Sometimes I think that I don’t react quickly enough or let things go
too easily. Am I too laid back?
On one hand, if it bothered me, I’d do something about it and I
do. It takes quite a lot though to act on
my emotions and then it goes a bit extreme – it’s harsh cutting words, aggression
or completely cutting someone off which means there’s a fear of being wrong, but
when I’m definite, then string actions follow.
I probably give more than I take in most relationships but there’s a
big part of me that likes that – I like to give and care for others. My career is in helping others. I have boundaries and don’t let people take
the piss but when they do take the piss, then I can let go of them very quickly.
I’ve just experienced a great example of this. I tend to write this blog on my mid-week day
off in pub or beer garden. So, having
just left, I was on the way to collect the kids from school and did a turn in
the road from the on-street parking. The
road is a suburban high street with café’s, shops and bars and is quite
busy. My turning, meant that someone had
to slow down a little (not a lot) as I’d blocked the road. As I passed him, I raised my hand in thanks
and the moustachioed twat of a driver was shaking his head with a disapproving
expression. I hadn’t made him stop and
caused minimal disruption to him so I assessed that my behaviour was ok. If I’d had been in his position, I’d have
gestured to say that it was ok and that I appreciate his acknowledgement. When I got the twatty reaction, I swiftly and
unconsciously raised my middle finger as he drew up next to me. This felt good and confirmed that maybe I’m
no pushover.
Other people seem to rise so easily and quickly. It’s like– like they sit on a pit of fire and
anger waiting (or praying) for it to ignite to get their festered shit out. I’m closer to the other end of the scale and
can berate myself for not reacting fast enough or reacting at all
sometimes. Maybe this contributes to my
endless frustration??
Had a proper ‘what the fuck has happened to me’ moment just now. We’re going to Disney for a family holiday and it’s all brilliant tbf. My wife has been doing oodles of research, the kids are on Youtube looking for their important stuff. 2 essential elements that have come up is an undeniable need for comfy shoes and that apparently, everyone has personalised family t-shirts? The deeply soul-repulsing and shameful result is that, I will be in wanky Jesus sandals and we’ll have matching family tops – This is a new WTF moment. WTF does not do this state of affairs justice. WTF on meth having become a born-again hymn singing evangelist dashed with hill-billy and super-annoying yanky whining is a more fitting description. (Fuck, I just used ‘super’ as an adverb!! – I’ll be getting super-excited next).
I’m very aware that my children will develop into teenagers and as
wonderful as this progression will be, it is likely to accompanied with them
being arseholes to me. I can appreciate
why this happens. As children turn into
teens, it’s not just that they become precocious wankers, they need to find
themselves. Adolescence is about forming
our identity and as part of that, unconsciously, the teen realises that people
their own age will be around longer than their parents so they become more important. They identify with others their own age more and
parents are just old twats who know nothing.
I can accept this change and this split.
What I can’t fuckin accept is how they’re likely to go about it. With their moany, mumbling ‘you’re a twat’
attitude, it’s just fucking offensive.
So, to ease my future anger and frustration, I should maybe pay it
forward; do some shit to the soon-to-be-twats as punishments and retribution
for what they’re likely to do. I’m not
into open pain and punishment as that creates guilt and I try to avoid that shit
– guilt is horrible; why create the shit.
So, funny, piss-taking stuff has to be the way forward. Humour defuses
everything and dissolves guilt too – remember that – Humour dissolves guilt. Anyhoo,
so I’m thinking of ideas. Firstly, my eldest
starts secondary school in September which presents great opportunities and my
greatest weapon is embarrassment. Someone
I know used to pick up his daughter dressed as an out and out chav which she
hated and got the reaction he was looking for.
My idea, is to nurture the ‘fact’ that on his first day, everyone is to
be dressed as a clown and the top 10 clowns will get house points/treats for
the class or some other reward that could make him popular with others. I’ll
probably fake a few school headed letters and take lots of pics. That’s assignment 1 of many. It’s important to be realistic and not let
this be damaging, but saying that, if it’s fucking funny….?!!
