I'm wiped. Two more crazy days at work to go then I get a well deserved break. I'm ready for it. Today I have no energy to take Ziggy out for a proper walk so I'm shipping him off to mum's for the night so he can play with Jess and Judy. He should hopefully arrive back to me tomorrow completly shattered. I did take him for a walk to the shops and on the way back we bumped into a couple of little boys and their dad. The older of the two, who had hair the same colour as Ziggy's, bent down to pet him. The two boys chatted away to me for a minute and their dad told me they were all going to get their hair cut. They told me they had a wee dog too, called Archie. Then we said goodbye and the older boy and his dad walked on up the street while the younger boy hung back and said:
"And,and...do you know what?"
"What?"
"Sometimes," He said, his eyes twinkling at the opportunity to tell me something amazing, "Sometimes my dog gets wee bits of pooh stuck around his eyes!"
Then he ran off down the street so pleased with himself that he'd told me the most interesting thing in the world. And, you know what, it was, at least, the most interesting thing I'd heard all day. I also had a moment in work today that brightened it up for all the wrong reasons. A woman walked by and, following behind, was her 10 year old son. He was wearing sandy coloured trousers with a light blue shirt tucked in. He had blonde hair that was mid length and styled in a "do". As he walked behind his mother he held his hands up in a mock strangling motion and his face contorted in abhorrance. Clearly he had been brought up to understand the true meaning of Christmas.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
Immersed In A Fickle World
She wakes up at 7:00 am. The alarm clock radio's playing 'Let It Be'. She peels herself out of bed and makes her way to the kitchen. After coffee and toast she takes a shower.
She gets out of the shower and dries her hair. She looks into the mirror and applies a thick layer of foundation to her face. She rubs it in evenly, taking great care to blend it in around her jaw line and the creases of her nose and chin. She smoothes it over with pressed powder.
She fishes inside her make-up bag wondering what colour eye shadow to wear. She chooses a dusty pink to compliment her blue eyes.
She takes her eye liner and applies it gently to the top and bottom of her eye lids. She brushes mascara lightly off her lashes, tainting them black. She uses gloss to colour her lips and, to finish, she powders her cheeks with blusher.
She grabs her handbag and house keys from the kitchen table. Taking one last glance in the mirror, she opens the door and walks down the garden path, through the gate...
At 7 O'clock his alarm goes off. He climbs out of bed and wakes himself up with a shower. He spends half an hour soaping, lathering and rinsing. Soaping, lathering and rinsing. Over and over again.
He gets out of the shower and puts his clothes on. He splashes aftershave on his neck and rubs gel through his hair.
He goes out to the front yard before breakfast. He washes his car. He spends half an hour soaping, lathering and rinsing. Soaping, lathering and rinsing. He waxes. He polishes and when he's finished he stands back admiring it.
He goes back into the house. He eats bacon and toast for breakfast. He puts on his jacket and picks up his car keys. He checks himself out in the mirror before walking out the door. He gets in the car and starts the engine...
She closes the garden gate behind her. She pulls out a compact mirror and her lip gloss. She reapplies a coating as she crosses the road...
He's driving at full speed. He glances down and notices a dirty mark on the passenger seat. He licks his thumb and rubs at it...
She doesn't see the car. He looks up and she appears from nowhere.
BAM!
She looked beautiful at the morgue. His car was still shiny but the massive dent on the bumper was a sickening reminder of the tragedy that took place that morning.
She gets out of the shower and dries her hair. She looks into the mirror and applies a thick layer of foundation to her face. She rubs it in evenly, taking great care to blend it in around her jaw line and the creases of her nose and chin. She smoothes it over with pressed powder.
She fishes inside her make-up bag wondering what colour eye shadow to wear. She chooses a dusty pink to compliment her blue eyes.
She takes her eye liner and applies it gently to the top and bottom of her eye lids. She brushes mascara lightly off her lashes, tainting them black. She uses gloss to colour her lips and, to finish, she powders her cheeks with blusher.
She grabs her handbag and house keys from the kitchen table. Taking one last glance in the mirror, she opens the door and walks down the garden path, through the gate...
At 7 O'clock his alarm goes off. He climbs out of bed and wakes himself up with a shower. He spends half an hour soaping, lathering and rinsing. Soaping, lathering and rinsing. Over and over again.
He gets out of the shower and puts his clothes on. He splashes aftershave on his neck and rubs gel through his hair.
He goes out to the front yard before breakfast. He washes his car. He spends half an hour soaping, lathering and rinsing. Soaping, lathering and rinsing. He waxes. He polishes and when he's finished he stands back admiring it.
He goes back into the house. He eats bacon and toast for breakfast. He puts on his jacket and picks up his car keys. He checks himself out in the mirror before walking out the door. He gets in the car and starts the engine...
She closes the garden gate behind her. She pulls out a compact mirror and her lip gloss. She reapplies a coating as she crosses the road...
He's driving at full speed. He glances down and notices a dirty mark on the passenger seat. He licks his thumb and rubs at it...
She doesn't see the car. He looks up and she appears from nowhere.
BAM!
She looked beautiful at the morgue. His car was still shiny but the massive dent on the bumper was a sickening reminder of the tragedy that took place that morning.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
The Road Not Taken
When I was 19 a boyfriend and I decided to travel round Europe on the trains. We went to Amsterdam, Nuremberg, Salzburg, Innsbruck, Verona, Zurich, Strasbourg, Vianden and Lieden. We didn't do it in luxury. We did it on a budget that meant living in a tent for 5 weeks. At times it was fantastic but there was a lot to overshadow the experience too. It kept raining and our tent was not built for heavy downpours. The poles kept snapping and the water would flood into our tent. There were days going by when we were constantly cold and drenched. I had also never been in someone's company, 24/7. At certain points I had to throw a tantrum to get some time to myself. I can't blame the guy who I was with as all he wanted to do was keep me safe.
As the 5 weeks came to an end, despite the travelling not being as great as I had thought it would be, I didn't want to go home. My ex boyfriend (we split up in Strasbourg) had to go home as he was starting work experience. I thought about getting a job in Holland and staying a while longer. Somehow, through the use of internet cafes, which weren't all that great at the time, I managed to get in contact with a company to arrange work.
I met a guy at a train station in Lieden for a very informal interview (we didn't even go for coffee, he just gave me the address and contact number of the campsite I would stay at while I was working). It was in a very random place in Holland called Opperdoes and from there, a bus would take us all, each morning, to a tulip bulb factory where we worked sorting out bulbs. This involved standing on a conveyor belt feeling the bulbs as they went past and pulling out any bad ones from the pile. It was brain numbingly monotonous but I chatted with a fellow worker to put the time in. My ex boyfriend left after a couple of days and I walked him to the bus. It was raining as I walked back from waving goodbye to him. The rain had been my nemesis for the past 5 weeks but walking back to the campsite I felt the hugest weight lifting off my shoulders. I felt my adventure was really beginning.
I worked at the factory for 7 weeks. Long, gruelling shifts. There was a group of about nine of us. There were others who came for a while but it wasn't what they were expecting so they left early. It was a bit like Big Brother, all these people meeting up on a campsite to live closely and work closely for a certain period of time. It was brilliant. It was the experience I was looking for. It was the first time I ever saw shooting stars. I thought they were make believe. I got a new tent that kept the rain off. I made some interesting friends. I worked hard. I earned money. I had fun. I went back home with an immense feeling of pride in myself.
