The all new life and times of me.

Happy New Year folks. It’s time for those pesky New Years resolutions. A time to reflect on the stuff we need to do to improve our lives. What will it be this year? Shed some weight? Exercise more? Be a better person? Get a new job? I’ve thought about all these options as perfect ways to improve my life. If I lose some weight, I’ll miss not being able to have my gut hold open a book when I reach for my peanut M&M’s. Exercising more would be good, but I’m pretty fit. I do a 40-minute walk to work every day and try to be as physical as possible whilst doing my job. Throw a bit of wii fit and the occasional five-aside football game into the mix, and you have a Marky that’s still hard as nails at 35.

So, to one of the most poignant ones, find a new job. How I would love a new career, a new adventure in my life that didn’t involve selling metal cladding for the Devil. I’ve been looking for a new job for the last two years, and as you can imagine, it has suddenly got harder to find work because of the credit crunch. This time last year, I was offered a job in the bank, but I didn’t take it because again, it’s not what I wanted to do. A bit of an asshole thing to say as there are loads of people who would love to have work, but can’t get it. Nevertheless, I have to be true to myself. I never wanted to end up selling metal cladding to half the gangsters in Glasgow for a guy that enjoys sectarianism, nepotism, tax fraud and lying about mostly everything. I wanted to be an artist. Not just an artist, the biggest artist to come out of Glasgow. I had some small success during Glasgow’s year of architecture (looking up to Glasgow). I got myself an exhibition and some recognition for one of my pieces, an ink sketch of George Square unbelievably. I’d spent a day with a fountain pen drawing it, using a cross-hatching technique. It was really a filler piece because my work was a bit light, but a couple of upper class types loved it, and it was then transferred to a display for looking up to Glasgow, in The Modern Art Gallery. I then sold it for £500 later that year. Cha-Ching!

It all went down hill from there, artistically speaking. My art wasn’t selling; I put it on hold so that I could concentrate on feeding myself and putting a roof over my head. My new art was finding a job and quick. Eight years later, I find myself completely without inspiration when it comes to picking up a brush. I still sketch things, the cat, Shona, anything that stays still for longer than five minutes, but it’s getting less and less every year. I’m thinking now, after the death of my old neighbour, that it would be nice to keep the painting until I’m retired. Something to throw myself into and keep me active, you know the kind of thing, bit of travel, bit of painting, nice. So, where does that leave me you ask? Right back where I started I guess, looking for a new job that’s worthwhile and enjoyable. I will get there. I know that. I’ve always been strong whatever life throws at me, and I will continue to be so. Celtic blood flows through these veins.

That leaves me with being a better person this year, which I suppose what this post is really about. From now on the life and times of me will be about my life, and less about Blessed and the Daily Mash ect, ect. I intend to be honest about every aspect of my life from birth. Not to the point you can empty my bank account, but true to myself and to you the reader. However, don’t fret you-tube lovers, I’ll still be throwing up the odd visual/audio tit-bit to emphasise some point or another. This neatly brings me to this little gem. I dedicate it to my art, I know yer there pal, I’ll come out to play soon, I promise.