Tag: 40’s

Categories
Questionable Observations WTF is that?

Is Country Music A Real Danger?

Country music is sneaky and fuckin manipulative.  This may sounds like an odd statement but in my experience, it’s becoming like a very subtle form of crack that slowly pulls you in and gets you addicted with a sense of defeat and developing shame.  Actually, it’s possibly more like opiate based painkillers but lets not get caught up on the accuracy on poor analogies as it detracts from the point which is my sinking addiction into this bizarre genre.

I love flicking across the music channels on my telly box and have done since we got our first shitty cable box which had a peppering of shit channels and then other channels with tunes.  Music videos are just amazing: They’re visual additions to someone’s masterpiece.  As the channel numbers grew, a country channel then appeared.  This was a bit different and very soon I would always have a good laugh with it’s very simple music beats and chords, poor shows with bad filming and incompetent hosts and substandard music videos.  Most of the videos seemed to be about someone’s lost love, dead dog or dead log that they loved.  The astounding simplicity of it was hilarious, but over the last 12 months there’s been a weird evolution.  I’m finding it soothing and comforting.  I gently rock from side to side when it’s on as if I’m a resident in a care home. 

It’s scaring the shit out of me; it represents a decline; a sense of aging and a sense of loss.  Will I no longer be blasting out 90’s house or rock music.  Will this slight comfort become stronger and stronger where I become a country fan.  I quite fancy having a cowboy hat tbf, and maybe a bit of line dancing would be fun.  But just a bit of it; I do not want to adopt this as part of my identity.

As always, my infuriating anxieties are linked to losing control and fearing becoming mediocre.  Ultimately, this fear is possibly projected feelings linked to the recognition that mediocrity exists within me.  But then again, we can’t always be extreme at all times but I reject the idea of declining into being average and being just like everyone else.  Obviously parts of my life are mundane and average but I fear being a non-entity.  As such, there’s overcompensation.  My alcohol habits both serve to allow me to escape my inner frustrations and feel like I’m not watching shit like Strictly or I’m A Celeb on weekend evenings.  But now maybe I’ll be getting pissed and practising line dancing. 

Categories
WTF is that?

Being My Authentic Self Hasn’t Gone To Plan

Psychology people often spout on about the importance of being your authentic self and I whole-heartedly agree with this.  In my view, this means living my values, focusing on what is truly important, fulfilling my roles and not letting unnecessary societal and social pressures alter my behaviours (too much). 

By contrast, unsubstantiated space-cadet twats will bang on about being whatever you want to be and to manifest your dreams in some magical way.  Practise of this is often fraught with danger as when I don’t become a professional footballer, rock-star or millionaire, I may feel defeated which may dissuade me from actually pursuing realistic goals.

Anyhoo, I digress.  So, as someone who seeks to practise mindfulness, I endeavour to be my more my authentic self to not get caught up anger, envy and resentment.  With this in mind, I listened and sought to engage with a couple of meditations related to this.  They were lovely to experience (as meditations are) but today, I’ve noticed some weird shit happening. 

I’m feeling a bit anxious and insecure.  I seem to have become some fuzzy hare-brain and then it occurred to me in a rare and maybe the only moment of clarity today, that I’ve regressed to an authentic status of when I was a fucking teenager!  This can’t be good.  Maybe I was a bit purer then; free from the pressures of being in a provider and parent role.  But I was undefined and that contributed to my anxiety where I overthought and generally believed myself to be unpopular.  I’m now worried that I’ll get spots and think that all the pretty girls think I’m a twat. 

However, there could be a plus side. I may experience alcohol like I did for the first time and maybe get to find some retro-rave and experience drugs again for the first time.  I’m a bit concerned to sleep in case I sleep walk and wake up in my old school especially as it’s 40 miles away. 

Categories
WTF is that?

Why do I Behave Like A Twat When I Want To Impress!!

We like to be impressive to others as it gives us elevated status and validation and often makes us feel better about ourselves – It’s part of being human but it’s not the nicest part is it? 

You may notice the use of the word ‘we’.  I like using this collective term as I can console myself that my fucked up ways are shared probably with others.  Even if those others are just psychopathic narcissistic fuckwits, it releases some feelings of uncertainty and increases a sense of self-assuredness.

Anyhow, whenever I try to be impressive to others, for some reason, I end up behaving like a complete twat and create the very opposite of my intention which makes me want to be even more impressive to compensate for the twattiness. 

From having a big telly to an aspired working role to financial status, impressing others is a part of everyday life and it can become a spirit crushing prison.  Beneath being impressive is the need for validation from others and we’ll never be free until we shed that need.  This can be extreme for some where the opinion of others is central to their esteem which creates a very fragile personality base.  We can then lean towards being what we think others would approve of or be impressed with rather than having the strength to be our authentic selves. 

