Positive Energy Saboteurs.

Being positive can be bloody hard work.  Yet the alternative is a place I try to avoid.  Oh I can find loads of reasons to be miserable, angry, resentful, envious and bitter towards those who seem to have everything going their way.  What good would that do?  Well no good comes from living life expecting every situation to become some, 'I told you so', negative inevitability.
I have encountered folks who will not grasp the concept that I want to live a happy and positive life.  They live their lives waiting, with great negative anticipation, the next terrible situation to enter their persecuted world.  If you don't drop everything you're doing and tend to their emotional needs, then you are, 'just like all the rest', indeed,  you've 'betrayed' them.
Now then, if they took action, made that phone call or visited someone, they might just find they're enjoying themselves.  Well, they're having none of that.  That's because they actually relish being mired in self-pity and they will be damned if someone else has the audacity to immerse themselves in positive energy.
These people are exhausting.  I have been kind, caring and supportive, yet instead of being grateful, they lay guilt trips on me because I haven't done enough.  Thus, like so many others, I distance myself from them.  This is what they want.  The need to be 'right' that the whole world is out to get them.  Nobody else has problems or concerns as bad as them.
Well, I will not let these positive energy saboteurs drain away my right to a peaceful and happy life.  I have distanced myself from such negative forces because I choose to become even stronger.  I've done what I can and I feel no guilt.  Now this might seem inappropriate and I apologise if you find the following offensive.  To all those positive energy saboteurs, I did what I could to be there for you, yet you dismissed me as just another nasty person with a hidden agenda.  Well, I say to them, 'fuck off'.
In my own ongoing pursuit of maintaining positive distractions, I took a few more photographs.  So, here you are and I hope you like them.  Thanks.

The above photograph is a view of Leek.  The tall building in the centre is called 'Waterloo Mill' and used to be a silk mill.  It has been converted to a block of apartment suites.  In the background is a part of the cliff formation know as 'The Roaches'.

Here is a view of a Roman Catholic church is Leek named, 'St. Mary's'.

This beautiful church in Leek is named 'St. Edward's' and is a popular gathering spot for people to observe the 'double sunset' that occurs here on the Summer solstice.

Another panoramic view of Leek and the surrounding and inspiring countryside.

Here's another shot that you can click on and fill up your computer screen .

And finally, another view of St. Mary's church with the haunting moorlands as a backdrop.  Thanks again for reading this posting and taking the time to view these photographs.  May you continue to embrace positivity.  With respect and kindness, your friend, Gary.

The Roaches.

Pull yourself together.  What?  How can I do that when I'm 'beside myself'?  Yeah I know.  Let's tie that in with all those other lines I've used in the past, such as, I'm 'in bits', 'all over the place', 'cracking up' and 'falling to pieces'.  No wonder I'm feeling 'shattered'.
Maybe you can relate to this.  I can spend so much time worrying about others that it starts to take its toll on my mental health well being.  I know, just like you know, that we must take care and be gentle with ourselves.  That is not selfish for we all need 'me' time.
Thus I went out again today and took a few photographs of a nearby beauty spot.  I would very much like to share with you a few moments of my day.

About four miles north of Leek, Staffordshire, on the road heading towards Buxton, Derbyshire, are a series of long rocky ridges named collectively as 'The Roaches'.

Here is a closer view of part of The Roaches.  Now I realise that you might be thinking of 'Roaches' as in the slang term for the end part of one those 'cigarettes' that makes you feel kinda'....well...different.  Or you might have visualised one of those most amazing of bugs, the legendary, 'CockRoach'.  Well actually, the name, 'The Roaches', for these magnificent gritstone escarpments, comes from the French language, as in 'les roches', which means, 'the rocks'.  As a note of interest, there have evidently been sightings of Wallabies hopping around The Roaches.  Did I mention something about a funny cigarettes?

Here is another view of The Roaches.  The highest point in The Roaches is 1657 feet.   Awesome views of Leek and the surrounding countryside can be seen from these wonders of nature.

All these photographs were taken from a place named 'Tittesworth Reservoir'.  The reservoir holds up to 1.4 billion gallons of water and is the primary supply for the 'Severn Trent Water Company'.  I realise you can have loads of fun with the name 'Tittesworth'.

