Et Enfin...

Well well well... After months of procrastination and reading the blogs of a couple of friends, I have finally broken the mental barrier, clicked through a few web pages (far less complicated/ time-consuming than I imagined it would be), and here it is: my paltry offering, my primitive psychotherapy, my techno-diary... Thoughts, feelings and stories articulated - sometimes, I imagine, with a sense of self-congratulation (that my powers of articulation have not yet deserted me, despite the apparent intellectual void in my life since I left University), sometimes relief, sometimes dissatisfaction at a lack of any perceptible resolution - then thrown out on to a pavement in some remote part of cyber space to be judged by a priviliged few, most of whom will know me anyway (and to whom the URL will be given with the safety net of a full expectation that they also know me well enough to understand my sense of humour, background, inconsistencies etc.), the rest of whom can judge as harshly as they wish...

Before I begin though, I'd like to clarify a couple of things about this blog and how I intend to use it:

Milkybar Monkey
The title of the blog is a homage to Señor Chocolate Monkey, who partly inspired this blog. Alas, he has left our fair city for Brussels and I am now living in his old room. There is also another Chocolate Monkey blog [for which the link is now dead] by a young lady in Michigan. CM told me about this blog while I was visiting him in Frankfurt and I was playfully dismissive, but having read the blog I am inclined to agree that she sounds pretty cool (whatever that means... although her AIM chat with her ex boyfriend's ex was pretty fucked up). Furthermore, like the other two, I was also born in 1980, the year of the monkey. Why Milkybar? Partly out of alliteration, partly as a reference to CM.

My Identity
A tough one... I have decided to call myself Ben on this blog, mostly due to the fact that it is my name, but also because I can't be arsed with unnecessary secrecy. This isn't a jibe at CM (I've discussed it with him) or anyone else for that matter, that's just what I've decided. The initial dilemma was this: what if, for whatever reason, someone I know accidentally stumbles across this and reads something they shouldn't? Solution: don't use my real name. BUT, this doesn't really solve anything - a name is an obvious identifier, but anyone who knows me will eventually be able to work out who I am based on what I write about. I say: fuck 'em, I refuse to be censored... It's only a what if, so I'll deal with any consequences as and when they arise.

Long Sentences
There will be long sentences: if you can't follow them, that's something I can live with. I remember being warned as a teenager about using long sentences. I also remember being told to never end a sentence with a preposition, which I just did. This actually backfired in a recent job interview, because I ended up correcting myself, blushing and looking like a bit of a pompous prick. Anyway, I'm boring myself here. I had a point to make about the inevitable element of arrogance that comes with a privileged education, but I've almost lost the motivation to move my fingers...

Rambling
Again this is something I'm prone to, when given the chance. I guess another reason for me writing this blog is that I sometimes feel that I don't get the chance to talk about me enough. My family and many of my friends will insist on taking up great chunks of time telling me about "what happened at work today", "what I've bought and why I bought it" and other mundane aspects of their life, albeit nicely-dressed in superlatives and exaggeration - I generally sit there as a passive bullshit sponge, and when they remember to ask about me I like to think that I'm considerate enough not to bore them to the brink of daytime television: I briefly summarise and shrug my shoulders. Anyway, I wouldn't feel comfortable discussing what's on my mind with some of them - you have different types of friendships with people: some friends are good for making you laugh, others make good drinking partners, while only a few are good to talk to... A related point here is that I don't have a significant other in my life with whom I can share my agonies and ecstasies. I haven't had that simple pleasure of a steady girlfriend for over two years now - flings are ok, but a bit like I used to find the food at McDonald's (I don't eat there as a general rule since the recent enlightenment of my young adulthood): a passable treat which essentially doesn't satisfy. I think they call this loneliness. More to follow about my pitiful sexual strategies (the mere fact of me consciously having them is so contrived it sickens me), successes and failures, but I think that that will be all for now. I have to go - I've just got back from a couple of days at our Birmingham office (where I wrote most of this), it's now Friday night and I've got dinner and drinks vaguely planned.