Vengeance, patience and hope. Mix equally and stand clear.
There is only one action that will drive me to the point where I will go out of my way to level a playing field and make my feelings felt. That comes in the form of being betrayed and lied to my face. The Tiger remained unhinged on his use of social mobility, his use of other guys as if they were drive-through fast food restaurants. This outward expansion of his ego and self-worth were manifested in 1 goal that he saw fit to take advantage of – elections to gain position within the Student’s Union. He was aiming for the highest position available and I knew then it was my time to strike. Since before Christmas I remained reactive only in discussion with close friends regarding what had happened – his name was mud and for them it was no difficult task in gauging why I felt that way. So I enacted a swift and cold line of attack directly at The Tiger in an anti-campaign to his election posters. Within 12 hours and all of £5 spent of photocopies, the posters – not me personally – had found their way into a digitised fish-wrapper of a local tabloid newspaper, twisting and dismembering facts and the story as they went. This was as far I wished to go – getting into the echelons of local paparazzi fodder was not what I wished for. The posters stopped and I awaited the outcry. What there was of one had made its way through the rumour mill and subsequently bared little resemblance to the truth. Close friends to me enquired directly, first with shock that I was willing to do something like this, then after 5 minutes of explaining why and justifying my claims, they settled. I had moved an election from a same-old, off the shelf pace to something with a little more flair and sharper edges. I felt empowered in a way – it was nice to know 1 man could gain a moment in the spotlight without being identified, whilst dealing a blow to an election campaign. Within a week the election results came through and was made clear to The Tiger, not only had he lost, he was now known through the newspaper article and linked to criminality through a court case reported online. He has since made a point of staying off campus and enters only when necessary. A worthy punishment? Nothing is more cold and calculating than deliberate betrayal. He knows to watch his step from now on. A lesson truly learned.
After the dust settled from this heated week of rumour and desperation to be recognised, I turned to my own future and pushed forward on my career path, trying to seek out potential placement opportunities for my 3rd academic year. I’ve applied to half a dozen companies so far and just rolling with them for the time being, as there’s been steady and positive progress from all so far. This will undoubtedly define my future, but for now there are small beginnings.
While other matters go on presently without result (that which I shall undoubtedly explain in my next post), a moment from my past connected back with a thundering impact on my well-being. It’s been 1 year since I managed to source updates on the “Lost Scot”. A Whole New Spotlight had him out of school, losing friends and falling out of favour. I vowed to myself then and 3 years ago, that I would be there to help him when and how ever I could. I have sent the occasional message his way in instant messengers, texts and tried an occasional phone call without response. Part of me felt it was possibly time to accept this would be it – messages of reassurance went out like prayers to a god that never answered. I don’t know why I tried this time; I have heard Neuroscientists explain the brain will make a decision, an action or construct a sentence long before the event or conversation even takes place. I made the conscious decision to call the Lost Scot a couple of days ago while sitting in the radio studio just having a look over various details of major events the radio was to cover in the near future. There I was expecting voice mail redirection but the phone rang. I awaited a diverted call and the usual gentle voice of the messaging system to remind me that the beep noise was there for the start of a message. But the phone rang on. At the time I had music playing from the radio stream in the background and it appeared to get quieter as I concentrated on the dialling tones ringing into my left ear. Suddenly they stopped, there was a pause and a quiet rustle of noise. My heart skipped a beat.
“Hey man, you ok?” came through from the speaker with the quietest laugh. I stammered and for the first few minutes exclaimed my surprise – this was actually him. I excused myself whilst fumbling for the dial to turn down the studio speakers so I could concentrate on the conversation. History had been reconnected to my life. My heart lifted to the prospect; even if this was just one phone call, to the prospect of reconciliation, catch up in the first person sense, reuniting 2 persons that were torn from each other. I nearly cried. I felt pure joy in hearing the Lost Scot’s voice again, just telling me his story and remembering past experiences between each other. We filled up an hour as if 60 seconds had rolled by. As he was 3 years ago, the conversationalist did not falter. We covered family events, current situations, future prospects, and no awkward silences; just us sharing time together. The next day, another hour-long phone call gave rise to more recollections and pouring out of hearts and minds. It was as if 3 years ago was in fact just last week. I have extended a promise to the Lost Scot- his situation worsened – to say I am always on the end of my phone to call whenever he liked. I would be there for support and help in any way I could.
So here I am on a turn in life I was always hoping for, but now it’s here I know to play a gentle game. There is a lot at stake in this reunion of torn souls.