The Easter Bunny –Rabbit Exposé

So it’s almost Easter, the Christian Religious festival that celebrates the resurrection of Christ. In the interest of avoiding the topic of religion (primarily because it’s a potential minefield), I thought I’d instead do an exposé on the Easter Bunny, the rabbit behind the legend if you like. 

Now I would have thought it would be fairly easy to track down the roots of this fuzzy, semi-cute, sometimes chocolate, egg delivering, child friendly, rabbit effigy. I’m sad to report it’s not, in fact I’d go as far as saying it was a bit of headache. I tried my normal research method, Google followed by Wikipedia, and then broaden your sources once a bit of background information has been acquired. Wikipedia in this instance let me down, and other sources of information proved both unreliable and at best vague.  I was going to try and club together, some half facts, and general hearsay to produce a semi-historical version of events which would give the briefest of backgrounds to the Easter Bunny. However, I have found the lack of real evidence and valid sources so overwhelming I have instead, with the help of one my colleagues, created an entirely fictitious story and version of events of which I have catalogued below (by the way if you are genuinely interested in the Easter Bunny, I found this interesting).

So where to begin? The start always seems an appropriate place, and that in this case is 1920. America, Chicago to be exact. Prohibition is in full flow (unlike the booze) and Al Capone is head of the criminal underworld. The Easter Bunny at this time was not known as the Easter bunny but instead the less glamorous John Taylor. John started working for Al Capone as a runner. His Hare like speediness helped him to rise quickly through the criminal ranks. On Easter Day in 1924, he helped pull off a train robbery near Illinois. Four brothers from Texas were credited with the robbery; however, John had a hand in the planning and execution, although the exact details of his involvement are sketchy at best.  Sadly it wasn’t quite as big as the British Great Train Robbery which happened significantly later in 1963, but the upshot being that retrospectively speaking John’s achievement was overshadowed. Anyway, since then John has been known as John ‘The Easter Bunny’ Taylor. After the capture and incarceration of Al Capone, for tax evasion in 1931, the Easter Bunny moved to Europe, choosing a fresh start and a University course in creative dance instead of the mob. This was where he met the tooth fairy and quickly the two became friends. Following graduation both fairy and bunny found it difficult to gain employment, partly because of the political storm brewing over Europe and partly because neither was very good at creative dance. In desperation and out of financial necessity the tooth fairy hatched a highly lucrative, but highly illegal plan. The Bunny would supply irresistible chocolate eggs (no one really knows why eggs, after all, neither of them were chickens) to children and the fairy would collect the decayed and superfluous teeth which would shortly follow consumption.  The teeth would then be sent to black market traders and used for decorating gothic ornaments.  The plan worked like a dream and since the late 30’s the fairy and bunny have been rotting and collecting teeth in unison. And that is that. 

When is it time to give up on a dream?

Hello again, and slightly surprisingly for the second time this month! Having gone through a period of writer’s block at the beginning of the year, it would now appear that the flood gates are well and truly open. “Goodie”, I hear you say, albeit with an undercurrent of sarcasm.

This time I want to touch on something I may well have done before (and no, not a stranger’s knee): dreams. Not the lucid, vivid ones that involve fluffy clouds and sheep, but instead the aspirations of the soul. Now, I’ve written previously on the dreamer, and in summary I generally support them, but as I was walking home this evening, in the rain, wind and dark (just trying to set the mood) I positioned my thoughts on my own aspirations in life. In an act of shameless self-promotion I must say that the idea of dreams struck me as a good topic and one on which to end the final chapter of my impending book. Yes that’s right, there is a book on its way and unlike my previous ventures into the world of literature this one will be available, at least in some capacity, to the outside world. However, more on that over the summer once I’ve actually finished writing it. The events of today made me question myself and my own dreams. I’ve often contemplated whether this whole writing malarkey will really lead anywhere, but today I’ve really questioned it. Which makes me ask the obvious question: when is it time to give up on a dream?

During the course of my day job, I have good moments and I have bad moments. I don’t suppose I am unique in that. Sometimes I actually convince myself I’m rather good at what I do, and then other days it is unequivocally transparent that I’m not. I say this with complete honesty and I think it stems from the fact that, although I can do my job, most of the time I don’t really want to be doing it. I doubt I’m unique in that either. The point is, that sadly this type of attitude is not very productive, neither for myself or for those I work with or for. The negativity stops progression in my role and realistically I have no-one but myself to blame for that. So why then am I negative, why am I resistant, why don’t I commit to my work? It’s hard to say, but most likely it’s because I don’t believe this is what I’ll end up doing. It’s probably worth pointing out at this juncture that, although my heart’s not really in my job, I do work hard. I just don’t work longer or harder than I have to. Not any more anyway.

