Did Steve Jobs rip off Jesus. Or being the embodiment of the almighty, did Jesus know what Steve(us) would do and was so inspired that he was the rip off artist?
The iPod (for the uneducated) was a huge success. It succeeded where numerous others had failed in the past at bringing a digital music player to the masses (or Masses, pun intended). It was expensive and still is but the main thing we often forget about the iPod was that it began as a Mac only device. It wasn't available for use on Windows PCs until 2002. From the time in 2002 until 2004 the number of iPods sold grew from 600,000 to 10,000,000. Apple hit on the best way to expand market share. Start out in a niche market segment and build a cult following, then make some changes to make your product available to other groups.
Christianity (which I think was Jesus' best known film) began with an intimate group (I write that because it irritates the bigoted; those people who make me feel like God behaved the way that Jim Jeffries depicted God at a party, look it up on YouTube) of men and things were quite small and manageable but still powerful. The technology of Christianity was demonstrated by these 13 individuals and had people wanting to join (clearly demonstrating their love for their incumbent God or Gods was easily swayed, so good luck with those hypocrites).
The whole thing being executed in the same way that Romans killed other Jewish insurgents happened and then we have the christian churches that sprang up. They again were small and intimate (maybe some Christians are misunderstanding intimate and confusing it with intimidate?) Now we all know about the theory behind Source Q etc. If not the simplest explanation I can offer is that The Gospels according to M,M,L and J would be more accurately titled The Gospels According to the Church Committees of the Churches founded by M,M,L and J.
These Churches of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John sprang up in different areas and in order to market the Christian product to particular groups in those areas, adaptations to the original product were made (dogmatic law). "Oh you've already mutilated your penis for another God? That's okay this God loves all who have mutilated their penis, in fact he's very proud of you for doing it". Or the more popular, "Oh you believe that mutilating one's genitals is a cruel and sadistic way to show God that your love him/her and don't believe a kind and merciful God would want you to mutilate your body? Well I have wonderful news for you.....yes tattoos will be okay too."
The rules of entry were massaged, changed, bent and altered to get the largest influx of new clientele to denounce their Gods and pledge unending love for a different one (I know I'm covering old ground here). The purpose is not to be critical of the church, its far too short to engage in that kind of dialogue but Christianity began the method for the way that new products are launched. Just think; if the Christian churches had somehow patented the roll out method and could claim royalties for it they'd probably have enough money by now to compensate all those victims of abuse and end world poverty.........hang on.....
Tuesday, 19 April 2016
Friday, 26 February 2016
Refutable Me
It is universally regarded....NO. It is an established scientific fact, that being a mother is a hard job. It is overly popular conjecture from many mothers that being a father is easy. I've only come to terms with this in due to my own experience in becoming one. I accept that I am not good at it. I accept that there are people in the world who are great at it. I even go so fa to say that right now I'm someone's father and working on becoming a Dad.
Heres some food for thought.
1. Conditional Love: We met our partners/wives/significant others and we wanted to be the only one for them (even if you had "the talk") we wanted to occupy the special place in their lives, so we worked hard. Our hard work was rewarded with love. If that hard work were to stop pre or post baby the conditions for loving that person would change. If husbands/partners became so demanding and difficult to live with the love would disappear completely. Love for one's child is unconditional. No matter how difficult life may become for getting up, crying, pooping (there are a few US readers), the love in most part is unwavering. So fathers are now at an immediate disadvantage.
2. The Replacement Paradox: Congratulations! You've landed your dream girl (you need one of those for this scenario to play out) you've pledged your love for each other in front of all your friends and family in a modestly expensive ceremony and living happily. You arrive home from work and are happy to see one another. You plan to do things together, and do them. You travel, eat out, stay up late and enjoy life. The baby is coming so you learn together, make plans for the birth, plan the nursery (you may or may not know how much of a con that is) and its all good and exciting. Then it happens. I'm not sure when it happens exactly but the world shifts slightly. Mum holding the living embodiment of your love for one another as it grunts, cries, screams, sleeps, farts or all of the aforementioned. Man's ego is dented, as man realises that he has dropped to second on the ladder (still guaranteed a preliminary final but may have to do it the hard way).
