Gordon posted a photo:

nevver:

Sticky

Gordon posted a photo:

Somewhere in my head is a blog post about some things that are, naturally, close to who am I as a person. That blog post will likely be a rambling monologue, discussing depression, sexuality, relationships, and how my view of my world, and the world at large has changed and will continue to evolve.

But I’m still not ready to write it, not sure if I ever will. Such is the downside of being ‘known’, for not hiding myself behind an online persona. There are people who I just wouldn’t want to read what I wrote, not friends or family as they know me well enough. No it is the individuals who would judge, who wouldn’t understand, or who may take my honesty and openness as an invitation to think that we suddenly shared an affinity of some sort through some weird presumption that our experiences are common to one another (they are not).

I don’t make friends easily – I’ve said this before – but I do have many acquaintances. Most of the people I work with I’d consider to be an acquaintance, people who share a small part of my life but who, increasingly (and this is due to either age or seniority, I’m not sure which) I don’t want in the main part of my life. Some of the people I’ve met via this blog, or via Twitter, are definitely in that camp too, I keep my relationship with them firmly in the ‘online’ world.

Luckily I’ve also met some people online who I now consider to be my friends, I trust them and it’s only been recently that I’ve figured out why I am happy to consider some people as friends but not others, and it’s entirely down to my how I was raised by my parents.

Growing up my parents were always keen that I kept an open mind and that I should learn about something before dismissing it. I didn’t always follow their advice, but then parental advice is rarely considered in the immediacy of youth, but as a man I can look back and be thankful for the outlook it has given me. The ability to not judge someone, to at least try to understand – not necessarily agree, people who make that mistake irk me somewhat – is one that I share with those that I consider to be my friends.

What a funny word that is today in this modern world of ours. Friend. I digress.

I’m still more than capable of making bad, snap, judgements but I honestly believe in the following two, somewhat overused phrases “live and let live” and “life is too short”.

Of course this is all easy to say, harder to do.

Last year, towards the end of the summer I realised that I was feeding off the bile and ire of some of my acquaintances (online and off) and I decided I would do my best to, gently, remove those influences from my life. I rarely set out to hurt people, if ever, and whilst I can be selfish and short-sighted at times, there is never any malice in my actions.

But not everyone shares my view of the world, this murky grey mish-mash of emotions, thoughts, desires and wants. And neither they should.

I’m in an open relationship with an amazing woman, I’m comfortable with my lifestyle, happy with my sexuality, and whilst I have depression for the majority of days it behaves and stays locked in its box. None of this defines me, nor allows you to say you know me.

But then – and I’ve said this here before too – those that matter don’t mind, and those that mind don’t matter.

Gordon posted a photo:

suicideblonde:

Angelina Jolie photographed by Brad Pitt

The intimacy, the tiny hand of the whichever one of the twins she’s breastfeeding, the connection between the subject and photographer, there are so many things that make these two photographs beautiful. 

spinals:

LET’S STAY

thefreshaire:

Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Gordon posted a photo:

Final day of a long weekend in London, and no plans at all.

And so it was that Kirsty and I spent a lovely day just wandering about, no real aim at all. We dumped our bags at Paddington left luggage (yes, we included a marmalade sandwich just to make sure) and decided we’d head for Convent Garden. On the way we stopped in this shop and that, had a coffee here, and then we stumbled across Artbox which prompted the following:

So after buying just about all the panda related goods, we meandered some more, walked past Gok Wan and then it was time to head back to the station. A bite to eat and it was time to go home

That said, it was nice to have no plans and just let our feet decide where to go. I do love me a good wander.

As ever I find myself conflicted about London. I love the diversity, the choice, the buzz of the place, can’t stand the sheer volume of noise and people. At present I also have more acquaintances down there than I do in my hometown (although that’s changing) and it does seem a better fit for my lifestyle. Not that I think a move is on the cards just yet but… who knows?

