General

So happy I’m scared…

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

I’m so happy

Right now

In this moment

Actually, this day

Today, I’m so happy

There is nothing special, well, nothing extraordinary about today

I met my pal for coffee, like we do every Saturday morning

By the beach

We could see lots of other people

Some we knew

It’s warm, for Scotland

It’s been warm all day

Other relationships, close relationships are good, at the moment…

Everything is good. Better than good.

I’m happy.

Fuck

That means I’ll soon not be happy

The downside of being happy is…

Well, the knowledge that you’ll be less happy.

But both can be observed

Both are observed

So that person that is observing, are they happy?

Or are they just, well, they…

An observer, a passenger

Something that is neither happy or less happy…

The observer…

Subjective truth

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

We see the world through eyes that are designed for a certain bandwidth of light, giving us the illusion that what we see is all there is.

We hear the world through ears that translate a certain range of vibration, giving us the illusion that what we hear is all that is said.

We feel the world through skin that never really touches anything and gives us an illusion of separation from the world he are in.

A world that we can never really know, for even a device that detects the frequencies inaccessible to humans, is still interpreted by humans.

Humans: limited access to the world. Believing that what they see is all there is.

Belief: a subjective truth. True to the individual, true to their experience. Experience that can only be gained through senses.

Senses that are only telling part of the story, only letting some of the truth in.

But this is the same for every observer.

No observer sees everything. Each limited to their part of the story.

Perhaps, joined up, the story would be whole.

But we have know way of knowing.

It will always be, subjective truth.

Empty and full

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

Full of food, some beer and wine, missing my wife. Feel empty, but not really, only because I am full of food, and some beer and wine.

I feel better when I’m not full, I feel less empty.

I want more time, but time to do what, every moment of the day is full, full of what I do, every moment. Full.

I’m tired, tired of what, tired of being tired. Just tired

Of what

Why?

No

Not anymore, no time left, it’s not long now,

Don’t want to but want to be relaxed– well be relaxed now. But I’m so busy, when are you going to relax then?

Time, time like the present. No time.

Time, all the time… time to do loads of things. But just want to lie down and relax…

She gets so mad…

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

….when she can’t do what she wants. When it doesn’t go to plan. When she is trying a new thing and she doesn’t like the outcome; she’s so competitive, that’s the problem. Why does she have to be so competitive, I mean what’s that all about, why can’t she just be content with being shit? Perhaps she needs someone to beat the competitiveness out of her, make her see that life isn’t about winning, it’s about loosing.

Perhaps she needs to loose more. Looser.

Whatever…

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

Is my usual response when I’m pissed off and trying not to get riled. But I am really pissed off. 

“Whatever” I say in response to the cutting comment that someone (I care about) has just made to me. 

Except it hurts, it hurts like hell, why does it hurt so much when the person, people I love and hold dear make a cutting remark… 

you love me, don’t you? Why are you being a dick? Why are you saying something to hurt me. I’m fragile you know. But I’ll not let you know, no, “whatever…” you can’t hurt me… but you have. 

Stoac – I need to be stoac, I need to not let these comments frame how I feel – change perspective, perspective is everything. 

Look, they made that comment because of them, not because of you. It’s all about them. So, stop thinking that this is about you. Change your perspective. 

They are in a funk, not with you, with something else, I mean it could be you but even if it is, it’s not life n death. 

Buckle up buttercup…. 

You think you’re ok….

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

….then whack, it hits you. You knew it was coming, you were ready or so YOU thought! 

So I thought! I thought I’d be ok, I knew it was coming, the interaction with anxiety. There was a date set, a time, a place. But nothing prepared me for the feeling of loss, uselessness, worthlessness and fucking fuckedoffness! 

I haven’t seen my son for 2 years now, not since his mother moved him 400 miles away. I have no idea what he looks like. Ok, that’s not true, the odd by-standing wellwisher sends me a Facebook picture every once in a while. I hate that, sorry, I know you mean well, but it hurts so much you see that I can’t look at it but have to look at it, you know, like a car crash. Actually, it’s not like that. A car crash leaves me feeling sad, seeing pictures of my boy makes me angry! 

He’s 16, with special needs or so the experts and his leach of a mother would have everyone believe. Today was one of his review days, all the specialists were there, paid for by the legal case against the NHS for their cock up that left him with 20% less of a brain than you and I. 

They, the specialists perfectly labelled him with all the difficulties they could to maximise the claim whist at the same time alienating his peternal family.

I go down once every 3 months to hear a bunch of strangers talk about the progress he has made with them and the lack of progress he is making at home with bitch face. I bite my tongue in the hope that my presence at the review is enough to show my love for my son. 

Every time, it is the worst day of my life. I see the pity in some of the faces that look at me from across the table. I see her smug face, I want to leap over the table and punch it so very hard, but I don’t, I behave like a conditioned human being, not a real human being. I supress my want to slit her throat. 

My son is less than 100 yards away while I sit at that table, he refuses to see me. 

In an hour it’s over, I am slightly more knowledgeable about my son and what he’s been up to but I have another chunk of my heart ripped out. Lost, forever. You don’t recover from this sort of thing, you grow scar tissue that helps you heal but stops some of your ability to feel. 

There is so much more to say but it would just be a lot of ramblings. I write this on the plane home as its better to express my anger and sadness extrinsicly rather than bottle it in. There is so much more to say but it would just be a lot of ramblings but all I really have to say is fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck aaaaaaaarrrrgggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!

This time it’s different, this time it’s more real than ever. 

I’m not sure what will happen, to him or me I guess the illusion of time will tell. 

Can I bottle that? 

~ thefreerangeslug ~ Leave a comment

I sometimes hear people wanting to reproduce the good guys at work. 

“Can we bottle what she has and sprinkle it over the rest of our staff.”

You’re missing the point my friend! You can’t just replicate the inspired energetic individual. She was like that before she worked for you. Someone, somewhere created the environment where she was inspired, caught the big, learned to love life. She was probably given the opportunity to shine. But she is she. She’s not her or him. 

You’re solution is not bottling the magic, you’re solution is to create a nurturing, inspiring environment for the rest of your staff. 

If your organisation has a splattering of good guys and the majority are just mediocre, what are you doing to inspire and nurture the mediocre? 

Imagine that you had two kids, one was inspired, energetic, enthusiastic. The other was not so, they were more conservative, less energetic, less inspired. What would you do? 

You’d probably find yourself trying to expose the less inspired child to things that would intrigue them. Try and engage there curiosity. Help them to find things that they loved and enjoyed. 

We don’t tend to take this approach at work though. We’d rather sit back and just wonder at why. Watch the mediocre guy struggle and fail. Well, some do.