When I was student, particularly during my Masters degree, I wanted to succeed. I woke up in the morning early, I’d roll a cigarette, get a cup of coffee and, hangover or no hangover, I’d trudge to the library to read. Real books and everything! I’d force myself to stay there until the evening, writing up notes, reading the core and peripheral course material. But why? I know exactly why now: I wanted to learn. And I think that thirst for knowledge will be with me for the rest of my life. Following my Masters I came to London and started working for a legal firm. I worked long days for little money, and the prospect of success and progress was dangled over me like a carrot over a donkey. After a while I came to realise two very important things. Firstly, that no matter how hard I worked at that job, or others like it, I’d never achieve what I had striven for all those years. I didn’t enjoy the lifestyle or the job, but loved the pressure and the illusion (because that’s all it was) of success. I thought that because I worked in an expensive suit in a tall glass building that I became a better person. I didn’t. Secondly, and probably more importantly I realised that even if I did finally make the money and climb to the heights I desired, some things would have to be sacrificed, most notably my time and values. These are two things I would never give up and in the end I realised this and left the organisation. In this case I knew the dream no longer existed; the fire and passion were both well and truly extinguished.

When I was a child I dreamed of being a footballer (among many other things). Now, anyone who has played football with me will know how hilarious that is. Hand on my heart I am a disastrously bad sportsman, about as gamely looking as Peter Crouch but sadly without the talent. That was however a harder dream to put down. I knew I would never be good enough, but it was something I wanted so much.

Looking back on both experiences I can say without hesitation that had I carried on working with the same mental conviction I had started with for the law firm, I would have made a ‘success’ of myself. However when I left, that dream had lost its veneer. It no longer appealed. On the contrary if you ask me if I’d like to play football for a living I would snap your hand off for the chance. I am course speaking metaphorically. I’m not an aggressive man.

My point is this (and apologies for taking almost one thousand words to make it): sometimes you really do have to give up on your dream(s). If I had continued to play football in the hope of making that my profession, I would have simply ended up wasting my time. Perhaps I would have gotten fit, which would have been nice, but other than that nothing would have happened. It’s a little like those contestants from the X-Factor, who are so deluded they believe they can sing. No amount of trying will ever make up for their hopeless lack of talent.

So am I saying I’m giving up writing? Of course not. The very fact I am writing my second article of the month should shoot any such whisperings from your lips. However, what my March evening stroll has helped me to come to terms with is that sooner or later I am going to have to commit to this dream or forget it. Being at work all day wishing to be somewhere else is not healthy, definitely if you don’t have the courage to act upon it. It makes you a worse employee and more importantly an unhappy person. Sooner or later you have to get up off your arse and do something, or stop talking about it and get on with living a life of corporate servitude. A life like that is not so bad, and if done happily, or at least more willingly, is a lot more fulfilling than one of hopeless dreaming and unrealistic ambition. I guess the important thing is dive into whatever you do, whether it’s filing, banking, stacking shelves, cleaning windows, whatever, with as much energy and enthusiasm as you can muster. The output is bound to be better. Sooner or later, if nothing comes of it, I’m sure I’ll hang up my pen. Don’t ask me exactly how, where or why, I’ll hang it; the logistics haven’t been ironed out and hopefully they’ll never need to be. But for now let me say that that day feels a long way off.

The Dating Game

This month I have donated a considerable amount of mental energy towards thinking about love, life, the universe and everything. Yes, that is a reference to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Sadly, my cognitive capacity has been somewhat blocked up over the past six weeks and as such I have not really achieved much. Scrap that, anything. Instead of being productive I have been introverted, introspective and frankly a little bit mopey. Why, you ask? The same reason any man is a bit mopey: because of a woman. What, you need more? Okay fine, I’ve been a tad bit heartbroken. Please note the inclusion of the word "tad". This is a deliberate insertion, and is an attempt to keep some dignity whilst baring a little bit of myself (perverts among you please discard mental images of me flashing a nipple). At this point I feel I need to make clear that if you are looking for graphic details about this situation, you’re going to be disappointed. That type of intimacy has never nor ever will be part of this blog, and more than that I have too much respect for said person to discuss any details in such a tacky and revealing way. After all I don’t work for Nut magazine. Yet. However, luckily I have no such constraints about revealing my own flaws, weaknesses and failings so let me continue.