I took one more photograph as the setting sun cast shadows on the landscape.  Do you see that house in the centre of the picture?  What a fantastic location that is.
This little journey out had been respite from my personal sadness.  I challenge my depression.  Today has been a very good day.  
I hoped you like these photographs.  Please take care and be gentle with yourself.

Alone At Rudyard Lake.

There are times I can barely manage to get out of bed.  Depression drains my energy and to tap away on the keyboard becomes a daunting task.  I have been experiencing this for about a week now.  Somehow, I will draw on my positive resilience and get this posting done.
I am a single dad and when my son hurts, I hurt.  I see the pain in the eyes of my child and I want to hug the pain away.  Hush now son, dad believes in you and it's going to be just fine.  I have few friends but when they hurt, I hurt.  I see the sadness in my few friends and I do my best to make them smile.
I try to inspire and be inspired.  Yesterday, I found the strength to get out and visit a place of beauty and tranquillity.  I needed a positive distraction and some time for gentle reflection.  Where was my life going?

  
A few minutes away from my house is Rudyard Lake.  Rudyard Kipling was named after this lake which is, in actuality, a reservoir.  His parents met there in 1863.

I stood at the edge of Rudyard Lake and marvelled at the peaceful scene that filled my eyes.

It began to rain.  I listened to the breeze as it echoed round the lake.  The boats bobbed up and down.  They swayed from side to side.  Alone at Rudyard Lake.  Just me, the sights, the sounds and the rain.  These few fleeting moments made me realise how much I have and how much I have to give.  To my son and to my friends; we are all in this together.  Sharing and caring makes your world and my world, a better place.

Back On The Bus.

Back in early January, 2010,  I posted an article about my adventures on public transport and that soon I would, once again, be behind the wheel of a car.  If you wish to bore yourself silly, here is the link to that blog:   Off The Buses.  I should inform you that the above photo is from then and even though the British summer is crap, it aint quite that crap.

Anyhow, I have been back driving for about six months now.  Yes, I know, I really should get some sleep.  On Wednesday, I had to go into Stoke on Trent from Leek, twice in one day.  Oh, lucky me.  Well this dude could not be bothered to drive into Stoke (the oatcake capital of the universe and where all that really neat pottery and cups and saucers are like made and where people call you 'duck') for a second time in a space of a few hours.
Thus, I decided to brave the wonderful world of bus travel.  I stood at the stop and recollected the previous thrilling experiences that had been endured.  Please see the link in the first paragraph to get a better idea if you have not already done so and then you can bore yourself into a place so monotonous you have this urge to break down and cry in a darkened room.  Right then, let's get this paragraph back on track.  The bus arrived and it stopped to let me on!   This was a great improvement in comparison to the time the driver looked at me, grinned and let out a 'Muttley the dawg' chuckle, as he sped by in his haste to get to the doughnut shop.
I boarded, paid my fair and looked for a seat on a packed bus.  Once again, it appeared that I may have boarded the bus that was going to some Jeremy Kyle audition. (If you live in North America, Jeremy Kyle is the British equivalent of Jerry Springer and rumour has it that Jeremy will be doing a version of his show in America.  Good luck Jeremy!)  'Go on look at these fucking pictures of my baby' said this one articulate young lady to someone I assumed was her friend or another bemused passenger. 'There is no way that arsehole is the kid's dad but I know who is and he's gonna' pay big time..'  And the DNA results reveal.....
On a packed bus there always seems to be the one person who insists on having their groceries parked on the outside seat.  Will they shift their groceries to let you sit down?  Oh no, they're not going to have any old 'riff raff' sit beside them.  You now have a few choices.  You could ask them to kindly shift their precious goods.  You could ask them if they paid for two tickets.   Or, you could take the groceries and smash them on their head and grin with triumphant delight as the egg yolk runs down the face of the dear old lady.
Well, I did get a seat and sat precariously on the two inches of seating the passenger so generously allowed me.   Wow and thanks!   Okay, I was grateful to sit down and desperately clung onto the rail that kept me from falling into the aisle where I would have most likely been trampled on by the folks heading to the Jeremy Kyle show and the dear old lady with the groceries.   Then I heard this snore blasting into my left eardrum. The guy beside me had fallen asleep and was now slumped against my left shoulder.  Awe, how cute.  No, correction, shit!
The bus continued on towards that destination of dreams.  Soon we would be in Stoke!  Then, out the window, I saw the sadder and disturbing sides to life.  Three police cars were blocking the road and off to the side of the pavement lay an old man who appeared to have been beaten up.  We slowly moved on and passed by a group of young people who yelled obscenities at us passengers.  Finally, we were in the heart of town and two cyclists going the wrong way on a one way street, screamed and made rude finger gestures at the driver.  What an eventful ride this had turned out to be.  With much relief, I got off the bus.  Nothing else would happen, right?  Wrong.  At the depot a very loud and angry woman was screaming profanities at this rather startled old fellow.  Sigh....
The return trip back to Leek, 'the Queen of the Moorlands', was uneventful and peaceful.  No packed out bus that might have provided me with the opportunity to gallantly give up my seat to some old lady who would respond by saying, 'Who the hell did you think you are!?  I'm perfectly capable of standing!  How dare you!'    I sat there on a full seat and reflected on the earlier ride.  We have been told to take public transport, do our bit for the planet, relax and enjoy the journey.  I sympathise with those who have no choice but public transport.  That first ride on a bus in about six months made me grateful knowing I have a choice.  I got off the bus, and with my heart racing, headed straight for my car.  I gave it a hug and a kiss.  My neighbours have been giving me strange looks.

