On the eve of the release of Oracles under City Lights, I’m exclusively sharing the book’s preface online

A few months before moving to London, I started a blog. I hadn’t created one sooner because I’d always thought blogging to be self-indulgent, sloppy writing. I thought it was a fad that would soon blow over.

Nevertheless, it made sense for my writing to have an online presence. Despite a life-long obsession with physical books and printed journalism, it was clear that times were changing and in no way did I want to be left behind before my career had even begun.

Before starting my blog I had a conversation with a fellow writer. She explained how many of the blogs she had come across lacked a personal touch; they all blended into one another.

I knew what she meant. So many blogs out there had that ‘copycat syndrome’, simply reproducing the same content and, more often than not, relying on visuals over writing. I set out to make my own blog relatable, personal and as in-depth as possible.

So when I moved to London my blog became a salvation in many ways. Almost like a diary, I would record situations both on a social and emotional level and draw conclusions from my experiences. However, instead of tucking this diary away into a drawer, I decided to share it with the world. Or at least to the humble Twitter following I had accumulated at the time.

From my initial months in the city trying to find my feet, to momentous political and environmental events that were taking place; I realised I had a fair amount of content that ran like a captivating story. These pieces felt like significant stages in London’s recent history that I didn’t want to lose in a soon-to-be-forgotten blog reel.

Thus, I made a decision that I would revisit my recent work and pull it all together to produce a memoir on my London life – warts and all. Reading through some of my early pieces was painful at times, as it was evident how much I had developed technically in terms of my writing. It was also clear how much I had progressed on a psychological and spiritual level, encouraging me to create a guidebook on surviving modern city life while remaining sane.

I had moved to London in the summer of 2010 with the ambition of ‘making it’ as a writer and getting myself noticed. By the time of writing this, I have become a completely different person who has experienced what I consider to be an inner-city rebirth. Whether it was through the characters I came across working in fashion writing or the lies that we were being told by the government, I learnt many lessons during my first few years living in England’s big smoke.

Oracles under City Lights is my chance to share these lessons with you. When putting this memoir together I cast my mind back to the moment I moved to the city without work, experience or money. This book is what I would have wanted to read at the time I was struggling to get my foot in the door (and also what I would have wanted to read once my foot was in and it felt nothing like I thought it should).

I have written this book for me three years ago; a person that I think represents so many others then and now. Hungry, ambitious and yearning… yet completely disillusioned. I want to help others reach the spiritual awakening I experienced despite the noise and havoc that constantly surrounded me. I want this book to encourage others to defy what the system has made us believe to be important and remember what it is to feel true happiness.

I realised that no matter what we disguise it as – whether it be money, success, fame or power – all we truly want is to find the light. The purpose of this book is to show you how you can find yours.

Oracles under City Lights is split into five main parts. The first, City Lights, focuses on my initial experiences when I first moved to London. The second,Creative vs. Commercial, explores the ups and downs of professional life as I fought my way into editorial work.

The third and fourth sections, An Alternate Vision Part One and Two, run like a timeline of experiences drawn from my blog. Here I cover everything from the London riots in 2011 to the global Occupy movement, all the while drawing understandings from each experience.

The final section of the book, An Inner Light, concludes my story with ten important lessons I learnt during my London era. By reading my journey up to this point, you will have unlocked the secrets to experience an awakening of your own; one you probably didn’t even realise was possible.

Read the full preface on my Facebook page.

Order your limited edition of Oracles under City Lights now.

Published by PRNTD © 2013 All rights reserved

Onyx shows Sebastian her mesmerising underwater world in the final part of my sci-fi/fantasy short story 

As Onyx opened her mouth to speak, the gaping pothole above their heads began to close up the way a flower does when it snows.

“NO!” the man cried out lifting his arms in the air while trying to hoist his body above the water. He crashed back down into the inky waves as the vacuum completely vanished from sight.

For a few minutes the pair bobbed upon the ocean’s surface in silence. The man shook his head in dismay while Onyx looked on sympathetically. She then reached out her hand and offered him a warm smile.

“My name is Onyx,” she said softly. “And to answer your question, I’m an aquan.”

As the girl spoke, Sebastian noticed thin slits running down the sides of her neck that moved as she breathed. He gasped, realising what they were.

“Are you some sort of mermaid or something?” he asked, bewildered.

Onyx shook her head.

“No. Mermaids are from fairytales, which is exactly where I thought humans were from…”

Before the pair could continue, the bionic dolphin that Onyx had been chasing a day earlier burst out from the water’s surface and began to float. A large section of its metallic flesh was missing and a thick black substance oozed out of it like pus from a wound.

Onyx’s cold blood ran even colder as she realised her mechanical friend was no longer functioning. Tears poured down her cheeks the way a waterfall crashes against the side of a cliff.

The sensitive girl reached for the dismantled dolphin but was stopped by Sebastian.

“Don’t touch it!” he yelled, “that stuff is poisonous!” Onyx pulled her hands away and turned towards the handsome stranger.

