A happy family

It is always good to hear whatever news I can about Rock Chick's baby. How much she now weighs, whether she was a good girl, if she has learnt how to smile properly yet. And Rock Chick is the best mum you could expect to have, she is so attentive, so tired out, and so tolerant. Just as Dangerous is also maturing into a great father. He dives into nappy changing, holds Baby Fro close and so lovingly and caring he is a completely changed man. OK he still loves to do the things young men love to do, but he has responsibilities and with Rock's guidance he has walked up to the precipice and now become Dangerous Dad. He loves so utterly his daughter and Rock Chick it is a wonderful sight to see. Although I must admit to seeing Rock Chick lose it on occasion with him because he doesn't do things the right way, but this is the nature of any relationship, a man will inevitable not do things quite the right way and certainly can not be as good a mother as a mother is. Even though he tries. Whenever I see Rock she glows with happiness and then it is obvious nothing else matters, they are overwhelmingly in love and happy and content.  However, what of Baby Fro.

Sparkling tells the story of how close she was with Rock Chick growing up. How she was always there next to her, how Rock always needed attention and reassurance.  Had Sparkling  of known earlier she would of given Rock Chick more often to relatives so she formed attachments with other people and felt safe and secure in their company.  Rock Chick was difficult as a baby to raise because of this. It is always difficult for a mother who goes out to work, especially when they become a single parent and making ends meet becomes a priority. The attachment got stronger and caused Sparkling tears at times as it meant many demands taking place at the same time. Juggling one thing against another made Sparkling a better circus act than a real juggler. In the end Sparkling has done the best job she could ever do, she is a great mum and hugs Rock all the time.

Baby Fro is now three months old and Rock Chick calls her Greeting Face (crying face) for she has this worried or afraid look she puts on and she cries a lot. She is of course completely infatuated with Rock Chick, staring at her like a stalker on ecstasy. It is as though Baby Fro has has been hypnotised. She is equally infatuated with Dangerous Dad and has him under her littlest finger whenever she wants him. He dots and dots and dots over her.  However, Baby has this look on her face, it's the "Danger Stranger" look, she gives it to everyone and all the time. It could be because of tummy problems she has been constantly vexed by.  So she does cry a lot. more than Dangerous Dad can.  She sleeps and feeds to demand to the extent Rock is a food machine on call 24 hours a day. Rock's life is now owned and dictated in every way baby. Her life as a young partying woman is on the shelf to the requirements of a young permanently on call mum. In turn Rock's maturity and priorities have also changed. I will admit though Rock has always been a smart girl, she's got lots of brains.  Now she tells me me how she prefers to be in doors with her baby and her man having a cup of tea than being at a party. She has had perhaps two nights out to herself in this time, which is hardly any time out at all. When considering what a party animal Rock was, this the height of her growing up.  The toll of sleeplessness, nappies, hours of crying are tough, but Rock fares it well and Dangerous a wonderful support.

When I see them all together I feel happy because they are happy. It is such an unbelievable thing to be part of. Sparkling is on call as often as she can to help, and dots and dots as a grandmother does. I do my bit to the best of my abilities when in Scotland and have gradually overcome a fear of holding a baby, (because they are scary -irrational fear I know) especially after being told to hold her and walk around the flat to keep her quiet. (about a full twenty minutes)  I am so very happy. It is great to find I am part of this family which I instinctively know is bound by love and happiness. I am of course Pops and will play my ukulele at any chance I am given.As for Babyfro in such an atmosphere she will be smiling and laughing soon, she is going to a very happy, loved and contented little girl.

Feeling a little better, but not on top of the world

Today I can feel a difference in this flu like thing. There is a lifting of the symptoms. My head isn't as bad as it has been. But last night I was hit by insomnia, which has got to be due to laying on top of my bed and sleeping the previous 24 hours. Sleep evaded me between 12:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m. and I know this because I got up about four times to do little things, get personal radio, a drink, personally count the seconds which passed and then listened to a radio program at 3:00 a.m. about sleep. An expert was on it and answered questions as people rang in and told him about their problems. I should of given him a ring myself, at least it would of given me someone to talk to. Mind considering what time of the morning it was you got to ask yourself if this man is such an expert on this why on earth was he doing a program at this time in the morning? Surely he would know all the things he had to do to be sleeping. Unless he had a thing for being a Z list celebrity by being available at any time of the day and night. One thing I did take note of, if you have to take an afternoon cat nap don't make it more than 40 minutes as it could effect your night time sleep. So said the expert.

Although the head pain is reducing there's a kind of dizzyness. Even sitting still in this seat it's there. Like I could be spinning around in the seat. Or one of those snow scene glass balls you shake, put down on a flat surface and see all the snow wizz around as it settles. Weird. A kind of wizzy snow head feeling. It has got to be connected to balance, somehow my balance mechanism has been effected. In a drunken but not drunk manner. I could have alcoholic beverage and see if it gets any worse although it is just a little early in the day at this time to do so. Mind I never was one for those games where you spin yourself round and round and then stand still to see if you could walk. They make me feel sick. Which is appropriate with being sick anyway. Certainly in this case. I wonder if the human body gets any better or any worse as it ages at coping with sickness, especially when considering it manufactures it's own ant-sick things in the blood stream, what are they called? You know what I mean, the things which attacked the little ship as it went round the human body in inner-space (film), the miniaturised submarine film. I know one thing my memory is certainly getting worse, or it could be the illness which is making it worse. Great. Have a bad memory, well get sick and it gets even worse.