We can sit back and see the irony in the dumbfuck sides of ourselves but only after we’ve stopped crying about our follies.  The common occasions when this happens is when I’m with some I want to impress and often this is a person in authority in some way or someone attractive.  I seek their approval because it could be good for my career or job status or my social status, often in some obscure or irrelevant way.  Typically knowing the bouncers or manager of nightclubs or knowing the most attractive people in a place is good for our social status.  Having good approval from the people in power in work-places is good for our career and subsequent livelihoods. 

All these status needs have a deep-rooted basis in us seeking to survive and to survive well.  We can therefore console ourselves that it’s linked to being naturally human and that we not the headless insecure fuckwits that we may think we are sometimes. 

So why do I (or we as I hope it’s not just me) behave stupidly when trying to impress others.  In my research of this, I found 4 key elements –

1 – We stop being our authentic selves.  In trying to impress others, we alter ourselves to be, say and do what we think would impress them.  This is unnatural which leads to ….

2 – We become too self-conscious of what we’re saying and our behaviours which creates anxiety and stops us being our normal selves.  This means we cannot access the normal creative parts of us and at best, we present ourselves as a formal suppressed version of our personality.  This means we talk and behave like a complete twat which adds to our inner shame-bank fuelling the need for approval from other similar fuckwits to feel that we might just be acceptable

3 – We give away our power.  In seeking to impress, we won’t uphold the normal boundaries and it shows in our speech patterns and tones and in our body language.  As we become aware of this, it adds to the pressure and we give away more and more of ourselves.

4 – The other person picks up on this (unconsciously) and lets us continue to be nervously unimpressive.  Unfortunately, given the opportunity, most people will take power when they can so are likely to just remain silent as we chase our tails to regain control.  The power dynamic shifts where we end up filling in all the gaps with bullshit chat and end up feeling even worse.

These 4 elements all merge together in one shit-fest vicious cycle which could make us believe that the universe really has a problem with us doing well or even existing.

I think it’s fortunate that the older I get, the less I feel the need to impress others but the situation still menacingly arises.  In recognition of this, I would like to not allow the internal pressure that’s created by a sense of inferiority to create the shit-fest cycle. 

I would like to step into my adult rational self and to be my authentic self.  I’m so much better when I’m calmly confident me; I live my values better so give more to relationships in all kinds of ways and in doing this it aids my sense of self-acceptance.  ‘Just be yourself’ is such common advice with genuine wisdom, but what if you think you’re a useless sociopathic offensive twat?  At least by being yourself you’ll be respected whereas bending ourselves to people please commands very little respect.

There is also a paradox to impressing others.  The more we seek to impress, the less impressive we are.  The less we impress others, the more likely we are to impress.  Taking that to an extremity, people who behave like they don’t give a shit or are mean to others, often have people chasing after them or pleasing them.  The ‘treat them mean, keep them keen’ horrific phrase rings true as does the injustice that complaining twats get better service.  I shall not descend to low places if for no other reason than to protect my delicate sense of esteem that would be wobbled if I behaved outside of my values too much.

Anyhoo, if you’ve reached this point and haven’t skipped, present yourself with a minor medal for getting through my meandering warblings.  Go easy and live with love and kindness. 

Categories
WTF is that?

This Shit Didn’t Happen In My 30’s

In a daring attempt to take crazy risks in my crazy suburban life, I decided to try not just 1, but fucking 2 new shower gel flavours. I was being one crazy hoop-a-loop that day. But to my dismay, they’re a bit shit. Not terrible, but I’ve had better which has exploded into a stressful ball of shit

Now, because I can’t waste this, every shower is filled with a sense of defeat and sorrow – it’s fuckin awful. I’m aware that this is a 1st world problem, but I’d probably feel the same state of sorrow and despair if the only water source was a well and it dried up.

Anyhoo, it’s easy to state that I should just chuck it and in my 30’s I would have done in a flash. But now, in my 40’s, I just can’t do this. Why is that. I was far more wasteful and carefree before. Now that I’ve got more money I can’t do this as I’d dwell on the waste and that would be upsetting.

So is that better than ongoing crap showers; is the cost to my wellbeing worth the cost of new shower gel. Maybe the crap showers will help build resilience in the sense that challenges make us stronger. I’d go to a therapist to discuss this but that costs much more than the shower gel so it’d just make matters worse.

It’s a fucked up suburban situation and this is just one of them. Another, is that the cleaner who comes every 2 weeks, also does my wife’s nails and I appreciate this utter great ability we have to have these fabulous luxuries in our lives. However, when Sam comes to do nails, I feel a need to ensure that the house is very clean so that she doesn’t get offended that I’ve not maintained her hard work. I’d feel I was insulting her profession to just let the cleanliness go. to help with this, I have booked a cleaner to come before Sam comes to do my wife’s nails next and that’s helped lots.

I really don’t know how I survive sometimes though. I’m taking the car to the mechanic today and he gets properly offended if I haven’t looked after the car very well. So much so, that I’ve got a mobile mechanic on it right now to make sure it’s tip-top. I’m so close to packing a ruck-sack and fucking off to Mongolia to farm yaks.

