Blog
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With two weeks to go.
Two weeks from today I will be heading to the airport to take part in the third of my charity treks. For those of you who follow my blog closely you will know that this year the trek is across over 70km of the Grand Canyon over five days. I’ve never been to America and the idea of this being my in is very exciting. It is impossible to not be influenced by American culture and some of my favourite writers are from the States and wrote at length about their love for the country.
I first signed up for a trek because of Kerouac. Although he became fairly problematic as a person and became a troubled, bloated and alcoholic version of his former self. The version of Kerouac featured in on the road was not the man he was by the time the book was eventually published and hippies and beatniks hunted him down seeking some kind of sage. It doesn’t matter what the man was like, his words will be here forever and his thoughts on the great stretches of America he traveled across as well as his spirituality and understanding of the universe are what remain. That’s what I love and that’s what I wanted to gain from traveling and writing in the way I do.
I’ve been preparing myself physically and mentally. I’m eating well. I’m running a couple of times a week and heading out on lonely treks through the Essex countryside with a thermos and some sandwiches trying to spend as much time on my feet as possible. I tend to fall off the routine for the rest of the year but in the run up to a trek I get ready to emerge myself in it completely. I can’t wait to fly out. It’s one of the things I enjoy the most.
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Tips for freshers.
It hurts to admit but it has been ten years since I was a fresher. I am therefore best placed to give you advice on what to do with the rest of your week/life. There’s something that bothered me about being a fresher. It wasn’t so much that I feared being swirlied (I still fear this, I live in constant fear of this), it was more that it sounds like you’re already the victim of something. That aside, here’s my top tips for making it through and coming out the other side as a reasonable human being.
- Don’t take up smoking to be cool or bohemian.
More than anything this is a cost saving thing. I’m not against smoking although it will cause you any number of problems including death if used for a prolonged period. Cigarettes are really expensive. Even buying tobacco and papers is now out of your price range. If you need to do something with your hands then buy a Rubik’s cube or take up knitting.
2. It’s okay to sleep with nobody and it’s also okay to sleep with everybody.
As long as everyone involved is consenting to it and you’ve detailed your hard limits then go for it. If you want to sit in eating microwave pizza and binge-watching Lost cringing at the thought of contact with another human being then go for it.
3. Don’t even think about the debt.
Unfortunately we are stuck with a government who think education should be for the privileged and your fees are going nowhere my friend. Each month for seven years a slice of my monthly wage has been taken away before I even see it. I’m clear of storecard and credit card debt so I don’t think about my student loan. It’s just one of those things. Chances are I’ll be dead before I pay it off so I’ll be laughing at the Student Loan Company from Hell.
4. Don’t buy a kettle, toaster or microwave.
Every Diana, Blair and Tinky Winky (I’ve based these names on the big stuff that happened in the year you were born if you’re 18 and therefore of university attending age by my understanding) will have been bought a kettle, toaster and/or microwave by their parents (Lyndon and Caroline (again, I’ve based this on the big stuff that happened in the year your parents were born if they were 30 when they had you)). Check into halls and get a feel for the white goods counter before you head to the Value range at Tesco, the Basics range at Sainsburys or Asda.
5. Go to lectures.
Take it from someone who didn’t, it won’t help. It doesn’t matter how hard your hangover hits you at eighteen, it’ll hit you a lot harder at twenty-eight and then you’ll still have to go to work and pretend to do some adulting while sweating out ill-advised jagerbombs while you try to grip a venti something-mocha. Go to lectures and learn. Knowledge is power. She will probably still be there when you get back.
6. Cultivate new friendships but don’t forget those you had before.
You are going to meet a lot of amazing people. I see my friends from university as often as I can. Some of them have got married. Some of them have kids. Some have grown up adult jobs. Some of them still think they’re nineteen. They’re all great. What you have to remember is that you’ll also come home to your old friends and you might even move back home after university so don’t burn those bridges. Keep everyone who is good to you and for you close. You need them.
7. Experiment.
If there’s a time for regrets it is when you are at university. If there is a time to find out what you’re into it is when you are at university. If there is a time to find out what you’re not into it is when you’re at university. If there is a time to assist in finding yourself, it is when you are at university. Kiss a boy (if you’re a boy, or if you’re a girl, again, consent and everything else in point 1), try and start a band, try pilates or kickboxing or crochet or croquet. I kissed a few boys and a few girls, I kissed the Incredible Hulk, I started a band, I tried pilates. Your experience doesn’t have to be the same. You don’t have to do as much or any of those things but work out what you do fancy. Keep your hard limits.
8. Be a cheap bastard – except when it comes to two commodities; toilet roll and binbags.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if you use cheap toilet rolls and binbags you are going to end up putting your finger through it and covering your hand in shit. Buy cheap fruit and vegetables because they’re still fruit and vegetables and you need that shit. Bulk buy pasta and rice because you need cards. Buy cheap bread because how else are you going to make a black pudding sandwich but trust me on the toilet roll and binbags.