Sparkling is often telling me how she is forgetting things nowadays. In fact the basis of some of our conversations is about things we have forgotten, or her telling me I've already had certain conversations with her and she has to remind me of them. At which point a little bit of recognition flashes up. You are not just the sum of life experiences but also the sum of those memories you can still remember. Which is an odd thing. One day they will be able to create memories in a milkshake. You just drink it and think you have been on an adventure holiday but never did. I guess the milkshake will probably be a bit more expensive as well on account of putting the memories into the milk. It must be a tough thing to get milk to remember it's been on holiday and done something other than being milk. Well I must be on the mend, my mind is starting to work again it's not like normal but then every mind can't be normal. The normal ones are just plain boring.

Summer Flu, you're kidding me

I am ill at the moment. It is some kind of flu like thing. It's the end of summer, and I get the flu.I would not of thought this was actually possible. The worse thing is I don't know how I got it. Nobody I've spoken to seemed to be ill. I have been so careful about catching viruses it's ridiculous. Being stuck in bed isn't the best way to spend a day off work. Four little walls just closing in. I have to get out at some time, but feel so week as well. My head has been pounding so long I don't know if it's a migraine as well, but it's not quite as intense. Coughing and spluttering I get through the hours with nothing to say. There's very little you can comment on when the only company you got is a pillow, earplugs and a radio who's battery has just run out. As I lay there in bed I realised how fat my belly was as well. Great, so not only am I ill but indulging in self torture. At any minute I think this thing will lift. It will ascend away from me and I will be perfectly well. A minutes passes and nothing happens, an hour passes and I can not truly say there is any difference at all. It's exactly the same feeling as the one which was there 12 hours ago. Shit. No bloody movement at all.

If it were about luck, then yesterday would of been the luckiest day of my life, I'd of won the lottery. I'd be a millionaire and would have chartered a plane to go and pop in on Sparkling Eyes and tell her how life had just changed. How on earth can anyone get the flu in summer? This should not happen, it is not right. Flu is a winter thing. Not a summer thing. So it has to do with luck, it is to do with bad luck, being in the right place at the wrong time. Incredibly bad luck.And being ill isn't just a physical symptom because it pulls you down mentally as you are in a mental fight. I might have placed one foot in front of the other to get from one room to the other but those steps were bloody difficult to take, the room half spins and I am weak. The effort was all mental. The desire to sleep falls on me and I can't fight it, I have to lay down. I close my eyes and then time has passed a couple of hours. Whilst yesterday at work time passed exceptionally slowly. I knew I should not of been there, but I forced myself to stay. I should of just left I wasn't up to it. But I stayed and carried on. I'm fed up with the martyrdm when I'm not up to it. I'd rather be at work than ill. Maybe it was this thought, stay at work because while here you can not be ill, you must get on with work. It didn't last and I left early. They don't pay me enough. Even at lunchtime as I went out to enjoy the sun and some respite, the sun barely warmed me up, it made me comfortable but not hot. People were out and about in their shirts, mums were pushing babies in prams, all enjoying it. Whilst I suffered with the occasional shiver. Ironically I couldn't get hot on a hot day.

Damn it sucks to be sick. 

Some DIY electrics on a radio

Every morning I get up, the first things I do are, put my phone on charge, pick up radio and then descend to the kitchen for breakfast. The radio gets plugged in straight away. The radio is the daily wake up call. As well as the hundreds of pigeons clattering out of the roof tiles in the morning. They've been there a long time and it seems like roofers don't have a clue on how to stop them. Well one roofer to be precise. The radio takes a few moments to warm up, it's something Sparkling got me years ago and every time I put it on I think of Sparkling. The kettle is filled, toast slotted in the toaster and then I return back to the radio. The problem is over the last year the thing seems to have got a mind of it's own. It doesn't work by pressing the on/off button but by pressing any other button. Then when it is on and working for no apparent reason the thing turns itself off. Now this is very inconvenient especially when I've got a face full of shaving foam and cant touch the thing.  Some days it is particularly worse than other days and will happen every couple of minutes. In a self diagnosis pondering I thought it must be something to do with the electrics, maybe a thing called a capacitor wasn't working properly.  But as I don't know a great deal about electrical things it was likely if it carried on like this it would get binned. This morning things changed.

By chance as I pulled the wires on the radio I noticed the power wire was not connected properly so gave it a firm push back into the back of the radio. It had never occurred to me, this could actually be the thing which was wrong with it. It got plugged back into the electrical socket and immediately lit up, but it looked different. I pressed the on/off button and it burst into sound. The voice of my morning new presenter rang out. The thing was working properly. I changed pre-set channel and rather than turning itself off it actually did change to a different channel. It was fixed. All these months I had been trying to get the thing to work and what was wrong with it was easily fixable. Bloody lucky I didn't take it to a repairman to look at. I'd of been charged for no work at all.