The father of a newborn tried to get up for feeds, help around the house, and genuinely wants to be good at what he's doing. There are varying degrees of success in such endeavours but as baby grows so so baby's needs. The one need that probably gets neglected is baby's need for contact with Dad which takes another hint when the 4-6 weeks parenting leave is up (if only someone could explain to newborns that the father has a limited time to create and sustain a bond that will last until the next round of annual leave).
Father goes back to work and mother's job at home with baby (unless Mum works too) becomes ten times harder because the token support which father was supplying has now disappeared. The bond between Mum and Bub grows very strong and Dad is finding that he has to own his role as head bath monitor and bottle washer to remain somewhat helpful (It was pointed out to me recently that paying the bills and providing income for food are not all that helpful when hoping to grow a child). A reduced and now split role with both baby and mother means that its hard to maintain a good connection with both and Mum's unconditional love has put Baby in first place on the Love List. Dad's best prospect is to help out as much as possible to cement second.
It is totally unintentional, it happens without people knowing. You've helped to nurture, care for and finance (in whatever way you can manage) your replacement in the heart of your partner. The realisation of this in men is often called Male Post Natal Depression and it is real. Nobody intended it and we all know that the vast majority 99.99999% of fathers in the world love their children, but some do wonder "wasn't I enough?".
I'm lucky and I write this too often. I don't drink, I have great work mates and one or two friends. I don't go out because I don't drink and its pretty hard to order a cappuccino in a night club (they can cause third degree burns if consumed whilst twerking). I'm going out to the shed and I will clean motorcycle, rearrange spanners and do things that will keep me from waking my child and wife in the house because neither of them get enough sleep and I love them.
Before I leave for the shed: the dishes and laundry are both washing. The toys are picked up of the lounge room floor. The bottles are sterilised and filled with boiled and cooled water. The correct number of bottles have infacol already measured out. The floor and high chair are clean and I've removed my crap from the kitchen table. Im not that good at being a father and not in the Dad category yet. but next time you hear about an unhelpful father or how easy dads have it can you please remember this little note?
Mum has the toughest job on Earth. Dad has the job of supporting the person he loves while looking after his emotional replacement and that's not exactly easy for all men.
I.M
Heres some food for thought.
1. Conditional Love: We met our partners/wives/significant others and we wanted to be the only one for them (even if you had "the talk") we wanted to occupy the special place in their lives, so we worked hard. Our hard work was rewarded with love. If that hard work were to stop pre or post baby the conditions for loving that person would change. If husbands/partners became so demanding and difficult to live with the love would disappear completely. Love for one's child is unconditional. No matter how difficult life may become for getting up, crying, pooping (there are a few US readers), the love in most part is unwavering. So fathers are now at an immediate disadvantage.
2. The Replacement Paradox: Congratulations! You've landed your dream girl (you need one of those for this scenario to play out) you've pledged your love for each other in front of all your friends and family in a modestly expensive ceremony and living happily. You arrive home from work and are happy to see one another. You plan to do things together, and do them. You travel, eat out, stay up late and enjoy life. The baby is coming so you learn together, make plans for the birth, plan the nursery (you may or may not know how much of a con that is) and its all good and exciting. Then it happens. I'm not sure when it happens exactly but the world shifts slightly. Mum holding the living embodiment of your love for one another as it grunts, cries, screams, sleeps, farts or all of the aforementioned. Man's ego is dented, as man realises that he has dropped to second on the ladder (still guaranteed a preliminary final but may have to do it the hard way).
The father of a newborn tried to get up for feeds, help around the house, and genuinely wants to be good at what he's doing. There are varying degrees of success in such endeavours but as baby grows so so baby's needs. The one need that probably gets neglected is baby's need for contact with Dad which takes another hint when the 4-6 weeks parenting leave is up (if only someone could explain to newborns that the father has a limited time to create and sustain a bond that will last until the next round of annual leave).
Father goes back to work and mother's job at home with baby (unless Mum works too) becomes ten times harder because the token support which father was supplying has now disappeared. The bond between Mum and Bub grows very strong and Dad is finding that he has to own his role as head bath monitor and bottle washer to remain somewhat helpful (It was pointed out to me recently that paying the bills and providing income for food are not all that helpful when hoping to grow a child). A reduced and now split role with both baby and mother means that its hard to maintain a good connection with both and Mum's unconditional love has put Baby in first place on the Love List. Dad's best prospect is to help out as much as possible to cement second.
