Are Bullies forever?

How does that small pig looking boy somehow shepherd the bigger boys into a vicious onslaught against Public Enemy No.1, AKA the normal guy in the corner?

Bullies never ever target the "normal" guy. There's always something. It may be that the guy or girl is rather attractive and the bully recognises it as a threat regardless of whether the person they are targetting realises it or not. Other than that if someone is particularly smart or talented, the bully will have an inferiority complex.

 Ironically, it is the people who are a little bit odd themselves who often tend to target others. They subconsciously arrive at the conclusion that if someone else is having a bad time then they aren't having one themselves.

People apparently grow out of the bullying stage once they become mature. This is a huge lie. Why would a bully who has somehow made friends doing what he does best then stop once he gets to the next section of his life? If you start school with someone at the age of 13 and are in contact with that person for the next 5 years then that person won't grow old in your eyes. You still act in the same way.

When you leave school you just get put straight back into the whole system but this time with even more vicious people. People who are motivated to earn more than you and will happily sweep you under the carpet if they get the chance...

The protagonist in a story based around a bully will always end with the bully getting his miserable self loathing arse handed to him, usually by the bullied who eventually snaps. This, ladies and gents may not be the way forward, but by all means is a damn good way to get some old fashioned raw anger out of yourself. However the consequences of not snapping are worse. Not dealing with an issue and suppressing it is the best way of becoming stressed which has far more negative effects later on...I'm going to rehash some ideas into a less of a rant and post again on the subject soon, maybe Bullyface the 2nd.
Mr Lear

How do you get to the top of the food chain?

Dealmakers.

You can sing, write, jump, hold a person's interest for longer than thirty seconds, roll the perfect cigarette, attract attention from those you seek it from. But can you postpone your selfish ways?

Being at the bottom of the food chain is probably a stage that pretty much everyone has to go through. It doesn't mean you will never rise above the other maggots slushing around in the fisherman's pocket all bleating "Nessun Dorma" and swallowing swords. You simply have to be the one who wriggles free of the hook and slowly but surely bleeds it's way onto the riverbank where another thousand "gifted" people are waiting to squish you.

Are you a charity case? No. Do you have what it takes to sit back and wait for your turn to audition without blurting out the occasional note in order to display your talents like a flustered peacock? Your ambition needs to remain strong but never on show. Desperation killed the other maggots, they had no energy left to crawl off the hook and were swallowed by the big fish.

So you're left with your confidence, which when you are young is the most vital thing you can have. Many people try to knock it away from you so you squander and fail, many will turn their backs in disgust or even jealousy. If you can learn to take the hits and stay standing you will most definitely make it. I want to believe that I am sitting where I am now because I broke everyone elses keyboard tapping fingers in order to make it, but in reality I just stood by what talent i believed I had and let others fight around me until they were hoarse, then rose from my chair and walked over them.

How to rise,
1. Do not under any circumstance over-portray your quality.
This means not putting endless amounts of pointless rhetoric on your facebook page or stating every little achievement. Desperation is ruins. If you are constantly updating every little input into your life then those interested in you will know exactly what you are doing. It's like telling your chess partner your next move before you've even made it. This applies across the board. People writing huge responses on trivial matters are just as likely to gain attention if not more as people writing about politics and social morality issues. It's about the way you write or say things, not what you say.

2. Travel,
There is no better statement to put on your CV than claiming you have experience with whatever your auditioning or interviewing for is in competition with. Models with Storm compete with Elite etc. There are the banks, the law firms and huge TV industries who are all in competition with opposing compainies. If you can say you have worked with and have a reference from someone they are in competition with, it's the perfect bate. Dear Capital FM "I've had 6 months work experience with Radio 1 news teams and have a recommendation and a place offer for the next year." Big cheese companies massage their ego's by pinching the hot topics floating around the place.

3. Make it Big.
The Higher aim, the more you will fall.....However at least you have a chance to wrap your fingers around a wrung not that far down and drag yourself back up no? It's all well and dandy getting a fancy law degree but when you have less courtroom experience than the homeless guy shooting up next to you, then you're nothing. Aim for the magic circle, get chewed up and spat out as a young solicitor and work in the suburns of london then puncture in once again. If you start by being a tea boy, you will be croissant maker after 10 years...Hardly worth it. This is not the 1900's where you can walk in with nothing and end up owning the place. Throw yourself directly at the one person, don't spread your time whoring away with all the deputy editors and downwards, choose your figure in the hierarchy and shoot.

It's getting both easier and harder to become rich. Dotcom millionaires are in abundance, it's a lifestyle which has many a computer science geek throbbing at the site of Zucky Zuckerberg but the number of job oppurtunites are still only slowly rising. There is nothing wrong with hard graft and working your way up slowly in the family pie business. Trust me kids, one time in your life someone will open a door, while everyone else keeps it open with a boot at the foot of it, walk briskly and smilingly over them.