9. Get student discount in as many places as you can.
There are websites dedicated to lists of stores and restaurants that give you student discount. Try here, here and here. You will miss that when it is gone. I’ve been fortunate enough to recently start a professional qualification which means I have regained the right to an NUS card and it is fantastic. I’m a discount pimp.
10. Enjoy it.
People are very quick to tell you that certain times in your life are the best years of your life. That’s bullshit. It’s what you make of it and how you categorise it. What I thought I wanted ten years ago is different from what I want now, that goes for both my life and a night out. I rarely want a Snakebite anymore for example. What I will say is that it’s the last hurrah for a lot of people before you have to get a job and commit and do all of those terrible things you’re partly putting off just by going to university so try and enjoy it. If you’re anything like me you’ll spend the whole time thinking about what a great anecdote it will make one day instead of enjoying the moment. Enjoy the moment and trust me on the toilet paper and binbags.
Former me:
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The Stamp Brotherhood is here.
I’m so pleased to be able to announce my new book The Stamp Brotherhood is available on Amazon now in paperback and on Kindle.
I’ve kept the cover under wraps for the longest time and it wasn’t until I saw it in all its glossy glory that I realised how special the work Adam had done on it was. LOOK!
The book will be free to download, along with the rest of my work, for the next five days.
I’m using the hashtag #FreePaulSchiernecker to promote it.
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Newstalgia.
When I was at school people insisted on telling me they were the best days of my life. Not the people I was actually at school with, they were too busy tripping me up, spitting in my hair and trying to dislocate my shoulder each time they walked past me in a corridor, but adults. Those mystical and wonderful creatures with their stale coffee breath and bags under their eyes. “These are the best days of your life, it’s all downhill from here” my dad once said to me, elaborating further on the sentiment. This came from a man I respect not just because he managed to not kill and eat any of his offspring but also because he continues working the same job he has for the last forty years. That’s the kind of commitment that makes me feel dizzy. Being at school were not the best years of my life and nobody ever told me it was okay that I didn’t enjoy the experience. I made friends and I will never regret not knowing how to deconstruct the poetry of Robert Browning but the best days of my life did not take place until much later than my supposed salad days – “Anyone for tennis, bleurrrrghhh!”
I wish people had not told me those were the best days of my life like every single one of them was fucking Bryan Adams because I subsequently felt I needed to detract myself from the situation and look at it with all this misty Wonder Years sentiment thinking constantly that one day it would make a worthwhile anecdote. Maybe that is what provided me with the tools to be such a gifted and handsome storyteller. School is terribly organised bullshit of the highest order and I got a hell of a lot better once I was done with the lot of it. What would have been more useful to me as a growing Schierneckerling is if someone told me how surreal it is for the stuff that happened within your lifetime to suddenly become worthy of being celebrated as nostalgia. 1993 is not history. Don’t try and celebrate it like it was over tweeennnttyyy yeaaarsss aggggoooo. Oh hang on… Ford unveiled the Mondeo in 1993, a stellar year for the future of family rows, especially for us on the confusing roads of France on our way to another static caravan ready for butter to be flicked down its longside (This is a very niche joke that possibly four other people will get but maybe two will read).
What I never realised when I was growing up is that all of the odd little things that happened in pop culture would eventually fade only to come back at me through a number of memes aimed at making me feel terribly old. Diana died eighteen years ago. That’s a whole adult person’s lifetime now. A person born in the same year Diana died can now go into a pub and order gin. That’s the kind of mindpoke I do not need on a Tuesday. Diana’s death hit us all in a way. I remember everything coming to a halt, literally. People didn’t seem to be able to function. It made me question the very nature of existence which is dangerous to do when you’re ten and wearing glow in the dark pyjamas. My folks tried to fob me off with some kind of nonsense about heaven but I was yet to see the Swayze/Moore paranormal porn epic that is Ghost so didn’t believe in such things. What was my point? Oh yes, nostalgia.
If you’re young and using the Internet and my blog as a source of news and light entertainment, well done, I have no doubt you are both young and funky fresh, but this my warning to you, like the ghost of future past but with nicer hair. Don’t let other people bombard you with new nostalgia or newstalgia if you will. Your lifetime is short. In the history of time we have been here for the last second of the last minute of the first day. That’s some Carl Sagan shit I just dropped right there. Appreciate.
It doesn’t matter if you remember growing up watching Hey Arnold or if your diet was solely Panda Pops and asbestos, you’re a person living your life and doing what you can. Make every day your last but don’t cry over the fragility of it all. You can start anything today. You can achieve and be great. Don’t be blindsided by newstalgia and keep on trucking. Just don’t think about Screech from Saved By The Bell’s sex tape.
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The Stamp Brotherhood – teaser trailer
What a beautiful morning in god’s county (Essex). I’ve had my dippy eggs on toast and a mug of green tea and I am excited to reveal the teaser for my new novel The Stamp Brotherhood.