Someone who knew a little about electrics once said to me, if you purchase an electrical device and it does not break in the first month then it is unlikely to have any problems. He didn't go on to explain the issues were usually related to the users not knowing what they were doing. Even in the matter of turning on a radio things can go wrong. Well not any more.

Cat in hell's chance of getting a job

I remember going to secondary school and at the point I was about to leave there was a chance to talk to a careers adviser. It was a completely non eventful event, to the extent the only thing I can recall was sitting in a small cramped room and not getting any advise of much use at all. Leaving secondary school was about getting a job and earning money. The word career is a flowered up word and it really didn't dupe anybody at all. I'll not talk about apprenticeships because as far as I could tell these were like mythical creatures, it was only those who had some nepotistic connection who were going to get a job through an apprenticeship. You might as well ask a dyslexic to do the Times crossword puzzle with a blunt pencil. The dyslexic would have a greater chance of getting the clues than an ordinary person looking for an apprenticeship. These memories come back to me as I trawl through the job adverts in Scotland per my partner's (Sparkling Eyes) request. The thing I always knew at the time was I had the capability and potential to do quite a lot of different jobs, but not a cat in hell's chance of being given an opportunity. With such knowledge you get to despise anyone who has a job and is an idiot. It frankly makes you feel worse than them. But nepotism is rife in the world and it is necessary, because otherwise all the idiots would be claiming welfare benefits, rather than a proportion of them. While the other proportion work away in jobs which don't change a great deal. I know what Sparkling is worth, and it is a lot, a hell of a lot. Qualifications are barriers to capable intelligent people who don't have them. I'm sure a lot of qualified people out there have posts and their colleagues wonder how the hell they got where they are. There's probably even a few directors. Nope, there is no doubt in my mind, being intelligent or not being intelligent has little consequence to being employable. Although the natural assumption is someone who is savvy would be in a better position.

I looked through the jobs available. It is a depressing thing looking through job adverts, it is like the adverts have been worded for very specific people. Employers don't want to give a non experienced person a chance. They don't even consider it would be an advantage to take someone on into a job who has enthusiasm and desire to learn and do a good job.  They just want to look for someone who ticks the boxes. All I can say is I hope they get the right person who ticks the boxes and then they find out they made the worst decision ever. Just take a look around your workplace, there's bound to be a few of these persons there. Once they are in they don't get out, they cling with both hands in vice like grips. They have no ability to think outside of the box because they only want to think in the box and conform all the time. They are the kind of people who watch soaps every night on TV and then spend the rest of the day talking about what they watched. Therefore a second item can be added to the unnecessary prerequisites of being employed. Which is having a personality. There is no barrier to having the boring, depressive and sycophants from being perpetually employed. They perpetually enjoy their rewards as much as the less than average crossword solvers.

For the job candidate there's no doubt times are tough. For the employer I'd say get some brains think about what you are doing and think about the group of people you would not normally consider. The watch words are transferable skills, enthusiasm, motivation, adaptability and there are many others to go along. I saw a great vid on TED Talks the other day. The talker said, when you employ someone, don't employ someone because they have the skills and because they have the qualifications, employ someone who has the same dream as you do. You will get a lot more out of them than the hours pay they get. They will do it because they like doing it and they are passionate about it. It's a shame employers don't have a way to measure the passion of their candidates. Especially the ones who don't fit the overly specified job adverts. They would find a few gold nougats, one of them is Sparkling. I might be a little bias in what I say, but hell I know I'm also completely right. Shame others don't give real opportunities to those who really need them.

Wanted, highly dyslexic cryptographer, related by blood, loves evening TV and bores the hind legs off a donkey.  Damn this job advert is going to be inundated.

A preview of Elysium not a review.

Matt Damon is being interviewed about a recent movie he has started in Elysium. In this his hair cut to the skull but as the film was some time ago it has all grown back now. It's an interesting chat, about putting on a bulking suit, the storyline being a classic rich versus poor issue, wrestling in a dump in which the dirt around them is basically fecal matter.  I suppose he got paid more than enough for the experience. The film could be a classic Sci-Fi one but there are some mixed reviews on it. It's not always true a director is able to achieve the same with his latest film as he did with his last. However, Damon goes on to say the important thing to him was the director and recommends people go see it because Neill Blomkamp directed it. His earlier film was District 9, which was a complete surprise and very good, to the extent a non Sci Fi fan I know watched it and liked it. In any case the storyline has got to be human. Elysium tries to do this as we find out Damon has terminal illness and will die in a few days time, the only way out of this predicament is to get where the rich people are, circling the earth on a lavish satellite come space station. Damon is put into a suit which gives him incredible powers to fight back and reach the rich people upstairs. 