“You know what this stuff is?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Sebastian turned back to the dolphin, which sparked a little and made a whirring noise where the oily substance was coming from, before falling silent and sinking back into the ocean.

“The Waste,” he said simply. “The toxic leftovers from our world.”

A chill ran down Onyx’s spine as she realised the human was connected to the mysterious darkness that had spilled out of the sky.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, “I didn’t realise…” Onyx stopped Sebastian mid-sentence by lunging forwards and landing her mouth on his. It wasn’t exactly the response he had expected, but he wasn’t complaining…

Sebastian quickly realised however that it was not a kiss he was being treated to by the mesmerising sea dweller. He flinched in terror as he felt a slimy, worm-like form being passed from Onyx’s mouth into his. The thick shape slid down his throat and into his lungs where it broke into two smaller slugs.

“There,” she said softly, “now you’ll be able to breathe.” Onyx took Sebastian’s hand and pulled him beneath the crashing waves.

The pair shot through the water like an arrow, passing the kaleidoscope of neon pastel shades that made up Onyx’s world. Sebastian held on to the girl’s grasp tightly, amazed that he was breathing the ocean in and out rapidly without drowning.

By the time the duo reached the seafloor, Sebastian was in complete awe of his surroundings. A beautiful, fluorescent palace stared back at him. Its walls were made of thousands of tiny crystals, glimmering the way pearls do when set free from their oysters.

“Where… where are we?” he asked in wonder. Onyx stared back smiling with an enigmatic glimmer in her eye.

“Welcome to AQUATICA,” she said, “my beautiful home.”

As Sebastian walked upon the seafloor beside his new-found friend, he stared up in amazement at the glistening fortress. Its towers twisted and intertwined the way tree branches do in an overgrown forest.

The beauty was so astounding that it took Sebastian’s breath away. In fact, the very fact he could even breathe underwater was blowing his mind. It truly felt like he had died and was entering the gates of Heaven. Perhaps he was?

“So you see,” Onyx said suddenly as she turned to him, “all of this beauty will be destroyed unless you take the darkness away.” Before Sebastian had a chance to respond Onyx continued by saying:

“Come on. There’s one more thing I’ve got to show you.” With that, the beautiful aquan took the human’s hand and swam upwards with him, out of AQUATICA and into the inky abyss of the ocean.

Eventually the pair reached the surface of the sea once more to greet the night’s sky. The milky moon shone down on them radiating mystical beams of light that lit up the ocean’s skin like a glistening canopy.

“Shh,” Onyx said holding her finger towards Sebastian’s soft lips, “can you hear them?”

A faint humming in the distance rapidly got louder and louder until the sound of the whale’s song was undeniable.  Onyx helped Sebastian climb up onto a large rock the size of a small house that stuck out of the water. Neon algae covered the boulder like luminous slime wrapped around a gigantic stone.

“Here, look…” Onyx pointed towards half a dozen whales that were bobbing along the water, singing in unison. Their song an electronic whine that managed to mix natural beauty with auto-tuned perfection.

The pastels of the daytime were replaced by an illuminated blend of toxic greens and vivid cobalt as the enormous robotic mammals glided beside one another. As they swam, fountains of glitter shot from their blowholes like steam from geysers.

As Onyx took Sebastian’s hand in hers, he looked up to the stars and shut his eyes listening to the peaceful electronic murmurs. In this moment he felt what true happiness feels like.

Suddenly, the sky opened up once again to reveal an enormous levitating cave hole. This time though, The Waste was nowhere to be seen.

“I knew it,” Sebastian said, “they’re coming back for me.”

He pulled his hand away from Onyx’s and turned towards the vortex.

“ I need to go and put things right.” He reached forward to kiss Onyx softly on the lips. She threw her arms around him to not only prove that the feelings were mutual, but to prove he would not be going alone.

“I’m coming with you,” she said indisputably.

“No,” Sebastian replied pulling away, “it’s too dangerous for you there. I need to go back to make sure they don’t destroy your beautiful world. And to make sure they don’t destroy mine.”

He reached up towards the hole in the sky and began to lift himself up.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be back for you soon!”

As Sebastian pulled himself up into the beckoning entrance of the wormhole, Onyx grabbed hold of his foot and pulled herself out of the water. The pair were both sucked up into the hole before its mouth shut abruptly.

Then the night was still once more, with nothing but the sound of mechanical mantras echoing out from the circling whales.

The End?

In the second part of my seapunk-inspired trilogy we’re transported to a dystopian version of our future

Somewhere in the not so distant future, resources became scarce and the human race precariously desperate.  The greens and browns of the earth were overtaken by steely greys and oily blacks as technology diminished nature bit by bit. Like a mechanical fist clenching a delicate flower in its metallic grasp until only cinders remained.

Most animals became extinct, becoming a rare delicacy that only the rich and powerful could afford to consume. The rest of society were led to feed on insects for protein instead, tearing into the shiny flesh of locusts or mosquitoes to obtain any possible nutrition.

The majority of the land was ruined by man. Mountains and forests were overtaken with sky cities constructed from carbon nanotubes that spiralled across the earth like bionic fungi. Even oxygen became scarce and rain toxic.