Glorious glorious sunshine – hurrah. I live near Sutton Park which is a huge nature reserve with roads, paths, play areas, 5 lakes and loads of scenic stuff. I love it and love to cycle around. Yesterday though, with it being sunny and the weekend, all the fair weather park wankers were out – old folk aimlessly wandering, picnic shite, kids all everywhere and there were slow meandering fuckers all over the place getting in the way. Where were they when it was frosty or pissing it down? If you can’t commit properly to the park, these piss-takers should be banned when it’s sunny. I’d like to take over the park then I’d ensure that anyone going into it has a microchip implant that logs they’re activity. For every sunny day you enter the park, you need to have earned it by being in the park on at least 2 shit days. It’s only right! Who’s with me to enforce this? As a group we could also take over the numerous gatekeepers houses for summertime parties/park takeover party business. Who knows, from their we could take over the town and expand our empire onwards. Viva la revelation.
I did something bad this morning.
Not intentionally and not bad bad like stealing a child’s sweets or
feeling boobs in the nursing home (not since the ban anyway). So, I got my brilliant car cleaned and felt
the need to zoom about to dry her off a bit.
She likes to zoom about a bit as that’s what she was made for and I feel
her pain when the Nazi speed laws restrict her.
It wouldn’t be fair to enforce a sprinter to only ever jog now would it,
but the road police think it’s ok to restrict my car – one rule for one ….
Anyhoo, I was accelerating and a learner who is turning right out of a
road, pulls out across the dual carriageway in front of us (me and the car) and
manoeuvres into the left-hand lane. In
their lane, there was a parked van which meant they had to stop or pull into my
lane. I was inconsiderate in that I didn’t
slow down meaning they had to stop, but they didn’t! They started to move into my lane and I had
to do an emergency stop then safely passed them. I was pissed off with the instructor for allowing
this shit to happen especially without any indicating. So, as I passed the learner, I noticed that
there was a test examiner in the passenger seat. Fuuuccckkkk. I’ve fucked up somebody’s
day. They would have failed their test.
As a I drove, I tried to push away the feelings of guilt then sought to
justify my actions in some way. As part of my process, the thought ‘things
happen for a reason’ popped into my noodle.
Yes, they fucking do. Maybe my actions
mean that this person fails her test and the consequences of this is that she
doesn’t get into an accident next week and in some way, I have saved lives. Fuck, maybe I should drive like a twat always
if it saves lives. I could single-handedly relieve the NHS but then also contribute
to over-population? Hmm, it’s a tricky
dilemma? My actions could also cause a
negative effect where the failed-test-examinee goes home and murders her
partner. But then, that would happen for
a reason – maybe it was his/her time?
So, generally, the concept of ‘things happen for a reason’ is often
used to allow us to feel better about the bad things that happen to us. It soothes us and helps us come to terms with
stuff. However, and most brilliantly, it
can also help us to do what the fuck we want.
‘Sorry I bit into your burger as you held it, but things happen for a
reason’. ‘Sorry I just felt your nan’s boobs,
but things happen for a reason’.
As a group and as a society, we should accept and embrace this concept. Let narcissistic sociopathy flourish, yeahh.
It’s Saturday morning and the sun is shining – hurrah. The kids are up, they’re happy and healthy, work has gone well this week and all is well in the world. Or so it should be!
Within an hour of waking, my noodle now feels frustrated?? WTF is this about. There’s a need to do something that’s tangible. It’s sunny so lets go out on our bikes but the kids want to play on the Xbox. I want to build something, to do something so that my day is not wasted. But what actually fuckin happens? I spend my time being pissed off for not doing more while engaging in minor little tasks like writing on this blog that no fucker actually reads, or I’ve put something something on Ebay and I’ll soon clean the kitchen while this in fuckin frustration grows and grows. It’ll then be lunchtime and I’ll feel like the morning has been stolen which creates more frustration.