All in all it was a fab weekend. I do love visiting London, and it’s twice as much fun when you get to meet lovely people, and spend it all with a lovely woman (who was a little bit nervous at meeting all these new people but I don’t think it showed!).

(via TheOatmeal.com blacked out in protest of SOPA / PIPA - The Oatmeal)

The hotel Kirsty and I were staying was part of new budget range which is slowly branching out from it’s Asian roots. The service is good, the rooms clean and well appointed but very very small and you pay only for what you want (towels, TV, late check out, even the option of a window is offered as a way of keeping the price down). The room was just big enough for squeeze round the bed and was perfect for a weekend. It isn’t big, or luxurious but as it’s mostly used as a place to sleep it’s definitely somewhere I’d use again.

We had a bit of a lie-in as we discussed what we were going to do, neither of us had anything we were particularly bothered about but having checked a few maps we decided the Design Museum would be a reasonable way to spend a few hours as we were planning to meet up with @jtopper, @lipsticklori and @manda_jones in the afternoon, and my mate Keith (he’s one of those weird people not on Twitter) in the evening. First things first though, breakfast!

The aptly named Breakfast Club wasn’t far from us but we decided to head to the station and see what we could find on the way. Glad we did as we had a delicious breakfast at Foxcroft & Ginger, well worth dropping in if you are in the Shoreditch area. After that we jumped on the train and headed to the Design Museum.

I’ve never been before and, if I’m honest, it was a tiny bit of a let down. Probably more due to the exhibition that was showing (Conran) than anything, I love the idea of the place and there is some fun stuff on the top floor. After that we wandered along the river towards Borough Market, stopping whilst @kittykirstykat bought a new hat and scarf (the wind was bitter on the riverbanks) and then onwards to the market itself.

I knew of Borough Market but, again, had never been. How we managed to negotiate it without buying anything is a mystery. So many delicious looking stalls, covering just about every kind of foodstuff I can think of, the smell alone was heavenly as you wandered along. Passing BBQ stalls, huge pots of soups and ghoulash, enormous wheels of creamy French cheese, fresh fruit and veg stalls, sparkling displays of fish, rich slabs of meat and that’s before we get to the breads and cakes. Food heaven and, in the midst of it all, The Market Porter. Nice little pub made all the nicer by being able to score a table and the arrival of Jon, Lori and Manda.

At this point I’ll only say that beer was had (tasty tasty ale from Devon I think), chats, laughters and other such frolics were partaken of, and tentative plans were made for another trip back to London sometime. We also learned the “on my penis” joke which about sums up the contents of that part of the evening.

Then, all too soon, they were leaving and, as if by magic, my mate appeared! No, he isn’t Mr.Benn.

More drinks followed and then talk of some much needed food prompted a wander back to the tube and back to… The Breakfast Club! Now, I say a ‘wander’ but my mate is 6’4 and is quite happy to motor through the myriad of tunnels and footpaths to be found in the London Underground, so let’s say it was more of a ‘focused charge’. Regardless, after a quick shoogle on the Tube we arrived at our destination. As well as dinner we were, apparently, going to ask to meet the Mayor.

Food was had, more chat and nonsense and, once again all too soon, my mate had to head off leaving Kirsty and I to meet the Mayor. Which we did. If you ever go, it’s probably worthwhile doing the same, or at least asking, he’s not always in…

And then, all of a sudden, it was Sunday.

Gordon posted a photo:

I always enjoy visiting London and I’m lucky that when I do I also know a lot of lovely, friendly, funny, engaging people who I can meet (I’m still trying to fathom why they keep agreeing to it, and can only presume that it’s some form of charity outreach program?). The reason for the trip this time was to catch a comedy show organised by one of those lovely, friendly, funny, engaging people I mentioned. More on that later.

First, a confession.

I’ve become increasingly glib about travel. Rather than stress about every detail of the entire trip I have a much more relaxed approached these days, presuming that each leg of the trip will take care of itself. I may need to revisit this attitude.