The only thing that man had tried to preserve through its careless ways was the oceans. Once it realised how irreversible the damage was that it had caused the land, it decided to find a new way of ridding the planet of its toxic pollution instead of pouring it into the sea.

“It brings us great pleasure to announce that we have finally found a solution to our global problem.”

The president spoke elatedly yet sternly through the holographic projections across the world. Dressed in the slate grey uniform that all of the government wore, his gaunt cheekbones were emphasised as he pursed his lips.

“Instead of releasing The Waste into our world, we will release it into another.” His concise yet mysterious words were met with a colossal round of applause from across the planet.

The Waste is what all of the toxic pollution was referred to as by the single government that the world now shared. It led citizens to believe it was mostly their waste: the long toxic trail that constant consumption leaves in its wake.

Of course, this had a huge role to play in what The Waste was made of. But it was mainly a result of the environment-destroying technologies that the government now used to power the world’s economic systems.

This thick, contaminated oil was to be poured into black holes that scientists had discovered how to open to another dimension…

***

Sebastian pulled on his stiff, dreary uniform and stepped out into the thin corridor that led to The Reactor. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to be part of history. As he walked he ran his hands through his sandy, tousled hair and took a deep breath. They were doing the right thing. Weren’t they?

Sebastian shook his head as to banish the doubts from his mind. Of course they were doing the right thing! The young man had felt a connection with the ocean since his youth and the thought of destroying it with The Waste broke his heart.

Of course, it was the idea of the unknown that unnerved him. These vacuums in the air, which supposedly led to nothingness, what if there actually was something on the other side? A thought that the government would obviously allow no one to even ponder, Sebastian couldn’t help but imagine a world that lay behind the gateway…

There was no time for this now. It was nearly 1800 hours and the first portal was to be opened. Sebastian stepped into the room of The Reactor where he was met by half a dozen other members of the government.

“It’s time,” the president’s shrill voice echoed through the room out of a loud speaker.

A group of scientists behind a digital panel began turning knobs and flicking switches until a small spiral of smoke began to float out of a large metallic funnel. Soon the swirling substance transcended into a gigantic whirlpool of greys that eventually led to a large black hole opening in the air like a hungry mouth.

Sebastian and the other government members stared on in wonder before erupting into applause.

“Enough, quiet!” the president spat through the brassy speaker.

“Release The Waste.”

A large cylinder was hoisted sideways from above, leading to a deafening flow of thick black tar being emptied into the mouth of the worm hole. Once again there were cheers, this time from the scientists as well as the government. As Sebastian clapped he felt his heart drop and a strange pang of guilt in his stomach.

Slowly he reached his head over the side of the railing to get a closer look at the revolutionary scene.  As he did, part of the railing gave way leading him to fall forwards head first into the black oil stream.

In an instant Sebastian was sent plummeting down through the worm hole right into The Waste. He had managed to take a deep breath as he fell, which he was holding on to for dear life. If he opened his mouth and breathed in, the deadly liquid would fill his lungs and lead them to burst open within the minute.

Before this thought had properly crossed his mind, Sebastian felt himself crash face first into water and hurtle beneath its surface. He used all of his strength to swim out of the grip of The Waste and into the clean and refreshing liquid.

Pulling himself upwards, Sebastian broke out of the ocean’s surface like lava shooting from a vicious volcano.

As he opened his eyes and prepared himself to take in his surroundings, a beautiful young woman also appeared from between the waves and stared directly at him with her piercing green eyes.

Long turquoise hair hung against her ivory skin, but it was her hypnotic eyes that gave it away. She wasn’t human.

Sebastian took a deep breath and swallowed, before asking slowly:

“What… are you?”

To be continued…

The first of a three-part fantasy/sci-fi short story with a seapunk twist

A bionic dolphin soared through the ocean’s surface, its metallic flesh shimmering against the crashing waves and setting sun. Onyx followed the machine until she too shot through the sea’s shell like a snake hatching from an egg.

Her long turquoise locks hung down against her face and shoulders the way seaweed does; her violet jumpsuit contrasting vibrantly against her pearl white skin. The dolphin was enjoying the chase, but allowed its opponent to catch up. Winning becomes tiring after a while.

For a moment the pair bobbed upon the ocean’s surface and stared at the beaming sunset. It was hard to tell whether the dolphin’s mechanical heart allowed it to feel the same way Onyx did about the mesmerising sight. She liked to think it did, though.

Then in a flash the dolphin set off on its way; a torpedo gliding through a glistening canopy. Onyx smiled as the sun disappeared out of sight and the planets littered the skyline. It was time to party.

The young girl dived back into the water and hurtled towards the seabed, passing every imaginable colour as she swam. Her slender body sliced through the water like a shark’s fin.

Within the next half hour Onyx had reached the ocean’s floor; her metallic platform boots hitting the ground with a satisfying thunk. She narrowed her eyes and stepped towards the sound of electronica pulsating through the rocks.