It is totally unintentional, it happens without people knowing. You've helped to nurture, care for and finance (in whatever way you can manage) your replacement in the heart of your partner. The realisation of this in men is often called Male Post Natal Depression and it is real. Nobody intended it and we all know that the vast majority 99.99999% of fathers in the world love their children, but some do wonder "wasn't I enough?".
I'm lucky and I write this too often. I don't drink, I have great work mates and one or two friends. I don't go out because I don't drink and its pretty hard to order a cappuccino in a night club (they can cause third degree burns if consumed whilst twerking). I'm going out to the shed and I will clean motorcycle, rearrange spanners and do things that will keep me from waking my child and wife in the house because neither of them get enough sleep and I love them.
Before I leave for the shed: the dishes and laundry are both washing. The toys are picked up of the lounge room floor. The bottles are sterilised and filled with boiled and cooled water. The correct number of bottles have infacol already measured out. The floor and high chair are clean and I've removed my crap from the kitchen table. Im not that good at being a father and not in the Dad category yet. but next time you hear about an unhelpful father or how easy dads have it can you please remember this little note?
Mum has the toughest job on Earth. Dad has the job of supporting the person he loves while looking after his emotional replacement and that's not exactly easy for all men.
I.M
Tuesday, 26 January 2016
Commutable Me
Ive now written this first paragraph for the seventh time (with two embellishments). It has been a while since the last post that I wrote but I have made some changes in my life. I will work on them being for the better.
I'd been rattling ideas about Mindfulness around in my head for the last month and have had plenty of time to try and put thoughts into some kind of logical order but I'm slowly realising it doesn't actually matter if the order of my thoughts is either or neither rational/ logical. The logic and rationale of the thoughts is what makes them my own.
Working on the Suzuki GS500 last year I've become more confident with mechanical fettling which was also helped along with "Gonzo" the SsangYong ute (Pick-Up Truck). No mechanic wanted a bar f it and although it was running fine I had little confidence in my own mechanical abilities which diminished my confidence in the vehicle.
Gonzo seven its purpose. It fetched and carried many long and heavy items and helped to clear lots of junk from the house. Now we have a trailer and are willing to spring the $10 for home delivery of materials and items we cant put in the trailer. A dual cab ute is expensive on parts both financially and in time. Its also hard to dedicate time to things that we aren't passionate about.
Some time around the 3rd of January I sold Gonzo. Purchased in 2014 for $6000 and Sold January 2016 for $5500. On Monday 4th January 2016 I bought my "dream car", over the phone, having never laid eyes on it myself. I then arranged a person I didn't know from a company I'd never heard of to pick up my $5100 investment and bring it to Whyalla. Mrs I.M was very patient (even when I had self imposed a rule to not talk about "the car" until after 12pm) with me and listened to all the unutterable nonsense that fell from my face like rain over Sunshine North, Victoria.
On Friday last week, it arrived. My Ford arrived! My dream car arrived. Unfortunately as it arrived at 5:00pm on a Friday all it did over the weekend was sit in the driveway as there was no way to inspect or register it until Monday. Mrs I.M is waiting for a DVD to arrive. I have told her that the weekend for me would be the same if her DVD had arrived and she was only allowed to view the menu screen for two days.
My ford is a 2003 Focus ST170, a cheeky sporty version of the mid sized hatchback that had only arrived in Australia in 2002. New, the ST170 cost $37,000 which was approximately $13,000 more than a mid spec Subaru WRX. At 170hp or 127kw it was less powerful because it was naturally aspirated and represented awful value for money at the time. It was brought in begrudgingly by Ford so they wouldn't have to change their marketing materials which were all emblazoned with a car that you couldn't actually buy in Australia. I was a graduate when I first drove a Focus and I wanted one then. But the car I drove back in 2004 wasn't an ST, it was the Zetec, a 2 litre, 5 speed manual 96kw version of the car. By the time I had taken that test drive 12 years prior, all of the 1000 STs sold by Ford in Australia were long gone.
Within 18 months of the ST170 being "released" for sale Ford dumped the design (which had been cutting edge in 1998) for a more subtle LS focus (which I did buy if you remember my silver focus). It was close the the ST. It had VVTI (or Ford's version) it produced 103kw (better than the Zebec) and had alloy wheels and a spoiler. I loved it and sadly parted ways with it in favour of something cheaper in order to buy the house my family lives in.