So the story is set and he goes into action. It is almost hypocritical an actor of Matt Damon's wealth and fame is playing the part of a poor man trying to reach the rich people. Especially when in reality he is the type of person who would be amongst the rich anyway. This makes me think Bomkamp should of gone with an unknown rather than a known actor. The reason is simple, if his film is any good then it will be the story which makes it good. Unfortunately the reviews are very much mixed. Early humour fades away, the kind of sarcasm which keeps you glued turns into something of an action movie.  which is fine if you like action movies, but it doesn't make the hallmarks of a long lasting Sci Fi genre epic which could have follow ups. Once an actor is famous they don't have to try anymore, and it seems the same sentiment may apply to directors. There are unfortunately some boring parts interspersed with action to keep you in you seat. Shame there are too many films like this nowadays, it's like directors are buying into the notion the public are stupid. 

Worth watching yes, but don't expect the extraordinary. 

Reasons to dump the your Facebook account

So there I am, taking an hour to get into my own Skype account because I'd forgotten who I was, what I was, my name, my age, my shoe size, favourite colour etc etc and eventually getting into it find there is no one to talk to, of course there isn't. Nobody was expecting me, I don't have a football field full of friends, the list is exhaustive pretty quickly. Know what I mean? Somehow I'm then tapping into my Facebook account, which I rarely look at nowadays and start wondering. All these methods of communication and no one to communicate with. But to tell the truth my opinion of Facebook is on a par with something which comes out of a dogs back side and you hope not to step into especially when it's fresh and then curse the dog, the owner and the grip under your shoe where the gunk seems to collect and follow you about for the rest of the day.

Facebook is like a post card show, but all the cards are happy faces, all the comments are like "wish you were here" because underneath it is saying my life is better than yours and I have more friends than you. We are always happy and never sad. I'm not allowed to put some comments on facebook because Sparkling would be pissed off with me. I can't write feck Facebook, or write anything derogatory in an open forum. I don't like it. You just have to hold back it's etiquette and if you didn't hold back you'd be considered nuts. People have had their identity stolen from Facebook and even had their homes burgled when they went on holiday.

• facebook doing it's damnest to take ownership of your photo's and words.
• facebook passing on your details to advertising companies or private companies because they have profiled your likes and dislikes.
• It is not a publicity contest. Your value as an individual is not related to what is written on facebook.
• Life is often boring. Sometimes people put shit on it to get attention. 
• Attention seekers.
• SPAM and more SPAM, and some more SPAM.
• Because you're not a sheep and don't want to follow the crowd.
• Employers now trawl facebook to spy on their employees, especially those potential employees. Got an interview?
• facebook isn't your story of how you have come through the tough times.
• facebook is depressive.
• facebook friends are not real friends. Unless you can say you sat down and had coffee with them in the last month.
• It's full of self-publishing narcissists.
• It's a reminder of how friends and family you used to know have now become distant friends, distant family, and faded images.
• It is a waste of time.
• People lie.
• You cannot truly delete your facebook account.
• Because you're making a few owners richer, facebook is a private company after all.

Seems, there are some pretty good reasons not to be on facebook. Just doing a search on the internet and you'll find there are some disputed arguments going on about user privacy and facebook suing. I wonder if they will take my message of facebook, the one which says I'm writing a blog on reasons not to be on it.  The next thing is to decide on trying to delete my account although this is a difficult thing to do. Also to try and remove stuff I've put on there, bit by bit. Reduce their profile accuracy. Yet there's always the fear of not being part of something just when it has suddenly become of use. After this blog if I remain on it, I'll be a bit of a hypocrite.  There's another reason, facebook's full of hypocrites, I know one for sure.

BLOG counters being fooled

Recently there has been a higher number of views for these blogs. Some part of me was hoping people liked had a mild interest in what I'd wrote, but unfortunately it's not the case. There's some nasty bits of software out there which fool BLOG sites they are being visited, when in fact they are not being visited by human beings, just pieces of software.  Then when you check out the audience for your blog you get redirected to an advertising site. I've been referred to a slimming site now a few times when trying to establish this additional audience. I've also pulled those popular blogs which seemed to be getting all the hits because they are effectively skewing the stats. I'm not as popular as I thought I might be. It's one of those typical little disappointments in life I'll just have to get over.  I'm sure it wont be the end of the world, but I'm not going to be fooled into a popularity contest. Or a slimming contest, whichever it may be.

I then started to do some research into those blogs which were more popular than the rest.  On why it is their traffic sources are that much higher. It seemed there was a common theme amongst them. They would be populist in much the same way a tabloid newspaper is.  For instance talking about famous personalities and how they were living their lives. I got enticed for all of twenty minutes as the nosey Parker in me took over.  Then found them to be boring, not things I'd want to follow for any length of time. Then I thought about something I once heard. It's not what other people think, but it's what the most important person thinks which matters. To me this is Sparkling Eyes. She reads my blogs on occasion and she thinks I have a writing talent. So what matters is measuring up to Sparkling's ideas not the rest of the world. The rest of the world can sleep and wake up in it's own time.

The question is whether I should keep the blog counter or whether I should take any notice of the stats the blog site keeps. For we're both being fooled.

