When I'm sixty-three point two one eight...

It's official, I think, I'm old. I'm sitting here in front of a group of mostly twentysomethings, completing a Certificate IV level qualification and, it seems that unless I "drive" them, they sit idle. I remember "when I was a boy", you were given the requirements of the task to be completed and off you went. I guess that's why maybe to this day , I like to learn by discovery. Piaget's theory of cognitive development is probably one of the few things that really spoke to me during my time my time studying for my diploma.

To illustrate my frustration somewhat, here's an example from this morning. I demonstrated to a student an accurate and simple process to draw a circle to a particular size, a compass big enough was not available for the process. I then sent him on his way and he drew his circle. He then approached me some twenty minutes later asking me to show him how to draw a circle, again. What was wrong with the method that I showed him before? He explained to me that the circle was a different size. Of course it was, silly me!

Now, I do realise that people are unique and learn in different ways but to me this is an example of laziness. Needing to be spoon fed.

So, is my frustration a case of me being a grumpy old man?

Hello, is it me...

Look hard at the darkness,
And you will see,
Just call my name and I'll be there.
You cannot touch me,
You would not dare,
I am the chill that's in the air.

And I try to get through to you,
In my own special way,
As the barriers crumble,
At the end of the day.

Dark rivers are flowing,
Back into the past,
You are the fish for which I cast.
And what of the future,
What is to be,
As the rivers flow into the sea.

And I try to get through to you,
In my own special way,
As the barriers crumble,
At the end of the day.

Do not take for granted,
Powers out there,
Don't step into the demon's lair.
Time is an illusion,
Rising from dying,
Steep is the mountain which we climb.

And I try to get through to you,
In my own special way,
As the barriers crumble,
At the end of the day

-The Small Hours.

By: Holocaust

Come In Spinner

Sometimes my existence feels like I'm living in a casino, the odds so stacked against me.

Heads, the "house" wins, tails I lose.

Prolly.

This is a war universe.

War all the time.

That is its nature.

There may be other universes based on all sorts of other principles,

but ours seems to be based on war and games.

-William S Burroughs.

Hey buddy...

Time is not perpetual

It is being swallowed by itself

Tail first, flailing despite

Our corrupt intervention

Umm...

Some days are better than others...and some days are better than others.

When the machine is working as it should, or, more appropriately, as we would like, time stands still as we wield our mastery of life upon an unsuspecting universe. There is no doubt, no error, nothing is too onerous, too cumbersome. We wear our existence like a bespoke suit, tailored to fit our very being. These are the days when life truly is a gift.

Then, there are the other days, when just "being" is a fraught experience. Moments of self doubt elongate into minutes, hours of a disturbed reality. Everything takes an immense, aching effort. Decisions that on another day would feel like but a reflex, become protracted, confounding, weighty anchors around our necks.The ignominy that infuses our character with shame, apprehension and repulsion of ourselves makes us a mere vestige of our optimum self.

So, I guess when days are like that, the best option is to grasp life as tightly as you can and believe in it?

You're living in the past...man.

So, a work colleague showed me this photograph today and I almost started tearing up. It rankles me to get emotional about the past because, well, the past is the past.

I don’t know what this photo means to me, whether it harkens back to old times, to bad times and so that pushes a button somewhere inside. Or whether it’s just plain old nostalgia, reminding me of a simpler, gentler time when the world wasn’t in quite such a rush to self-destruct.

It does, however, remind me of summers spent riding my bike around the “tougher”, “meaner” parts of the neighbourhood, when you were always just a little bit scared , making sure you didn’t slow down for fear of a bully, or worse still, an angry dog trying some freedom on for size, just waiting for a juicy seven year old to torment with it’s own special brand of canine persecution.

Nevertheless, I don’t know exactly what it is, if it’s all of these things or none of them but…yeah. Oh, did I mention that said photograph was taken but four weeks ago?

Breathe for freedom.

In an age where, at least to me anyway, imagination is not valued, or at times even seems to be discouraged, I find I'm asking myself; "What is wrong with ambiguity?"

I like to be able to read a line in a poem or hear a line in a song and be able to carry it with me for an hour, a day a week or even a month for that matter until I can decide what the writer/singer means or even more satisfying, what it means to me.

The deliciousness of the ambiguity can feed my imagination for hours if I want it to. To be able to just sit with something and pull it apart, reassemble it in different ways until it "fits", that's one of the beautiful processes that my mind allows me in a world that is all too quick to want to catergorise, compartmentilise and move onto what's next. A world where everything, everything must be explicit.

Well, I for one want some mystery, some ambiguity in my appreciation of art, music, literature, even conversation. Sure, it can be frustrating, exasperating, unnerving, even just plain scary at times but for the most part it feeds me in a way that gives me, I dunno, not joy or exhultation but it's one of the things that makes me gratified/satisfied?, to still exsist.

Anyway...

