its been an inactive or wasted two months, but its certainly been a long time.  However, as Bond said in Skyfall "You should try it sometime, get away from it all it really lends perspective."  I can already see my you shaking your heads in despair.  "Oh God!  Jim's comparing himself to Bond...again!"  Well no not on this occassion, despite the obvious similarities and the fact that I will change my surname to Bond if I ever make to Commander, I'm merely pointing out that these are very profound words.

Two months out and no shortage of coaching has indeed lent some perspective to the way I approached the training since I arrived here.  Putting myself under such pressure to do well, to impress, to get everything right first time, led to the inevitable choking which led to failure.  A little break really has helped with that; i'm in a training environment, I'M NOT MEANT TO GET IT ALL RIGHT FIRST TIME!  So lesson learned on that count, but it can be applied to any situation in life, if something really is giving you sleepless nights then just take a step outside the box.  Are you going to lose your job over it?  Probably not, so don't make the pressure on yourself any worse.  Unless you are actually going to get fired, in which case you'd better get it bloody right!

Moving onto point two, recharging your batteries.  For the first 3 of the last 9 weeks all I did was mooch around Germany, Wales and Devon going kayaking, caving and mountain biking.  This ties in with the whole self induced pressure thing because what better way to take your mind of it all?  And the fact that you haven't made the grade this time?  Well trust me it goes right out the wind when your trying to avoid capsizing in rapids.  My point is that gaining perspective is unavoidably linked with doing something to take your mind off of what's bugging you.  It means that when you come back from your break, however long it may have been, you're fully refreshed with a fresh outlook on things, your confidence is high, you know you can achieve what you have to, and you're itching to get back into the fight.

So, when my mate asked me in the bar, "Where have you been lately?"  I was able to reply:

"Enjoying failure.  007 reporting for duty."  See, I told you there were obvious similarities!

Going around The Buoy again

I was intending to put this post off until I had received a full debrief of my performance on the Maritime Leadership Exercise...but...its been a slow news week so the fact of the matter is that I've failed and subsequently been back-termed.  This means I'll undertake the "Conqueror" package; a three week intensive leadership course designed to bring my leadership abilities up to scratch before rejoining a new division.
  Now don't worry, this isn't going to a be few hundred word rant about how it sucks to be told that you're not good enough, that you'll have to leave your mates behind and won't be passing out with the same people you arrived with.  No I'm not bitter about this, seriously, I'm just listing the amount of depressing things that I COULD be talking about in order to give you some perspective on what I am going to be talking about this week; the opportunities that failure unwittingly brings us.
  Here's an irremovable fact of life; we all get told that we've failed at something at least once.  However, it is not failing at something that defines who we are, but rather the way in which we deal with that failure which determines the kind of person we become.  It is at times of failure that people's true characters come to the forefront.  A defeatist will tell you that it is the end of everything, and that there is no point in continuing because they will never be good enough.  An arrogant person will seek explanations as to how THEY of all people could POSSIBLY have failed, and then more than likely reject those reasons when they are told that it was something to do with them.
  Personally, I like to look upon failure as an opportunity.
  When I say this, I don't mean as an opportunity to just give up and start on something else in life with a clean slate, but rather an opportunity to find out what you did that led to failure and work to put that fault to rights to ensure that it does not happen again.  Naturally, this approach to failure is helped by the fact that the Navy provides me with the opportunity to improve; quite simply if they didn't want me they would have simply asked me to leave rather than giving me a second chance with "Conqueror".
  This is however, a game of two halves.  "Conqueror" will only work if you approach it with an open mind knowing that there is something about you that you need to improve.  If you approach it believing that you do not need it then the chances are that you've wasted your opportunity and can standby for a very unceremonious dumping on your arse.  So I will take this opportunity happily, mostly because it opens with week's Adventurous Training in Germany...failure never tasted so sweet!

Bright Lights, Big City, Bigger Picture

Last week, I went to Paris.  Now, those of you who know me have probably either just fallen out of chair in shock, laughed into your drink, or something similar.  "Jim Robson willingly in Paris?!"  I hear you cry, "Perhaps this is the beginning of a whole new era in international relations in which even those countries with the most deep rooted of disputes can learn tolerance, perhaps even acceptance, and the world can begin taking its first small steps towards an everlasting peace.  Or it could be one of the fore warnings of the end of the World..."  To be honest I'm not sure which it is because I'm trying not to think of it, but I have at least come back with some observations not just on Paris, but cities in general.  And now I hear you surprise turning to fear;  "Jim Robson?  Observations on the capitol of France?  Sorry everyone, that new era of international relations is on hold!"

Well lets just see shall we.

