clinging to the wreckage

Sleep eludes me these days. I lie awake at 3am and think of ridiculous little meaningless things like the password to a portal that is completely insignificant. However, I also think of very relevant things such as my parents growing older and living alone in a country still torn by political unrest, culture clashes, racism, corruption beyond sustainability and, as a result, a constantly declining economy. I think of people with no homes, no warmth, no food. I think of people who are abused by their partners or their parents and I lie awake in a fit of exhaustion. Sometimes it seems that we get caught up in these social media and social circles in which the demographic is identical, causing us to forget that there are people in desperate need. As the temperature in Boston last night dropped to -8 degrees Celsius I could not help but feel pain at the thought of those sleeping on the streets or those with no heating and food. I read an article that socks are one of the most

I’d hoped to sleep-in before taking the 11:30am flight to Orange County via Denver but, as usual, I awoke around 03:30am and couldn’t get back to sleep. I started doing some work, as all of my colleagues in Europe were online and working and I had the usual plethora of emails bombarding my mailbox. The excitement that I felt made it easy to work. I was excited because I was traveling to a punk rock and beer festival on Huntington Beach and had the added adventure of a stop over in Denver along the way. I’d hoped to take the T from my house in Cambridge to South Station in Boston, where I’d get a bus to the airport, but it seemed there were severe delays and so I wrote off the idea, resigning myself to getting an Uber instead. Shortly before I ordered the uber, however, my friend messaged to say the delay had cleared and so I rushed straight out and onto the T. $2.25 and I was there in less than one hour. An Uber would have cost me $40 and would have spent a long time in traffic. I ha

It makes me laugh now when I think of people saying to me, a guy from Wigan in the North West of England, before I moved, that I’d need to prepare myself for the cold winters of Boston. Boston, compared to England’s north west is like some form of Hollywood dream. I was lying next to the swimming pool in shorts, wearing sunglasses, reaching for the sunblock, as I was watching a football match from Wigan where people were wearing thick winter coats to keep warm. It’s like Halloween… the most terrifying costume I have ever seen is the one that businessmen and politicians wear every day. I see many people dressing up and I am happy for them but I can’t help but wonder if that is them showing their true colours and this makes me ask ‘why don’t you just dress the way you want to every single day instead of just Halloween?’ You’re hiding behind a mask, taking fun seriously. Dead Kennedys, Halloween