Harvester Of Sorrow

My life suffocates
Planting seeds of hate
I've loved, turned to hate
Trapped far beyond my fate

I give, you take
This life that I forsake
Been cheated of my youth
You turned this lie to truth

Anger, misery
You'll suffer unto me

Harvester of sorrow
Language of the mad
Harvester of sorrow

Pure black, looking clear
My work is done soon here
Try getting back to me
Get back which used to be

Drink up
Shoot in
Let the beatings begin
Distributor of pain
Your loss becomes my gain

Anger
Misery
You'll suffer unto me

Harvester of sorrow
Language of the mad
Harvester of sorrow

All have said their prayers
Invade their nightmares
To see into my eyes
You'll find where murder lies

Infanticide

Harvester of sorrow
Language of the mad

-James Hetfield

The Outsider

Help me if you can
It's just that this, this is not the way I'm wired
So could you please,

Help me understand why
You've given in to all these
Reckless dark desires

You're lying to yourself again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, put it on the faultline
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
Over this. Why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess. I don't want to watch you.

Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time
What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die

Medicated, drama queen, picture perfect, numb belligerence
Narcissistic, drama queen, craving fame and all its decadence

Lying through your teeth again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, put it on the fautline
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
Go with this, why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess, I don't wanna watch you...

Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time
What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die

They were right about you
They were right about you

Lying to my face again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it put it on the fautline
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
Over this, why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess, come to this, come to this

Disconnect and self destruct, one bullet at a time
What's your hurry, everyone will have his day to die
If you choose to pull the trigger, should your drama prove sincere,
Do it somewhere far away from here
-A Perfect Circle

Me, my enemy.

Okay, so I guess I've gotta expand upon that, don't I? I'm just fucking sick and tired of everyone and everything and this whole I don't know what, that we're participating in. At the moment, for the most part, I feel like I just wanna get off. I don't want to realise my mortality or some such Plathian gesture but the longer that "life" goes on the more it's not really working for me.

And now to totally contradict myself, in some ways this thing is working better than ever. There are times recently when I've experienced a clarity that I've never achieved before in my life and an inner "peace"? that is becoming a more frequent visitor. Yet I still so often feel a dissatisfaction and a constriction within the confines of my existence.

So, I guess I've gotta look at the upside, such as it is, right?

"When your sense of self is no longer tied to thought, is no longer conceptual, there is a depth of feeling, of sensing, of compassion, of loving, that was not there when you were trapped in mental concepts. You are that depth."
- Eckhart Tolle

Short & sweet.

FUCK YOU!

Truer words...

What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us. -
Henry David Thoreau

A little weary, a little worse for wear but...

It’s kinda funny how life works sometimes. Around this time last year, my dog had just died, my long-term relationship had bitten the dust about six months earlier but was still a massive ball of angst in my gut and I was preparing to go into hospital for surgery. My life resembled a country & western song. :P

Turn the clock forward about a year and things are looking very different. I find myself in love like I’ve never been before in my life. I still marvel everyday at the way she makes me feel. I am so grateful to the universe for giving me this opportunity and I’m thankful for everyday that I get to experience feeling this good about existing. Feeling this way is somewhat new ground for me and it isn’t easy and it isn’t simple but it is worth it.

So, as I stride forth into the second half of this year, I find myself in a rare position of contentment, perhaps a little less black around the edges (for now at least) and acutely aware of the fragility of said contentment. Realising that I have a lot of work to do to maintain this state of mind/existence but happily determined to put in the hard yards to make life work a little more in my favour.

For it and she, are definitely worth it.

That thing...

So, for the first time in my life, I have no doubt that I'm in love. It's strange, exciting, exhilarating, fun, joyful and oh so fucking scary.

She makes me feel like no other woman has, because she is like no other woman and because she IS a woman.

And every time I see my reflection, I remind myself of how lucky I am and how easily this may not have happened. And I'm thankful for the opportunity to get to know this person, a little deeper and better everyday.

So...

So, just when you think you had it all sorted out, your life compartmentalised, everything nice and neat, all those little demons placated, the little man in your head chastised and in retreat.

Then along "they" come.

Everything gets turned on its head, a 180 degree mind twist and the vast safety net you have worked so hard to construct and maintain is all of a sudden the size of a postage stamp.

Even so, all those things that you have worked so hard to construct to protect yourself seem cumbersome, an unnecessary appendage that just gets in the way of experiencing "them". "Their" touch makes you feel unworthy, "their" gaze makes you self-conscious and unable to bullshit, even just to be in the same room as "them" makes your pulse nearly explode. Yet at the same time you crave both "their" touch, "their" gaze, just "their" mere presence.

Sometimes, you've just got to work without a net.

Black & White.

It seems that the older I get, the more shades of grey there are. I want black and white back. I want to be able to see the world with a more pure, unadulterated eye.

I don't want to have to look at everything with a balanced view. I don't care if my view is slanted or imperfect, just make it black and white.

Another Sunday...

“If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face -- forever.” - George Orwell.

Fuckin' Amen!!!

Lied to...again.

As difficult as I know I can be, it is disappointing to be either lied to, dismissed or seemingly despised by the ones who claim to "love" you. Disappointing, yet not surprising.
Ultimately, I think if you offer somebody unconditional support or help and they throw it back in your face, it is their loss, though I can't fathom why they don't accept. Surely it can't be considered pride if they go elsewhere to get the assistance they need?
When tomorrow comes, I know I will have a clear conscience, can they say the same? Or are they happy to immerse themselves in their own weakness?