Finding a lost passport

Where is my passport, I asked myself. Casting back my memory, somewhere in the depths of it I would retrieve an image of where the bloody thing was put. It wasn't working, I could see the passport in it's black leather cover, all nice and neat but I couldn't see where I'd put the thing. I just knew it was somewhere and should be in my possession. Like a tip of the tongue word which is difficult to articulate, the same thing was happening with this document. Last night I found myself in a half panic mode, but resisting the urge to panic I did something completely different. I said to myself to check first my locker at work, I'd taken it in and may have left it there. I resisted hard the temptation to blind panic, given I'd already told Sparkling she had to find her's so we could go on holiday. How awful it would be for Sparkling to be standing at the airport walking to the plane and me waving her off because I couldn't find the blooming thing. No she wouldn't go without me, I was way to important for her to go on her own, she'd need someone to talk to, well I hoped so. This morning I then checked my work locker, pulling out the box and the empty of sweets, sweet tin. Nope, it wasn't there. Hmm, this is interesting. It meant the fiendish fellow was at home. I checked another locked cupboard at work but my memory was not linking any imagery with this. I had to keep cool. Keep calm, it would turn up, the next search would have to be at home.

So after work rather than go straight home in a panic I went to the pub, there I had a couple of very nice red berry cider drinks. They did wonders in relaxing me, I had to search again but I was chilled and really if the thing didn't turn up then I'd have to put into process another set of cogs and apply for a new one regardless of the cost.  The first thing was to check every coat I'd worn over the last couple of months, even a coat I'd worn yesterday and had already searched. It was all about process and elimination. Having to find something is always about elimination, but also I was thinking to myself, there are times when you see a thing you are looking for but don't recognise it because it is not facing you the right way. I imagined my passport on it's side, at a different angle. I imagined how best it would be to feel the pockets even after putting my hand inside them, just because if I had missed a part of the coats then I'd know how a hard passport would feel. As I said to my fellow drinking companion, when I returned home it would be another shallow surface search followed by a deep search. A deep underground search where every single nook and cranny is turned over. One which would take a long time and be exhaustive and eliminating. Yes the cider had helped a lot. The coats had been checked. What I did find was an old MP3 player I hadn't seen for about 8 months, which would be a kind of consolation prize. I kept thinking and searching in a relaxed way. Next I thought of the bags I carry to work. The one I'd been using the past couple of weeks, searched again even though I knew it wasn't there, then I saw the bag I had used a couple of months ago. Yes I thought. It has got to be there.  As I picked up the bag the image in my memory got more salient and I unzipped the pocked I had seen. Bingo, there it was.  Two fat ladies and a picture of me in a black leathered passport. How happy I am.

This means I can go on holiday with Sparkling, it means I can run away from all the pains and strains of the Fish Factory. It means I will be free, somewhere, if only for a short time with the woman I love, and she'll not have a man called Jose with a mexican moustache and olive skin pouring her drink.  All I have to do now is find a holiday.

Keep your chocolate safe

I distinctly heard an announcement over the tannoy as approaching the railway station. It said "take care of your chocolates." The only thing was I didn't have any chocolates and I surely could not of distinctly heard this broadcast. It had to have been a generalised safety announcement to stand back on the platform, or perhaps to keep your belongings with you, it certainly should not of been anything to do with chocolates. Why I heard something which clearly was not there I don't know. it wasn't like I had earphones in, or had been thinking about chocolate, eating chocolate or anything with chocolate at all. It was in short an auditory hallucination, it could not of existed. I thought it was funny how my mind had played tricks.

Funny thing is, I've not eaten any chocolate all day long.

Reflections and sayings

Socrates said

"the unexamined life is not worth living."

In fact Socrates said a lot. I don't particularly read any of his works, I mean it's old stuff, some of it is probably on stone tablets. Then once in a while a saying pops up, I then research the origin and it may well be one of Socrates. Collecting sayings is something we all do, whether from books or people we know. They are tags of quick reference, they set a scene and all else which follows is linked.

I think about my life all the time. It is as if it's more than a habit, it is something which happens naturally and often without real conscious thought. Just sitting at a desk, or watching a movie and out of the air would come a replay of an event from memory, followed by the question of why did it happen in the way it did. Were I an ice cream seller then probably it would all be a lot easier, but selling ice cream would not be enough, I'd have to know more about the ice cream, how to make it, where the best ice cream in the world comes from, whether there was an ice cream convention. It would go on and on. Especially if it were a passion. Just as examining my own life, it is an obsessive process. At times it brings happiness in it's reflections but at others I am in despair and just can't put things together. For the moment this is how I'm beginning to feel about work. It is workplace stress. My ice creams keep melting before I've had a chance to take a bite of them. If only it were this simple.