That was my first taste of travel. I knew I wanted more but when I went back home I fell into the same trap a lot of people do. Love. When I went travelling the next time it was so unplanned and unexpected that I couldn't have thrown myself any further into the deep end. I was 25 and a friend of mine just got a contract teaching English in Thailand. She suggested I do it too, despite not having a TEFL qualification. I had nothing to lose and it was an immense satisfaction handing in my notice at work. When I arrived in Thailand I was glad of the support and company of my good friend. But not even she could have prepared me for what I was about to embark upon. I was totally out of my depth. With absolutely no training in teaching, I was placed in a room full of 40 students, none of who could speak one word of English. Within a week I was ready for the hills. I had planned to work long enough to get the wages to go travelling without the pressure of working in a job I wasn't good at, or prepared for. But by the time I had my first wages i had found my groove. I stayed there for 6 months and only came back because of visa problems. It was the most profound adventure I've been on because of what I achieved there. My self confidence soared and I finally grew into the fun loving, confident, friendly person I always wanted to be.
Despite not wanting to come home I was happy enough to be there and could see that it had all happened for a reason. I carried the strength I had with me and I set about planning my next adventure. This took another few years. I lived at home to save money but I didn't deprive myself of a social life and good times either. It was a slow process saving money. I wanted enough that I could travel without working. I had experienced that already and while it was amazing I wanted a proper break to appreciate life. I received a kind gift from my step-grandmother. This spurred me on. I worked as many hours as I could. I took two jobs on towards the end. I had my tickets booked. I was going to do things properly this time and be organised and have some kind of loose plan.
I was heading off on my own. Something I was happy to do because it was my adventure. I was approaching 30 and reckoned I was big enough and ugly enough to look after myself. The first month of my travels I spent very little time alone. I met with people I had fallen in with before in life. I met new people. I taught a sweet, gay French-Canadian guy to be brave and learn how to use the metro all by himself. I really had an amazing time. Mostly. At the time it was clouded. I didn't know this but it was clouded because I had so many expectations of what this experience would entail and it didn't always live up to that. And it was clouded because, essentially, I was on my own, and doesn't happiness only exist when shared? I found the days long. I struggled with relaxing all the time. I missed people back home.
I ended up creating this negativity around me that other people could pick up on. People that wanted to prey on someone who wasn't rightly at themselves. I felt uncomfortable at times and I felt vulnerable. The one thing I vowed I wouldn't be scared of, I became scared of. Fear is a terrible thing and it can be born out of lonliness. I had something ro prove to myself and, in a way, it back fired, but I can never take away the fact that I was brave enough to at least try.
All of it happened for a reason and I have duly learnt my lessons from each and every experience in life. And it is a joy to look back and have so many rich and fruitful memories to reflect back on. I have nothing to regret. And I have nothing to run away from.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Blasting Things
I was meant to blast things yesterday. Meaning that I was meant to get my driver's licence form posted. I didn't do it. But I did buy some Christmas presents. So today, this morning, I blasted things. I wrapped all the presents I had bought. I just ran out of sellotape before the very last present but I had some double sided sticky tape which done the job. I then went on facebook and messaged all the people I needed to to get their addresses. As if by magic, everyone replied just in time for me to leave the house and go to the post office. At the post office i got all my parcels sent off and.....I got my form posted off. The lady that served me said "There now, you've got all that sorted in one go". She did not realise that it really was an achievement for me. Every Christmas I leave posting of presents to the last minute and there is always someone who doesn't get their present until June or so. In fact, I still have a present from last year for an Aunt, that I haven't posted as I haven't got the right size envelope for. But I'm not going be plagued by Christmas past. It's all about the Christmas present.
I had my class today and, as always, it was a joy to be there. We did some learning about our internal and external frame of references with the use of some abstract art. I did some colouring in earlier. I was buying my nieces presents and I came across some felt tips that blend with each other to make different colours. They are rubbish. But it was nice to colour in anyway. I then met a friend for coffee before my class started.
Now I'm just going to sit back and wait for the rush to really begin. I start work at four in the morning the week before Christmas. Thankfully, I don't have much more shopping to do. This is the advantage of starting work at six and getting home at two. The shops are still open. I have never really had the spirit of Christmas but this year, I think, is going to be a good one. I have even bought my very first fake Christmas tree. Ziggy hasn't seen it yet but I'm pretty sure he's going to either pee on it or bark at it or try and pull all the tinsel off. And, knowing Ziggy, he'll probably do all three.
I had my class today and, as always, it was a joy to be there. We did some learning about our internal and external frame of references with the use of some abstract art. I did some colouring in earlier. I was buying my nieces presents and I came across some felt tips that blend with each other to make different colours. They are rubbish. But it was nice to colour in anyway. I then met a friend for coffee before my class started.
Now I'm just going to sit back and wait for the rush to really begin. I start work at four in the morning the week before Christmas. Thankfully, I don't have much more shopping to do. This is the advantage of starting work at six and getting home at two. The shops are still open. I have never really had the spirit of Christmas but this year, I think, is going to be a good one. I have even bought my very first fake Christmas tree. Ziggy hasn't seen it yet but I'm pretty sure he's going to either pee on it or bark at it or try and pull all the tinsel off. And, knowing Ziggy, he'll probably do all three.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Learning From The Best
A few weeks ago I didn't mind sharing that I was feeling a little blue. So I suppose I shouldn't mind sharing the fact that I'm feeling great at the moment. This is all down to the quest for self awareness. The first thing I learnt when I started the counselling course was that, in order to be in a position to help others we must first, know ourselves. This quote sums it up perfectly: "Training for counselling is not just a matter of developiing a few new skills. It requires setting one's pyschological house in order, so that one knows who he is and where he is going".
Every week I am there without fail and learning so much about myself and about everything. I love the simplicity of the theory. Good counselling practice merely involves being with someone in a completely accepting and non-judgemental way. That is second nature to me. If a counsellor practices congruence, which means to be genuine, the client will know that the counsellor is coming from the right place in their heart and they will be more likely to trust and open up to them. This is wee buns. Be yourself, be empathic, be accepting, be open. But keep boundaries.
Of course, we can learn about ourselves from other people. We shouldn't put up resistance because most people are kind teachers if we let them be. Animals can also teach us about ourselves. And children are most definitely the best teachers we could ever have. Because they teach us what we already know but have forgotten.
Every week I am there without fail and learning so much about myself and about everything. I love the simplicity of the theory. Good counselling practice merely involves being with someone in a completely accepting and non-judgemental way. That is second nature to me. If a counsellor practices congruence, which means to be genuine, the client will know that the counsellor is coming from the right place in their heart and they will be more likely to trust and open up to them. This is wee buns. Be yourself, be empathic, be accepting, be open. But keep boundaries.
Of course, we can learn about ourselves from other people. We shouldn't put up resistance because most people are kind teachers if we let them be. Animals can also teach us about ourselves. And children are most definitely the best teachers we could ever have. Because they teach us what we already know but have forgotten.
