A Passion For Life.

Well okay, we have been told that 'fifty is the new forty' and 'forty is the new thirty' and so on.   So what does that make a ten year old?

I visualised the following situation.  I am invited to the celebration of a chap who has just reached his hundredth birthday.  I find my moment and go over for a chat with this man.  "Good day sir and happy birthday.  May I ask if there are any dreams you would still like to fulfill?"  He looks up from his chair, smiles and replies:  "Young man, I will always have dreams, hopes, desires, ambition.   I have lived a full life and the dreams that passed me by have been replaced with new possibilities.  Past goals that were never achieved, are not perceived as failure, indeed, I consider that part of my learning process.   New phases in my life brought with it brand new adventures.

My young friend, a passion for life is the key.  Despite my age, I shall never lose my hunger, my quest for knowledge.  Despite my age, I have never lost my appreciation for the wonders of nature. I have maintained that childlike quality that truly appreciates life's simple pleasures.  I will always have dreams, hopes, desires, ambition right up 'til that moment I breathe my final breath."

No matter what our age, we know that we can live our life with a positive passion.  That 'inner child' lives on.  The passage of time is no reason to give up on the positive ideals that beats within us all.   We can live each day with joyous expectation.  There is a choice and if we choose to embrace the harmony of a positive world; we will live rather than just exist.

"Oh young fella'...you asked if there is any dreams that I would still like to fulfill.  Well there is one dream.   I fancy this young lady but she is ten years younger than me...but what the heck, maybe she might like to go out on a date with an older man."

Honeybee 'Wannabee'?

I wonder if a wasp would wanna' be a bee? A wasp, a 'wannabee' honeybee? Do you reckon that wasps are jealous of bees? Honeybees are probably the most industrious, vital creatures on our planet. Honeybees are responsible for pollinating most edible plants. Honeybees get loads of positive publicity. Wasps, however, get loads of negative publicity.
So wasps may been envious of the honeybee. Then again, do you reckon that the honeybee may be jealous of the wasp? If a honeybee stings you, its stinger will stick in you and the honeybee will die. The wasp, ofcourse, can sting and sting and live to sting another time.
Comparisons, envy, jealousy, longing to have what someone else has. The old ' keeping up with Jones' scenario. Aspirations of having the same or better than our neighbour. Why do we place such importance on material things in some meaningless 'rat race'?
If we can learn to be comfortable with who we are; we can understand that competing with our fellow man, to outdo them, is really quite pointless. Is it not better that we live in harmony? Is it not better to be pleased with the accomplishments of others and pursue the goals that make us truly happy?
Be the best than you can be. Why stress yourself out comparing yourself to others? It is your life and you are unique. Celebrate your special uniqueness. When we discover that inner contentment; we discover that embracing all our diversities, without comparison, without jealousy, will make this world a better place.
This 'bug blog' is coming to an end. We have gone from 'a' to 'bee'. We know that we are the 'bees' knees'. The honeybee will go about its 'buzziness' and the wasp will get on with its life. Right then I will conclude by saying that this blog has 'no sting in its tail'.

Do Not Believe The Hype.

All my life, I have had this overwhelming sense of stupidity. Lingering self-doubt has plagued me right back to my earliest childhood memories. My father had a profound impact on my confidence, my self-worth, indeed, he instilled in me that I was not very intelligent. As an all too impressionable youngster, I believed he must be right.
All my life, I have mostly lived in fear. Fear of being involved, fear of letting people down, fear of being loved. Based on such childhood trauma, I have always waited for the day when the new group of people in my life, would come to the realisation that I was an incompetent fool. Why oh why would smart people want to be involved with a stupid person like me? This imposter lived in a state of intense anxiety, waiting for that dreaded day when I would be caught out.
When people become familiar with me, to avoid those awkward moments of revealing the truly stupid person that lurks within, I go back, once more, into my self-imposed reclusive state. This cycle of becoming involved, becoming scared and going back under the duvet, has happened too many times. The cycle must be broken. The pattern of the inevitable must finally be addressed.
In recent times, I have been involved with a mental health charity. With my own fragile confidence, it took a tremendous amount of inner courage to try and interact with folks who I hoped needed me as much as I needed them. Yet somehow, as much as I tried, I did not feel that my contributions, my sincere empathy was being recognised. I so much wanted to be a part of something, to be empowered. I started thinking: "Maybe my involvement is not worthy of acknowledgement. Guess they have worked out how stupid I am." Bizarre thinking, I realise, but I became disillusioned. Time to go back to my world for another rethink.
The positive aspect to this has been that each time I have started over, I have become that little bit stronger. Instead of giving up, I have kept myself busy working out new ways to become involved. I am determined, once and for all, to break the cycle of despair. I visualise the new dawning of my life, will be wondrous and enriching. It will be so.
The negative hype created by my father, that I was so convinced was true, will soon be laid to rest. The negative hype that talks to me will be silenced. I know that those who saw my insecurity as license to exploit my frailties; will never again have the opportunity to devalue my humanity. They will never again take advantage of my good intentions. Do not believe the hype, it is time to understand, that like you, I have validity and those who would undermine our worth, will never again be given permission to erode our right to a happy life.
Through my new found transparency, I begin to see that little bit clearer.