Until Monday (not counting moving the car) I had only driven past a handful of STs and had NEVER driven one. When I drove it to be inspected by the police (standard procedure for interstate vehicles) I was happy. It pulls wonderfully in every gear, and there are six of them. The exhaust, (which runs extractors from stock) has a nice sound. The interior (Recaro front seats) are blue cloth (RS dreams come true) and leather. Everything works. It has a full bodykit. It is on 17" alloys. The smile on my face got so big on Monday I found myself being like a new "P" plater. Taking the long route and making excuses to drive it.
It handles better than anything I've ever driven and combined with the punchy engine It's a joy to drive for me. I think I'm the beneficiary of the car's initially astronomical cost and rapid departure by ford to other cars which were much more powerful (the XR5 Turbo) which were slightly cheaper. STs seem to have been purchased by enthusiasts who haven't hacked them to pieces (like a GS500) and are thin on the ground but prices are reasonable.
I look forward to my commute to work in a car that I am passionate about.
Car History**
1980 MK2 Ford Escort
1976 MK2 Ford Escort
1983 Holden Camira
1981 Datsun 200B
1986 Ford Fairmont
1998 Ford Festiva
2005 Ford Focus
2008 Ford Fiesta
2006 Honda CR-V
2008 SsangYong Actyon Sports
2003 Ford Focus ST170.
** there have been others but due to the relatively short period of ownership, they haven't been included**
Saturday, 5 December 2015
Linear Me
It's been my hope that this blog will one day take on an "organic feel". It sounds ridiculous even as I'm typing but hey ho, there it is. I'm waiting for assistance for my "wellbeing problem" and perhaps that will include tacking my addiction to quotation marks and parentheses. Unfortunately when one visits a doctor seeking a referral for one's own mental health it isn't considered "common practise". Those of us who recognise there is a problem aren't really bad enough to receive help. Had I been talking to the wallpaper and eating my pets a few weeks ago I'd be well underway toward recovery.
So here I am, stuck in limbo. The events of the past months have taught me to be far more mindful of my state and to recognise when things will dip which works quite well most of the time. I've noticed that at times of high emotional excitement that my mood can plummet in under 24 hours. Success is closely followed by feelings of abject failure. Such feelings are difficult to rationalise (as feelings are innately irrational) and I am struggling to talk myself out of them. This weekend I'm resorting to my age old method of burying myself in work. I shall no doubt emerge in time for Christmas with very little physical health.
Where is "The Line"?
Things cross it so frequently at the moment. People's Facebook pages are just collections of things that will definitely annoy others. I come from that standpoint that everyone is a hypocrite but people all have different levels where their personal brand of hypocrisy commences. Some are quite high and some less so. I don't think many of them are bad people. I do believe that 90% of the people I meet in my lifetime will be good people otherwise I'd have trouble leaving my house in the morning.
Christmas is particularly good at annoying people for varying reasons, one of mine is people saying "Happy Christmas" who get annoyed when I say "Merry Birthday". CHRISTmas is particularly pertinent at the moment with the particular brand of anti Islam sentiment behind bandied about on social media (giving ISIS exactly what they want for CHRISTmas no less). People are being outraged at complaints about Nativity scenes (which are usually historically inaccurate anyway, and that's if you consider Gospel to be.....well....you get the idea). Often groups of good people with particular spiritual beliefs complain about images of a man with a white beard and a red suit as being morally corrupt and ruining the message. It seems some of those people are outraged that the Nativity might offend others in the same way the bloke in red does to them.
Luckily us bloke in red devotees are a thick skinned bunch. I just hope anyone who is offended by Nativity scenes or Father Christmas doesn't have to plan a wedding anytime soon. That is a guaranteed method to offend people in ways you couldn't ever imagine. The happiest day of your life is preceded by months of the most miserable days (which makes the wedding day seem like the happiest day). When you think about it, you pay all your savings, buy everyone a meal, have to stay sober, dress in very uncomfortable clothes and leave the party earlier than everyone else, plus you have to speak in public which is something most people fear more than dying.
It will likely offend people (the kind of people who begin some sentences with "I'm sorry but...." which clearly indicates that they either A- don't know what sorry means or B- aren't actually sorry (a liar) that if I were to properly offend people I'd get a choir to sing "Woody Allen Jesus" at a Christmas Carols night.