The pitch-black seabed began to light up as the algae beneath her boots radiated a fluorescent glow. Others stepped out from the seagrass dressed in an array of toxic pastel hues and acid wash denim. As Onyx lifted her arms above her head to join her friends she felt her metallic bangles fall like hoops around palm trees.

And with that, she shut her eyes and let go.

The group of youngsters danced in unison to the thumping music while the algae and sea moss flickered vibrantly beneath their feet. A man with a lean physique and ropey dreadlocks emerged with a trail of jellyfish in tow.

“Let’s go wild…” he grinned mischievously. The outrageous group of aquatic ravers cheered and reached for the translucent neon creatures.

Onyx grabbed the trailing tentacles of the closest jellyfish and pulled its glowing umbrella-shaped form towards her. She felt the creature’s sharp sting soar throughout her entire body, which quickly turned into a state of pure elation. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up like the spines on a sea urchin as she felt the rush kick in.

Hours passed and no one even stopped to speak; they were too busy moving to the ocean’s hypnotic rhythm. The high from the jellyfish would go on all night, much to the delight of the beautiful young sea-dwellers dancing on the rocks.

As the night finally drew to a close and the music subsided, Onyx felt the creature’s buzz wear off as she swam back towards the ocean’s surface. She made it to the top just in time to watch the flame red sunrise. She smiled with elation as she felt the warm air of the morning touch her cheeks.

Suddenly, ripples were sent gliding through the water as a large black hole opened within the air just above the water’s surface; the way a flame burns a hole in a sheet of paper. Thick tar the colour of charcoal oozed through the gap in the sky and poured into the ocean creating an aggressive hissing sound.

Onyx’s mouth dropped open and her eyes became flying saucers, staring at dismay at the frightening scene. Steam rose as the waterfall of burning oil crashed into the sea, leading Onyx to close her eyes and look away. The steam tasted like burnt steel on the tip of her tounge.

Then, the oil eased until it was just a few drips coming through the black hole in the air. Onyx narrowed her eyes and lifted her neck, trying to make out what lay behind the mysterious vacuum. Before she managed to get a proper look inside, a form came hurtling through the vortex towards the roaring waves beneath it. A burst of water was sent splashing abruptly into Onyx’s face, before she too dived underneath the water.

Onyx couldn’t believe her eyes. As she effortlessly floated before him, a man frantically waved his arms in circles before pushing himself back up to the ocean’s surface. Could he really be what she thought? She had read about them in stories carved upon the rocks, but had always thought they were a myth.

The curious girl burst back out of the water and stared directly into the eyes of the man who was frenetically trying to stay afloat. Was she right? Could he really be a human?

The man stared back at her with his delicate, pinkish-cream flesh. His eyes pale blue, like a cloudless sky. His hair a sandy colour with no sea foam blue or pastel purple in sight. He took a deep breath and swallowed, before asking slowly:

“What… are you?”

To be continued…

Turning twenty-five made me question our fixation with an eternal youth

Last weekend I turned twenty-five. Following a flurry of phone calls, text messages and Facebook comments, I was greeted with a flat-full of friends who joined me for a night out on the town. For one night I forgot any bills, deadlines or any other “grown up” worries, and had the time of my life.

The next day once my friends had left and my hangover started to rear its ugly head, it began to dawn on me that another year really had gone by and I really was another year older. I gulped down some painkillers and stared into the mirror at my tired face. I really wasn’t twenty-one anymore.

Of course, twenty-five isn’t “old” by any means. When I was five, two decades on would have undoubtedly seemed ancient, and thirty would have seemed prehistoric. Although now the big 3-0 is a mere five years away it feels more youthful than ever before.

I guess what I’m getting at is no matter what point we are at in our lives, the prospect of looking ahead into the unknown is always unnerving. And if we keep looking forward, our inevitable day of dying looms like a vulture circling a canyon. So is this the reason we fear aging so much?

Forever young

Of course our instinctual fear of death plays a part in our fear of growing older. There’s even an identified condition known as gerontophobia, which is the fear of growing old or having a hatred or fear of the elderly. This is ultimately linked to thanatophobia, the fear of death.

In many ways, though, it seems our irrational fear of aging stems from more superficial grounds. We dread the decline of our physical abilities, as well as the loss of what we consider to be our beauty.

This is why more and more people are going under the knife and spending ridiculous amounts of money on Botox or anti-aging creams. We want to remain in a state of eternal youth, like the beautiful images in magazines, on television or on posters on the tube. Bright white teeth, a head full of hair and a face free of creases and crow feet.

We’re like the vain Queen in Snow White, staring into the mirror demanding to know who is the “fairest of them all.” Growing older and bitterer by the second.

And the elderly? Well, in many cases they seem to be shunned and forgotten by society completely. Family members aside, how many friends can you honestly say you have over the age of seventy? It’s as if once the exterior elements to someone begin to deteriorate, we forget all of the experience and wisdom they carry.

This brings me on to how we should all learn to cope with aging, as it should not be something we have to “cope” with at all. No matter our age, we are all extremely privileged to be on this planet experiencing any time at all.