'WEE.T.' Phone Gnome.

I was scouring, or trawling, or perusing, through one of the local, thrilling beyond my wildest dreams, newspapers.  I'm used to such exciting front page headlines in the local 'rags' such as, 'Farmer Brown's Cow Dies!' and 'Girl Loses Doll Out Of Pram In Derby Street'.  That second headline is actually true.  I guess, although very sad for the little girl, it was kinda'  surreal to think that was actually worthy of being the headline news item.  Ah, life in a small town.
Anyway, I read through the obituaries, my name wasn't there.  I was about to dispose of the newspaper in the correct recycling bag.  Then I noticed, much to my astonishment, in a paper that likes to delight me with vital information, such as the big cake sale at the community hall, the following article.
'Aliens may be using a cosmic version of Twitter to contact us - but for decades we have been missing their "tweets", it has been claimed.  
ET is more likely to be sending out short, directed messages than continuous signals beamed in all directions, say experts.
"This approach is more like Twitter and less like War and Peace," said Californian physicist Dr James Benford, president of Microwave Sciences Inc.
He and twin brother Gregory, an astrophysicist at the University of California, Irvine, looked at the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (Seti) from the aliens' point of view.
They concluded that Seti scientists may have been taking the wrong approach for the past five decades.'
So, there are aliens from other worlds trying to contact us using a cosmic form of social networking?  What would that be then?   'E.Twitter'?  'Forcebook'?  May the Forcebook be with you.  Judging by the gibberish I read on the social network sites, maybe some of my friends are actually from another planet and are trying to convey what they believe is a deep and profound message.
If there are aliens twittering away, maybe they have some special powers and could transport 'celebrity' 'twits', I mean twitters, to a galaxy far, far away.  The next paragraph shall provide examples of 'tweets' from 'celebrities' that really should be viewed by an attentive audience on another world.  Wonder what they would make of this?
"Ok. This is now mad. I am stuck in a lift on the 26th floor of Centre Point. Hell's teeth. We could be here for hours. Arse, poo and widdle,"   Those were the immortal words of British writer and comedian, Stephen Fry. 
 "Some punk bitch rookie cop named Fisher #10026 made the arrest of his bulls**t career today by arresting the Notorious Ice-T for no seat belt. That was some bull they made up. The officer said 'I know who you are and I don't give a f**k!' That was right after I called him a punk bitch."  Yep , those were the articulate words of that much loved rapper, 'Ice-T'.  Ice-T meet E.T.

The 'wee folks' had heard about the possibility of life on other planets.  So I let them read some interesting articles on my 'magic machine'.

The wee folks got all excited about the prospect of life on other worlds.  They had heard of one particular alien wanting to use a phone.  Thus they tried contacting life on another planet.  Maybe there might be  wee folks on some distant galaxy.  Life on planet 'Elf'?  Or is that just an another investigation for the 'Elf Files'?  Geoffrey, rather optimistically, spoke these words into the magical speaker, 'WEE.T. phone gnome.'

Above My Clouds.