However, stress comes from multiple sources. It can be from kicking the dog on the way out of the house, not being able to find the thing you want. Like today, at lunch time I had it in my mind to get a certain pie, chips and beans from a pub. I went in the pub ordered a soft drink then at the food counter found there was no pie. I didn't want anything else, my mind was fixed on this impulsive, irrational need and it could not be satiated. So I went without the pie and got something else after quickly downing the drink. Disappointment on a small but significant scale was what I suffered. Later after work I went to the same pub, sat down with a couple of people I knew and we chatted. I felt exhausted after work. Someone had fed the music machine with coins and it was pumping out crappy electro hip music. Which wasn't even contemporary. I looked around and recognised the individual who would of fed the machine. For it is always the same kind of music they select. The volume was impinging overwhelmingly on my senses. I complained as I sat with my pint. Then decided I'd had enough and walked out, leaving half the pint unfinished. I wanted to relax, to chill. Yet twice in the same place I'd been disappointed. I made the choice and I walked out.

I think it is important to wrestle control, because the things we don't do are just as much by choice as the things we do act on. It is blame which gives the feeling of helplessness and victim status. I spoke to my 25 year old nephew and he tells me about his state of anxiety. About how he is afraid of everything in the world, everything causes him anxiety, he blames everything he can and takes no responsibility for his non action. He has been moulded by his upbringing and no matter how I've tried to coax him into making his own decisions for himself or motivate and raise  him up, he always reverts back to the same frame of mind and sets of behaviours. it is sad, I want so much for him but it is his own choice even though he will deny it, he is what he is. Just as a melting ice cream is what it is. In need of some chilly air or a greedy dog to come and lap it up.

So I'll finish with another saying

"you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink."

A Sunday Walk and some annoying things

I was up to 2 a.m. watching a pretty bad Kung Fu movie, then wondered why I'd spent valuable sleeping hours doing it. So waking up slightly later in the morning I decided to go for a nice long Sunday walk as seems to be the normal. Part of the route takes me through a park with a lake in the middle of it, this is enjoyable. Scenically it is good to see trees and grass, these are things which are relaxing. The sun was out and it was a great day. A few weeks ago when I walked round the lake there was a thick green water weed in it. The ducks didn't seem to think much of it and some how struggled through it. It's like nature's rubbish, as I guess all weeds are but nature doesn't discriminate. It is humans who see these things as weeds. Unless of course they have been imported from another country so are actually alien species. Such as Africanised honey bees, large Chinese crayfish in central London's Serpentine and not to forget the occasional mosquito. The mozzys are having a problem establishing themselves because of European winters but it doesn't stop them from trying to get a foot in the door so to say. A very tiny foot. Funny though how the Scottish Midggy seems to survive the winter.  At the point I hit this lake I've walked about three miles so may sit down on a seat somewhere for a short rest my walking pace kind of slows down as well. It is so pleasant walking on the footpath when there are few people around. I like the quite and the nature thing. On this walk though as somebody was walking a little faster and I could hear the voice of a man a distance behind me. It was annoying because I could now be walking for half a mile with this Dickhead and his loud voice niggling at me. There was no choice but to speed up and try to get out of ear shot of him.

He was with a woman, possibly his partner and he was a complete Dick. On account of being an individual who talked loudly in an open air park, can there really be a need for such twats in this world? I expect he's the type who would tell you things you already knew in a desperate effort to get attention. He probably loves the sound of his own voice, and practices talking with gusto every night, the neighbours had their walls soundproofed but then wear additional ear plugs at night as the man snores. It's one of those rattling noises and at such a pitch it can go through sound proofing and be like repetitive broken machine. Part broken because if it was fully broken it would make no noise at all. The man doesn't care about his volume, he just is what is he is, loud. A bit like American's can be when they are on holiday and take on an attitude like they own everything. I'm sure they don't mean to be like this, it's just the way the come across. Loud as well. Maybe the man has an American family, which would account for the genetic loud gene. Mind it's not just American's who are loud, there are shall I say other ethnic groupings who have a tendency to raise their voice and speak loudly. These are personal observations.

On the return walk, I walk over a heath. It is a beautiful patch of grass land. Many people use it for sports and social activities. However, today I noticed how it was littered with plastic bottles and empty cans of soft drinks. It seems not only does nature litter the place, humans do a pretty good job of bringing rubbish to pleasant places as well. I wondered if the plastic bottles were picked up by rubbish collectors for the heath. I'd never seen them around but there are strategically placed bins around the place. Which makes it worse to some extent. Why do we litter when it would be just as easy to take the litter and put it in a bin. If the rubbish isn't picked up it would not take too long for the next set of park users to get a little pissed off how the place was being abused. I must admit to feeling this way. Here certainly is a reason to have park inspectors with legal rights to fine litter louts. It is a shame, but maybe I am being a killjoy for saying such things, a fuddyduddy, and old grumpy man. Just to say though, I put my plastic bottle in my back slung over my shoulder, and considered although it is rubbish it is my rubbish and no one elses to clear up.

I got home after three hours of walking and felt completely knackered. Well and truly tired out. It's always the shoes, I just don't have a proper pair of shoes which feel comfortable enough walking miles in so my feet get very tired and sore. I'll have to do some research on what footwear to put on. Maybe see if there's something with spikes. So I could jab plastic bottles pick them up and put them in the bin. Or alternatively if I get into a fight with a loud mouthed Dickhead they'd also be a defensive weapon. Well, if one thing is sure to get me arrested that would be it and all because of a Sunday walk and the desire for some peace and quiet.