Embracing evolution

I guess the first step to growing older is acceptance. We have to remove our masks and all our layers to take a close and honest look at ourselves; grey hairs and all. Once we have accepted our face and body will not remain in its youthful state forever, we can begin to let go of the past and start living in the present.

In the opening scene of the French thriller Irréversible, the phrase “Le temps détruit tout” is uttered. Time destroys everything. It sounds morbid, but it’s true. Once we’ve realised and accepted this about the physical world, we can start to look a bit deeper into our souls.

I’m not talking about religion here, per se. Whether it’s spiritual, metaphysical or purely scientific, use what it is you believe to overcome the fear of dying. Once you have started to move past this, you can begin to truly experience your life on earth and the extremely limited time you have.

I see life as a gift. Whether it’s god-sent or not, I have been given this time to create what I can, fight for what I believe in, radiate as much love as I can and feel real love in return. We might not be able to change the whole world, but we can start by changing our own.

So with this, I’ll stand tall and walk forward into the unknown. I’ll embrace any grey hairs on my head or creases upon my face. Here’s to the beauty and the craziness of the past twenty-five years, and to the mystery and wonder of the next.

Going teetotal for the month made me look at drinking in a whole new light

Like many others, I started the year feeling in need of a detox after the excesses of December. So, as well as setting myself a strict healthy eating regime, I decided to cut out alcohol for the entire month.

Now before you start painting a picture of me as some raging alcoholic, let me explain my reason for taking part in “Dry January.” I wouldn’t say I’m a particularly big drinker, but I was interested to see how much I’d notice my alcohol moratorium.

Although leaving university and joining the working world led to me changing my drinking habits, it didn’t mean alcohol had left my life completely. In fact if anything, my drinking habits simply changed format.

During my studies, my friends and I would often have up to three boozy nights out a week and wouldn’t think twice about nursing our hangovers in a lecture. Moving to London and starting my career obviously changed all this; however it also gave birth to the concept of drinking a glass of wine in the evening to “unwind.”

Now I’m no scientist but I know that despite people drinking alcohol to relax, the truth is it can actually make you feel even more stressed out. We are told to not reach to the bottle after a long day of work, but instead hit the gym or practise yoga.

In reality not everyone has the time to take two hours out of their busy schedules each evening for Bikram, so settle for a glass of Merlot or two instead.

Under pressure

It’s no surprise then that Drinkaware research found that three in five (62%) Brits use alcohol to relax in the evenings, and 44% of Brits are more like likely to drink alcohol after a hectic day.

A large part of this statistic is down to the country’s capital, which again is no surprise to me. When I moved to London back in 2010, one of the first things I noticed about people was their drink dependency. I started out working in media sales and it was very much the “work hard, play hard” mentality, including boozy client lunches that are a favourite in the advertising world.

Then in my first job in editorial I started to experience real stress from work, often leading to my flatmate and I sharing at least one bottle of wine in the evening.

Rick Morris, a risk strategy analyst who works in the City of London, said this to Drinkaware: “A lot of people I know drink after work. Drinking is how many people blow off steam after a long day. I would find it difficult to relax in the evening without a drink or two. I find it quite easy to go a bit overboard though, and having a hangover the next day can send my stress levels shooting upwards.”

It’s not just stressful jobs that lead people to turn to drink though. A poll of 3,000 mothers by parenting website Netmums discovered that half of them drank at least three or four nights a week at home. Over eight out of 10 of these mums said they drank to battle stress.

Dry as a bone

So I set myself the challenge to go teetotal for at least 31 days. In fact, I decided to take the challenge so seriously that I actually stopped drinking before the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, despite being out with friends.

I automatically noticed a difference when I woke up on January the 1st without a hangover. I had switched to water after midnight, which had obviously made a big difference to the way I felt. The first day of the new year had also happened to be a sunny one, so I was glad to make the most of it by walking along Brighton seafront, instead of curling up underneath my friend’s duvet.

The next couple of weeks were really easy. I really enjoyed having a break from drinking and didn’t miss the hangovers at all. I felt far fresher at the weekend, woke earlier and got lots more done. It felt good to not waste my two days off from work feeling dreadful.

It was actually work I was a bit more concerned about, as we’re quite partial to a glass of champagne or two when it gets to 6pm on a Friday. We’re particularly partial to this when it’s someone’s birthday, and January seemed to be full of them. Thankfully, one of my colleagues also took up the challenge, so I had a partner in sober crime.

My first real challenge was a couple of weekends into the month when I was going to a friend’s leaving drinks with some of my university friends. I’m almost embarrassed to admit that this was probably going to be the first time we had met in a social situation like a bar that I would not be drinking, aside from one time when I was on antibiotics.

The most interesting thing I found that night was how fascinated everyone else was about my conscious decision to remain teetotal. For many of my friends, the initial reaction was to try and make me break my pledge. This made me even more determined to remain sober and show them how much I didn’t need alcohol to be fun or to have fun.

Once I got past the probing, I ended up having a great time despite sticking to ginger beer all night. We ended up singing and dancing on the street, as if we’d somehow transported back to our university days.

