3 little pigs…the inquiry.

3 little pigs…the inquiry.

I may start reading the Guardian just because of this advert.

Has it really been that long?

Two whole decades!!  20 Years!! 240 months!! 7,305 days!!   Has it really been that long since I’ve rode a bicycle? Yes indeed. In fact, its probably been a little bit  longer then that.

But today,I jumped with both feet,back into the world of the cyclist.  No messing around for me. I dug deep into my ailing bank account and purchased a pricey  British classic. “The Pashley Parabike.”

I was nervous as I cycled home from the central London store. VERY nervous. (After all,this is Central London we are talking about) and headed for what is known as Londons most dangerous area for cyclists. The Elephant and Castle round-a-bout.

With my adrenaline flowing, my blood sugar plummeting and my nerves rattling me to the point where one of my fillings in my teeth actually fell out. (..yup, it just fell right out of my mouth as I was riding along)  The further I continued along my shaky way home,the more darkness ensued. Thats when alarm bells in my head started to ring.

The danger factor became ever more apparent when I realised that I wasnt wearing a helmet,nor was the bike equipped with any lights. I must have stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other riders…A sore thumb with a death wish.

Thankfully, I had travelled the route home on the bus many times,so knew where I should be heading. (Although,I dont remember so many hills whist sitting staring out of the window of the upper deck) I would normally describe myself as being in relatively good shape,but that was proved to be a woefully over stated estimation.

Having just got over a wicked little chest infection,(**note the skillful laying down of my excuse **) I found the ride a challenging one. So much so that I wont be attempting the ride again for a while. (cough,cough) not until I improve my post chest infection condition.

I sit here looking at my lovely bike all shiny and new and I cant help but run over and give the bell a quick “driiinng – driiinng”.

Todays closing events have brought a much needed smile to my face.

Sometimes

I see myself as a warning to others,as to what to avoid becoming. 

Sometimes its best not hope. Sometimes its best not to wonder. Sometimes,its best not to obsess over how things should be panning out.  Sometimes,its just easier to breathe.  Breathe in, breathe out,and whatever will be will be.  You see,sometimes, the longer you spend worrying about things in life, the longer it feels like its taking for those things to resolve the way that they should…the right way. (A case of easier said then done,I know…. Trust me,I know.)

Knowing that something is impending and having no control over it, leaves you in a painfully impotent position. Acceptance of the situation only enervates any resolve that remains. and when the inevitable does happen, I assume that the resulting hurt will be even harder to come to terms with,even though you may know its for the best. You may even find yourself wanting that time to come.

Theres a saying that keeps coming to mind with me,  “sometimes,the real tragedy, isnt getting what you want in life, rather its getting it, and then realising that it wasn’t what you really wanted.”

…Oh well

So, my most commonly used phrase of 2011 turned out to be, “Oh well”.

It pretty much summarises the acceptance that I haven’t the control to change certain events unfolding in my life ( Big shock eh? “Man cant change the things he doesn’t like in life”)

Dont get me wrong. These events hurt badly,and continue to do so.  But as always, instead of just falling victim to circumstance,my mind will try to rationalise things. Whenever  I am unable to satisfactory do so, out comes the file marked  “Oh well” . Once again,its  not to say I am trying to avoid what is happening/happened,or dont care about what is happening/happened, but if I can’t control it, then I dont want the extra stress of  having to worry about how I am going to deal with things.

It just is what it is. Whatever happens will happen.LIFE JUST SUCKS SOMETIMES..and thats that.

Im sorry if this makes no sense to the casual readers of my blog..maybe Ill reveal the backstory soon to clarify.

Only a matter of time

I miss my mum so much.

Let me explain. My mother isnt dead. Earlier this summer, the decision was made to place her in the care of a dementia care home. Her condition had reached a stage where fear for her personal safety was my primary emotion when looking at her. It hurt me  so bad when the day finally came around . Despite people saying that it was for the best, It felt and still feels like I have abandoned her. 6 months on, each night that I leave after visiting, I am almost in tears. Things certainly haven’t got any easier to accept.

I dont have my mum to talk to anymore. Not in a 2 way mother-son communication sense. I still love her more then anything, but there is an sadness when I see her now. I regret all of the chances that I had to talk with my mum, but chose not to. To thank her for everything. To say I love you. I hope she knows it. But I doubt it.

I was looking at her today,thinking how much I despise what dementia has done to her. She caught me staring and said ” cor,youre looking at me like you really hate me”         I almost choked, and rebutted the claim.immediately. but explaining why I was looking at her such, wasnt easy.

I know that my mum feels the pain of  being lost in confusion. Its obvious to see in her eyes.  The only comfort that I take from my mums dementia,is that due to the nature of the disease,the confusion isnt something that she is able to focus on for too long.

Dementia is a cruel,cruel disease.  Thats all I have to say about it right now.

Now serving….

♫ One of these things is not like the other ♫

 Ive been teased a lot in the past about the origins of the meats that have passed my dinner plate.  Cat,dog,rat, all of which are animals that I wouldn’t willingly sample if I was aware prior to sitting down to a meal. (I guess Im not that different to most folk in that sense)  Although the rest of the farmyard animals would all find a welcome home on my plate.