Firstly, I wish to make it clear that Paris really is a beautiful city.  Admittedly it helped that the weather whilst I was there really was perfect, but even without it anyone could have seen that the City of Lights really is a stunning place.  Architecturally, and I mean this, it is unlike any other city I have seen with the modern touches kept to a discreet minimum and almost transporting you back in time.  Almost.  The truth is that you will never be able to relax enough to allow yourself to step back in time because if you do, you WILL be run over.

This brings me on rather neatly to my second observation; the traffic is mental.  Not mental in the London sense of the word, which is stationary, I mean head bangingly, full straight jacket and foam padded cell level mental.  No gap is too small to squeeze a car through, even if you're in moving traffic and there's a buss closing in and you're in a seven seater taxi, the cabbie WILL get through that gap even if it costs him his rear headlights.  Similarly, no light is too close to changing from green to red, and the accepted speed limit is 50mph...in 2nd gear!  London cabbies are often criticised for being surly, but on balance I'd rather have a surly driver than a homicidal one, especially when I've gone somewhere to relax and don't quite fancy playing Russian Roulette with my travel arrangements

My third and final observation is on the famous Parisian dining that everyone whoever goes to Paris always talks about, and its a brief observation.  The food is indeed delicious, the beer is the same as I drink here in the UK, and the bill is astronomical.

And with all that in mind I now want you to think.  If had not specified that I was in Paris throughout this post would you have been able to tell that I was describing it?  Beautiful architecture?  I could have been describing Rome.  Mental traffic and insane cabbies?  Well that could be anywhere on the Sub-Continent.  Expensive eating?  That could have been any city in Western Europe or America.  Anybody who watched the Olympics could tell you that London is a beautiful city (in the right light), similarly the New York skyline at night really does make you wonder why they call Paris the City of Lights.

The point I'm trying to make is that, beneath the love and pride we feel for our native cities, underneath their different skins every city is essentially the same.  Ultimately they all follow similar lines, and when you peel away their unique looks you will find the same things within them; endless activity, faces from all over the world, and a never ending supply of shops selling expensive and tacky tourist titbits.

So, all cities are the same.  Apart from London obviously, London is unique....London's ours.

Grit your teeth and get on with it

Without wanting to go into too much detail, I've spent the last week living in a field sleeping with a rifle and receiving early morning beastings from bootneck Sergeant's who like nothing more than to see arrogant Officer Cadets suffering pain.  Now don't worry, this isn't going to be a post about how hard life in the military is and how tough I've subsequently become.  Partly because I haven't (you know full well I 'm already rock hard), but mainly because I'm just using this experience as an example to make a point.

Now, imagine the scenario.  You've had what supposedly counts as a night's sleep in your bivvy (shelter people, keep up!), using your webbing as your pillow (which is actuyally comfier than it sounds), and now its 04:30 and you have an angry man shouting at you to get up or he's going to shove your head so far up your arse you could wear yourself as a hat.  You then stand perfectly still in ranks with your rifle above your head for 10 minutes, before squating with it for a further 10, before power lifting full bergens and finally sprinting/leopard crawling the length of a football pitch for 40 minutes.  And you're doing all this on 3 hours sleep with no breakfast.

You then have 30 mins to cook your breakfast and use the hot water left over to give yourself a full body wash and shave, before spending the next 8 hours marching around the college in full combat gear (webbing, rifles, and bergens) carrying a selection of staves and heavy ropes.  Sounds like fun?  That's the thing, it actually is, and you and your team are never late for a single task you have to perform, not matter how tired, or wet (because you've been a moron and fallen in the waterr tank) or hungry you are.  The point I'm driving at hear is that, if you think you are operating at the very limit of your endurance/running on fumes, the chances are that you are actually still perfectly capable of performing to a high standard.

This is not just the case in the military, it is the case in life in general.  Winston Churchil once said "If you are going through hell, keep going".  It is absolutely true.  You will be amazed at what you can actually achieve once you feel like you have nothing more to give.  In an office job, chances are you will get those reports in on time no matter how many of them there are, the principle is the same.  Power through, and you'll be just fine.

Change: Accept it, embrace it

This will be my last post as a civilian.

"Aha!"  I hear those of you who know me cry.  "This week Jim is going to go on a highly emotional shpeel about how much attending BRNC means to him!  Case bloody closed!"  Well, no, I'm afraid.  The Navy in this instance has actually acted as something of a catalyst, causing two reactions.  The first reaction is an announcement.  This is that the tales of my trials, tribulations and general adventures in the Senior Service will not be posted on this blog, but on a new one to be created in due course.  The second reaction is that, having announced this change, the thought of it has led me on to the subject of this week's post:  Life's changes, and the different ways of coping with them.