Now, I’ve spent most of the last six or so weeks in a pretty dark place, primarily at the business end of an alcoholic beverage. When I finally came to about a week ago, three things initially became apparent; I made three discoveries if you will. Firstly, three-day-long hangovers do exist. Secondly, three-day-long drinking binges are expensive. And finally, a discovery that only really came when I was too skint to continue with the drinking, ‘Drinking doesn’t actually help’!

Now, as mentioned I don’t want to get into specifics but I have talked to a lot of friends over the past few weeks. They have been understanding, considerate and even, when required, stern, but all in the interests of digging me out of my current slump. Thank you friends, I am pleased to announce that I am now at least on the right track once more.

Conversing with my peers helped me to appreciate more fully the commonness of heartbreak. At the time that didn’t help. In fact it felt as though it trivialised my own emotions. In retrospect it’s been useful.

Remember the first time you ever, ever got dumped? Sure you do. It may be buried somewhere deep down but you remember. At the time you thought you’d never like anyone as much ever again, right? How could you, after all, that first person was special. Well yes they were, but only until the next, more special person came along to replace them. Now depending on how young you were, and are, you probably realise that last statement was a cosmic simplification of emotion but there is an element of truth in it. I remember my first love, my real first love, I’ll never forget them, but I don’t pine after them any longer. After all, life goes on, and whether or not you really like it you’ll get dragged along with it. Well hopefully you will anyway. Anyway I digress. What I want to do with the remainder of this month is impart some useful tips, tip-bits if you like, in case you find yourself in a similar situation.

First up let’s address standard breakup practice. At least one big weekend is a necessity. However, constant drinking is not healthy or useful. I know I’m right, you know I’m right, I know I’ll still do it, you’ll probably still do it but needs to said. Enough said.

One night stands are not a good idea if you are feeling vulnerable. They tend to go hand -in-hand with the heavy drinking, however if you are upset, really upset, they will not make you feel better. Momentary gratification is exactly that, short lived. On a more practical note, so I’m told, this is a sure fire way to lose accessories, and disposable items of clothing, such as scarves, hats, gloves and jewellery (sometimes even underwear). Many such item has been left behind in the act of the rapid morning ‘escape’, or so I’m led to believe.

Do not listen to acoustic guitar music or love songs. I have no idea why people do this, and when I say people I am of course referring to everyone because at some stage we have all stuck on the most depressing music imaginable after a breakup. How stupid is that. Seriously, it’s ridiculous and to what possible end? It’s never going to make you feel good, is it? No it’s not, It has the same logical merit as giving a gun to someone on suicide watch.
Don’t read or watch romantic comedies, they are the equivalent to lifestyle and fashion magazines for timid, ugly, poorly dressed people (I am aware I have slightly manipulated and plagiarised Baz Luhrmann). Some stimulus, at distinct points in your life, can be rather detrimental. This is one of them. They pamper to people in love, not the depressed or upset. Let’s be clear: Hugh Grant is not real. Okay, he’s real but he’s not Hugh Grant, not really. Fiction is exactly that and I personally, when I’m upset, cannot always distinguish the difference.

Do not imagine your ex with someone else. If you do, you will go mad. They will (as will you) at some point see someone else. Just don’t think about it, it doesn’t help. This is one of those rare moments where sweeping something under the metaphorical carpet really does the job.

Do not check Facebook for a while. If you insist on doing so make sure you unsubscribe from your ex’s updates otherwise you’ll probably see pictures, status updates and chat you don’t want to. Remember this though: anyone can make themselves look happy and amazing in a picture. I’m sat at my laptop now, but if I took a picture, smiled and maybe brushed my hair it could make a vaguely presentable image, one that doesn’t exist. Facebook is evil for the newly single. Best not to check it.

Accept it‘s over. This is the most important thing in any breakup. Thinking there is a chance of getting back together does not work. It hardly ever happens and thinking it makes it impossible to move on. One day it might do, but you wishing it to do so will not increase the odds of that occurring. Space helps.

Now there are a lot of don’ts above, so I thought I’d end on some positives, some things to do, no more do-nots. Get out of the house. Explore your city. Do the things that make you happy. Go to a theatre, go to a cinema, go to a museum, a gallery, a restaurant, a sports game. Spend time with old friends, make new friends. Read books, watch films, paint, write, run, walk, cycle and, if you can, travel.

As always this has been a self serving, demi-rant which I’m very grateful you have taken time out to read. Thank you and feel free to share anything you have to add.