Yesterday however,was the first time that I was told I had eaten horse. Whether that was really the case,I am not sure. The explanation was very convincing,and the chef was from Quebec. (where I understand that it is quite normal for restaurants to serve horse meat.)

Where I began to doubt the legitimacy of the story though, is where in the UK would you be able to purchase horse meat? The Sainsburys deli counter didn’t seem to have any the last time I was there.  Or did the homesick Quebecer go out and slaughter his own?

I didn’t end up asking for proof of it being horse meat. (that way I wouldn’t be showing that I was perturbed by the claim. And anyway, what could he do to prove it?…Bring me out  a horse shoe?)   Just to make sure that my friends didn’t get the overall last laugh on me, I asked for second helpings,and mentioned how fresh it tasted.(before sneaking off to the toilet to be sick.)

To thine own self be true

“The problem with having two faces is that over time, you forget which is the real you.”

Ive always liked that saying. It kind of rings so true to me personally…And it slightly scares me. Heres why.

We,on a daily basis, unnecessarily smile and fain interest in the drawn out sagas of those that cross our paths.(Come on, its true.We all know people with whom we interact with,that we really could do without having to listen to,but do so anyway with a forced smile on our face) Our storytellers stand content that we actually hold interest in what they are saying, all because of the overly used, everyday platitude of, “how are you?”   

While we cant be accused of being nasty for smiling and nodding in agreement/sympathy,at the trails and tribulations of our contemporaries/colleagues,we also cant swerve the fact that we in many cases are being false in doing so. (This is where good manners and being false can get easily mixed up) It was only today that this very expectancy was brought to light to me for the last time. The discomfort of struggling to engage in a conversation that I had no real interest in being part of,all for the sake of being “polite”,was unbearable. So I started wondering  just how many times I put myself through chats like that,and just how many times others must do it.                                                                    The answer was enough for me to be writing this blog.

Well, lessons have been learned.(at least on my own behalf)

I now shall no longer ask that specific question unless I really want to know the answer,nor will I offer up a ceaseless response when asked the question myself. Also,I shall not be found engaging in frivolous talks with those that I really dont see the need in talking to. A tad insensitive?Maybe so, but its me…The real me.  I dont feel that it makes me a horrible person, just socially selective as to who I interact with.

The missing piece of the puzzle

I’ve been thinking.

Do you know that illusive “missing piece of the puzzle”  that most people search for in life?  Well,I dont think it really exists. Or if it does,it doesn’t fit properly…and why should it anyway? I mean,who says that life should fit together all perfectly?

The media have done such a good job of depicting their version of the “perfect lifestyle”, that the gullible portion of the populous actually believe that they can should be aspiring to it.  Of course over time,those people realise that no matter how many pieces they collect,their puzzle never seems to resemble the picture on the box…theres always at least one piece missing.

Somebody recently said to me that I appeared to be missing happiness in my life,and that I should be searching for it. What an insane statement to make.Especially as it was based on knowing me for a short amount of time. Just because Im not constantly smiling,doesn’t mean that I’m not happy. (Ok,so I’m not happy… but that’s besides the point.)

Anyway,Would walking around with a smile on my face all day give me one more piece to my puzzle? I dont think it would.

In fact,do you know what? ..Im starting to think that there is no puzzle at all.

Sometimes,hard work just isnt enough

A horrible truth occurred to me today.

Life really isn’t fair. Yes, I’ve heard the saying before, but it wasn’t something that I ever equated to my own being. (Despite encountering several challenging events myself over recent years.)  Of course, once you have faced up to life not being fair, you need to come to terms with the real kicker. That there’s NOTHING anyone can do about it.

We can kid ourselves and pretend that with hard work, perseverance and a dream to chase, we can achieve anything. but in actuality, the best that can hope for is that we smoothly adapt to the circumstances and situations that we have to adapt to.

Hoping for things to turn around because you “deserve a break in life” just isnt going to happen.

We are flexible. Life isnt

Escape

Having finally escaped the C.I.A birdcage that Mark Zuckerberg coaxed me into joining several years ago, I find myself searching for somewhere new to post my random thoughts to random strangers….So here I am. Enjoy me.

Luckily, Im not at a loss for subjects to disparage for my first blog…So here goes.

CHRISTMAS.

I know. At first glance it appears that this is going to be another rant from a “Scrooge”, “Grinch” or whatever title that anyone who speaks out against this time of year gets called.  Well,no. In fact,its quite the opposite. My problem is with those very people that moan virulently about this time of year…and then go on to dive head first into the frivolities themselves. Party hats,ear to ear grins and tidings of comfort and fucking joy.

Have the courage of your convictions for fuck sake. If you believe that Christmas is a waste of time,money and effort,then simply refuse to participate. No excuses. Its easier then you might think,trust me. I withdrew myself from the falseness and crassness of Christmas years ago. No Christmas cards/gifts/dinners or seasonal well wishes and most satisfying of all,no expectations from me or others pertaining to me. Its actually surprisingly empowering…Like farting really loudly in a room full of children.

Saying that you “don’t do Christmas”, shouldn’t be a green light for people to make fun of or question your reasons. Your lack of enthusiasm to partake in being a moron for a month, shouldn’t negatively affect those that do make a big deal over this time of year. (No more then if you being the only non smoker in a room should negatively affect the smokers.)

Say it loud and say it proud… FUCK CHRISTMAS!