Enlightenment

I had a very enjoyable day today. It was one of those days that really improves your spiritual, or at least psychological, well-being.

I'm writing this as a storm of hail-stones hits the window, and completes a day of feel very satisfied with the natural world and the experience of being alive.

The events of the day actually began last night, where Lucy and I went to go and see the Guillemots at the Oxford Academy (formerly the Zodiac). I'm sure this isn't confidential information, but my sister has joined the band. She plays the sax, keyboards and she sings too. She might be on TV soon: on a show called Sound on BBC2 on Saturday lunchtime, and on that Lily Allen show next week.

So, by virtue of this connection, we got on the guestlist and got in for free, which was useful as I am at an all-time lack of funds.

This was the first time we'd been there since its revamp, and I wasn't crazy about the result. If I'm going to see indie music, I want the venue to be filthy, stink of piss, and be generally unpleasant. That's what indie music is about. You want to be crammed in a hot room with sweaty strangers; it makes you feel part of some kind of collective (even if it is collective stench).

But the Academy is now all spacious and clean. There are new, tidy bars, and clearly marked toilets. In some ways it's nice, but it seemed a bit sterile.

The gig itself was really good. I reckon the new Guillemots single will do pretty well. One pleasant change from the Zodiac days was the occasional burst of air conditioning. Sometimes the cool air got a big reaction from the baked crowd. I wonder if the band knew what the fuss was about.

So we got home at a reasonable time, but I knew I wasn't going to have much sleep as I'd agreed to do some paid psychometric testing through my temping agency. I had to catch a bus from Oxford City Centre to a tiny village called Sandford on Thames at 7:25 in the morning, which was a bit annoying.

I'd done the tests before, and it doesn't pay much, but I think I felt it would be some kind of catharsis to be out there doing something.

On my way to the bus stop, I began to notice all the nature around. In Summertown there is birdsong all the time, even at night, and early in the morning I enjoyed watching the birds and feeling the cool air. I was experiencing a real heightened sensitivity to the world, and feeling quite positive.

On the bus ride I noticed an advert from the bus company asking: "Have you any questions?". What a strange way to put it. Not, "do you have any questions?" or "have you got any questions?". The syntax was strange, as though Thames Travel had some archaic Victorian-throwback writing for them. Or Russell Brand.

I arrived at the hotel where the tests were taking place, and it was really nice. I think it must be a converted farmhouse or something, with cool old beams and high ceilings. There was a roaring fire in the waiting area/reception, and I sat there reading my book (Umberto Eco - The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana; I'm undecided about it thus far). It was so warm and comfortable. There were other people waiting to whom I chatted, most of them students - making me feel jealous and nostalgic.

Nostlagia is always tied up with jealousy. The past seems so magical and profound; it's painful that you can never return there. Of course, in the future I'll probably look back to now with the same envy. Past grass is always greener than the lawn of today.

The test was interesting. You take a questionnaire made up of questions about your preferences in a number of areas, and you're given your personality type at the end. I was slightly distracted by the fact that the woman asking me questions had incredibly big pupils. Maybe she'd taken Magic Mushrooms before arriving. Maybe I'm a figment of her imagination.

My personality type is INFP (I won't bother explaining the letters). The paragraph summarising my characteristics is:

Idealistic, loyal to their values and to people who are important to them. Want an external life that is congruent with their values. Curious, quick to see possibilities, can be catalysts for implementing ideas. Seek to understand people and help them fulfil their potential. Adaptable, flexible and accepting unless a value is threatened.

That sounds about right. Quite positive, but then they all are. I wish they were a bit more critical:

ESFJ: Obnoxious sissy-boy

ENTJ: Freak

INTP: Utter cuntI'd respect that kind of honesty.

After it was finished I had to wait at the bus-stop in Sandford for ages. The village is tiny, with nothing going on. I listened to The Doors' The End on my iPod and it started to rain.

There was something about the freshness in the air that brought the nostalgic feeling back to me; like the wind was blowing something of the past. I can't explain it, but I felt a real visceral connection with the world around me. Maybe I had taken Magic Mushrooms...

The feeling continued on my way home, walking through North Oxford, light rain falling, the smell of the damp earth, the palpable moisture and the fragrance of the blossom trees. I felt such an appreciation for the beauty of life; of the pleasure of just living.(This is a pleasure that you can't get when you work full-time, of course. At least, I can't get it. It's too tiring. You can't sit back and experience the world because of stress and buses and annoying colleagues. If people weren't trying so hard to make a living, they'd be able to get on with the living itself. But the we're making a living we can never use; storing it up in some existential ISA. Maybe we can access it when we've retired, I don't know, but by then you're incontinent and right-wing and you've forgotten what you were saving for.)

When I got home I went to sleep, and woke up a couple of hours later, with the wind blowing through the window, and streaks of sun coming through the curtains feeling utterly at peace.

I don't know why I felt like this today. As usual I see it optimisticly. I feel good about life. I just hope I get the freedom to have more of these days.

***

I forgot to say that we went to McDonalds on the way home last night - my first visit there in about five years. It wasn't as good as I remember it. The chips weren't salty and greasy enough, and the milkshake wasn't as thick. The burger was too dry. I don't know if it was always like this, and I just remember it with grease-tinted spectacles, or if the healthy-food brigade has cut down on all the lard and sugar and offal that made the food palatable in the first place. Thanks a lot, Morgan Spurlock!

***

We were watching WWE Raw today, and Lucy pointed out that Shawn Michaels is starting to look more and more like a cat. She's right. He's got those tight, feline, face-lift features, and a lithe, wiry frame. Jerry Lawler even noted his "cat-like agility".

We came up with an amazing storyline they should do. It would have to be really subtle. One week have a cat run out of the locker-room, just in the background of a shot. Later that night, have Shawn come out, with a bandage on his hand. Don't mention it or anything.

Then, as the weeks go by, you give gradual clues. Shawn starts licking the back of his hand during a promo; he keeps landing on his feet after being thrown of the ropes; he starts chasing mice. Eventually, you could have him coughing up furballs, and reveal his was bitten by a radioactive cat, or a werecat.

It could culminate in a feud with a dog-based wrestler (perhaps the British Bulldog's son), where the loser is neutered.

I should write for the show.