I have been reading my copy of 59 Seconds I received for Christmas this year, a self-help book with a difference - it is all based on scientific research and studies, and no hocus pocus.
It is a fantastic, fantastic read and I implore anyone to grab a copy for a little under 6 quid from Amazon (half price ) right here!
Two of the ideas expressed in the book include the impact of "odd one out" symbols, inducing a spirit of creativity when viewed often. The other suggestion is that the colour green elicits feelings of motivation, and a go-get-it attitude. I have wrapped these two assertions in to a nicely-minimalistic 1680x1050 widescreen wallpaper for your desktop pleasure. Please do let me know what you think!
I can almost guarantee no one reads this blog religiously, so you can be forgiven for being unaware of how suicide seems to follow me like a shadow. I'm afraid to say it has tapped my shoulder once again.
Last Monday, I found my Grandfather laying in his back garden on concrete, after jumping from the top window of the house he has owned for 57 years. Covered in blood, with his head having obvious injuries from a brick resting near, miraculously he was conscious and breathing. I will never forget how that brick looked, the unfamiliar sound of his voice as he asked me what had happened, nor the smell of blood. It was almost as if I had broken my own teeth, and could taste it first hand.
I rang for an ambulance, and as they took him to hospital carried out the formalities with police and paramedic crews. Myself and my Nan, until this point oblivious to events, were sped to the hospital in tow. I alerted the family who eventually met us in Accident and Emergency.
My Grandad passed away on Wednesday the 24th of June 2009, official cause of death a heart attack. The pathologist felt his injuries were not consistent with falling from a first floor window. The first time we heard anything of a heart attack was 2 days after his death, are they that hard to spot for paramedics, and intensive care, to all have missed that he had experienced a heart attack? Are they not ten a penny?
I know in my heart what happened. I know in my guilt that my Grandad committed suicide to end a life that was only going to get worse for him. Everyone seems to be in defense mode, not facing the truth, saying his last few seconds with his obvious fear and open mouth frantically gasping for any last oxygen allowed, was a peaceful end.
I have no idea what label is normally attached to how I feel at the moment, for that matter it is probably more than one. I just need my Grandad to know I loved him, and I'm sorry if I could have done more. I'm so very, very sorry.
Tomorrow is the day of the European Elections, and I'm ready with my vote. Labour, Conservatives, and the Lib Dems can swivel for any support from this direction, I'll tell you that for free.
I can see politics and the main parties for what they really are, a show put on to give the impression of a right of say for the general population. Voting Labour or voting Conservative will result in the same ideas, same policies, same people behind the curtain running things and laughing all the way down the yellow brick road to a Barclay's branch.
These bastards have took our freedoms, our voice, and killed in our name. They have lied left right and centre, everything from the reasons for war to the need for ID cards. Labour and the Conservatives in particular, are really one party, with the seeming aim of totalitarianism. And I hate it.
But there is one ray of sunshine in this country - anyone can run for elections. Any party. There isn't a clear cut winner, or a two-party system such as in the United States. There are 'fringe' parties that really are coming out of the 'fringe' arena and are looking to pick up more support than ever before.
I detest nearly all the BNP stand for, especially the cloak-and-dagger way they present their ideas. But there seems to be a heartened effort to scare voters away from them, mainly by the media (in other words, Labour and Conservatives' PR department). My thought on why is to distance the two main parties from what the BNP more openly stand for, because the truth is Labour and Conservative Masters and Commanders stand for the exact same fascist and totalitarian ideas as the British National Party, they just pretend not to and sweep in laws buried under the latest X Factor results.
Friends and Family have poured their outrage to me about the recent expenses scandal - how dare these politicians steal our money and get away with it! My mother, normally bored to tears by my political rants, actively wants to protest against the vermin.
But the truth is, you've been duped for a lot longer, and on a lot more serious things, than these expenses. For heaven's sake wake up and smell the aging, cold coffee in front of you - it is all a show, they don't give a shit about you in the slightest, you are powerless to stop them, they have killed 600,000+ innocent Iraqi men, women and children in the name of "protecting" you from terrorists. How many were killed on 9/11 and 7/7 combined? Anywhere near 600,000? 200,000? 100,000? 50,000?
Of course, I'm of the opinion 9/11 and 7/7 were not this mysterious Al-Qaeda group of hunchbacks but rather more false flag incidents, but that is by the by now. The media never report how Al-Qaeda were actually created by the CIA as employees fighting Russia in Afghanistan, do they? The fact that Al-Qaeda means 'data base'?
Anyway, I'm wavering off my point. My point is, tomorrow (today now, actually!) the more-ethical-than-most Green Party will be getting my vote, and I sincerely hope others will look at the Greens as a serious alternative to the shambolic puppet theatre we fall for today.
A slight detour from the norm, I must say. But to those in the know, I hold a heavy interest and education in Psychology and also the effect of Religion, and thus wanted to share this particularly insightful interview.
For those even more in the know (in which case how did you find my blog?! ) I was brought up in a similarly evil cult as Jill, fortunately rescued at age 9.
