Luke's an Auld Dog

Luke, nearly 35, lives in Dublin, works in tv land, and generally has more than enough side projects to keep him busy (bio by Q).

I used to want to live in the future when I was a kid. Maybe it was because at the time, the present was the 1980s. Maybe it was because I was a geeky kid with braces on my teeth and I felt things had to get better than watching my brothers kick ass on the rugby pitch and studying trigonometry for the Inter Cert. Well, things did better. And now I feel like I do live in the future. Though there's a distinct lack of jet-packs to get to work and silvery androids to do the hoovering, it's actually pretty good. This internet thing is deadly. This country is no longer full of mad bombers and psychopaths (well actually it is, but they do considerably less mad bombing than they used to). Flying to Paris for €20 is pretty good too.

From what I can tell, talent is not the most important thing if you want to get somewhere in life. There are two things you need if you want to succeed - luck and desire.

Experts on the TV are not experts. They are people who are willing to go on the TV. Most real experts couldn't be bothered.

I must have had ten different beards at this stage. I worry that this is a sign of confusion about myself.

I worry a lot. At least, I am today as I'm writing this. In fact I'm worried what people reading this will think. But not enough to not post it. You could call this neurotic narcissism I suppose.

Some days I'm just carried along on an unstoppable wave of positivity, possibilities, bonhomie and bad jokes. Today is not one of those days. By the way, the word positivity is not in the Microsoft Word dictionary. Figures.

It seems to be the done thing to give your opinion about the world in this Auld Dog yoke, but I don't really feel I have anything interesting to say. And when it comes to global affairs I'm beginning to prefer people who have interesting opinions rather than correct ones.

Speaking of which, is George Bush so bad? I can't help thinking he's probably not, but he is surrounded by people who are genuinely evil.

I keep talking about moving to London. I've been doing it for five years and I still haven't gone.

I love blogs but I couldn't be bothered to have one myself.

It never ceases to amaze me how little logic I apply to the various situations and challenges that I come across in life and how difficult it is to get any perspective on them.

I'd like to punch Ricky Gervaise in his Ricky Ger-Face. (He looks like my mate Gerry BTW. And no, I don't want to punch Gerry's face).

I think one of the big problems with men is that they can't talk to their friends about their emotional difficulties. I think one of the big problems with women is that they can.

I have a terrible habit of trying to get somewhere in my career and then when I get there, to start looking around for something more interesting. And I don't mean the next rung up, I mean the next ladder across. It's like a sort of lateral ambition. Lambition?

Is it more important to enjoy life or to leave a lasting legacy? I don't know, but right now I'm tending towards the former.

I distinctly remember the last night of my twenties as crushingly depressing. But once I turned 30 things perked up. I'm 35 this year. Feels like it might be a big deal.

I have a job where I never have to wear a suit. But bizarrely, I end up wearing a "uniform", artfully scruffy clothes that scream "this is the job I do". It's a bit annoying, because I don't remember making a conscious decision about this. It seems to have just happened.

I hate when people tell me they are "trying to write a book/be an artist/make a film." Either do it or shut up about it. By the way, I'm trying to write a book at the moment.

I like my laptop too much. I show it to people who visit my house. It must be so boring for them.

Auld Dog is an intermittent column on this blog, which offers the collected wisdom of an individual for the rest of us to ponder. If you want to be an Auld Dog, send 600 - 700 pearls of wisdom, with a bio and a photo to Queenie, or I'll write it, at auld.dog@gmail.com