Mr Lear.

Late night typing means no post editting tonight so sorry for any typos.

Give me an example of how something was taken the wrong way and made into movement.

Did you know that the title of Nirvana's song "smells like teen spirit" came about through one Mr Kurt Cobain's scent. It is not his actual scent, but indeed, so i hear, was the smell that rubbed off on him one late night whilst intercoursing with a lady friend. She was wearing a brand of deodorant called "teen spirit." When he was sniffed at in the morning, his apothecary uttered "smells like teen spirit."

In the summer, on sunday mornings, I deal with the lawn and trim the hedges, then take the dog for a walk. I will now expect to have an epiphany much like Mr Cobain were someone to utter "smells like fresh growth" or "aroma of a fresh morning."

Much as is the way of life however, I am not a junkee Bipolar guitar player. The reality will kick in when I waver past people on one of these sunday mornings. I will stroll by waftingly and will be stared at from the other side of the road when a group of youths state "That dude stinks of grass."


Mr Lear.

"I'm fat now and probably will be forever, people judge me on it...any moral boosters Mr Lear?"

"Fat" will no longer be a simple physical term. Fat will be a name given to someone who meets a certain description. Someone who needs to actually be deserving of the derogatory term-fat. The other words such as plump, chunky, large are all playful and are tossed about daily. It is vital the world comes to terms to what it means to be fat. I am not fat. You may be a large person, but this does not mean you are fat. Fatness is something that can only be obtained through both a moral and physical judgement. Being physically large no longer determines one to be fat.

I need to clarify what i perceive to be a fat person.

Let's contextualise.

Mrs Jenkins is a  widow. A single mother with three children. She runs her own cleaning company which she has an active role in. She works between five and six hours a day, pays her three employees six pounds an hour which they are happy with, then she retires back to her car, picks up her three children all of similar ages at four o clock from school. She returns home. Her wonderfully brought up children sit around the table in her small kitchen in her small but incredibly tidy house and tell their tired but doting mother about their day. Mrs Jenkins smiles constantly throughout the half an hour dinner. Her children all wash up their plates and sit down to do their homework while Mrs Jenkins washes up and puts on the six o clock news. She is sad to learn that a cat has been put into a dustbin by an old lady, she is happy when she learns that the Gulf oil spill has been stopped. After washing up and placing the bowls out for tommorow's breakfast, she hears her children fidgetting around upstairs, thier homework complete. She claps her hands and whistles in a ghostly way, her children start to giggle and she hears them all start to run around the house to hide from "Mrs Ghoul." It takes five minutes for her to find them. They always hide in the same places. She tells them to brush their teeth and get into bed where after reading them a story she says goodnight. All the children share one bigger room upstairs while she occupies the smaller room closer to the bathroom. She tidies her room and then dresses for bed. She stands infront of her mirror, lifts up her top and clasps at her belly and bottom. She comments as she does everynight at her love handles and squidgy bum. She sighs, whispers to her children that she loves them from the door, knowing they are already fast asleep then retires to her little bed, perfectly made.

Mrs Jenkins is not fat.

Mr York awakes at twelve pm. He grunts, scratches at his genitals and slumps out of bed. He calls downstairs to his mother to put on the kettle. His huge frame shakes the landing as he waddles to the bathroom where he defecates loudly. He neither opens the window nor shuts the door. He doesn't shower, he simply slips on his jeans and the t shirt he had on the previous day and plods downstairs. His mother has laid a mug out with a tea bag in it, the kettle is boiling next to it. "Lazy bitch," he grunts.
After sitting in the living room for an hour, eating at the remains of a takeaway pizza, he stands, ditches the cardboard at the foot of the sofa and wanders out the house. He withdraws that week's job seekers allowance from an ATM, after which he goes to his local where he drinks five pints and has a steak and kidney pudding,  a  few packets of crisps and a twix. He arrives home a couple of hours later at around five. His mother has left him some lasagne out. He can't be bothered to microwave it so he simply removes the cling-film and takes a spoon out of the draw and begins to punch away at the solid cheese topping. He sits at the kitchen table and rolls a cigarette. The evening news comes on the radio. He laughs when he hears a cat has been tossed into a bin and mutters "fucking mexicans" when he learns that the oil spill  has been stopped.

Mr York is fat.

I hope this goes someway to help you think what it truly means to call someone fat. It's a way of life, not just a physical phenom. I loathe those who sling the term at those who they know nothing about.

Indeed bastards exist.

Mr Lear.

The Public School Boy...The Perfect Interviewee?