I hope you life is freer from such torturous and ridiculous stresses.

Categories
Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations

The Wheel of Fortune

I had a notion today that metaphorically articulates loneliness.  I owe a friend some cash after a weekend away and he’s not sure how much so I said that unless he gives me a figure I’ll create a wheel of fortune, give it a spin and he’ll have whatever the wheel dictates.  This could be one of the figures dotted around the board or special prize like a new cat or a facelick every day for a month (that would be special).  I then thought, if I were really bored and lonely, I would probably do this anyway.  I’d quite like to have a wheel of fortune for when the friends that are too tired and caught up in shit box-sets decide to make their annual visit.

I’d use my tools I have, that over the years seem to be accumulating.  This collection started out of necessity as when I first bought a house, I’d buy cheap power tools, have a go, do a half decent job following a few Tourette’s moments and feel happy for not having paid a professional.  As the shit tools broke, I began to replace with better quality stuff.  This is just another example of the descent into suburban mediocrity; all these little things add up to being the dad-like figure you vowed you’d never be when you were in your 20’s (fuck I sound depressing sometimes).  So, in a disappointingly sensible and functional way, I now have an array of tools to make stuff with.  Add in the DIY experiences and shit home-make-over documentaries that plagued us 10 years ago that I watched because I was too knackered to do anything else, and I’m good to go.

In such lonely circumstance, the cat be the hostess and suitably dressed as Jenny Powell, I would be host and would also play the part of Dave (my mate) as I spin the wheel.  I imagine he would probably get a few booby prizes of ‘Help Dave become King of the Isle of Wight’ and ‘A new spider every month’.  I think the latter would be harder to deliver than I think and the takeover of the Isle of Wight is worth a bash.  Who would stop us?  My biggest concern though is that in this dire lonely state would be that the cat would begin to look attractive as Jenny.  I wonder if this how all bestiality begins?  I also wonder what other shit loneliness could drive us to do?

Categories
Questionable Observations WTF is that?

Crap Coat? Are You Guilty?

Why do lots of people my age where dull coats and jackets that look like they’ve been brought in a 1970’s camping shop?  I was with my eldest son at a Scouts activity day a few weeks ago and all the other parents were wearing North Face shit or the Millets equivalent.  I’m disappointed in their lack of humanity and creativity.  North Face are either laughing their arses off at how they’ve made so many people buy their shit or they need shooting for crimes against humanity.

People in their 30’s and 40’s tend to spend a bit of time and energy on their shirts and tops.  It’s the usual mis-informed shit of Superdry and Under Armour which makes them feel cool when really, we all think they look like twats but at least they show effort.  You can respect that!  But then, the dullest, shittest coat is sported on top. 

Am I missing something?  Am I an insufferable cock for not dulling myself down?  Does everyone else dull themselves to fade into the background to allow their children to shine then look at me like I’m some horrifically self-centred twat?  Is their lack of effort just a reflection of being exhausted from balancing home, kids and work? 

I think we should create a study to explore this further.  Firstly, we should create a questionnaire to ask the guilty about what the fuck they’re doing, but obviously use kinder words so not to create a defensive response.  I’ve drafted a few q’s –

1 – Do you wear a shit coat because you want to hide your embarrassing Superdry top from the world?

2 – Is your choice of coat linked to (tick all that may apply) –

  • You wish to repel your partner as your relationship has fizzled out and you dare not end it directly
  • You just don’t give a shit about how you look
  • You’re not that bothered about how you look
  • You’re not that bothered about what others think of you
  • You like to blend into the background
  • You delusionally think North Face and similar styled coats are actually quite cool
  • As a Coldplay fan, you seek to do as much to replicate being a soppy twat like Chris Martin
  • You have low self esteem and this is a way to covertly feel shit

3 – How much does age contribute to your shit choice of outerwear?

4 – How much thought did you put into your choice of outer wear? 

5 – Is your answer to question 4 a lie?  (really?)

6 – How often do you shop for coats while wearing a blindfold?

The 2nd arm of the study is to create 2 groups of people who wear this sort of shit.  The first group will do nothing and the 2nd group will be given a supply of stimulants to (cocaine and ecstasy comes to mind).  We’ll then assess the changes to the group who had the drugs compared to the control group to see if adding fun to their lives changes their dull exteriors. 

The more I think about it the more confused and upset I become.  I need to separate myself from the trauma of this as in reality, it’s just the most minute part of life.  I’m no coat-nazi, well, I don’t want to be as I’m sure there’s better things I can focus my noodle on?  I’m not sure what at the moment though.  As the thoughts begin to dwell, I can feel the initial brewing of anger.  I need to stop myself as ‘I set fire to him because he had a shit coat’ would not stand up so well in court.

Categories
Hmmmm?? Questionable Observations WTF is that?

What the f’ck is happening??

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.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started