Tester Pot.

The other day I decided to move around the paintings in my home. I am pleased to the point of outrageous euphoria with the results. Now, I like to think that my art's in the right place.
Talking about painting, I decided to check out paint for my walls at the local hardware store. There was all this paint in an overwhelming array of choices. There were large tins, medium tins, small tubs and tiny pots of paint. "That's strange" I thought, "what's with the tiny pots? Are they for folks with really small rooms? Or, perhaps they are paint pots for pixies, gloss for garden gnomes or maybe, just maybe, latex for the little folks of Lilliput?"
Somewhat confused, I went over and asked an assistant about the tiny pots of paint. With a pot of bathroom paint in hand, I stated: "My goodness, you would have to have one heck of a small bathroom for this tub of paint to be enough." "Oh no sir. This is what we call a tester pot. You try it on part of the wall and see if the colour is to your liking" responded the assistant. I think she realised that I was just having a bit of fun. Her smile, her laughter, made me think I had brought a bit of good-natured zaniness into her day. Tester pot...hmmm...which ofcourse must not be confused with 'pot tester'.
Now for a brief interlude of totally disjointed observations which have absolutely nothing to do with the title of this blog. "More than 200 people ignored the showers yesterday (Good Friday, 10, April, 2009) to attend the World Marble Championships at Tinsley Green.
The annual event has been taking place at the Greyhound Inn on Good Friday since 1932. Defending champions the Yorkshire Meds, from Leeds, won the world title again. One of their team, Halim Tata, also won the individual competition. See the Crawley Observer and Crawley Times for a full report." Well all I can say about that is "how marbleous!" Apparently. one of the chaps on the winning team is a bit of a joker. You might say, a Marble comic character.
Three songs that have always left me bewildered. 1: 'You're so vain' ('You probably think this song is about you') by Carly Simon. 2: 'I'd do anything for love' ('But I won't do that') by Meat Loaf. 3: 'Dueling Banjos', from the movie 'Deliverance'. Dueling Banjos? Huh?
Okay, the disjointed interlude is over. I had a 'Pot Noodle' the other day and didn't feel any different. Whoops..back to the paint theme. So I'm considering doing some touch-up painting around my home. I have even considered going back over the wood trim with the 'brilliant white' paint that looked great for about year. Now it looks neither white nor brilliant. More like a sick shade of yellow. This blog that was almost about the joys of painting, is drawing to a conclusion. I second that emulsion.

Filling The Vacuum.

My sincerest apologies for not exactly taking a decent quality photograph. However, you must understand that our 'zippity doo hah' dog, 'Penny' the Jack Russell, has an intense hatred for the vacuum cleaner. So to even get her near the 'blue beast', is quite the accomplishment. The above picture was rather hurried and Penny was soon gone the heck out of the living room. The vacuum, in spite of the dog's apprehension, was most cooperative in having its photo snapped. You might say a 'sucker' for attention.
I have reached the conclusion that our canine friends do not appreciate the ironic situations that can present themselves in everyday life. I have mentioned in a previous blog, that if our dog did not shed so much hair, the usage of the dreaded whirring machine would be less frequent. But does she stop shedding less hair? Does she attempt to grab the useless dog brush and rid herself of those pesky hairs? Well, ofcourse not. So thanks to her and those mystery hairs; I spent the previous hour vacuuming one small part of the carpet, over and over and over again.
I have tried to use the dog brush, (on her, not me), all to no avail. I brush and I brush and I brush some more. So when the end result is no hairs on said brush, I resort to grabbing great clumps out with my hands. I have tried bathing her and the end result is a wet dog with wet hair. Some clever chap suggested that I vacuum the dog. Uh...no!
Now then. lets 'paws' and change the theme in this blog for a bit. I have been known to do disjointed blogs and so here we go....Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot walked into 'Yee Olde Inn'. "My good innkeeper. We require a room for two knights." said Sir Lancelot. "That is fine. You can pay for your lodgings upon your departure" replied the innkeeper. The next morning, Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot approached the innkeeper. "We wish to pay for our lodgings, my good man" said Sir Galahad. Looking rather perplexed, the innkeeper responded: "Oh, I thought you wanted a room for two nights?"
Now then, where were we? Oh yeah. Maybe some scientist can explain to me why, when I attempt to vacuum up the dog hairs, that they suddenly have this ability to hook themselves into the fibre of the carpet. "Come on Penny. I think it would be very nice if you became friends with the vacuum cleaner? Penny? Penny? Where are you? Penny, why are you hiding under my duvet?"