Monday, December 09, 2013
The Little Shop Of Dog Lovers
I had a rare Sunday off work so I made sure to take full advantage of it. Saturday night I had drinks at my local. Ziggy stayed at home this time and it was a quiet enough night at the bar, but enjoyable all the same. On Sunday I lay in bed 'til 10 O'Clock. This doesn't sound like much of a lie in but it was five hours later than I normally have to get up so I wasn't complaining. We gathered Ziggy up and took him up to Belfast for the Continental Market. They hold it every Christmas and you can buy all kinds of strange and unusual things. The good folk of Norn Iron particularly enjoy eating weird burgers made of Kangaroo and Ostrich. I declined these meaty delights in favour of churros and fudge.
Then we stumbled upon a clothes shop I had been to once before. The shop itself is amazing. It's designed in a retro vintage fashion and has all these amazing quirky touches to it. The dressing rooms are all themed round the rooms of a house. So each cubicle has a load of old fashioned objects and utensils from a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, etc. I spent ages before looking at all the individual rooms. Ziggy was made to feel most welcome here. All the shop assistants cooed over him and one of them told us that all the members of staff are allowed to bring their dogs to work with them! And it wasn't just dogs they welcomed. Anyone could bring their pet shopping with them. One woman used to go in with a parrot sitting on her shoulder. I have never enjoyed shopping but if all shops were like this I think I could start to like it.
I got some lovely things from this shop but I also got a new bag from the market. It caught my eye because it had the HMV dog logo on it. It's made out of two records stitched together. It was a rastafarian guy who owned the stall and he insisted that I use the bag straight away and if anyone asked about it I was to tell them where I got it. One of the girls in the pet friendly shop had seen them at Camden Market and always regretted not getting one, so I told her where to go. We got chatting about the dog and she told me that the logo was a painting called His Master's Voice and that's where HMV got their name from. I later learned from Uncle Rod that the dog's name was Nipper.
Ziggy's favourite part of the day was when we went round to Nellybert's for dinner and he got to play with Jess. And there's always a spoiling to bbe had when Uncle Rod is there. His brother owns a pet shop so there is no shortage of tasty treats for the dogs. I still haven't sorted out my provisional driver's licence. It's turning into one of those annoying chores that I will put off forever. Tomorrow, I'll do it tomorrow.
Then we stumbled upon a clothes shop I had been to once before. The shop itself is amazing. It's designed in a retro vintage fashion and has all these amazing quirky touches to it. The dressing rooms are all themed round the rooms of a house. So each cubicle has a load of old fashioned objects and utensils from a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, etc. I spent ages before looking at all the individual rooms. Ziggy was made to feel most welcome here. All the shop assistants cooed over him and one of them told us that all the members of staff are allowed to bring their dogs to work with them! And it wasn't just dogs they welcomed. Anyone could bring their pet shopping with them. One woman used to go in with a parrot sitting on her shoulder. I have never enjoyed shopping but if all shops were like this I think I could start to like it.
I got some lovely things from this shop but I also got a new bag from the market. It caught my eye because it had the HMV dog logo on it. It's made out of two records stitched together. It was a rastafarian guy who owned the stall and he insisted that I use the bag straight away and if anyone asked about it I was to tell them where I got it. One of the girls in the pet friendly shop had seen them at Camden Market and always regretted not getting one, so I told her where to go. We got chatting about the dog and she told me that the logo was a painting called His Master's Voice and that's where HMV got their name from. I later learned from Uncle Rod that the dog's name was Nipper.
Ziggy's favourite part of the day was when we went round to Nellybert's for dinner and he got to play with Jess. And there's always a spoiling to bbe had when Uncle Rod is there. His brother owns a pet shop so there is no shortage of tasty treats for the dogs. I still haven't sorted out my provisional driver's licence. It's turning into one of those annoying chores that I will put off forever. Tomorrow, I'll do it tomorrow.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Two Down, One To Go
This week has been productive. I made a couple of those phone calls that were on my 'to do' list. One of them was with regards to a noise complaint from Ziggy's barking. Ziggy is now left at 5:30 in the morning with BBC Radio 4 for company. He is probably much more up on his current affairs than I am but he chooses to keep his knowledge to himself. The other phonecall was with regards to my pesky neighbours. And that is all they are, pesky. But I have been worried that my lack of real annoyance will only spur them on more and so I reported the minor incidences in the (hopefully) unlikely event that it should escalate.
The other official call I have to make is about my provisional driver's licence. I've lost the paper document. In fact, I don't ever remember having the paper document and it would have been like me to have thrown it in the bin thinking I would never need it. I struggle with these mundane tasks. Most people would do everything in their power to speed up the process of them getting their full licence. I just bumble along at a snail's pace. I'd much rather be daydreaming, laughing and writing blog posts about not doing the things I should be doing.
Oh, and there's that dreaded looming presence of Christmas round the corner. Having worked in retail for the past far too many years I have found it impossible to do my own Christmas shopping. The last place I want to be is at the shops with people shoving and pushing and grunting and farting. Fact, when people are in crowds they are more likely to fart because there are more suspects. People really lose their manners at Christmas. So when it should be the season to be be jolly, most people are walking around with a face like thunder. And it just keeps happening every year.
The other official call I have to make is about my provisional driver's licence. I've lost the paper document. In fact, I don't ever remember having the paper document and it would have been like me to have thrown it in the bin thinking I would never need it. I struggle with these mundane tasks. Most people would do everything in their power to speed up the process of them getting their full licence. I just bumble along at a snail's pace. I'd much rather be daydreaming, laughing and writing blog posts about not doing the things I should be doing.
Oh, and there's that dreaded looming presence of Christmas round the corner. Having worked in retail for the past far too many years I have found it impossible to do my own Christmas shopping. The last place I want to be is at the shops with people shoving and pushing and grunting and farting. Fact, when people are in crowds they are more likely to fart because there are more suspects. People really lose their manners at Christmas. So when it should be the season to be be jolly, most people are walking around with a face like thunder. And it just keeps happening every year.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Zig's Big Night Out
Despite my last entry having a slight air of doom and gloom about it, writing about meant I was able to get it out of my system and move on a lot quicker. Those periods in my blog when I haven't been wwriting have been times when I tried to hold my feelings in. It never did me any good.
Since then I have been really busy, which is how I like to be. I met with a friend on Tuesday. He is a relatively new friend who I met at work and who is also training to be a counsellor. I met with a friend on Wednesday as well. An old friend who knows me inside out. On Thursday morning I spent some quality time with myself and then I had a driving lesson and my course to attend. On Friday I met with my mum for lunch and then did some shopping. I shopped like a proper girl shops and it didn't annoy me too much. Though it was rather expensive.
Later I took Ziggy round to a friend's house and I drank a few ciders and Ziggy spilt a few ciders on their carpet (these friends are my kind of people who care not much for carpets and love dogs). We all went up to the pub, Ziggy included. I couldn't leave him at home as he'd already spent a few hours by himself when I was out shopping. It's a good job he's a sociable boy because he had plenty of people fussing over him.
On Saturday I had a relaxing morning and then went out again. I knew it was going to be a late one so Ziggy stayed at mum's house. He didn't pine for me once. Too busy playing with Jess and fighting with the cat, who is much bigger than he is. Now it's Monday and I'm back to work but I have a new, better contract and a spring in my step again. I am also vaguely aware that Christmas is around the corner and I have a flat that's been badly neglected of chores so as much as I'd love to just sit here, not moving, I think I better just keep on at it. I also have forms to fill in, phone calls to make, homework to do and, even though these things make me busy, they are exactly the things that I hate doing, and so I will probably procrastinate. Hence writing this blog.
