Anger Management?

'Anger management'. So when someone tells me they are going on an 'anger management' course, I have two options of thought happening in this weird little mind of mine.
Option 1: Oh, so they are taking a course to control their outlandish, irrational outbursts of anger over such things like the pasta is stuck to the bottom of the pot. Somebody has put on the roll of toilet paper the opposite way to what they expected and, heaven forbid, they can't get that last bit of dog food off the spoon. Or maybe, just maybe, they are pretty darn angry because the boss is a patronising, condescending, arrogant little twat who needs to be whipped to an inch of their life with a wet noodle.
So option 1 is: Go on some course for anger management, pay out loads of money, (which makes them even angrier), only to be told: "take a deep breath and count to ten."
Option 2: So they are going on an 'anger management' course. Now why would they want to do that? Would the course teach them to get ready to sing these words to management: "take this job and stick it, I aint working here no more.." ? I mean, why would they want to 'anger management'? Do you really need to take a course to know how to piss off the boss? I don't think so. All you have to do is point out the fact, that if it wasn't for you, the entire organisation would fall apart. Tell your boss that they are an incompetent buffoon who makes Fred Flintstone look like one of the great intellects of the 21st century B.C. That should do the trick.
So option 2 is: Wait for your number to be called in the unemployment office.
So life is about our perceptions. It's all subject to interpretation. I can look at a bottle of shampoo for 'greasy hair' and think: "why would I want greasy hair?" I can look at a bottle of juice with the instructions that tell me to: 'dilute to taste' and wonder: "hmmm, if I don't dilute it, does that mean I can't taste it?" Don't get me started on 'free' range chickens', 'cause when I went up to the counter they said I would have to pay for the chicken.
I'm considering going on a 'happiness management course', heck, I don't want my happiness to get out of control.

For The Love Of A Son.

The above photographs are of my son on his seventh birthday. This would be his last birthday in our home as a family unit. For the next five long, painful, heartbreaking years, Tristan was barely in my life. Due to my ongoing mental illness, compounded by the evils of drink, my wife thought it best that they leave. She did was she knew was right and I respect what she did.

Five years of desperation, five years of coming so close to killing myself, five years of battling the opposing forces in my mind. Somewhere in that murky fog that surrounded my being, I noticed the flickering light of opportunity. The opportunity to find some clarity, the chance to make amends with those confused by my illness.

I had enough resolve left to reach out for those last fragile threads of my sanity. His visits to me increased. My former spouse, seeing that I was trying so hard to be better, to get better, allowed Tristan to stay on the weekends. He was now nearly twelve, he told me that he was so sad.

My little boy, my little 'man', had to tell his Mother that he was not happy, he wanted to live with Dad. For many a week he thought through how he would tell his Mum. For many a week, I told him that it best that I stayed in the background whilst he wrestled with his dilemma. I knew that if I spoke on his behalf, it would most likely be construed that I had tried to influence him.

All I ever wanted for Tristan was for him to be happy. Regardless of who he lived with. Early September, 200l, my son came to live with me. I recall so vividly that September morning, when he went off to meet new people, make new friends at Westwood high school. In our hallway, he stood in front of the full length mirror and stated: "Dad, I'm well nervous." I gave him a reassuring smile. Off he went, a new start, a new life. I was so proud of Tristan, I can imagine how anxious the thought of starting again must have been.

So now I was a single Father. A single Father battling with his mental health issues. Yet, know I had motivation, a reason to live. I was determined to make my home a warm, safe environment for Tristan and his new friends. I discovered a renewed energy, an invigorating sensation, to get things done. I decorated my home, heck, I even kept it neat. My goodness, I was so house-proud.

Today, I looked out my window, observed the beauty of the garden I created. I reflected back over the last seven years and thought about just how far I've come, indeed, how far we both had travelled. Our journey has been one of much emotional upheaval, with many a high and low. I know that, one day, he will travel down another road. This road will lead to his destiny. I applaud him, I cheer him, I know he will be alright.

My son has bestowed upon me a great gift. The gift of wanting to live. My son has saved my life. For the love of a son, I know that my life has a purpose.

You Wanna' Complain?