When I wrote The Stamp Collective I thought I was using a lot of myself up. It is no secret that the book is in part based on the relationship I share with my own brothers and anyone close to us is able to identify which of the three Stamp brothers we have become. As I drew towards finishing The Stamp Collective I had an idea for a sequel. There was a lot going on in the lives of the Schiernecker brothers at the time and they were giving me a wealth of new material. I was also so pleased with the reception to TSC that I figured it should continue. I am hoping to get it out as soon as possible and have another travel journal out by the end of the year. Thank you for your support and continued patience and I hope it pays off.
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Secret Cinema presents The Empire Strikes Back
Say what you want about Secret Cinema, and you do, at length, they know how to put on a good show. On Friday I was lucky enough to attend a screening of the down note that is The Empire Strikes Back in a secret location somewhere in our nation’s capital.
Now, a lot of people have said the ticket price could not possibly reflect the event. They said this before the first screenings had taken place and with the wonderful power of assumption. As Under Siege 2: Dark Territory taught us, assumption is the mother of all fuck ups. While it has to be said, if you are looking to Secret Cinema for a cheap night out then you are searching in Alderaan places, the immersive experience they offer cannot be beaten. There were times when I genuinely forgot I was on Earth. I experience this a lot but had barely been drinking at this point.
For nearly a decade there has been one man who is guaranteed to return the correct responses to my quotes and I was lucky enough to have him by my side, in a beige wrap from Topman and a packet of organic seeds. I’m doing my best not to ruin it for anyone who may still be set to go. Cameras are a complete no-no once you are inside and mobile phones are heat-sealed in foil bags to keep tweeting grounded. If you’re a fan of the galaxy far, far away and you want the kind of geeky night out that money can actually buy then it is definitely for you. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
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Judgement Day
Last weekend we were standing in a queue for an ATM in the small market town of Hay-on-Wye. I was convinced to go to the small market town of Hay-on-Wye because it is a pilgrimage for bibliophiles. What is it about the suffix -phile that still makes me feel a bit dirty? I love books. I love every kind of books. Oh my god I’m thinking about books again. I really love books.
We were standing in a queue for an ATM in the small market town of Hay-on-Wye because I was desperate for money for books. It turns out that Powys is yet to catch up on the flash-in-the-pan fad that is card-based transactions. While in the queue, giving the licking of a lifetime to a two scoop from Shepherds Ice Cream Parlour, we heard a woman in the queue behind us comment (loudly) on my girlfriend’s calf tattoo – a calligraphy-looking quote from the (confusing to me at least) world of DragonAge. Specifically, the comment was derogatory towards us but addressed towards her young daughter. “Don’t ever do anything like that to yourself when you’re older” we and the rest of the queue heard her say.
Now I’m all for people saying what they want but only if it isn’t to belittle the appearance of another. There are any number of reasons that people get tattoos. There could be something they are celebrating, something they are covering, something they find inspirational or something they just wanted for the sake of wanting. It isn’t for anyone else to decide whether it is appropriate. Here is my open letter to that rude woman.
Dear rude women in a queue for an ATM in the small market town of Hay-on-Wye,
I do not appreciate your attitude. When I was a young Schierneckerling, my brothers and I were given a series of similar life lessons from mother dearest. She has since come off the boil a tad and now just worries about me getting murked by killer bees in Arizona. She would see someone with a mohawk, someone with a neck tattoo, someone with a pierced nose and instantly condemn them openly to us. She worried we would become a motorcycle gang full of rent boys or something. There are much worse things to be, like a politician. The problem was that each time she pointed one of these people out, someone who had decided to make a mark, stand out, be brave, be different, it only served to warm them to our little hearts. They say girls love a bad boy, well, so did we.
When you (loudly) told your young and highly impressionable daughter that you didn’t approve of my girlfriend’s tattoo, which is neither unsuitable or vulgar to have on display in any way, shape or form, you gave your daughter a way to rebel. One day that little girl will be a teenager and she will be overwhelmed by a desire to do something to royally piss you off, even if you have only ever done well by her and served her food from M&S. I hope she invests in whatever sub-culture is kicking about in a decade. I hope she realises that you’re a fallible human being like the rest of us and can make her own opinion on things.
My brothers and I all have tattoos. They mean something to us. They show where we have come from. Yes, even that one on the back of Edd’s arm of a spider being sick on itself. I’m not going to go into the reason for all of them. I know I have the least (currently six).
We also all have piercings.
We have broken bones.
We have broken laws.
We have made mistakes.All I am saying is that it goes both ways. You have a lot of responsibility as a mother but don’t expect to not have to change. You are going to have to question the things you have thought and your expectations. Your daughter will no doubt do amazing things but that doesn’t mean she won’t be doing it without a bunch of shit pierced through her face.
Peace.
Paul.
Paul Schiernecker 