Since then I have been really busy, which is how I like to be. I met with a friend on Tuesday. He is a relatively new friend who I met at work and who is also training to be a counsellor. I met with a friend on Wednesday as well. An old friend who knows me inside out. On Thursday morning I spent some quality time with myself and then I had a driving lesson and my course to attend. On Friday I met with my mum for lunch and then did some shopping. I shopped like a proper girl shops and it didn't annoy me too much. Though it was rather expensive.
Later I took Ziggy round to a friend's house and I drank a few ciders and Ziggy spilt a few ciders on their carpet (these friends are my kind of people who care not much for carpets and love dogs). We all went up to the pub, Ziggy included. I couldn't leave him at home as he'd already spent a few hours by himself when I was out shopping. It's a good job he's a sociable boy because he had plenty of people fussing over him.
On Saturday I had a relaxing morning and then went out again. I knew it was going to be a late one so Ziggy stayed at mum's house. He didn't pine for me once. Too busy playing with Jess and fighting with the cat, who is much bigger than he is. Now it's Monday and I'm back to work but I have a new, better contract and a spring in my step again. I am also vaguely aware that Christmas is around the corner and I have a flat that's been badly neglected of chores so as much as I'd love to just sit here, not moving, I think I better just keep on at it. I also have forms to fill in, phone calls to make, homework to do and, even though these things make me busy, they are exactly the things that I hate doing, and so I will probably procrastinate. Hence writing this blog.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Shake It Out
I have learnt that to spew some words down on a page helps me release my emotions. It stops them whirring around my brain and when I can view those thoughts and feelings in black and white I can finally let them go. I suffer from depression. It has taken me a long time to figure this disease out. And it is a disease. And there is no permanent cure. Just ways of coping. When I am happy I am positively the most wonderful person I can be. I relish in spreading joy, peace, happiness and laughter. When I am feeling depressed I am incapable of this and this leads to further feelings of hopelessness. How am I meant to feel good if I am unable to make anyone else feel good?
I find the reasons for my bouts of depression rather annoying. Lonliness, low self esteem, feelings of worthlessness and the fact that life is such a challenge at times. We work, work, work and for what? I find it hard to see why I should bother living in this sham of a world. I am totally disillusioned. Some people breeze through life. Others don't. Some of those that don't are stoical and just get on with it. I become depressed. I see no joy in the world. I am uninspired. I feel like everything's a struggle. I force myself to do as much as possible and it is exhausting. I feel guilty for the things I didn't do. The shark and the ram draw blood and bruise me. I am fragile. My eyes well up with tears when I think of the sadness inside of me. The sadness is bursting and trying to seep through every pore. People don't get it. People really don't understand a disease they can't see.
This is especially a problem for loved ones who can feel like nothing they do is good enough because they can't take away the hurt for you. Everyone involved is, in a way, powerless. Until you remember that you have the strength and the ability to regain the power of your feelings. Sometimes, though, even this is too hard.
So, I muddle on. And, recently, I've learnt ways to help myself. These are only small things but even the small things can make a bit of a difference. I have learnt better how to release some of my sadness without it being etched all over my face. I smile at everyone because when they smile back it takes a little bit of the edge off. I have also learnt to not let these periods of sadness completely envelope me. The sadness is there but it's not the only thing that's there. A tiny shred of hope forever remains. A tiny shred of hope that I fought hard to get and am not going to give up so easily. This is what really gets me through the sad times. I know they'll pass because everything does.
I find the reasons for my bouts of depression rather annoying. Lonliness, low self esteem, feelings of worthlessness and the fact that life is such a challenge at times. We work, work, work and for what? I find it hard to see why I should bother living in this sham of a world. I am totally disillusioned. Some people breeze through life. Others don't. Some of those that don't are stoical and just get on with it. I become depressed. I see no joy in the world. I am uninspired. I feel like everything's a struggle. I force myself to do as much as possible and it is exhausting. I feel guilty for the things I didn't do. The shark and the ram draw blood and bruise me. I am fragile. My eyes well up with tears when I think of the sadness inside of me. The sadness is bursting and trying to seep through every pore. People don't get it. People really don't understand a disease they can't see.
This is especially a problem for loved ones who can feel like nothing they do is good enough because they can't take away the hurt for you. Everyone involved is, in a way, powerless. Until you remember that you have the strength and the ability to regain the power of your feelings. Sometimes, though, even this is too hard.
So, I muddle on. And, recently, I've learnt ways to help myself. These are only small things but even the small things can make a bit of a difference. I have learnt better how to release some of my sadness without it being etched all over my face. I smile at everyone because when they smile back it takes a little bit of the edge off. I have also learnt to not let these periods of sadness completely envelope me. The sadness is there but it's not the only thing that's there. A tiny shred of hope forever remains. A tiny shred of hope that I fought hard to get and am not going to give up so easily. This is what really gets me through the sad times. I know they'll pass because everything does.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Cooking Red Thai Curry With The Howling Wolf
Yesterday in class we were talking about our 'inner critic'. This is the voice in our head that tells us we are not good enough or we should be doing this and not doing that. The tutor then produced four small boxes of animal figures and asked us to pick animals that signified our inner critic. I was in my element. It is exactly these kind of creative exercises that gets me excited. She then asked us to pick an animal that signified the 'victim' part of ourselves. So, for my inner critic I picked out a ram and a shark. I chose the ram as I see it headbutting a wall incessantly and not giving up, which is what my inner critic is like. I also picked a shark because the attacks from my inner critic are so vicious and nasty. I chose a meercat to represent my victim. At first I thought I was choosing the meercat because I like them so much but when I thought about how the meercat acts I realised that is how my victim feels when it's being attacked. Meercats are always on the lookout. They are anxious and skittish. After we discussed the animals we'd chosen and why we'd chosen them we took a tea break. When we came back our tutor asked us to then choose an animal to represent our 'adult' voice. An animal that could challenge our critic and protect our victim. I had already spied the wolf in the box earlier and I knew it was my 'adult' side. There were two wolves though and I chose the howling wolf.
I explained to the class that I chose the wolf because the noise of it's howling would drown out the noise of the inner critics voice. The tutor then asked me what howling meant to me. I said that although it's traditionally linked to insanity I view howling as a sign of freedom. Or, as a release of something painful. There will always be an intrinsic link between the moon and insanity. But if you read Paulo Coelho's book Veronica Decides To Die you are faced with the question, is it really the people locked up in asylums who are the mental ones, or is it the rest of society who live by a rigid set of codes and practices that are crazy? People fear the unknown. Lunatics leap into the unknown. Nobody's right or wrong we're all just different but we all deserve the same respect. I think I should probably end this topic now before I go full force into a sociological discussion about the stigma of mental illness. Keep that one for another day!
