The Adventures of Dysfunctional Dan

I feel like I disappeared from the real world recently. I ate something very dodgy and ended up pretty ill and I wasn’t with it properly for about four days. I couldn’t eat and that made me feel really weak after a few days. I felt like some sort of zombie in that I was awake but didn’t really have much of a clue what was going on. I was tempted to write a blog post but it would have been the most non-sensical surreal thing I’d ever written so it’s probably good I left it for a week. So today I thought I would discuss being a pedant. Let’s open with a definition. Pedant ,  n:  a person who is excessively concerned with formalism, accuracy, and precision. I think this may describe me. It’s not exactly a popular thing to be but I can’t really help it. I like things to be right and so often, particularly in the meaning and usage of the language, they are not. It’s very frustrating. My frustration mostly comes from idiots on the TV, but it is known to come from idiots in re...

It has been pretty much a year since I started this blog. Admittedly I am about a week too early but for various reasons I have spent a fair bit of time thinking about the past year. So today I thought I’d talk about the last year, blogging and my continuing mission to become a Dan 2.0. A few memorable images from the first year of Dan 2.0 A year ago today I was in Riga, Latvia. Having failed my final teaching placement of my university course my future was in limbo. I could get another teaching placement and try again or drop the teaching qualification and go off and do something else. Although I was having an amazing holiday in Latvia, ostensibly I was there to present my dissertation research at an Student Conference. The content of my presentation was frankly awesome but the delivery was less so. During the conference I heard a lot of people present, all of them trainee teachers, and I found out something about myself. It’s hard to put into words really but I discovered ...

I’ve had to tear myself away from watching Marvel’s  Daredevil  series to write this, which is not an easy thing to do given the quality of it. But I promised to blog at least once a week and so I really must get on and right something. Today I am discussing being an atheist because it’s a subject I have meant to tackle on this blog for some time and haven’t yet. Apparently this is the symbol for atheism. I was amused by how much it resembles the Starfleet Insignia from  Star Trek Firstly, I feel I should first say that I fully respect religion. It’s great if you believe in something and I don’t think any less of people that do. I am not so keen when people try and drag me into their beliefs and dislike it when a religion says some people are not equal, like homosexuals or women, but on the whole I am happy for people to believe whatever they believe. I think there are some common misconceptions about atheists. One is perhaps that they hate religion. Perhaps in...

The nightmares are back. I used to have them as a child but all of a sudden they have returned. They always come deep in the night, late enough for there to be total silence in our little suburb but not early enough to be comforted by the rosy fingers of dawn. Sometimes it’s just an anxiety from the real world, my boss summoning me to her office to tell me how bad I am at my job or something similar. Other times it’s a proper gruesome death, like the many poisoned spears of an indigenous tribe piercing right into my chest. Or sometimes it’s just plain surreal, a figure with a plastic marionette face lurking outside an abandoned train carriage. I don’t really know why my brain is doing this to me. It tricks itself, promising each night that there will be more terrible dreams and then not delivering on its promise. It gives itself a false sense of security. And when it least expects, it conjures up another horror and I find myself waking up in great fear or anxiety. As a child, they...

Today is a day of great historical importance. The 15th March 44BC is known as the “Ides of March” and saw Julius Caesar brutally murdered. Perhaps more significant is the 15th March 1992 when yours truly clumsily entered this world. The fact that I nearly strangled myself in the umbilical chord is probably a good metaphor for my life- trying really hard but ultimately failing without the input of someone else. 23 is an interesting age. It’s the first time I’ve truly felt like an adult. Society dictates the age of adulthood, 18 here in the UK. But for the vast majority of people that’s rubbish. I don’t think you can really call yourself an adult when you are a student. Essentially you are still at school but with an opportunity to make more irresponsible decisions because you no longer live with your parents. It varies for everyone, but I think true adulthood is when you are working full time and in theory could live completely independently. When you Google the number 23 you ...

I am currently enjoying a week off work as it is the half-term holiday. So far I have eaten lots of food and seen some steam trains with my grandfather. That is besides the point. This holiday marks the half-way point of the academic year and my first in the job. It’s weird how things have changed in that time. A sign that reads “Halfway”. Does this really need a caption? Not really, but I for reasons I cannot explain I have written one anyway. You may have decided that it doesn’t need one either yet you continue to read this caption, hoping there is some point to it. There isn’t. Starting the job in September was a really hard experience for me. Having ultimately failed in my mission to qualify as a teacher my self-confidence was at an all time low. I had become even more socially awkward than I was already and I although I had some experience of working with children with special needs I wasn’t confident that I’d do a good job. Things have changed a lot since then. It turn...

It is all becoming a bit familiar. For the fourth time I am sat nervously in the unpleasant waiting room waiting for my driving examiner to appear. For the fourth time my name is called, complete with surname mispronounced. For the fourth time I read a distant number plate and for the fourth time I turn the ignition whilst desperately hoping I won’t mess up. The reversing manoeuvre seems to usually occur early on in the test and I know it is the weakest part of my driving. This time I’m asked to reverse around a corner. I failed my first test on this. Somehow, after a near panic due to some approaching vehicles, I manage to perform the manoeuvre successfully. The driving test continues. The examiner asks me to stop somewhere and turns up the heating, despite the fact I feel like I am being roasted alive. I keep quiet, not wanting to upset the examiner in the slightest. He gives me some directions for the independent driving part of the test and as usual I have to really concentrat...