The public school boys of the new generation are not Neanderthal traditionalists of a time long gone. I have read dozens of columns by journalists claiming that the privileged students have had their minds "corrupted" into thinking whatever chance they have in front of them will become readily available...just because they have become so accustomed to it being so, from an early age.

This is commonly perceived as negative. But surely one encourages a friend or colleague going for a new job to be confident? To hold eye contact? To dress smartly and deliver a pitch that boasts all of one's qualities in such a way that these next strides up the hierarchal ladder are simply a natural stage in life. A means to an end.

What better interviewees than those who have been lucky enough to have enjoyed the finer education? These young men and women will have been told to dress and behave in a certain manner, to act cordially and graciously with a superior and above all to have learnt the most important lesson of having gone to such a school, that they are in fact already by association with the gentry, "established."

Pure vanity and arrogance disgust interviewers. However these characteristics are not necessarily predicates of being from a public school. Imagine if you can, waking up each day in a fortress of a boarding house with people very similar to yourself all around you. During the day you have mandatory sport and homework and a strict routine for bed time. As well as this you have Dr's and Monsieur's and Colonel's teaching the subject that they not only have learnt to teach but have in fact dedicated their lives to. You are told each day that you are incredibly fortunate to be in the position that you are in. During these five years, you meet the fathers and mothers of your peers who "went to school with," "hunt with," "shoot with," "dine with," the politicians, accountants, judges, bankers and headmasters of today. They are the old Salopians, Harrovians, Etonians themselves. By simply existing you are a part of an impregnable social scene that leads to countless work experience opportunities and highly paid internships which most others would sweat tears of blood to obtain.

Let’s contextualise.

So, in walks twenty year old Larry. He's wearing a hundred pound pin stripe suit from Next which is a little too wide on the shoulders, the black buttons glisten of fresh plastic, his white shirt pops out a little too far from his suit sleeves, he has three black buttons on each cuff. He has a thick blue polyester tie a little lighter than his navy suit whose trousers are three inches too long and crease up at his thirty pound, rubber healed black shoes. His mousy brown hair is cut very short and is gelled up into a neat quiff. The interviewer smiles at Larry, puts his hand out to shake which Larry grasps quickly but loosely. Larry sits down before the interviewer, a single bead of sweat has already formed above his eyebrow, it descends perfectly into his eye which makes him blink awkwardly. The interviewer asks his first question with his silver fountain pressed onto a blank piece of white paper. Larry answers quickly and with purpose in his voice but the response is strained and a little sharp. Within a few minutes the interview is over. The interviewer stands up, shakes Larry's hand once more and says he will be in touch. He says nothing as he sits down, putting the lid back on his pen and glancing at the sheet of paper on his desk, still blank.

Oliver is twenty years old. He arrived five minutes before his interview and was shortly called into the office. As he enters he looks directly at the interviewer and smiles warmly as he holds out his hand to shake that of his possible employer. He takes his seat and crosses one leg over the other whilst he places an arm on the rest whilst the other, donned with a glistening signet ring on his little finger, sits in his lap. His silver suit shines with each soft crease as it hugs his broad figure. The small golden buckle on his belt matches those shining on his black leather soled shoes. He has thick, dark, brown, wavy hair which cuts across his forehead and sits behind his ears on either side of his head. He has blue eyes which move slowly across the room in quite an amused fashion. After maybe twenty seconds or so, Oliver is asked a question. He responds in a soft, deep tone. After five minutes the conversation has moved on to a completely different topic. Oliver's laugh can be heard outside in the corridor where Larry has remained, his back to the radiator, waiting for his mum to come and pick him up.

In order for this little story to work i had to polarise Oliver and Larry, the public school boy (Oliver) and the state educated (Larry). I made some assumptions about the clothes they would wear as I believe Oliver would have had more access to smarter clothes and would know the superficial advantage they would give him. I also made the assumption that Larry would have laid less value with appearance. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that Oliver would have inherently been better suited to engaging with his employer because he would have had experience with conversing with teachers on a more personal level as well as having been told his worth all the time, he did not see himself as lower than his interviewer so was able to engage with him as if he was already an associate. Any show of his quality would have arisen almost naturally through having a conversation rather than the interview. Larry on the other hand is already at a disadvantage because he does not know his own value for he has never thought himself as valuable.

I've made assumptions that can only be supported from my experience with interacting with all different kinds of people; it makes for a more interesting read to put it into context regardless of whoever’s a toe you are treading on. In order to make it entertaining and thought provoking you need opposites to collide with a similar interface.

I welcome your thought...is a perfect candidate for a job a young man who is inherently confident, clever and generally well rounded? Is this a public school boy?

Mr Lear.