I explained to the class that I chose the wolf because the noise of it's howling would drown out the noise of the inner critics voice. The tutor then asked me what howling meant to me. I said that although it's traditionally linked to insanity I view howling as a sign of freedom. Or, as a release of something painful. There will always be an intrinsic link between the moon and insanity. But if you read Paulo Coelho's book Veronica Decides To Die you are faced with the question, is it really the people locked up in asylums who are the mental ones, or is it the rest of society who live by a rigid set of codes and practices that are crazy? People fear the unknown. Lunatics leap into the unknown. Nobody's right or wrong we're all just different but we all deserve the same respect. I think I should probably end this topic now before I go full force into a sociological discussion about the stigma of mental illness. Keep that one for another day!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Wind Wars
There's a storm brewing outside. The North, South, East and West winds are battling it out. There's a storm brewing inside too. Ziggy and Jess spent all night wrestling with each other. They had a good sleep and dutifully resumed their war this morning. This is great. It means Ziggy will be totally exhausted all day today and most of tomorrow. I would love for him to have company all the time but I think I'm better getting used to having one dog before I rush out and get another.
I've been coming out to stay at mum's on a Wednesday night for a few weeks now. Ziggy gets to play with Jess and learn some manners off Judy. I get a home cooked meal. Everyone's a winner! Tonight I'm going to attempt to cook a Thai red curry. I used to cook yellow curries for mum and Bert when I lived here. No two ever tasted the same because I never followed the same recipe. I remember asking Gift, the Thai lady who owned the bar we used to drink at, what ingredients I needed to make a yellow curry. Her English wasn't great and she was so keen and eager to help me she asked a friend to go on their bicycle to buy one of the ingredients she didn't know the name of so she could show me what it was.
I have a very busy day ahead of me. My youngest niece will be here soon demanding stories and burlies. Then I've to go back home to get ready for my driving lesson and class. It's a good ob I'm off work tomorrow as well.
I've been coming out to stay at mum's on a Wednesday night for a few weeks now. Ziggy gets to play with Jess and learn some manners off Judy. I get a home cooked meal. Everyone's a winner! Tonight I'm going to attempt to cook a Thai red curry. I used to cook yellow curries for mum and Bert when I lived here. No two ever tasted the same because I never followed the same recipe. I remember asking Gift, the Thai lady who owned the bar we used to drink at, what ingredients I needed to make a yellow curry. Her English wasn't great and she was so keen and eager to help me she asked a friend to go on their bicycle to buy one of the ingredients she didn't know the name of so she could show me what it was.
I have a very busy day ahead of me. My youngest niece will be here soon demanding stories and burlies. Then I've to go back home to get ready for my driving lesson and class. It's a good ob I'm off work tomorrow as well.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
This Time Last Year
Sometimes I struggle to think of a topic to write about. I could blog for hours about work but I'd have to censor out the really interesting stuff. I'm even running out of stuff to say about Ziggy. He's just lying here waiting patiently for a walk. This is progress as, normally, when I'm trying to write on the laptop Ziggy is trying to bite my fingers off. It's a fine day for a walk. Cool, crisp and sunny. I could write about my counselling course but, again, I'd be censoring a lot out. So it's times like these I need little a inspiration.
I keep my blog for several reasons. At first my mum nagged me to start one just like she nagged me to get on facebook and just like she told me she was buying me a mobile phone for Christmas when I went to uni. She's always nagging me to keep up with modern life. Should it not be the other way around? Now I've been blogging for 6 years I find it useful referring back to the archives to remind me of when things happened.
So, for inspiration for this particular post I wondered what I was up to this day last year. I can't say for sure because I'd stopped writing my blog on the 27th October but, at a guess, I'd say I was sitting in this very flat, freezing my balls off, and writing furiously while Polly lay under the sofa and Meka had an evergrowing tumour on her chest. I can't remember the exact date that Rocky died but it was probably in and around this time last year. I didn't blog about it because I was doing my own personal writing at the time.
So then I checked two years ago and I was living with Jakers and very proud that I had a second niece to love and adore. Three years ago I was content living in the town rather than the country. I was also obsessing about scented candles. Nothing much has changed there really. Four years ago I had a rather perturbing experience with a can of soup that I wish I hadn't reminded myself about. This post also shows a tiny picture of Freddy sitting on a set of scales, for why I don't know. Five years ago I had a day out at the Zoo that made me decide I was going to study a degree in Social Work. Well that clerly didn't materialise. Probably for the best. Six years ago today I was due to fly back home from Thailand. Not through choice but because I had to. I met with my friends for dinner in Bangkok a few hours before my flight and was told something that made me stay. It was one of the strangest feelings in the world driving back that night to Lop Buri in a taxi with Brad and Tara. I had no job, no apartment and very little money. But I had friends. Seven years ago I obviously hadn't much going on as I dedicated a whole blog post to Harry ze Cat. He was adorable though. Eight years ago mum and Bert had just moved into the house. I had just started working in Next and McSquirter was the very annoying hero of the day.
And as for 10 years ago? I don't know. I was a young buck then drinking and smoking all my brain cells away. I couldn't possibly remember. Which is maybe a good thing for this post is long enough as it is and Ziggy is ready for his walk.
I keep my blog for several reasons. At first my mum nagged me to start one just like she nagged me to get on facebook and just like she told me she was buying me a mobile phone for Christmas when I went to uni. She's always nagging me to keep up with modern life. Should it not be the other way around? Now I've been blogging for 6 years I find it useful referring back to the archives to remind me of when things happened.
So, for inspiration for this particular post I wondered what I was up to this day last year. I can't say for sure because I'd stopped writing my blog on the 27th October but, at a guess, I'd say I was sitting in this very flat, freezing my balls off, and writing furiously while Polly lay under the sofa and Meka had an evergrowing tumour on her chest. I can't remember the exact date that Rocky died but it was probably in and around this time last year. I didn't blog about it because I was doing my own personal writing at the time.
So then I checked two years ago and I was living with Jakers and very proud that I had a second niece to love and adore. Three years ago I was content living in the town rather than the country. I was also obsessing about scented candles. Nothing much has changed there really. Four years ago I had a rather perturbing experience with a can of soup that I wish I hadn't reminded myself about. This post also shows a tiny picture of Freddy sitting on a set of scales, for why I don't know. Five years ago I had a day out at the Zoo that made me decide I was going to study a degree in Social Work. Well that clerly didn't materialise. Probably for the best. Six years ago today I was due to fly back home from Thailand. Not through choice but because I had to. I met with my friends for dinner in Bangkok a few hours before my flight and was told something that made me stay. It was one of the strangest feelings in the world driving back that night to Lop Buri in a taxi with Brad and Tara. I had no job, no apartment and very little money. But I had friends. Seven years ago I obviously hadn't much going on as I dedicated a whole blog post to Harry ze Cat. He was adorable though. Eight years ago mum and Bert had just moved into the house. I had just started working in Next and McSquirter was the very annoying hero of the day.
And as for 10 years ago? I don't know. I was a young buck then drinking and smoking all my brain cells away. I couldn't possibly remember. Which is maybe a good thing for this post is long enough as it is and Ziggy is ready for his walk.
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
Waiting For Take Off
I noticed whenever Ziggy and I went for a walk along the river path today that he has started to cock his leg and mark his territory. This means my wee puppy is making the transition into doghood. He no longer pees like a girl. People ask me how old he is and I keep saying 6 months though I've been saying that for a few months now. I've just checked his records and he was born on the 1st June so he's actually only 5 months now. He's still a baby!
