Thought this was rather interesting. Didn’t know one tattoo could mean so many things to one person!
It’s an illustration of ’Waiting for Godot’ by Samuel Beckett I once found on the internet. One of the main ideas within the Theatre of The Absurd is that they have an existential view of life, that is they consider this life to be the only life we’ll ever have and things like the afterlife they consider to be fabrications. Like Sartre once said, it’s funny how every human being is characterized by fear, the moment he starts realizing they have been put on the earth and life is not endless they hopelessly wait until death comes for them. The ‘have a little faith’ refers to the possibility of Godot representing God (although Beckett himself denies this). Still, it is likely to be so, since Beckett insisted on the fact that the play should be pronounced GOD-ot and not god-OT. My grandma always taught me to believe, to believe in the fact that we will see the ones we love and lose again, in one way or another. That’s why ‘have a little faith’ is tattood beneath the picture, you do have to have a little faith that something such as God exists. The other meaning of ‘have a little faith’ applies as well on my tattoo. Just like my mother, I always look at a matter optimistically: ‘don’t worry, be happy’ in some sort of way. Furthermore, Beckett was English-speaking but also wrote in French, which are the 2 languages I study. In the absurd plays of those time, many improbable and often ridiculous things are bound to happen. This characterizes me as well, laughing about all sorts of nonsense, which makes me happy. I could have also put the tattoo on my left arm, but then Estragon would have been walking towards nothingness, now he’s leaving and walking towards my heart or my soul.
So every year my mates and I make our way to Bristol, where one of the lads is stationed for university and one of the lasses we are good friends with is also stationed (and also for university). It’s always around the 4th March, as that’s the lass’s birthday, and it’s always at a weekend. Now admittedly we’ve only been once on the 4th March before (2011), but we did go, however, in October, 2010 for a weekend to see the lad. Both times have been absolutely phenomenal. Brilliant banter occurred and we all had an absolute great time wasting £50-£60 on a night and day of mayhem.
My question, however, is whether Bristol is a place of fun-filled dreams or a place of embarrassing nightmares. The dreams come around when you’re having the time of your life with your mates and drinking your health away and going clubbing. You couldn’t be in a happier place, even if you dropped some acid. The nightmares come the morning after, however. You wake up feeling as rough as sandpaper and with the stories of last night to put together. The nightmare that relates to me is now infamous: I managed to take a lass back to her room by midnight on the first Bristol trip. All was going well. I was getting lucky. Then it happened. I went for the plunge and I couldn’t get it up. The Flop had been cemented in history. Now I could have gone back the morning after and told the lads I had sex, but nay, that was not to happen. While very drunk I texted one of the lads about the occurrence, and he preceded to read it to everyone within hearing distance. Never has that moment been forgotten by my friends, and never shall it be - the banter is too great.
Other people have had their nightmares on nights out too, particularly in Bristol, but that is for them to disclose at their will. To sum up really I guess what I’m trying to say is that although nightmares have occurred in Bristol, the fun we have is always brilliant. The nightmares are good fun, and the dreams are awesome. And of course, my mates are incredible to spend time with.
This is a random and probably poorly written post, but I’m so excited that I thought I’d get it down. For do you know what date it is? It’s the 24th February, 2012.
I am one week and one day away from being in Bristol. It’s that time of year again.
Bring it on.
So last night and this morning I was feeling a bit crap. I hadn’t slept well in two or three nights due to a lack of exercise (entirely my fault) and had felt generally low. I woke up knowing I was going to change that today. Tonight I would go to British Military Fitness (BMF). It’s a thing I do in the local park - a group of you are taken by an ex-military instructor and you jog, do physical exercises alone and in groups and generally feel good for working out. It gets you pretty fit if I’m honest! I also told myself I would do the reading for tomorrow’s seminars - something that is yet to be achieved, but shall be achieved nonetheless.
Stepping out of my halls was what put me in a top mood, however. It’s only 15C or so here in Leicester, but the Sun is shining like crazy and it’s been the first day with no coat or jumper in a long while. Beautiful weather like this is what gets me up in the morning. I feel more alive than ever, as I feel I am at some sort of cross roads in life. I feel I’m at a now-or-never stage. I’m going to go with the now.
Life is good. Peace ☮
Oh yeah, and my mum is moving into a house with a swimming pool…
It’s the simple things in life…