I booked our room for the weekend, at a new budget range of hotels called Tune, back in November last year. I knew I had the confirmation email so thought nothing of it until Thursday night when I was checking the location of the hotel to figure out the train journey from Heathrow. I do remember, on Thursday night, thinking:

‘Hmmm, that’s a bit further away from the Theatre than I thought… must’ve been a really good deal!’

And so it was that, after an uneventful flight, a quick train ride to Paddington and then a few swipes of our Oyster cards, Kirsty and I wandered out of Lambeth North tube station, crossed the road and went to check-in at a hotel where they knew nothing of my booking. We checked surnames, booking references and, finally, the address of said hotel.

Yes, that’s right, we were in the wrong Tune hotel. The one we wanted was just off Liverpool Street, which was considerably closer to the Theatre than the hotel were standing in. In my defense, the hotel I had booked has only been open for 3 weeks and didn’t show on Google Maps, hence my confusion… that and the fact I’m a knob, of course.

The show we were there to see was called Comedy Sex and was the ‘baby’ of Zoe Margolis who, according to her tweets, finds it very straightforward and relaxing to organise such an event. Or, you know, the opposite to that… regardless, the night was seamless, the acts were brilliantly entertaining and there was a definite ‘here to have fun’ vibe from the audience. It was all in aid of Brook, the UK’s leading sexual health charity for young people, so kudos to Zoe for pulling it all together for charidee (more on the stellar lineup in a moment).

Before the gig we met up with @miketd and his lovely partner @ktd, @jonnyb, @andrewviner, @stevenixon and @jtopper, a few light ales and some food later (in a rather nice pub called The Harrison) and we were on our way to Bloomsbury Theatre where we got to say hi to @lipsticklori and @manda_jones before the show started (more on those two later).

Not knowing many of the acts other than by name, I wasn’t really sure what to expect but Al Murray proved to be an excellent host, keeping the evening moving along nicely. Standout acts for me were Scott Capurro (tears of laughter!) and Helen Arney, but the calibre on display was excellent, not a dud amongst them: Al Murray, Helen Arney, David Baddiel, Mitch Benn, Scott Capurro, Richard Herring, Robin Ince, Shappi Khorsandi, Matt Parker, Jay Rayner, Kate Smurthwaite and Catie Wilkins. Billed as a “one-off” event, I sincerely hope it isn’t!

Post-show drinks in the Phoenix Arts Club (where we also met @encratica and bumped into @mrangry) was a fun way to round out a wonderful evening of filthy laughter in the company of  lovely, friendly, funny, and engaging people.

As no member of my family has ever said, Ye cannae whack it!

Knackered and at just the right stage of happy/tipsy Kirsty and I gave up about 1.30am, stumbled out into the cold London air and headed back to the (correct!) hotel.

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Kinda wish I was outside rather than in!

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Some bought, most made from leftovers. Slow cooker strikes again!

izb:

Jackie Chan Stunt Demonstration (by JackieChanFanNET)

bohemea:

Milla Jovovich - Marie Claire Russia by Ellen von Unwerth, December 2011

Gordon posted a photo:

It’s going to be a big year for us, both as a company and as a team. We have grand and achievable plans for the product which will mean the working processes for the Publications team will need to change for, as well as multiple streams of work with their own staggered release dates for the product, we are also restructuring our entire information set to improve ‘findability’.

Which immediately prompts a question, how do you improve ‘findability’?

The simple answer is would be ‘in as many ways as possible’ as there is no silver bullet. What may work for some, won’t work for others. However we have to start somewhere and the first thing we can do is restructure the architecture of our information, slimming down the content where possible with an eye to adding new formats of information.

We have already successfully piloted some new formats of information and will continue to roll more of those out for different areas of the product (in essence, these new documents are a high level overview of all the levels of an area of the product, from concept and usage to API implementation), and the signs are that the restructure will go a long way to meeting the needs of our customers.