Above my clouds is a place of brilliant visions where hope and happy thoughts embrace.  High, so high above my clouds, the stifled dreams run free and play amongst the stars in an endless universe.   Those fleeting moments, those beautiful fleeting moments when this man, this scared and lonely man, escapes the world of doubt and negative sabotage.
Then I come back down.  Back down to a world where I struggle to breathe.  The panic, the pain, the realisation of lost love and broken hopes suffocates my positive thoughts.   Be quiet voices of doom and despair.   Let me live in peace.  Let me breathe.
I see me in the photograph and wonder where my life has gone.  Yet I know it is not too late.  For I still live to learn, and thus, I will learn to live.

And the baby became a little boy.  A little boy full of wonder, amazement, curiosity and hope for a happy future.  And the little boy became a man.  A man determined to challenge the voice of his inner critic and listen to the gentle songs being sung by his inner child.

'Ghost' Blogger.

Katie Price is set to go straight to the top of the Sunday Times Bestseller list this week, with her new novel Paradise. The former glamour model's fifth novel, the final instalment in her Angel trilogy, will go straight in at number one for hardback fiction, outselling the number two book by two copies to one, her publisher, Random House, said.
Price, who chooses the plots for her books, penned by ghostwriter Rebecca Farnworth, said: "I think it's brilliant that it's number one.  "It just goes to show people that when I really put my mind to something it makes number one and it's brilliant and I'm absolutely over the moon."

If you click on the link below, you can see Katie, one of Britain's true intellectuals, in all her glory.
(Source:http://www.mirror.co.uk/celebs/news/2010/07/28/katie-price-s-new-novel-paradise-set-to-top-book-charts-115875-22446987/)


Now, if you are not familiar with Katie Price (or whatever her last name is, this week) aka 'Jordan' (so popular they named a country after her), please allow me to briefly tell you that in Britain, she is famous for being a model, a 'reality' television star and having a 'boob job'.
So you can imagine my shock when I discovered that this highly talented and most articulate intellectual required a 'ghostwriter' to formulate her stories. 

Now doesn't that just warm your heart?  You may be an inspiring writer who has worked tirelessly to get yourself published.  You may have had the frustration of getting that rejection letter.  So all you have to do is wear a bikini, or, if you are a guy, perhaps a pair of micro Speedos and blatantly publicise yourself via reality shows such as 'Big Blogger'.  The boob job part may not be a necessity.  Especially if you are a guy with impressive 'man boobs'.

So, once again, I've been thinking.  Yep, that's twice in one week.  If Katie aka Jordan can have a ghostwriter, why don't I get me a good ol 'ghost blogger'?  Instead of me sitting here trying to think up something, anything, let someone else write it while I take all the plaudits.  Of course, this could seriously backfire if the ghost blogger was an even crapper writer than yours truly.

Yet, as they say, just who are 'they', nothing ventured, nothing gained.  So I've been looking for potential ghost bloggers to take over and write this blog.   Well, I have been disillusioned in my search.  My thinking, yes even more thinking, got quite desperate and I typed in 'ghost blogger' in the search engine.  What I got back was something about 'Casper', Wyoming, Casper the friendly ghost,  Jacob Marley (not related to a reggae singer) and an option to go try out some ghost hunting.

This means, well in the meantime at least, that I will have to keep writing my own blog.  I could try again.  Maybe check out the situation from ghost to ghost, wait til the ghost is clear and continue haunting, I mean hunting for that elusive ghost blogger.  That's the spirit.

The above photograph is of my friend from the garden, 'Scarecat'.  Scarecat has done a very good job of keeping cats from shitting in my vegetable patch.  Scarecat says, 'Boo'.  Are you scared?   Perhaps you might say 'boo' back and that might be boo as in boo this blog is crap and could really you the services of a ghost blogger.  It's enough to make you want to kick me in the 'ghoulies'.

Now very briefly back to Katie, famous for a boob job and being an idiot.  She has a television show titled, 'What Katie Did Next'.  I've no doubt you are eager too, if you haven't done already, check out this British icon.  I would like to have my own television show, 'What Klahanie Did Next'.  I just know you would be an avid viewer of my show because you are so fascinated by my fun-filled and totally awesome life.   And speaking of ghosts, I bet you could see right through this posting.  BOO!!