I found myself daydreaming in work about setting off on an adventure again. I had just imagined myself in some warm country with a backpack on my bag, thinking to myself it would be easy because I'm used to it, and then I remembered I had a dog. All of a sudden I am tied down to the one place. This realisation is strange for me. Part of me wishes I could up sticks and leave but I could never leave Ziggy behind. So I might just have to run the rat race a while longer or find some way of travelling the world with Ziggy in tow. Which I think he'd love.
I'm starting to realise how short life is. There's so much I want to do and yet days just roll by. But I'm getting there. I am doing the course that I thought about doing for 5 years and I'm learning to drive even though it's taking forever. I'm just waiting for the rocket to take off. Ziggy's waiting for his call from Major Tom.
I found myself daydreaming in work about setting off on an adventure again. I had just imagined myself in some warm country with a backpack on my bag, thinking to myself it would be easy because I'm used to it, and then I remembered I had a dog. All of a sudden I am tied down to the one place. This realisation is strange for me. Part of me wishes I could up sticks and leave but I could never leave Ziggy behind. So I might just have to run the rat race a while longer or find some way of travelling the world with Ziggy in tow. Which I think he'd love.
I'm starting to realise how short life is. There's so much I want to do and yet days just roll by. But I'm getting there. I am doing the course that I thought about doing for 5 years and I'm learning to drive even though it's taking forever. I'm just waiting for the rocket to take off. Ziggy's waiting for his call from Major Tom.
Friday, November 01, 2013
They Need Never Know
I started to write my blog again because I was getting to a stage where I wanted to take my writing seriously. Not my blog writing. It is basically a glorified diary. Though I don't mean to sell it short. I truly believe that I will become the best writer I can be by exploring all the different types of writing. I need this wee blog just to keep me in the way of things.
It's amazing how easily the creativity can be sucked from you. Sometimes in my life a bout of depression will help me tap into some of my creative resources but I believe that it's happiness that sustains it. I thought I was happy this past wee while but I realise my heart has not been singing quite as sweetly as it could.
I won't go into details of my feelings. Sometimes it's right and sometimes it's not. Life is never what I expect it to be. I am getting used to that now. But I am getting stronger and better equipped to deal with these events that turn my whole world upside down. Nothing will break me because I've already been broken before and I was fixed by the only person who could fix me. Myself.
Right now I'm looking for someone to illustrate my book "Freddy and the Fox". I want to bring this story alive so that I can, one day, read it to my children. And when they say to me "wow, Freddy is the most amazing cat ever" I will smile and say "yes, yes he is" even though I know that Freddy is actually a big fat, useless, bullying ginger bastard. The kids need never know.
It's amazing how easily the creativity can be sucked from you. Sometimes in my life a bout of depression will help me tap into some of my creative resources but I believe that it's happiness that sustains it. I thought I was happy this past wee while but I realise my heart has not been singing quite as sweetly as it could.
I won't go into details of my feelings. Sometimes it's right and sometimes it's not. Life is never what I expect it to be. I am getting used to that now. But I am getting stronger and better equipped to deal with these events that turn my whole world upside down. Nothing will break me because I've already been broken before and I was fixed by the only person who could fix me. Myself.
Right now I'm looking for someone to illustrate my book "Freddy and the Fox". I want to bring this story alive so that I can, one day, read it to my children. And when they say to me "wow, Freddy is the most amazing cat ever" I will smile and say "yes, yes he is" even though I know that Freddy is actually a big fat, useless, bullying ginger bastard. The kids need never know.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
My Clock's Useless 3rd Hand
Ziggy continues to be a complete skitter. I joke that I'm going to get him into acting as I think he has the right temperament for a dog star. Cocky and self assured. He has also proved himself to be a technological whizz kid. He walks over my laptop keybaord like it is a stepping stone and one morning I realised he had done something which had reversed the Caps Lock. It also meant I couldn't type a full stop so I couldn't log into anything as all email addresses have a full stop. I knew I'd never be able to figure out how to change it back so I resigned myself to no facebook for the day. Five minutes later Ziggy had stood on some buttons again and undid what he had done the night before. He also climbed up onto the coffee table when I was out at the shops and managed to put The Doors on itunes by standing on the laptop. You would nearly think he knew what he was doing.
On Wednesday evening I took him for a walk by the river path. This is the walk he's most familiar with and he gets super excited when he knows we're going there. He has his wee routine. I let him off the lead and he races ahead of me but also stops to check I'm following. He loves to run through the grass by the side of the path and he loves to dip into the little nooks and crannies that lead down to the river. He knows when we do the circuit and get back to the top of the path he has to put his lead back on.
I bumped into my sister on the way back from the walk and she reminded me that it wasn't Thursday, it was only Wednesday. This didn't stop me from going home, dropping Ziggy off, and heading up town to do some late night shopping. When I realised all the shops were closed I was reminded, for the second time, that it was only Wednesday. Tonight I'm worried that I'll either go into work tomorrow an hour early or an hour late. The clocks change tonight and I remember being confused in the spring time. I shall go by the clock in the kitchen because I know it doesn't automatically update itself. Though it's hard to read at the best of times due to a useless third hand that lurks between the six and seven.
On Wednesday evening I took him for a walk by the river path. This is the walk he's most familiar with and he gets super excited when he knows we're going there. He has his wee routine. I let him off the lead and he races ahead of me but also stops to check I'm following. He loves to run through the grass by the side of the path and he loves to dip into the little nooks and crannies that lead down to the river. He knows when we do the circuit and get back to the top of the path he has to put his lead back on.
I bumped into my sister on the way back from the walk and she reminded me that it wasn't Thursday, it was only Wednesday. This didn't stop me from going home, dropping Ziggy off, and heading up town to do some late night shopping. When I realised all the shops were closed I was reminded, for the second time, that it was only Wednesday. Tonight I'm worried that I'll either go into work tomorrow an hour early or an hour late. The clocks change tonight and I remember being confused in the spring time. I shall go by the clock in the kitchen because I know it doesn't automatically update itself. Though it's hard to read at the best of times due to a useless third hand that lurks between the six and seven.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Defrosting
Quitting sugar did not go quite as well as expected. I got infected with some kind of Donkey flu and my body was to weak to fight the cravings. In all seriousness though, I have been sick all week and it has sucked. My dad had been here the weekend that I was coming down with it. I hope I didn't infect him too. So when my body wanted sugar I gave in to it. Oh well, tomorrow is the start of a new week.
Yesterday was the first day I felt back to my normal self and then I dropped a heavy tray on my big toe at work. I am not a pussy but this did bring a tear to my eye. I survived the rest of my shift and my toe was ok until I took a bath. The heat must have upset it and I spent the rest of the night holding an icepack on it. Fortunately, a good night's rest done the trick and I didn't have to hobble around all day.
So now I'm fighting fit and have energy aplenty. It's probably just the normal level of energy but in comparison to how I felt all last week I feel amazing. I recall the bout of swine flu I had a few years ago (I call it swine flu because I immediately felt sick after eating a Pear Pickin' Porky). There's nothing like being sick to make you appreciate your good health.