You wanna' complain? I wanna' complain. Is there a Complaint Department to complain about Complaint Departments?
Now then, you might feel the urge to complain about this blog. The reason? Because the rest of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with complaining. But hey, please read on, you can always complain about how the next few paragraphs will reveal how one dude (one obviously very bored dude), can ramble on with a whole load of disjointed musings.
I was wondering around the streets of Leek and noticed something that I would not have imagined in my wildest dreams. Heading towards me was a jogger...are you ready for this? A jogger with a smile on their face. Ofcourse, the fact they were wearing a very tight tracksuit, might just have been the reason for their beaming grin. Moving swiftly on (kinda' like our jolly jogger...).
Sometime around 1665 or 1666, Sir Isaac Newton 'found' gravity. Mr . Newton was drinking tea in his garden, he saw an apple fall to the ground. Sir Isaac started wondering why it fell, and finally concluded that the same force which caused the apple to fall also kept the moon in orbit around the earth. He reckoned the same force, or 'gravity', also kept the planets in orbit around the sun.
Hmmm...so if Sir Isaac 'discovered' gravity; what the heck was it like, in the year 1664, for instance? I can think of a typical scene. "John?!" "What troubles thee, my dearest Winifred?" "Grandmother Elizabeth and Grandfather Thomas are floating over yonder hill!" "Fear thee not, Winifred, for soon, a wise and wondrous man shall bring them back to earth." I shall end this paragraph by leaving it 'up in the air'.
Now then, here we go again, I shall leave you with a whole bunch of stuff to contemplate. I have been thinking about going camping. I like to have plenty of tents. I thought about the tents I once had, I looked at the tents I now have, indeed, I thought about the tents I want to buy. In other words: past, present and future tents. Yeah, I know 'Nomads' are 'in tents' lovers. Did all this talk of 'tents' make you 'tense'? Do you get it?
Do kangaroos, wallabies, toads and frogs listen to 'hip hop' music? Is 'Cape Town' the place that Batman was actually born? Have you ever seen anybody on a 'wild goose chase'? In Britain they say 'petrol', in North America, they say 'gasoline'. In Britain they say 'car park', in North America, they say 'parking lot'. Now when it comes to the following songs, the North American terms work better. Let me demonstrate: 'Putting our the fire with..'petrol' (uh no). 'Paved paradise put up a 'car park'. (I don't think so). Let me leave you with a rumour. Apparently, the promoters of 'Live Aid' and 'Woodstock' are combining forces to put on the greatest rock festival ever witnessed. The name of this festival? 'Livestock'. Headline band? Bet you can come up with one. Okay here's one suggestion, 'The Mooo..dy Blues'.
This very silly, disjointed blog is now, finally, drawing to a ridiculous conclusion. In you wanna' complain about most of this blog not being about complaining, may I suggest you find that Complaints Department that you can complain to about Complaints Departments. Finally, yes finally, that's if you're still here. I observed that glowing orb in the sky and said: "What do think about the demotion of poor Pluto? You don't care!? You cannot be 'Sirius'.

Pluto Pantomime!

August 24th, 2006. (B.B.C. newsfeed on their 'Science and Nature' website)

"Astronomers have voted to strip Pluto of its status as a planet.
About 2,500 scientists meeting in Prague have adopted historic new guidelines that see the small, distant world demoted to a secondary category.
The researchers said Pluto failed to dominate its orbit around the Sun in the same way as the other planets.
The International Astronomical Union's (IAU) decision means textbooks will now have to describe a Solar System with just eight major planetary bodies.
Pluto, which was discovered in 1930 by the American Clyde Tombaugh, will be referred to as a "dwarf planet".
There is a recognition that the demotion is likely to upset the public, who have become accustomed to a particular view of the Solar System."

Well that news of the demotion of Pluto as a planet certainly outraged me. I thought I would give the astronomers time to see some sense. Twenty six months later and I'm still waiting.

What's with this farsical Pluto 'pantomime'? Astronomers playing the part of panto villans as they declare: "Ha, ha, ha...Pluto is not a planet!" "Oh yes it is!!" Scream the disgruntled audience.

So they have decided that poor Pluto will now be labelled as a "dwarf planet". A planetoid if you like. A meaningless lump of ice wandering aimlessly in the nether regions of the solar system. The audacity! What gives them the right to tell us, the great general public, that, hey guess what, all that stuff we learnt about the planets in school was wrong? Well sorry, as far as I'm concerned, Pluto is still a planet.

So all those books that stated we have nine planets in the solar system have now become obsolete. Well, I don't think so. For in my heart, Pluto is still very much a part of our planetary family. Although, suddenly, my 1923 'Dominion Educator' encyclopedia, has, according to those know-it-all astronomers, become bang up-to-date.

So I say to the good people of Pluto: "Greetings Plutonians, we, the decent folks of Earth, stand by you in solidarity. We will not desert you, because we know, (especially us dudes), that size isn't everything. When you look out into the night sky, (which I guess is always), take heart Plutonians and pity the poor bastards on Uranus."