These past two weeks have been rather intense, I lost my beloved better half twice, though we've finally managed to see life without each other would be a far more shite experience.
In my 'convinced I'm doing the right thing even though I know I never know what that is' true male fashion, a female friend (they exist, in suspicious amounts here) stayed over mine for a night as she was in distress, had nowhere else, couldn't say no.
Now, baring in mind my beautiful lady had somewhat of an issue with this friend, I thought it best to keep schtum about her visit. My less-than-logical-logic was she would just sit there being paranoid, and worry herself half to death. A note of reference: if you ever feel the urge to cover something up, don't do it in the first place.
So the inevitable happens, she becomes suspicious and asks me. The right thing to do? Fess up. The wrong thing I did? Selfishly covered my arse in a panic. A note of reference: never, ever do this. Unless you've committed murder.
Then, the even more inevitable enjoys its apparition, more clues point to what had gone on. I'm backed in to a corner, finally tell the truth, and receive my well-earned 5 or 6 days of back and forth torture and abuse for being such a disrespectful, selfish, bald-faced liar.
I've managed to explain that this type of bullshit is not my rule of thumb, that I made a stupid decision (with the intention of not causing harm) and it snowballed. I'm sure some readers can associate. Learn to see the signs of the snowball dear friends, and stop it as soon as you can. The longer it gathers snow, the harder it feels when it smacks in to your face.
We're happy and moving on, but some trust has been lost. It does feel like trying to prove I'm sane, when I'm trying to prove I can be trusted, but I fully accept that as a tiny price to pay for such a wonderful lady that deserved none of it.
I'm buying cheaper cereal, smoking roll-ups, and taking shorter showers, just like the rest of suburban England at the time. But one thing that I flat out refuse to compromise on, is toilet paper. I could live in the doorway of Cafe Nero and still force myself to appreciate a soft stroke, avoiding the...less soft experience.
But I digress, times are tough, and people (read: me) are broke. But why be glum, eh? Weatherspoons are delighting their "clientele" with bargain pints and price promises, so all the Man Utd fans in Watford shall rejoice (maybe more pennies towards the "actually go to Old Traford" fund, eh?). Not that I know much about Watford.
Living in Luton, that is.
Which will now show you my authority when speaking of all things shit. Like crap bog roll, and crap pubs.
I've got a weird little quirk that I'm wondering if anyone else does. To cut to the chase, I'm almost always imagining my current, right now situation with background music that would fit in a movie. As I'm so shit at explaining, I mean things like:
Imagining "Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars" playing while I walk with the beautiful one down the road, with a camera swirling around.
Imagining Jeff Buckley chiming in as I open a letter of bad news. The camera zooms to a tear falling on the page.
Am I just weird, or is someone else going to be extra brave and honest with me here?
For once, the emotional and hypothetical heart is going strong, in fact 6 lovely months strong this Friday. As an aside, and needless to say really, I haven't advertised that I blog here (I do, sometimes, honest) to the one & onnnnnly.
No, it is the time of physical matter and tissue to break instead of the red tape of emotions. It is likely by the end of the week I will be diagnosed with Dysautonomia after failing (or passing, if you will) a tilt table test. It is pretty much the inability for my heart and blood flow to adjust to perspectives and angles.
For the past year ish this 'problem' has plagued me, but alas the end may be near. No no no, there is no cure. But I'm more than open to the usual medication keeping it in check, namely benzos like Lorazepam, Temazepam, or the like. In a nostalgic distraction, it will take me back to the days of anxiety attacks and random outbursts of passion (also known as schizophrenic episodes).
Some breaking news for the few readers I've left:- Matt is in love.
I don't mean your highschool sweetheart love, or your "she bought me chocolate and blew me" love. Elequent ladies and esteemed gentlemen, I have indeed met the woman of my dreams. This particularly stunning angel goes by the name of Steph, and including a mutual love of energy drinks, we have many traits in common:-
Both love Flobots (at least, she will soon, dammit); both love Starbucks; both love chocolate; both love not caring that someone just farted, but having the need to pretend you care; both don't care who see's us snogging wildly in busy public, then scream "fuck let's get home quick, I need you NOW"; both have addictions to soul-destroyingly pathetic things (mints, Redbull/Relentless, back scratching).
The only downside seems to be the new mother-in-law has seen us both as God intended, after failing to hear the warning breaths coming from the bedroom last week. Oh well, at least I know I was seen in a good light
You could go on a two day offsite, with Margaret the facilitator, do some fancy team building exercises and learn "valuable business ethics skills". Or, you could realise the entire business world is a system of scratching backs for mutual benefit or gain.
If I work through half a lunch break, the boss doesn't have a problem with me taking 5 minutes for a smoke in the afternoon. Take that project home and complete it over a weekend, not claiming expenses or overtime. The next sick day you have to take will be fine with anyone above.
Just make sure you scratch the boss's back first. Never end up owing anything to your boss - that's the most vulnerable position to be in. Ever. OK maybe there are a few worse situations including public toilets.
My Opera
) right here!