So, what’s the remedy. Obviously to chill the fuck out and take this ludicrous pressure off me is the answer. I can tell myself that I don’t have to be doing something all the time to be a valid human do I? Sitting and doing nothing is ok, especially considering what I’ve been doing all week. Meditation will help but I’m more inclined to drink, even though it’s not even 11am. Alcohol is great – getting pissed means I can’t do anything tangible so I have to do very little. It’s too early for porn but that can work to alleviate frustration as it engages and distracts me but obviously ends up with deeper guilt once I’ve pebble dashed the ceiling (that’s a slightly over-dramatised version of me releasing the glorious spooge but I may test that sometime to see if that’s possible – I’ll start in a place with low ceilings and hope that the owner of the cottage or shed doesn’t mind). I can’t get pissed and wank all the time as the sober and non-wanking times would create more fucking frustration and a feeling of lost time. Chill Noodle just fuckin Chill!!
Apparently, we all repeat patterns – behaviour patterns, thought patterns and emotional patterns and repeating what we’ve done before gives us a sense of comfort because it’s familiar. On this basis, do I then repeat patterns of feeling guilty and frustrated – Am i doing this to my fucking self? If so, there’s this sick fuckin sadist in me that’s stopping me from being happier. What part of me would do this – possibly the part of me that’s a bit evil; the part that lies, is resentful and is selfish; the part that gets me really pissed or encourages me to do all manner of unhealthy stuff (which may actually be the fun paert of me?). I think research is needed to tangibly identify the self-damaging parts of us and then a procedure is needed to evict that from our souls to free us from this negative shit.
At least then, you, the poor reader of this shit (if you fuckin exist) will not be subjected to having your brain infiltrated in this way. Maybe you like reading this shit, though? I hope so even if it is because it makes you feel better that there’s some twat out there repeating dysfunctional self-defeating and never-ending patterns of frustration which feels great because you’re not.
So, my regular updates to the blog are going fucking well then!! – Only
2 posts in 3 months. What is happening
to me? The ideal utopia of having a blog
to splurge the irreverent shit in my noodle is not panning out to be the
enlightened dawning I anticipated. It’s
becoming a personal failing: a woeful reminder of my inability to get things
done and a vehicle to heap guilt upon myself for doing fuck all.
This negativity is further accentuated with the knowledge that heaping
this shit on me will ultimately reduce my motivation and therefore further
repeat the negative pattern. Ha, right there, in the last 2 sentences, I’ve
possibly defined a major component of the human condition. Fundamentally, we create our own
self-propelling downward spirals and when we’re aware of them, we spiral
faster. I’m reinventing myself as a cat,
they seem to non-chalantly meander in a guilt-free pleasure seeking existence. They’d be narcissists if they were offensive but
they just don’t give a fuck to warrant a negative enough reaction from anything
or anyone. They can do anything they
want and be loved for it, the cute furry little shits.
My creativity seems to have been suppressed of late which relates to a central
issue in my life that is pulling me down.
This issue falls into the norms of life I think. There’s no outlandish concerns of being stressed
because the latest album isn’t selling so well or the roadies are giving us
shit. I’d like those stressors.
It’s not that the super-models I’ve been double dating have fallen in
love with each other and are insisting I have a sex change to be with
them. What would I do in that fuckin
situation? Would I live with the
constant rejection as I watch them cavort together, gently wanking and wiping
away the tears to avoid bluring my vision of the erotic beauties ahead of
me. Can you wank and cry at the same
time? (apparently you can – I’ve just googled it. That’s hilarious, how bizarre would it be to
witness that?). So cry-wanking on one
hand and sex change and collaborative fun on the other. It seems like an easy decision, but I imagine
the sex-change option is fraught with problems.
Also, what if they go off you when you reinvent yourself as
Tiffany. You’d end up re-releasing ‘I
think We’re Alone Now’ as ‘I think I’m forever alone now’ and if you managed to
keep you cock in the trans-gendering process, you could cry-wank to your own
image, assuming that you’ve made yourself look pretty. That would be an even more bizarre thing to witness. At least being trans-gendered you’d be more
socially acceptable and fashionable than being in your forties.
In relation to wanking over your own image, the term narcissist comes
from Greek Mythology where Narcissus fell in love with his own image as it reflected
in a pool of water. Maybe we can create
another positive if becoming Tiffany goes wrong by reinventing the term ‘Tiffinist’. This sounds much nicer and maybe it’d be a nicer
thing for the narcissists to be known by as they generally get a bad press
although that is because they’re out and out cunts.