The next day my friend Gail even asked if I’d stuck to my oath of sobriety, as she hadn’t even noticed whether I was intoxicated or not. I started to realise how much I didn’t need alcohol to enjoy myself or others.

The dark side of drink

Last weekend was my final big test of “Dry January,” as it was one of my best friend’s birthdays and we were going out in Shoreditch. By this time I had started to quite fancy a glass of wine, and out of the whole month found this was the first time I felt truly tempted to break my vow.

Nonetheless, I had a great time once again dancing the night away; despite being far more conscious of people spilling beer all over me.

As I left the club, I passed people vomiting on the streets, getting into fights and diving into greasy pizzas and kebabs. I had never felt so happy to be fully conscious and clear-headed.

As the month draws to an end, and my birthday fast approaches, I’m not going to say that I will never drink again. I enjoy catching up with friends over a glass of wine or cocktail, without feeling like alcohol defines me or my ability to have a good time.

My days of partial self-destruction are definitely far behind me though, and if there’s a problem that needs fixing then I’ll be taking the route without shortcuts. It will also be the route without Kebab shops.

I’ll drink to that.

David Bowie’s shock return last week reminded us how important mystery is in music 

When David Bowie’s first single in a decade dropped earlier this month, the legendary musician got the whole world talking before 9am. The music news made global headlines and the singer’s surname, single and album title were all trending on Twitter.

What made the release so special? Well for one, it meant brand new music from a pioneering artist who many people thought had retired from the industry.

What made this news even more exciting was how nobody had any idea about it.

In an age where we know pretty much everything about everybody, from tweeted political and religious views to what someone is eating for breakfast being posted on Instagram, it’s refreshing to see an element of mystery making a comeback.

Of course, many might argue that this conscious attempt to remain enigmatic is itself part of a wider commercial strategy. Bowie’s collaborators have already spoken out about how hard it was keeping the project a secret for so long, and the fact the single was released on his 66th birthday was undoubtedly carefully calculated timing.

It might not have been a six month social campaign the likes of Lady Gaga is accustomed to when leading up to an album release, but the sudden surprise of new music seemed to have just the same impact; if not more.

Mystery woman

One of the best examples of this in recent years, is the iamamiwhoami project. For anyone who needs their memory refreshed, iamamiwhoami first surfaced in December 2009 when two ambiguos videos were uploaded to YouTube.

The clips were also forwarded from an anonymous email account to a number of music journalists and blogs; an extremely clever tactic to get people talking. The beautifully bizarre videos continued to appear, featuring an unknown blonde woman whose face had been digitally distorted.

The rumour mill went into overdrive as to who the mystery woman could be. Everyone from Goldfrapp and The Knife to Björk and Christina Aguilera were debated in the Twittersphere, until more of the woman’s face was revealed and it was clear she was none of the above.

It turned out that the mystery woman in the video was in fact Jonna Lee, a Swedish singer-songwriter who had previously had more of a folk sound. To this day, Lee still hasn’t officially confirmed that she is behind the iamamiwhoami project, revealing just how powerful mystery in music can be.

In Bowie’s well overdue comeback single he asks the question, “where are we now?” Well, we are definitely in a new era that allows an artist to connect with their fans far easier, often avoiding the middle man. However the power of his comeback, alongside other mysterious musical campaigns, proves how sometimes less is truly more.

An encounter with an old friend made me question how city life has affected my own spiritual journey 

On the first day of 2013, I randomly bumped into one of my oldest friends. This friend, who I hadn’t seen in years, is actually the first person I met at school when my family moved from New Zealand to England in 1996. I was eight years old.

It’s always interesting to see how people from your past are doing. Social websites like Facebook make this far easier, although it’s debatable how healthy it is keeping characters from previous chapters in your life constantly in the present tense.

Nevertheless, there are the rare few people along the way that manage to withstand time and experiences. These are the people who know you inside out, and vice versa. They’ve seen you at your best and worst over the years and still care how you’re doing.

This is exactly how I feel about Rob. We went from energetic children to tumultuous teenagers, before finally finding ourselves in the realms of adulthood. And although we’ve missed much of each other’s journey in the last six or seven years, seeing each other last week felt as normal and effortless as it ever did.

The differences were undeniably there though. Not only on the surface; but emotionally and spiritually too.

The first thing I noticed about my dear old friend was how he had literally shed a skin. Through the wonders of the online world I had noticed this metamorphosis over the years from guitar-bearing punk to full-blown Brighton Bohemian, but it’s of course when you see someone in the flesh that the changes become paramount.

Of course, I’ve been no stranger to metamorphosis myself over the years. Since we met, my friend has seen me go through countless styles, stages and mindsets under the influence of numerous music, fashion and art movements.

However, these days I find myself making the majority of my statements through what I’m saying or creating and far less with what I’m wearing. It was refreshing though, to see that my friend has found an identity that is truly him.

Once we got past the external, it was what came next that truly fascinated me.

Soul searchers

I immediately noticed how humble my friend had become. He spoke as eloquently as he always had, although I could tell he had grown even more well-read. His tone and body language seemed to radiate an inner-calmness.