Having been lucky enough to speak directly to some customers in the latter half of last year, I know that we are on the right path. The challenge will be to keep moving things forward amidst everything else. It’s going to be a busy year and already the analogy is one of a juggler who is keeping things in the air… for now!

The next ISTC West of Scotland area group meeting in Glasgow will take place on Thursday 16th February 2012, from 7.30 pm onwards. Come along to talk about latest news and trends in communication, or just to meet other communication professionals.

The event is free and open to anyone interested in technical communication, such as technical authors, information architects, internal communication professionals, report writers, marketing writers, web content writers and graphic designers.

Venue: Waxy O’Connors pub, 44 West George Street, Glasgow, G2 1DH. Please make your way to McTurk’s Room on the middle level.

If you plan to attend, please sign up for the event at http://www.eventbrite.com/ event/2743613221  to help us anticipate attendance numbers.

Please forward this message on to your colleagues or anyone else who may be interested. For more information, contact westscotland_areagroup@istc. org.uk .

UPDATE: MadCap have provided a licence of MadPak, worth USD 1499, to be raffled amongst event attendees. For more information, see http://www.madcapsoftware.com/ products/madpak/overview.aspx

Gordon posted a photo:

Gordon posted a photo:

Cafe TriBeCa, post night out brunches

Gordon posted a photo:

Gordon posted a photo:

Bunny therapy

bohemea:

Bjork

fuckyeahtattoos:

This is my very first Tattoo, a gift from my father for my 21st birthday. They are Susuwatari (soot sprites) by Studio Ghibli. I’ a huge Studio Ghibli fan and this is the first of many Ghibli tattoos I have planned.

(via The Top 21 Albums of 2011 from 120 Top 10 Lists)

Firstly I’ll admit that I’m starting to feel a bit like a fool. I’ve been close to getting the new ISTC website launched for several weeks now, only for an subtle twist or unforeseen working process to scupper my plans.

I realise now, of course, that what I should’ve done was revisit the usage models of the website and finessed those first, rather than trying to shoehorn a somewhat antiquated set of processes into what is a fairly standard membership model. Oh well, live and learn.

That said, it’s not been the legacy processes that have really slowed me down, “life” hasn’t been particularly helpful either although quite how I’m sitting here in January when I’d hoped to have the new website launched in September last year is beyond me. My sincerest apologies, and please trust that I’m hugely annoyed by these delays.

The main reason for the delay has been making sure the membership functionality work, making sure that the processes for applying for membership, as well as renewing existing memberships, has been tricky, as has considering non-member access. The latter is something that only came to light at TCUK (in Sept) this year, Area Groups are not attended only by ISTC members so the website needs to be mindful of that as it will have, in the future, specific areas for Area Group attendees.

As such, there are essentially five levels of users for the new website:

• Administrators – essentially myself (webmaster) and the team at ASL
• Editors – anyone with the ability to post new content to the website
• Members – access to content for ISTC members only
• Attendees – for those who attend Area Groups but aren’t ISTC members
• Guests – anyone visiting the website that isn’t logged in, or isn’t a member

It’s a more complex setup but in the long run it will make the new website much more flexible. A lot of the ground work I’m doing at the moment is in the background, with the hope that, this year, new features will be much easier and quicker to roll out.

And, just to prove that the new website does actually exist, here’s sneak peek of what will be launching soon: http://46.183.9.143/

Thanks for all your patience.

I’m a creature of habit, of routine. I’m not the greatest at handling change so it has taken me a little by surprise when I realised that in the past few months I’ve made some changes. Mostly based around how I use my computer; I’ve changed my main browser from Firefox to Chrome, dumped Delicious and moved to Pinboard, ditched Remember the Milk for Wunderlist, and I’m currently looking at leaving Flickr and taking (a smaller set of) my photos to a different service, probably 500px.