Stereotypes what makes them what they are?

I was on the train heading to work when there sat a few seats away was an Asian man with his girlfriend. He had a turban on and looked like a Sikh. His girlfriend was holding his arm, she was small in stature, however in comparison he was both tall and muscular. In fact he was the stereotype of what a muscle man should appear. Wearing a tight fitting T-shirt, and bulging biceps and chest. He must of decided at some point to sculpt his body and had obviously spent a lot of time doing it. I prefer to sculpt my belly and spend an equally lot of time trying to get the perfect desired roundness. After a moment he pulled out from a bag a book, and as if to emphasise his physique the book was big as well. A large hardback. How come I wondered, do certain people do everything they can to become stereotypes. Versions of other people they have seen.  When I go to the pub, there are customers there who are stereotypes of what pub drinkers should be and this is in every way. Alcoholics who have pitless stomachs to the taste of their special drink. Some have shades of mental illness but not enough to be considered a nuisance to society to be institutionalised. Through a public square I walk yet another set of individuals sit in the sun enjoying the beautiful weather and drink from cans of larger, they have their families around them, partners drinking, pitbull like dogs, the men with shirts off, tattoos with a self made look. They argue with each other, act loud, swear and it's like they are telling the world to see them, look at them, they are what they are, even if it is detrimental. It is a demand for attention, it's not subtle or a request, it is in your face attention seeking. Their life is like this and they want you to see it all. It is who they are and there is no caring. Not unlike the body builder who just wants to be admired and to draw stares in a magnetic way, the loud delinquent families want to both draw attention and repel it. They are an oxymoron in many respects.  A little like my belly getting big, and then I quietly fart so as to gently try to reduce it and inadvertently repel anyone who happens to be too close.  Some farts smell others don't.

Do people know they are attention seekers or is it just audiences who see attention seekers. Should we just ignore them after all they are nothing in real terms.  I try to ignore them, I love to practice the art of ignoring them. Headphones in listening to the radio, making a path around and away from would be seekers. As if it is nothing in the world to walk past these creatures. Yet in another respect these people are fragile by their very own attention seeking activities. They have a need which the audience gives them. If they are not judged perhaps their world would be a lot more different. This is the same for glamorous individuals, the famous, the rich, the notorious. We can't be one thing so we become another. Am I too judgemental I wonder. I also wonder if I see a hint of histrionics in every stereotype. Do they ever have self realisation and break out of their behaviour mode, I ask myself. I've not broken out of the pot belly behaviour mode for years and it constantly vexes me to think this is the one item of my stereotypical appearance, fat, grumpy, ukulele playing, hat wearing little man. Which sums it up quite well.

If someone is happy with their lot, their problems, their turmoils then what does it matter what the rest of the world thinks. Even if they are a stereotype.  But if they become unhappy when they don't get the attention they seek then they might gain some insight, pump one iron less, drink one can less, eat one cake fewer than normal. Maybe what stereotypes are, are the accumulation of a set of habits which continue to an inevitable path. Habits which can at times be bad. I once heard if you continue heading in a certain direction, you'll end up at the destination the direction is taking you towards. Of all things a habit, be it stereotypical or otherwise is difficult to change or to stop.  Like Scorates said "we are what we repeatedly do, excellence therefore is not an exception, it is a habit." Sounds a bit anally retentive, obsessive-compulsive if you ask me. Now, is it a good thing or is it a bad thing?

Getting angry and some coping strategies

I don't know why it is but there are times when I get real angry with people. Then I simmer away. I know it is about having expectations, to expect someone should do what they get paid to do, to expect they know what their own job is and yet even though they are paid a higher salary they don't do what they should. Especially when those things, those expectations are quite simple basics, like checking there's water in a kettle before turning it on, walking on the left hand side sort of things. They are not rocket science, but come under the heading of common sense, to the point even a child knows them. So I get real pissed off and would describe my anger on the verge of incandescent and seething. Then there is the impotence of having your hands tied, with no action I can take which will change or improve the situation because it was all entirely out of my hands in the first place.  Were I the owner of the business there would of been a lot of heads rolling, but the reality is big machines roll slowly, more so when there is no motivation to give them an extra push.

At these times my strategy is to bite my tongue, and keep silent. I also reduce or stop alcohol and caffeine consumption, I try to keep away from people who will make me feel worse or crowd me in and not let me speak. The type of person who doesn't know how to listen is anathema.  My eyes narrow and I focus, knowing the situation I am in I then do my best to calm myself down. Concentrate on breathing, even taking time to try some meditation. I seek peace in my mind. Then I think about my own attitude and way of seeing the world, because although other people should act or behave in a certain way they simply don't. They do are idiots. The human race is full of idiots, and in some cases it is idiots whose actions can result in the death of others.  It is as if there is an "idiot moment" state of mind, which really is no state of mind at all. A person may not be an idiot but can do idiotic things. I'm sure I've been considered in this way before myself. When I get a handle on these thoughts, I get to understand and quell the anger. It is about accepting these things and being relaxed about it. The relaxed bit is important, because it is only when calm your mind is at it's best in seeing options, making judgements and ensuring you are not part of the "idiot moment" group.