Rob’s new-found unconventional approach to life made me instantly think of the Beat movement. Non-materialistic and art-focused, I imagined him drifting throughout Brighton in an almost meditative state. It appeared that he had reached a point of greater awareness; an awareness of something greater than himself.

During our teens, I had definitely been the only one in our circle of friends who had explored spirituality. I became a strict vegetarian, practised Buddhism and came to question just about anything that was put in front of me. I’m sure my friends saw it as another passing phase and just let me get on with it.

Back then, I appeared to prove my friends right. By my late teens I had become completely distracted by my changing taste in music and fashion, which ultimately led me to abandon most of my holistic and spiritual practises altogether.

It seemed that Rob had moved in the reverse way to me. While talking with him as we walked through Brighton’s eclectic back streets, it became clear that through his travels he had been encouraged to ask many of the same questions that I had once asked.

He explained to me how upon entering everyday conversations he had to try and hold much of this “delving deeper” back. I completely related to what he was saying, as even through the havoc of city life and the industry I have found myself working in over the last few years, I have felt this part of my consciousness indisputably reawakening.

City vs. spirit

“How do you keep your head in a place like London?” Rob asked me casually over a peppermint tea.

There it was. The question I’ve found myself asking endlessly over the last two and a half years of living here.

“Well…” I started cautiously, “it can be quite a challenge at times.”

The truth is, in many ways the chaos of city life has brought me back to my spiritual roots. It seems that the more I experience our “buy stuff, throw stuff away and then buy more stuff” culture; the more I come to reject it.

The true test is learning to maintain that inner contentment on an everyday basis when surrounded by so much chaos. To not be part of a constructed society that is meant to be happy and docile, yet learn to live alongside it and see beyond the brainwashed eyes.

I realised that day that I have the same anger and frustrations as I did when I was sixteen, but I’ve learnt not to be governed by them. I’ve begun to reach a point where my inner peace cannot be tarnished by a world that wants you to consume more and ask less.

I bid farewell to my friend with an authentic feeling of content. I felt happy he has found the courage to step beyond the parameters of society on a quest for enlightenment, as well as proud of the all-embracing man he has become.

We may have travelled different roads and taken on many guises along the way, but our eventual destination has remained the same: to find a reality we can live in that’s filled with light, love and creativity.

Happy New Year to one and all.

Check out Rob’s music on Flash Bang Band’s Facebook page.

From the Olympic Games to my own career, I look back at the highs and lows of London life in 2012

2012 has truly been a year to remember for London. Whether it was the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee in the spring or the Olympic Games over the summer, there have been many reasons to celebrate this year.

After the London riots that took place in 2011, the city was undoubtedly in need of a good year to follow. Many feared that the scenes of destruction would put tourists off visiting for the Olympic Games, however this definitely didn’t turn out to be the case.

2012 has been my second full year living in England’s capital, and it’s definitely been my best to date. It’s been the first year since moving here back in the summer of 2010 that I’ve really started to understand how the whole place works. I guess it’s finally starting to feel like a home.

Perhaps the general mood of the city this year has played a big part in this adjustment. Although I would hardly consider myself a royalist, the atmosphere in London during the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee in spring was certainly uplifting.

That community feeling I had yet to experience in London occurred yet again when the much-anticipated Olympic Games finally arrived. I am in no way a fan of sport or competiveness, but always of unity and togetherness. Thankfully this feeling is exactly what London 2012 managed to achieve.

Finally, it was announced at the beginning of this month that the Duchess of Cambridge Kate Middleton is pregnant with her first child. The news, which came just over a year and a half after her wedding, excited people all across the world.

Low points

Of course, with the highs there must always come the lows; and London has definitely had its fair share this year. The coalition government has continued to receive mass scrutiny for its decisions, while the country’s economy seems to have gone from bad to worse.

Meanwhile, Australian activist, journalist and founder of Wikileaks Julian Assange has been living inside the Ecuadorian embassy since June, with UK police waiting outside to arrest him.

He was granted political asylum by the Ecuadorian Foreign Minister, Ricardo Patiño. Patiño stated his concern that Assange might be extradited to the US, which could lead to his execution following the leaking of many confidential diplomatic cables.

I find it sad that someone who has fought so hard to expose corruption and lies has basically been imprisoned for fear of his own life. I also find it sad that it is here in London that he is trapped; a city that is meant to stand for diversity and freedom.

Even the year’s final piece of good news has sadly been laced with negativity, following Kate Middleton being rushed into hospital with morning sickness. The nurse who answered the phone to two Australian DJs playing a prank call was found hanged three days later, leaving her husband and two children behind.

Professional rollercoaster

2012 has also been a year filled with ups and downs on a personal scale. For the first half of the year I continued to work at the fashion company that had given me my first editorial break. I had such high hopes for my development within this company, as well as the direction it was moving in.

Early in the year our CEO, a woman highly established within the fashion industry who I respect immensely, presented us with her three-year vision for the company during an “away morning” at the top of the skyscraper we worked in.