When my immune system's down everything goes down. I have noticed, over the years, that I can very easily slip into a depressed state of mind when I'm sick. I find it hard to accept that sickness leaves you exhausted and I feel guilty about not being able to do the things I normally can. I also feel guilty for smoking and feel that I am not justified in feeling sorry for myself as I have, in some way, brought it on myself. Poor Ziggy had a quiet week as well. I felt bad for having no energy to play with him but he humoured me by snoozing when I did. Which was a lot. We did take him for a walk round Portglenone Forest on Thursday evening. It was one of those crisp, cool Autumn evenings. We sat by the pier watching the stillness of the water meet the stillness of the sky. Ziggy decided to counteract the stillness of the evening by barking at and chasing the joggers who went by. On the drive home the moon was so full it looked like you could just pluck it from the sky. Friday it rained all day.
Today is a pisser of a day too but I have the task of defrosting the freezer which should keep me amused for an hour or two. One of these days I'll do something really exciting. I'm getting to the stage where I know I can drive and I wish all the formalities were behind me so I could take Ziggy on an adventure. That's what I'll daydream about when I'm deforsting the freezer.
Yesterday was the first day I felt back to my normal self and then I dropped a heavy tray on my big toe at work. I am not a pussy but this did bring a tear to my eye. I survived the rest of my shift and my toe was ok until I took a bath. The heat must have upset it and I spent the rest of the night holding an icepack on it. Fortunately, a good night's rest done the trick and I didn't have to hobble around all day.
So now I'm fighting fit and have energy aplenty. It's probably just the normal level of energy but in comparison to how I felt all last week I feel amazing. I recall the bout of swine flu I had a few years ago (I call it swine flu because I immediately felt sick after eating a Pear Pickin' Porky). There's nothing like being sick to make you appreciate your good health.
When my immune system's down everything goes down. I have noticed, over the years, that I can very easily slip into a depressed state of mind when I'm sick. I find it hard to accept that sickness leaves you exhausted and I feel guilty about not being able to do the things I normally can. I also feel guilty for smoking and feel that I am not justified in feeling sorry for myself as I have, in some way, brought it on myself. Poor Ziggy had a quiet week as well. I felt bad for having no energy to play with him but he humoured me by snoozing when I did. Which was a lot. We did take him for a walk round Portglenone Forest on Thursday evening. It was one of those crisp, cool Autumn evenings. We sat by the pier watching the stillness of the water meet the stillness of the sky. Ziggy decided to counteract the stillness of the evening by barking at and chasing the joggers who went by. On the drive home the moon was so full it looked like you could just pluck it from the sky. Friday it rained all day.
Today is a pisser of a day too but I have the task of defrosting the freezer which should keep me amused for an hour or two. One of these days I'll do something really exciting. I'm getting to the stage where I know I can drive and I wish all the formalities were behind me so I could take Ziggy on an adventure. That's what I'll daydream about when I'm deforsting the freezer.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Man, I Feel Like A Woman
Having studied my degree in Sociology I am aware of social constructs. If you strip it right down almost everything is socially constructed. But I have to say, one of my biggests bugbears, and the hardest of all to avoid, is the social construction of gender. Before you give up reading now, this is not a feminist rant.
We live in a world now where there is meant to be equality. There are laws in place to protect those people who are "different" to the norm. It doesn't matter what your race, culture, religion, sexual orientation, or, if you have a disability, you are protected by human rights. It's a bloody shame it took so long to achieve that but humans were always more concerned with furthering scientific knowledge than working on themselves being less savage-like (scientists were able to fool people that knowledge would eradicate barbarity).
Years after the overtly physical oppression was challenged it becamse evident that we were able to continue being oppressive in much more subtle ways. Language was a huge factor in this ongoing domination. So, for example, setting the slaves free did not release them from stigma or oppression. They were still bound by the shackles of language. I have been shocked in my adult life to know people who have used words like "paki" to describe someone of a different ethnic origin than themselves. It's funny how people can't realise their own values themselves and, instead, have to wait until the media tells them what is politically correct or incorrect.
But anyway, back to my point, which is about gender. This is the hardest one for us all to escape. I still witness, everyday of my life, how woman are meant to stick together and how men are meant to stick together. I have to say, I don't think woman give it too much thought. They just accept and deal with the knock on effect of men believing that men are meant to stick together to do 'manly' things. I walk into a room of both men and women. Then, all of a sudden the men decide that they have something very important to do outside (like find a tree stump to piss on). The men go, leaving the woman to their gossiping. I fit in with neither of these groups. I don't want to go with the men because their conversation is flat. They don't read in between the lines because there are no lines. I don't want to stay in with the women because they can create an abundance of energy with their conversation. This energy could be negative or positive depending on who and what they are talking about.
When it comes to entertainment; music, storytelling, dancing and acting the line of gender division is blurred. These are things the two sexes, and indeed anyone, can enjoy together. Why must we continously pursue activities that serve to divide us rather than unite us. I can't fathom the idea of boy's having separate activities to the girls. It serves no purpose. This was not how things were done when humans first roamed the earth. Yes, there were practicalities that meant the men, being physically bigger and stronger, were the ones to hunt for food. But language had not advanced enough to put a label on this as being a predominantly male pursuit. It was basic survival.
I really hope one day that people will just be people and when they realise this, rather than seeing themsleves as the best, or the most important, they will see that they are actually very insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A bit of mass humbling is what's needed. And balance. The world is made up of masculine and feminine but that doesn't mean it has to be one or the other. Some of the most amazing, beautiful people I have ever met are neither manly, nor womanly, they just are.
We live in a world now where there is meant to be equality. There are laws in place to protect those people who are "different" to the norm. It doesn't matter what your race, culture, religion, sexual orientation, or, if you have a disability, you are protected by human rights. It's a bloody shame it took so long to achieve that but humans were always more concerned with furthering scientific knowledge than working on themselves being less savage-like (scientists were able to fool people that knowledge would eradicate barbarity).
Years after the overtly physical oppression was challenged it becamse evident that we were able to continue being oppressive in much more subtle ways. Language was a huge factor in this ongoing domination. So, for example, setting the slaves free did not release them from stigma or oppression. They were still bound by the shackles of language. I have been shocked in my adult life to know people who have used words like "paki" to describe someone of a different ethnic origin than themselves. It's funny how people can't realise their own values themselves and, instead, have to wait until the media tells them what is politically correct or incorrect.
But anyway, back to my point, which is about gender. This is the hardest one for us all to escape. I still witness, everyday of my life, how woman are meant to stick together and how men are meant to stick together. I have to say, I don't think woman give it too much thought. They just accept and deal with the knock on effect of men believing that men are meant to stick together to do 'manly' things. I walk into a room of both men and women. Then, all of a sudden the men decide that they have something very important to do outside (like find a tree stump to piss on). The men go, leaving the woman to their gossiping. I fit in with neither of these groups. I don't want to go with the men because their conversation is flat. They don't read in between the lines because there are no lines. I don't want to stay in with the women because they can create an abundance of energy with their conversation. This energy could be negative or positive depending on who and what they are talking about.
When it comes to entertainment; music, storytelling, dancing and acting the line of gender division is blurred. These are things the two sexes, and indeed anyone, can enjoy together. Why must we continously pursue activities that serve to divide us rather than unite us. I can't fathom the idea of boy's having separate activities to the girls. It serves no purpose. This was not how things were done when humans first roamed the earth. Yes, there were practicalities that meant the men, being physically bigger and stronger, were the ones to hunt for food. But language had not advanced enough to put a label on this as being a predominantly male pursuit. It was basic survival.