Why do people say that? "I'm sorry but......" You're not bloody sorry! it's an interjection where someone doesn't want to be held accountable for the next thing to say. I make a living out of saying things to people and if you have to begin your sentence with "I'm sorry but" you're about to say the wrong one. I'm sorry works best either at the end of a sentence, or at its beginning, closely followed by a justification for your feelings of sorrow.
So here I am, stuck in limbo. The events of the past months have taught me to be far more mindful of my state and to recognise when things will dip which works quite well most of the time. I've noticed that at times of high emotional excitement that my mood can plummet in under 24 hours. Success is closely followed by feelings of abject failure. Such feelings are difficult to rationalise (as feelings are innately irrational) and I am struggling to talk myself out of them. This weekend I'm resorting to my age old method of burying myself in work. I shall no doubt emerge in time for Christmas with very little physical health.
Where is "The Line"?
Things cross it so frequently at the moment. People's Facebook pages are just collections of things that will definitely annoy others. I come from that standpoint that everyone is a hypocrite but people all have different levels where their personal brand of hypocrisy commences. Some are quite high and some less so. I don't think many of them are bad people. I do believe that 90% of the people I meet in my lifetime will be good people otherwise I'd have trouble leaving my house in the morning.
Christmas is particularly good at annoying people for varying reasons, one of mine is people saying "Happy Christmas" who get annoyed when I say "Merry Birthday". CHRISTmas is particularly pertinent at the moment with the particular brand of anti Islam sentiment behind bandied about on social media (giving ISIS exactly what they want for CHRISTmas no less). People are being outraged at complaints about Nativity scenes (which are usually historically inaccurate anyway, and that's if you consider Gospel to be.....well....you get the idea). Often groups of good people with particular spiritual beliefs complain about images of a man with a white beard and a red suit as being morally corrupt and ruining the message. It seems some of those people are outraged that the Nativity might offend others in the same way the bloke in red does to them.
Luckily us bloke in red devotees are a thick skinned bunch. I just hope anyone who is offended by Nativity scenes or Father Christmas doesn't have to plan a wedding anytime soon. That is a guaranteed method to offend people in ways you couldn't ever imagine. The happiest day of your life is preceded by months of the most miserable days (which makes the wedding day seem like the happiest day). When you think about it, you pay all your savings, buy everyone a meal, have to stay sober, dress in very uncomfortable clothes and leave the party earlier than everyone else, plus you have to speak in public which is something most people fear more than dying.
It will likely offend people (the kind of people who begin some sentences with "I'm sorry but...." which clearly indicates that they either A- don't know what sorry means or B- aren't actually sorry (a liar) that if I were to properly offend people I'd get a choir to sing "Woody Allen Jesus" at a Christmas Carols night.
Why do people say that? "I'm sorry but......" You're not bloody sorry! it's an interjection where someone doesn't want to be held accountable for the next thing to say. I make a living out of saying things to people and if you have to begin your sentence with "I'm sorry but" you're about to say the wrong one. I'm sorry works best either at the end of a sentence, or at its beginning, closely followed by a justification for your feelings of sorrow.
Anyway that made no sense at all, how organic. Oh shit it was meant to be orgasmic.
I'm sorry but.....
I.M
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
Lonely Me
Its one of those things that people told me about that still didn't cross my mind at the time. I miss being able to sleep in the same bed as My wife. She's co-sleeping and my bowel (or lack thereof) means I get up several times a night. When this happens I wake Jnr so I've exiled myself to the guest room (workout room).
Its odd sleeping on a sofa bed and living half out of a suitcase. It reminds me a lot of my uni days and months ago when this all started I had a dream that I was back at Uni Hall. In a horribly ironic way (take note Alanis) I share a bathroom with a girl that I have deep romantic feelings for but she has another boy in her bed. Plus once Jnr sleeps I must creep around the house and anyone who knows me also knows I am as good at creeping as I am at dealing with disappointment.
I think this has been bubbling under the surface for a while and hey I understand that I'm not the one getting up at night and feeding etc. Not for a moment am I saying that my wonderful wife isn't doing more than her share. I sleep as soundly as possible then get up to go pay the bills and come home to help out before they go to sleep again. Im sure she feels as isolated as me.