Once we had heard the speech, we all went back down to our desks feeling incredibly motivated and inspired. I remember thinking how rare it must be to have such a clear goal laid ahead, and how enjoyable it would be trying to reach it.

However on that very same day, the huge high was followed by a hard-hitting low. By the afternoon, everyone was called into a room where a corporate-looking man stood in a formal grey suit clasping a single sheet of paper. He had a stern look on his face and his words were cold.

The man read out a message from the company’s owner, stating that our current CEO would no longer be working at the company from that moment forward. He gave no explanation, but said that from tomorrow it would be “business as usual.”

Everybody walked back to their desks in complete shock. Not even the team leaders, like my editor or the art director, had been made aware that this would be happening. We had gone from a morning feeling on top of the world, to being in the gutter by the afternoon.

After this, my time at this particular company was never the same again. Rumours began circling, and one by one several other team leaders in the business either jumped or were pushed.

Looking ahead

Thankfully by September I landed myself a similar role in an ecommerce team for an established fashion brand, which I am thoroughly enjoying. I feel like I have finally received recognition for all the hard work I have put in.

Strangely enough my previous CEO, who had been so insolently discarded from the company, is also now working at this brand. It’s funny how things turn out in the world of business.

Meanwhile I released my debut book of poetry Verses on Kindle, relaunched this website which has now reached over 40,000 views and am coming to the end of my next exciting project that I am planning to release next year.

As we bid farewell to another year and get ready to welcome the next, as always it’s essential that we learn from our experiences both on a personal and wider social scale.

Here’s to a happy, healthy and hopeful 2013.

With retailers pulling on our heartstrings more than ever this Christmas, will we forget what really matters and max out our credit cards instead?

It’s that time of year again. The Coca-Cola ad has been shown and the High Street has become a war zone; the countdown to another Christmas has begun.

Now I really don’t want to come across as Scrooge, I love the idea of family and friends getting together as much as the next person, but we all know that’s not what it’s really about. Christmas is the time for businesses to launch colossal campaigns that urge us all to spend our hard-earned cash.

And oh, how they pull on our heart-strings to do this. Every television advertisement by every High Street retailer plays like a mini movie, packed full of drama and emotion.

According to Marketing Week, etailers are steering away from traditional advertising this year, concentrating “purely on price and product… and opting for high impact campaigns to convey the emotion of the festive season…” This might sound joyous, but surely we can see through their trickery?

Consumption countdown

As a copywriter by day, I know all about these campaigns. In my industry, the build up to Christmas actually starts as soon as summer ends, meaning I’m completely exasperated with the concept by the time the real countdown begins.

These campaigns consist of developing a “hook”, and ultimately figuring out the easiest and most effective way to get consumers to part with their cash.

So I guess it begs the question, what does Christmas actually mean to you? Of course we all know what Christmas is really about, whether we grew up in a religious household or not. But how many of us even believe in God, let alone consider the festive season as Jesus Christ’s birthday?

The fact is, the vast majority of people that I know or have known are not Christians, but would always celebrate Christmas. Like many other holidays throughout the year, the meaning is insignificant and they are almost celebrated out of habit.

But that’s not to say Christmas is a completely negative thing. Looking back at my own childhood, Christmas was always a special time filled with happiness, despite not having a huge family or particularly religious one.

Picture-perfect Christmas

Of course what my sister and I looked forward to on a superficial level, like so many other children, was waking up on Christmas morning with a pile of presents sitting under the tree. I remember writing my list to Santa year after year like nothing else mattered in the world. And at that point, it didn’t.

Of course looking back now, the moments that really stand out in my mind are the ones where I shared happy moments with my family. Going to pick the tree up with my dad, sitting round the table for Christmas dinner and then going for a walk in the snow with our dog.

At this stage, marketing campaigns crafted by big corporations would have meant nothing to me. At least on a conscious level anyway.

But what pains me now as an adult, as I watch the emotional advertisements each retailer has created, is that that pretty picture of a happy nuclear family is exploited and used thoughtlessly. Not simply because my own family live far enough away for us not to spend every festive season together, but for the friends I now have who have never even experienced this picture-perfect Christmas.

See, the ads that John Lewis and Debenhams spew out each year don’t seem to consider those who grew up in broken homes, or even no homes at all. Let alone all the people who don’t even celebrate Christmas due to their religion.

This is why as each year goes by, I think less and less about those happy childhood memories I have at Christmas, and more about how alienating and corporate it is.

Then there are all those people shopping with the same blank stare. It’s like a virus, where once someone is infected their eyes glaze over like a zombie and they need to get their shopping fix for survival.

Of course, with the economy being as it has been these last few years, companies are even more desperate to get us to spend. This is why it was hardly surprising to hear Christmas music playing in shops as far back as Halloween.

So what can we do to avoid being brainwashed? The country needs us to spend and we all need to buy for friends and family who celebrate Christmas like it’s a lifelong routine.

My advice would be to tune out of all the advertisements, stop buying the Starbucks red cups and focus on spending time with the people that really matter.

After all, we all come to realise sooner or later that time is the greatest gift of all.