Anyhow, creativity has been suppressed and this is largely due to
someone close being ill with a degenerative disease. This beings about such great emotions. Coping with the practicalities of care, the
sadness of loss, the trauma of witnessing the tragedy unfolding and the effect
it has on so many people close to you.
The effect this is having on my partner is hardest to deal with. Her sadness, upset, grief and anxiety is
horrible to observe. As the months have
passed, I also have to contend with my own selfish feelings of loss of parts of
her in this time and at times the resentment of being brought down by it
all. Feeling sorry for myself and angry
at this situation that I can’t control because I hate how the love and
positively has reduced in my life is definitely part of my shadow side. This selfishness is placed into the black bag
that’s hidden that contains the parts of me personality that I’m not proud
of. I can try to deny this selfishness,
but it leaks out of me as anger or self-pity. I try to accept these parts of me
as they are and this allows a greater sense of clarity on the situation. This brings less self-hate when I’m not
allowing the self-pity to dominate. This
clarity also brings the undeniable truth that we should be affected and that we
are affected – it’s horribly shit and I want to avoid feeling low and down
about it but it’s unavoidable. It affects
us because of the people we are and the values we uphold. It’s still fucking shit though and I wish it
wasn’t happening. I wish things were normal and we were free to feel good and
flourish happily as we experience the fruit of living our lives as we do. I wish I didn’t resent that we’re affected at
times.
….. was a question I’ve been asked recently. ‘Fuck off, no’ is my immediate reaction before a gloom of feeling like a boring middle aged dad descends on me.
So then ‘Why not, let’s experiment, I can be wild and care-free like I probably once was’. This is then followed by more rational thoughts. I like getting good value and as I think my wife’s really pretty, I envisage being harshly short-changed in a swinging environment where I end up with some soggy old hound with flappy bingo wings and matching tits. I’d probably be desperate to erect my failing erection to try and at least gain some pleasure from this ‘wild adventure’ but my subconscious would sternly protect me by keeping it flaccid. This would then damage my ego which would be further decimated by glancing over to see my wife orgasmicly writhing with Fabio like she’s never done before. With every thrust from the Adonis, I feel any future sexual confidence is being pumped out of me while Fabio’s image becomes more and more indelibly ingrained in my mind. So it’s a No anyway.
As I write this, my overly optimistic mind thinks that maybe, just maybe I’d go to a swinging event (is that the correct terminology btw – correct me please if you know) and it’d be the glamourous porn version but then my presence would taint this perfect fantasy party somewhat.
Also, it’s only now I question why I was being asked. I thought it was an innocent question but he did rub his nipple whilst asking 😲!?
My life can be an endless frustration of wanting more. I’m caught in the trap of being lured by the endless marketing campaigns to buy shit to impress other people to feel like the overly content/strong/smug twats I see on adverts whilst balancing the realities of life outside of their dumb-fuck utopia.
So to rant and possibly make sense of the dysfunctional thoughts that circulate around my noodle, I thought I’d blog it and punish You with these musings (sorry).
I constantly battle between being happy with how my life is and being disappointed that it’s not as good as it should be. Whenever we use that word ‘should’ it indicates we’re judging ourselves against an external standard – not from within ourselves. There’s this grandiose unrealistic twat inside me that I think believes I should be attending the best parties, dancing in the wildest of clubs, hanging around with debonair sophisticates’(pretentious sophisti-cunts in reality that I would fuckin hate anyway) and living this Hollywood lifestyle. NO doubt next week I’ll be berating myself for not having a decent helicopter and missing out on the latest red-carpet event.
My life is just normal – normal for me anyhow. But my tedious expectations make me feel like a failure. I’m forty-fucking-two. Why are the expectations there?? I think they’re a driving force to get some great things in life. It’s using the stick to gee yourself along rather than running towards the tasty carrot. It’s a classical psychological issue which results in me feeling not good enough. In theory, if I think I should be doing more, it’ll motivate me to make it happen. And just like unrealistic goals, it leaves me feeling defeated but more than that and so crucially, I’m not appreciating all that I have. I neglect to notice the brilliance that I have around me and all the great things that happen every week. It’s fuckin ludicrous.
The frustrations of an overthinker 