Everyone goes through changes in life, and I'm not just talking about the obvious ones like the difficult transition through puberty which involves things like accepting that you have to shower and wear deodorant daily (What?!  I'm referring to the kids I was at school with not me!  God, what do you take me for?  Actually, don't answer that).   I'm talking about the moments in life when we find ourselves starting a whole new chapter, a blank page, an opportunity to put the the past behind you and from here on in be whatever and whoever you want to be.

Everyone finds themselves confronting these moments, and its how we deal with these changes that help define who we are as people.  Some of us resist change because it means a breakaway from the familiar;  you've had your Mum cook your meals your whole life, so who the bloody hell is going to cook them if you move out?!  You?  Oh come on be serious you've never even held a saucepan apart from that time you were caught pretending it was a lightsaber when you were six!  What's that?  What do you mean "No time like the present?"!  Oh bloody hell you're serious aren't you?! (Again, some of the kids I was at school with, not me!)

At the opposite end of the scale, as is so often the case in my life things are either everything or nothing with no middle ground, change is to be taken head on at the charge and accepted and embraced for all its worth.  This is the option I always go for in life, when I board that train to Dartmouth as far as I'm concerned that is my life until Passing Out.  Wilfully accepting change is a wonderful feeling, like taking a step into the unknown, you are your life's own pioneer and by going out there and exploring new things who knows what you'll discover?  It could be for the better, or it could be for the much much worse, but whatever its for it will make you a more confident person if you go in face first, gun's blazing and shouting "Do your worst World, because I will do mine!"

And it is that courage to make a change that can define one person from another.

P.S.  All my philosophical rants will still be posted up here, some things just can't change!

I HATE long goodbye's!

Right, I can put this subject off no longer; I'm going to have to talk about saying goodbye to people.  Actually I'm pretty sure that I could put this subject off for as long as I wanted, its just that I've been struggling to think of a topic this week, and I'm a few glasses of red to the good, and so the subject of "Farewell's" has finally strayed into the cross hair's.

As you've probably guessed already, the title really is a bit of a give-away, I really am not one for sentimental partings.  For example, the day my parents dropped me off in my halls they barely had time to help get my kit into my room before I was shooing them out again with a vague promise to see them again at Christmas.  That, as far as I was concerned, was that.  I was from that moment on my own, in my territory, and I had said everything that needed to be said.  Now I find, as the start date for BRNC looms ever closer, I am saying more and more goodbyes and I still adopt to the same philosophy; short and sweet, its not the end of the world right?

Maybe it comes from having a family scattered across the country?  You'd think that because we don't get to see each other much that our goodbye's would be long ones but you'd be wrong.  If we spend countless hours making farewell speeches, we'd be late onto the roads and then we'd end up stuck on the M25 at rush hour, and do you have any idea what that's like?!  I'm afraid that I can't come up with a particularly creative metaphor at the moment so I'll just say this; its bloody boring!

So, long sentimental goodbye's waste time that could otherwise be employed doing something productive; in recent weeks that something has been kit preparation, but for three years it was things such as party's, Tekken/COD tournaments, and on occasion even things like dissertations and deadlines.  However, there is an irony here to my philosophy, and it is a truly great one.

The great irony is that the past six weeks or so have been the longest, most drawn out goodbye I have ever said to anyone.  Please note how I did not state that it was emotional, if any of you who read this knew that I was getting emotional about saying goodbye to you then that would be a weakness you could use to your advantage!  Wait.  Hang on.  I just admitted that I was emotional when seeing you all...bugger....I digress, forget what I said.

The point I'm driving at, I suppose, is that its not until that you are in a position where a long, emotional goodbye is almost inevitable, that you realise why people spend time saying them.  And in the final irony, apart from that pointless paragraph which I told you to forget about, this post has been one long goodbye in itself.

HYPOCRISY, THY NAME IS "JIM ROBSON!"

Everyone in their proper place

I've been seeing a lot of my friends recently.  In fact I've been seeing them as often as I get the opportunity to; with the start of BRNC only two weeks away and the looming knowledge that I'm not going to see some of them again for six months or maybe longer, I want to get as much time in with them as I can before I have to say my goodbyes.  Coincidentally these goodbye's, when they come, will be very short ones because I hate dragging things out and I don't want to get emotional about it because I AM A MAN! Grrrrr!

Now do not worry, I'm not going to wax lyrical for a few hundred words on how much I'll miss everyone, etc etc because who would want to read about that?  And anyway I'm saving that for next week's article.  No, what I want to talk about this week is the importance of the dynamics of friendship groups, the roles people play within them, and how everyone has a job to do to make a truly unbreakable set of friends.  Oh, and let me just clarify; I'm not talking about the kind of people who you work with and have awkward conversations with at the Christmas party, where the only saving grace is the presence of alcohol and the knowledge in your mind that YOU are one day going to make the great escape whilst THEY continue to flog frozen foods at discount prices for the rest of their lives!  I'm talking here about the sort of friends you have who you can all spend months/years apart and then get back together and feel like nothing’s changed.