Since "my" bedroom has been doubling as a workout room for my super wife to practise some PT skills, Billy the poodle has been banned because nobody wants to workout with a room that stinks like six foot grumpy man and standard poodle. Its gotten very lonely of late especially in the last few weeks where going to sleep alone is pretty damn depressing.
I'm hoping to seek out some help but as always with things of this nature they happen at the most inopportune times. Im not saying that I'm never happy but the joking quick witted bloke that most people see is mostly a facade, its like the well dressed, well mannered, nice smelling and generous representative of oneself that appears for the first date. I have a public persona and I have me. Im just not very comfortable being me.
What have I learned? Im happy when I'm busy. It has to be engaging and fulfilling. Anyone can be busy but can they be absorbed in what they're doing. That's probably why I like building and DIY, it absorbs me. Plus the corrugated iron's parents won't come in and ask why its not as straight at the corrugated iron that has been put up by others. Paint goes where its put and doesn't decide to wander off and pick an argument with the drills.
I need validation, like a drug. I spent most of my primary school competing with somebody who was my best friend but at the end of the day I was maybe a better speller. Certainly not as popular, not as fit, not as sporty, awful teeth, bad posture and probably those things were the beginning of my lacklustre self esteem. I've played basketball for coming up to 27 years. I've never registered a best player vote, scored more than 11 points in a game (where people were trying desperately to help me score) or been a significant part or a premiership, that last one I got dragged before we went into overtime for forcing up a shot early in the clock.
I want validation because I want people to tell me I'm good because it's something that I just cannot do. I heard someone say they made an "amazing salad" today. I know that if I had built the Eiffel Tower I still could never tell myself that it was good. I'd think that it was being up myself. I want to not feel like the biggest prick walking the earth. I'll make you cups of tea, buy you drinks, heap praise and help wherever I can as long as somewhere down the line you will think I'm a good person and possibly tell me (even though I'll deny it).
I want to be happy. Im not saying that I'm completely miserable. There are things that make me happy motorbike riding, listening to music, going out, seeing people smiling at me (and me thinking they're not taking the piss). I remember in primary school there was a kid (who went to to be du of the high school) he could do anything, sport, academia, socially capable the total package. He used to make fun of me being fat. So one afternoon in response I made a crack about his Asian background and a teacher overheard me. I got into the standard trouble and during the line of questioning that I've followed in my own career, she asked me why I had said what I did. My reply was that he had made a joke about me being fat so I.....I was cut off right there and told I had to apologise because "you are fat". I've never really understood that. Prejudice is meant to be universally wrong or at least I thought.
So Im waiting to speak to someone about being happy again and until then I will try to be a pleaser. Plus I'll be waiting behind others who have real problems and aren't just raging, untalented, only wingers like me.
Inflatably Yours
Its odd sleeping on a sofa bed and living half out of a suitcase. It reminds me a lot of my uni days and months ago when this all started I had a dream that I was back at Uni Hall. In a horribly ironic way (take note Alanis) I share a bathroom with a girl that I have deep romantic feelings for but she has another boy in her bed. Plus once Jnr sleeps I must creep around the house and anyone who knows me also knows I am as good at creeping as I am at dealing with disappointment.
I think this has been bubbling under the surface for a while and hey I understand that I'm not the one getting up at night and feeding etc. Not for a moment am I saying that my wonderful wife isn't doing more than her share. I sleep as soundly as possible then get up to go pay the bills and come home to help out before they go to sleep again. Im sure she feels as isolated as me.
Since "my" bedroom has been doubling as a workout room for my super wife to practise some PT skills, Billy the poodle has been banned because nobody wants to workout with a room that stinks like six foot grumpy man and standard poodle. Its gotten very lonely of late especially in the last few weeks where going to sleep alone is pretty damn depressing.
I'm hoping to seek out some help but as always with things of this nature they happen at the most inopportune times. Im not saying that I'm never happy but the joking quick witted bloke that most people see is mostly a facade, its like the well dressed, well mannered, nice smelling and generous representative of oneself that appears for the first date. I have a public persona and I have me. Im just not very comfortable being me.
What have I learned? Im happy when I'm busy. It has to be engaging and fulfilling. Anyone can be busy but can they be absorbed in what they're doing. That's probably why I like building and DIY, it absorbs me. Plus the corrugated iron's parents won't come in and ask why its not as straight at the corrugated iron that has been put up by others. Paint goes where its put and doesn't decide to wander off and pick an argument with the drills.