Elsewhere I’ve been slowly changing things, as well. Trying to find more time to read, making more of an effort to cook healthy meals, doing a little more exercise. A large chunk of the year has been spent, I now realise, in rediscovering myself, finding out more about who I am. A completely honest appraisal of me. It was painful at times, I got a lot of it wrong but now, now it all feels right.

All of these changes have been subtle, and weren’t part of any grand plan other than a general theme of ‘better’, but it seems to be working for the most part and I hope to continue this approach in 2012.

That said, some things didn’t change the way I thought they would as I didn’t do much in the way of writing in any form, either here or anywhere else. I kept a private diary for a while, sporadically still do, and I could blame Twitter, or Facebook, for this but as neither of those are places I would use to publish any form of ‘writing’ I just have to admit that I’ve lost the joy (need?) of publishing. My “social media interactions” have moved on, it seems.

This post isn’t about resolutions, I don’t really do them although there are ‘themes’ for this year but as I’m still getting over the vestiges of my Hogmanay cold I’m not yet willing to admit it’s 2012 proper.

So, for me, 2012 will be about ‘better’ and most definitely about ‘happier’.

2011 was a year of highs and lows. Unfortunately the lows ruled the day but then, without them, I wouldn’t be set to have, what I’m determined will be, an awesome 2012.

fuckyeahtattoos:

Not just anyone has access to my heart.

This was my first tattoo that I got a couple days after my 19th birthday. It’s the most simple one I have, but still my most favorite.

keris:

(via Twitpic - Share photos and videos on Twitter)

fuckyeahtattoos:

Calvin & Hobbes - Yukon Ho!

by Mark at Lady Luck Tattoo in Canandaigua NY

americanshaft:

caught

mattsbrickgallery:

I cannot express to you how much I want this……..NOW!-MBG

(This is a 19”(inch) LEGOMan)

americanshaft:

happy christmas  

Somewhere in a suburban town, in a slightly unkempt semi-detached house, a man, alone in a darkened room, sits hunched over a desk. Spot lit by the desk lamp, he is surrounded by scrunched up balls of paper, broken pencils, the debris of his ailing mind.

He writes.

The dark creeps in, smothering the light and blurring the edges of ..

He stops and with a resigned sigh, once again drives a deep score through the words.

Staring down at the page, the lines and lines of scored prose drive him further toward failure and, with the tiniest of shake of his head, he tries again. He draws the pencil across the paper, the subtle textures vibrating through his fingers, the gentle pleasure that he knows and craves, the kiss of the muse, bittersweet.

He writes of an outing.

Jostling in time to the movements of the carriage, thermos tea sloshing in plastic cup lids, the couple stare out of the window. The morning sun plays on their faces, catching the creases of their smiles. At their feet the picnic basket, laden with food and drink, reminds them of another era, a time neither knew but they are happy to try and recreate, hoping to capture the a notion of those romantic times gone past.

He has a beginning. He leans forward to scrutinise the words, the life breathing on the page. He sits and stares.

And stares.

And stares.

He is lost, directionless after so long without direction.

He looks down at the words, again and again. Are they real? Where did they come from? These are not his, he decides, but stolen, plucked from a place he doesn’t recognise. He is a thief or worse, a fraud. He has long suspected it thus, and with only fragments of evidence to the contrary what else can he be?

He sits back in the chair, defeated. A deep breath. Concentrating on relaxing body and mind. In his hand he still holds the pencil, gently now, forgotten, unforgiven.

He closes his eyes.

With a soft jolt the train slides to a halt. The couple, childlike in their excitement, bustle their way from the carriage and out into the fresh sea air. They rush over the old wooden footbridge, slats creaking and clunking under their feet, and out onto the sand. They’ve talked of this, planned where they will go, what they will do and how they will do it, but that is forgotten as they dash and stumble for the sea in a frenzy of euphoria. Finally they are here in the abandon of the moment.