Another way to help calm the mind is to listen to music, music which chills, everyone has their own songs they like and know but I like to step out of the comfort zone and seek out music I've never heard before. Music which is by different groups, it's wonderful finding something new and not being stuck in a certain decade. How painful it is to talk to people who can only recite groups for the 60s, 70s and 80s. They can tell you everything about those groups, what the lead singer ate for breakfast, how the drummer died and the inspiration for a certain song. But then ask them their thoughts on something which came out last year and they are lost. It's their choice, their close mindedness. Yet another item which can cause frustration and this in turn can progress to anger. So it is an item which has to be accepted on the list of things which don't change.

So why the hell don't I get paid more?  I'm not part of the idiots gang, well, seems like the idiots have got one thing right they all play together, even though none of them knows the rules.

Friend wanted...apply here

I don't know if this is a common phenomenon with people in this world or whether it is just me. But the older I get the fewer people I class as friends, to the extent I am not entirely sure if I have any friends at all.  For to have a friend suggests there is some kind of regular catch up with so called friend, and if it has been months and months since you saw each other, or even years then the friend becomes an acquaintance with history.  Real friends take a while to nurture, they provide comfort, compassion, discussion and fun. They can also be complete pains in the arse, but usually the two balance out, until the day of reckoning and you realise this thing can no longer continue it's course, a line has been crossed and the psychological contract is broken.  Friends on the internet are not friends and I don't have any of those either, well except for the odd person on Face Book (FB), but I don't even like FB because to have a friend should of seen them in person, conversed and have coffee.  Some people have thousands of friends on FB yet I am sure they do not see each of those persons even once in a year.  So a FB friend isn't really a friend at all, it is a name on a list and gives the user a false sense of perception of their own popularity. I've seen videos on YouTube of people who used to have FB accounts and then closed them down, realising FB was an addictive and none productive piece of software which had taken over their lives. They then grew as they ventured out into the world to meet real people. The problem is meeting real people to make friends and I'm not really counting people who are met in the workplace.  Again, workplace colleagues are not friends unless you see them outside of work and you don't work with them every day because now it's beginning to sound like some joint stalker pact scenario. I can see it now, two people discuss a conference call, catch up on emails then shake hands on a mutual stalking policy to be enacted once out of the workplace.  Doing their best not to let their partner's know.

I really would like a friend, but not at any cost, a good friend or one I could call a best friend would be great. Not someone who is continually depressive and needs company to share their sorrow.  I got family who can do this, they live in their own little bubble of self involvement, self devaluation, self judgement and self hatred. I struggle and fight against them on a constant basis so they don't infect me with their vibes.  Showering in holy anti depressive water, buying in bulk depressive repellent garlic, which I then make string necklaces of and wear when I have to go and see them. They are emotional vampires and I end up confronting their self indulgently and debating a different view of how they should take it on themselves to do something and get out of the shit hole they just purposefully sat in.  The world has damaged them so much they say and they didn't do anything, they are the victims.   Though not innocent.  I'm psychologically exhausted by them and now revert to do my best not to talk to them if I can help it. I would not mind a friend who has different opinions from me, it's good to hear a different viewpoint of the world, but I would hope they are not a typical male of the kind who is preserved in a formaldehyde of sport TV and football. I can't help but think how much life has been lost by males who can only talk sport and nothing else, who have encyclopaedic knowledge of the last 30 years of football games and will talk avidly about their team but don't have much to say when talking about their family, how their children make them happy or mad.  It is as though they have lost something important in their life. Sport may be important to some people but it is not as important as life. Passion is good but is should have a variety of sources and not be centred on last seasons fixtures.

Wanted a friend, someone who I can have one-to-one heart to hearts with, hey I'm not gay either.  A friend who has a sense of humour but they don't have to be a comedian.  A friend I can learn from and who I in turn can give support and opinion to, I'm not arrogant I'll not overwhelm.  I want a friend who will defend me when needed. I was once in a café and ordered a meal, the meat on my dish didn't taste fresh so I complained, a friend I was with said to the waiter "it must be his mouth" even though he was eating the chicken and I was eating sliced beef.  Lets just say this incident and others mounted up to the day of reckoning.  I don't think I am demanding too much. Nowadays my best friend happens to be my ukulele, but it doesn't talk back to me and can on occasion play out of tune. Further, I can hardly sit in a London pub having my one pint of Guinness and sit there talking to a ukulele balanced upright on a chair.  Ukulele's have only just so many uses.

If I get no reply I understand, it's life. People are busy rather than searching the internet for real friends. At this rate though I'll be on course to become a ukulele virtuoso.  As long as I'm happy I wont mind. Where'd I put the garlic?

Friend wanted, feel free to leave a comment, I'll get back to you.