I need validation, like a drug. I spent most of my primary school competing with somebody who was my best friend but at the end of the day I was maybe a better speller. Certainly not as popular, not as fit, not as sporty, awful teeth, bad posture and probably those things were the beginning of my lacklustre self esteem. I've played basketball for coming up to 27 years. I've never registered a best player vote, scored more than 11 points in a game (where people were trying desperately to help me score) or been a significant part or a premiership, that last one I got dragged before we went into overtime for forcing up a shot early in the clock.
I want validation because I want people to tell me I'm good because it's something that I just cannot do. I heard someone say they made an "amazing salad" today. I know that if I had built the Eiffel Tower I still could never tell myself that it was good. I'd think that it was being up myself. I want to not feel like the biggest prick walking the earth. I'll make you cups of tea, buy you drinks, heap praise and help wherever I can as long as somewhere down the line you will think I'm a good person and possibly tell me (even though I'll deny it).
I want to be happy. Im not saying that I'm completely miserable. There are things that make me happy motorbike riding, listening to music, going out, seeing people smiling at me (and me thinking they're not taking the piss). I remember in primary school there was a kid (who went to to be du of the high school) he could do anything, sport, academia, socially capable the total package. He used to make fun of me being fat. So one afternoon in response I made a crack about his Asian background and a teacher overheard me. I got into the standard trouble and during the line of questioning that I've followed in my own career, she asked me why I had said what I did. My reply was that he had made a joke about me being fat so I.....I was cut off right there and told I had to apologise because "you are fat". I've never really understood that. Prejudice is meant to be universally wrong or at least I thought.
So Im waiting to speak to someone about being happy again and until then I will try to be a pleaser. Plus I'll be waiting behind others who have real problems and aren't just raging, untalented, only wingers like me.
Inflatably Yours
Monday, 19 October 2015
Famous Me?
Sitting backstage in the first day of
rehearsal and trying desperately to not let all of the excitement get to my
head. Luckily my son and motorbike have
helped to curb my enthusiasm by not sleeping soundly and then breaking the
petrol cap lock mechanism. Chances of
riding bike to opening night in a finished state have now skuppered.
So I’ve now had all the moments of seeing
the famous people’s posters and autographs backstage and taking numerous
selfies with the terrific and tragic (not sure where Rita McNeill falls). Currently sitting and listening to some music
and trying my best to look cool and calm by blogging. If you’ve seen me backstage and have read
this please let me know how I did.
Monday, 12 October 2015
Inflatable Me?
My old blog is lost somewhere. Well it isn't lost but Google (perhaps in one of its many virus attacks) cant let me have it again in case I break it or write something they don't like.
Why the title?
Tim Minchin's Song "Inflatable You" is quite funny and it was my third desperate attempt after "terminally me" and "incurably me". Does this mean that I am undergoing some kind of Freudian desire to be unwell? (I wouldn't say no to some extra time in bed), so if you are a psychotherapist then please comment and save me from having to access my frightfully expensive health cover that covers everything except being sick.
I miss sleep and since Jnr has joined the world Mrs I.M is getting far less than me.
I've been a father for one year now. Jnr I.M is small and cute.
I have no hair and I'm in a Musical in just under two weeks time.
Since my last post in 2011 there have been 4 prime ministers and only one election (odd) this turn of events has inspired my love of Clark and Dawe on the ABC.
More shortly. I hope.
https://youtu.be/xsCv2e9-268
Why the title?
Tim Minchin's Song "Inflatable You" is quite funny and it was my third desperate attempt after "terminally me" and "incurably me". Does this mean that I am undergoing some kind of Freudian desire to be unwell? (I wouldn't say no to some extra time in bed), so if you are a psychotherapist then please comment and save me from having to access my frightfully expensive health cover that covers everything except being sick.
I miss sleep and since Jnr has joined the world Mrs I.M is getting far less than me.
I've been a father for one year now. Jnr I.M is small and cute.
I have no hair and I'm in a Musical in just under two weeks time.
Since my last post in 2011 there have been 4 prime ministers and only one election (odd) this turn of events has inspired my love of Clark and Dawe on the ABC.
More shortly. I hope.
https://youtu.be/xsCv2e9-268
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