The gentle scratch of the pencil pervades his thoughts and he smiles as the words tumble on to the page, the pencil drags itself dull as it captures his thoughts, gentle loops, swooping dashes and exclaimed marks. He realises, finally, that he is writing.

And at the same instant, with that self-same realisation, comes the sudden stop. He tenses, hoping he has reacted quickly enough to catch it but he already knows it is lost, gone in the same instant it was created, the flare of the extinguished match. Once more. Again. Again.

The pencil is motionless, the paper remains virgin and untainted by his sordid outpourings.

He sits there a while, gazing at the space before him, the blurred edges of the page, the faint outline of long forgotten words. Time gathers around him and, eventually, the pencil crumbles to dust.

It’s true.

I’ve checked the calendar.

Twice.

It is definitely almost Christmas.

Which means it’s almost the end of the year.

How did that happen?

I’m a bit disappointed that I’ve not yet managed to get the new ISTC website up and running. It’s close, so close, and after a few frustrating weeks of backtracking and replanning part of the implementation (the member database part, quite important that bit!) I now have a clear path forward and will be looking to get it tested (I have volunteers already, more welcomed!) in the next few weeks.

Mind you, the past six months have been hectic but well worth it. We’ve grown our team and have a strong plan of action for the coming year, the challenge will be getting it all done.

So, next year is looking like it will be a good one.

Mind you, still need to get past the next couple of weeks.

“Ying this” said Yang.

His name is Maudlin.

He can’t help it, he did not choose it, it was given to him.

He is drawn, like a vivid butterfly daubed with life, to the dark and raging volcano. Blinded and burnt as it approaches, seared wings fizzle and disappear until nothing is left. Life dies and is swallowed. Another carcass to feed the fire.

How dramatic, how fake, how very plastic. How very teenage angst. What a fool, what a coward, hiding once more.

But he loves it, the dark places, the hollows with their scratched and bloody walls, the tortured souls still roaming. Echoes of his life resonate, each noise taunting and prodding, ripping at skin with tattered claws. He pushes on, his blood oozing to the surface and adding to the stains on the floor.

The pain isn’t new, it’s the constant itch that he ignores, the softly beckoning voice that he pretends not to hear. Most of the time.

He knows how to get to this place, the path is wide and well-trodden, the signposts clear, freshly painted as ever. He chooses this path deliberately, knowing that once on it there is nothing but forward. Willingly he pretends to pause, pretends that once he has looked this way he has an alternative but he knows it not to be true. This path is chosen by glance and once seen, all other roads vanish, there is nowhere, only here.

Her name is Light.

She doesn’t know it, not yet. Occasionally she’ll turn and see the reflection, dazzling spots in her eyes. She will catch herself and wonder. Mostly she thinks she is darks and greys.

She questions everything, trusts slowly. Fear shimmers in her wake, a shadow of paranoia that is slow to loosen, that taps taps taps on her shoulder until she responds. She is learning to ignore it.

All the while she dazzles.

Like most she has scars, skin deep and raw. Some are healing, she is applying the plaster, taking the medicine, dealing with the pain, yet others remain to remind her she is perfectly flawed.

Translucent, blinding, and more powerful than any sun, she highlights every ripple, every ragged edge and subtle curve. She is learning this and more, learning that the very thing she rarely sees is what lets her see it all, that her brilliance only needs a lens, a clear view, to be the beacon she desires. The guiding light.

Together they are one. They cancel each other out. They amount to everything. Ironing irregular creases to mark their place.

She helps light the way. He knows which paths to avoid.

They are single. They are unified.

Exclusive.

Free.

Sent with Writer.

A product release is imminent.

A trip to visit two customers in the US of A.

Ongoing complications with the new ISTC website (soon, soon!).

Planning for 2012, including a major restructure of our content.

Actual writing some documentation (a rare occurrence!).

Plus all the usual things that life is wont to throw at us.

Maybe look for me on Twitter instead?