Allow me to take, for example, my mates from uni.  Now with this lot nothing has changed at all, we were together only yesterday and I had been smacked round the back of the head within five minutes.  I’m not entirely sure what I’d done to deserve it, but I’ve learned with this person not to ask, but instead to thank them and ask for another! However, I digress, the importance of the dynamics of the group.  Now, I hasten to point out that these thoughts came to me yesterday when I was several glasses of Merlot and imported German beer to the good, so if they appear even more incoherent than usual I apologise!

Within that group of five people sat around the table there was “The Matriarch”, she knows who she is and I can already feel the slap winging its way towards me, “The Little Sister”, “The Diplomat” (and for “Diplomat” read:  “Sarcastically witty/wine philosopher”), “The Crazy Cat Lady” (love you sweetheart!), and me.  I would call myself “The Rogue” but I can already feel the scorn building up in the other four so my role probably is classed as “The Idiot/Goon/Battering Ram”.  Also not counted in that five because they couldn’t make it on the day were “The Dynamic Duo” of pneumatic-horse-riding-blondes who have the capacity to break men’s minds!

So, there’s the cast.  Sounds like a bunch of characters from a bad 80’s sit com right?  But the point I’m making, or trying to make without digressing our three and a half years of antics, is that this whole contrast of differing personalities makes the circle of friends, any circle of friends, what it is.  I know for a fact that if my friendship circle consisted of people who were all exactly the same it would be pretty bloody boring!  A mix of character results in unpredictability, which is good for a friendship; you have the knowledge that your mates will be there for you, but the reassurance that no two meetings will be the same. 

Boomerang

You’d think that for someone whose degree consisted of making many, many words appear on a computer screen in essay format that writing a blog would be relatively easy.  Indeed it would be, I tell myself with a despairing groan, if I hadn’t spent the past year allowing my brain to turn into soft, pink mush.  If I had started this blog whilst I had been at uni; somehow finding time in-between bodging essays, annoying certain lecturers, drinking, and joining the Navy, I would not be facing the problem I am now facing.  That problem is quite simply that IT IS NOT EASY!

However, before you sigh with despair at the thought of me going into a rant about being unable to find something to write about, do not fear!  I already know the source of the problem and it is that problem which, appropriately, forms the topic for this first peace.  The problem is the reason that my brain has been in decay; the problem is being a fully paid up, Gold Standard member of the “Boomerang Generation”.

We’ve all heard this phrase going around.  One goes to University, one achieves a degree in procrastination/giving excuses as to why you look hungover in a lecture, one runs up debt, and finally one comes home to the parents having acquired a taste for living independently.  Here in lies the true problem of playing “The Human Boomerang”:  You have lived independently of your parents, you have enjoyed it (what you remember of it), and now you’re back living in a house with somebody else’s rules and no immediate job prospects because you’ve been told you may have to wait for up to a year before you’re accepted into the Navy (Bitter? Moi?!).

“Arrrghh!”  I hear some of you cry.  “I was sensible enough to leave uni with a job already secured!  Haha!”  Well I take my hat off to you Sir/Madame for being so farsighted, and if you are now living in your own place then congratulations again...but if you are not living in your own place then I am afraid there is no way of denying that you still a member of the “Boomerang Generation”.  You may well be a Silver rather than a Gold Member, in which case you do not get the complimentary pot noodle and endless reruns of Top Gear on Dave, but you are still member.

I have seen many of dear mates walk straight into jobs in the wake of coming home from uni, some have even stayed in education and been able to prevent themselves from coming spinning menacingly back towards their parents, but of all those who have walked into jobs only one of them has moved out.  And in terms of intellectual sharpness she is now the stiletto to my club, although she’d tell me that she was always that anyway.  Just as many of my mates have gone home to part time jobs whilst they wait to get a place in something bigger, and just like me the frustration of living with parents after the giddy independence of university has driven them to the point that the kind of people who go on shotgun massacres look like attractive role models!

The point I’m ultimately trying to make here is a simple one.  It is not natural for a young person who has lived the high life of independence to come back down to earth and live under someone else’s roof and rules again.  Having gained a taste for it, it is only natural to feel a desire to spread your wings and fly, but how do you do that with the current job market and the knowledge in the back of your mind that there is a bloody great big Australian stick heading towards you ready to slap its brand name on you?  And once it has how do you get away from it?

My solution in the end was to, oddly, join the “Boomerang Generation” for nearly a whole year waiting for my dream job to turn up, which it did just in time to prevent me from going berserk with a pair of garden sheers.  So in the end, annoyingly, the only way to get out of the “Australian Novelty Items Club” is to wait until that dream job application you’ve sent off Boomerang’s back to you.