I really hope one day that people will just be people and when they realise this, rather than seeing themsleves as the best, or the most important, they will see that they are actually very insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A bit of mass humbling is what's needed. And balance. The world is made up of masculine and feminine but that doesn't mean it has to be one or the other. Some of the most amazing, beautiful people I have ever met are neither manly, nor womanly, they just are.
Monday, October 07, 2013
Quitting Time Again
Ok, maybe if I write this in my blog I'll stick to it. I'm giving up sugar again. I did it a few years ago for a few months and it was a piece of piss once I got the first week over me. I think I started to eat sweets again when I quit smoking. I fooled myself into thinking that I needed some kind of luxury in my life. I hope to get to a stage where I realise that water and fresh air are a luxury. The only sugar I will have will be in my coffee, which I cut back on ages ago so I only have about 2 cups a day. Other than that I won't be having any refined sugar at all. Sugar is horribly addicitive.
Next Sunday should be the final day of construction of the tree house. Young Master Banjo shall have to be there as he has been a massive help over the months. He couldn't make it every weekend but he was there for most of them. He still did a lot more work than I did. K was, without a doubt, the foreman of the whole gig. If it wasn't for him the project would never have happened. Whereas most girls dream of hearing the words "Will you marry me?" I longed to hear "Do you want to build a tree house?".
Did I mention I've been watching a bit of the X Factor? Well, there's a wee Scottish lad on it and I'm rooting for him. He probably will win it as he's got a heart of gold and every woman between the ages of 25-85 will want to mother him. Which pretty much makes up the whole percentage of people who watch the X Factor. I, for one, would have him so wrapped up in cotton blankets that only his wee cheeks could be seen. Also, I love it when you don't understand a word someone says but when they sing you can make out everything. I also couldn't help but notice that Matt Lucas has entered it in the guise of his "yer but, no but" character Vicky Pollard. hHe's posing as someone in the over 25's group but I know it's him.
Next Sunday should be the final day of construction of the tree house. Young Master Banjo shall have to be there as he has been a massive help over the months. He couldn't make it every weekend but he was there for most of them. He still did a lot more work than I did. K was, without a doubt, the foreman of the whole gig. If it wasn't for him the project would never have happened. Whereas most girls dream of hearing the words "Will you marry me?" I longed to hear "Do you want to build a tree house?".
Did I mention I've been watching a bit of the X Factor? Well, there's a wee Scottish lad on it and I'm rooting for him. He probably will win it as he's got a heart of gold and every woman between the ages of 25-85 will want to mother him. Which pretty much makes up the whole percentage of people who watch the X Factor. I, for one, would have him so wrapped up in cotton blankets that only his wee cheeks could be seen. Also, I love it when you don't understand a word someone says but when they sing you can make out everything. I also couldn't help but notice that Matt Lucas has entered it in the guise of his "yer but, no but" character Vicky Pollard. hHe's posing as someone in the over 25's group but I know it's him.
Thursday, October 03, 2013
Ziggy's 1st Medal
It has been a running joke in our family that a dog licence is actually a medal of awesomeness. This started with our first family dog Danny (The Champion Of The World). We put him up on a pedestal really but, sure, he was a mighty fine beast of a dog. Now Ziggy has his first medal. He got this one for barking.
I have to say, dog licences are not of the same quality they used to be. Ziggy's medal looks cheap and plastic, probably because it is. He hates it. He's not used to wearing a collar never mind having something dangling from his neck. He was also a little annoyed with me for putting his collar on and not taking him for a walk. He just doesn't realise that his mummy's awfully busy doing homework for class, facebooking his photo, and blogging. He will especially not like it when I leave him on his own for a few hours to go to class but he will get his chance later to show me his displeasure by demanding lots of play fighting. Well, off I go now to get ready for class.
Tuesday, October 01, 2013
Bad Taste
Ok, here's a thought, if someone was buying two bottles of vodka, bleach, a toothbrush and mouthwash, what exactly are they planning to do? Today a work colleague, and someone I knew aside from work, asked me how I felt about the fact that I could be sitting in a nice cosy office, tapping away at a keyboard instead of running around going senile because I can't find a twelve pack of coca cola. She was speaking about the other job I declined so I could do more hours at this job. I told her I hadn't thought about it until she mentioned it. Then I told her that it was worth it so that someone who really needed the job could be sitting in that office.
I have not watched any films in so long. Before K moved in I had no T.V. and no internet. I used to go up to Jakers just to download stuff so I could watch it at home. The kind soul never minded that I was only up to use the width of his band. I have to admit that I have a strange taste in films. For a while I became obsessed with watching epidemic movies. The realistic ones were the best, the ones where disease spreads like wildflower and people start beeding from their eyes and suchlike. I am always slightly disturbed by the scenes where they shun someone who is infected. Perhaps this is a deep seeded fear of mine. I am not so keen on the zombie epedemic movies but REC, a Spanish film, is up there with the best. It is a truly scary film.
I also have a penchant for cannibal movies. I don't know why I enjoy these. Maybe it was because when I was 6 years old I bounced into the living room at my mum's house at the very tail end of a film called The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover right at the scene where the lover's body is served up to man who is forced to eat him all up. But, I just can't get enough of the cannibal movies. The most disturbing film I have ever watched (and there's been a few) was a film called Long Pigs. This was a documentary style film with a couple of amateur film makers documenting the life of a cannibal. I do not reccommend anyone to watch this even though it is compelling viewing.
I also enjoy those quirky, feel good movies like Little Miss Sunshine and 500 Days of Summer. I'm not all doom and gloom. The last time my dad was over we watched Seven Pyschopaths which, despite having Colin Farrell's eyebrows playing the lead role, was actually very entertaining. So, watch the last three movies with gusto and watch all the other ones at your peril.
I have not watched any films in so long. Before K moved in I had no T.V. and no internet. I used to go up to Jakers just to download stuff so I could watch it at home. The kind soul never minded that I was only up to use the width of his band. I have to admit that I have a strange taste in films. For a while I became obsessed with watching epidemic movies. The realistic ones were the best, the ones where disease spreads like wildflower and people start beeding from their eyes and suchlike. I am always slightly disturbed by the scenes where they shun someone who is infected. Perhaps this is a deep seeded fear of mine. I am not so keen on the zombie epedemic movies but REC, a Spanish film, is up there with the best. It is a truly scary film.
I also have a penchant for cannibal movies. I don't know why I enjoy these. Maybe it was because when I was 6 years old I bounced into the living room at my mum's house at the very tail end of a film called The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover right at the scene where the lover's body is served up to man who is forced to eat him all up. But, I just can't get enough of the cannibal movies. The most disturbing film I have ever watched (and there's been a few) was a film called Long Pigs. This was a documentary style film with a couple of amateur film makers documenting the life of a cannibal. I do not reccommend anyone to watch this even though it is compelling viewing.
I also enjoy those quirky, feel good movies like Little Miss Sunshine and 500 Days of Summer. I'm not all doom and gloom. The last time my dad was over we watched Seven Pyschopaths which, despite having Colin Farrell's eyebrows playing the lead role, was actually very entertaining. So, watch the last three movies with gusto and watch all the other ones at your peril.
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