Saturdays

Well here I am, alone again, naturally (no offence Gilbert or Har Mar). My current work commitments means I get to take off 4 days in a row every 2 weeks but have to sacrifice the weekend in the middle. I am the guy with 2 lives, the work one in Melbourne, the other at home in Brisbane.  The necessity of this arrangement was based purely upon the availability of meaningful work in my home town. There was none. Add to that I met and fell in love with this new employer and well we all just had to adjust. My loving family was very understanding and my superannuation fund finally stopped sending me needy letters of "we are still here!".
The amount of self examination and understanding of what is good for me and what is bad is pretty high. I know I can't sit alone in the apartment at night without it impacting my psyche and I can't go to the movies every night either. A fine balance of live sports, movies, lounge lizard, friends and relatives then repeat is the solution. Drinking alone is a no no. I did that once and well let's just say self disgust was quite high. Another aspect of mental health in this situation is having somewhat a home feeling whilst away from home. For this, I simply ask the apartment hotel staff for the same room every cycle and they are nice enough to do it. Sometimes not, but generally yes. I have bought a place and am VERY eager to get into it. Settlement isn't until July and I think that will reduce my angst levels a ton.
My cooking has suffered too. Cooking for 1 is just not the same, and food is rarely packaged in small enough lots. You have to have the same thing 2 nights running often because throwing out leftovers is a no no too. I might have to start up a pop in private restaurant and invite neighbours over each night so I can cook what I want and not waste anything. Is there such a thing as that?
The office is soooo quiet now. The cleaner's vacuum stopped and he's gone too. Tomorrow will be much more of the same today. Quiet. I do play music but need to invest in some good quality PC speakers and a subbie! really crank it up. I know this is a god awful boring jump back into writing but I figure my artistic outlet is stifled at the moment and so this is serving that purpose once again. 

to fear or not to fear!

My lovely wife keeps reminding me that I'm not looking after myself. I'm overweight, work too much, don't exercise, eat whatever and whenever I want and pretty much am on a fast track to a big black hole. When dad was very near death I saw fear in his face. Absolute fear. I always thought there would be a peaceful resignation regarding one's own death but not for my dad. I really can't think that I have any fear about it at all. If I dropped dead tomorrow, it would pretty much be a relief. I'm not saying I want to go but just imagine, there'd be no more. I'd miss my family immensely but that would be the same no matter what age I was. But would I actually be able to miss them if I was dead? They would of course mourn me as they're the ones left to pick up the pieces but when you're dead, you're dead.

Speed and Accuracy

 I got a phone call at work the other day. I was busy at my desk, at the new job, impressing my boss with the speed and accuracy of my communications. We were really under the pump to get the bid for a 40 million dollar project submitted. I answered my phone and it was my eldest, Mr20 . His communication certainly had speed but not so much the accuracy I felt required. There were rapid fire mumbling about his brother, "the dog was in the car", "he went inside" and a whole string of nonsense that I knew I didn't want to hear at that time in that way in that place. As I dropped the phone away from my face after telling him that I'd talk when we got home, I heard his faint voice from a distance saying "I'll message you a photo".

My phone beeped. This is the photo that appeared on my phone. Yes as I suspected, the car had been damaged. Not too badly I thought. A slight crease. I can live with that. The car would still have speed and accuracy.








Then this photo appeared and I realised things we a little more serious than I first anticipated. The door ajar like that gave me my first inkling that the car was no longer capable of speed nor could the door close accurately.  It was only when I saw the last image scroll up the high resolution screen of my OPPO phone that I became truly enlightened.

Yes, its what we like to call in the industry, a right fuck up.

 I took several long, deep breaths searching inside me for whatever understanding and forgiveness I could muster. "But why?" I hear you ask. "You don't even know the full story yet!". OMG you're right. I stayed calm. At the close of business I went home with as much speed and accuracy as I could manage without incurring the wrath of any constabulary. I went inside prepared to hear it wasn't anyone's fault. Possibly the dogs fault though.

Well as it happened, they boys were off to the park with the dog, all in the car, engine running about to back out when Mr 20 remembered he'd left his wallet inside the house. He went to get it and came out just in time to witness the car careering backwards, with neither speed nor accuracy, the door folding back like a camel's knee and a very surprised Mr15 in the front passenger seat leaning over where the handbrake should be. You've heard of the planets aligning? well these planets involved Mr20 leaving the car in gear when he went inside, the handbrake being on but the dog trying to get through to the front seat and Mr15 having to repel him and then well there you have it, the car took off for some reason.
Another planet is that I, only weeks prior, reduced the insurance on the car to fire and theft only.
I knew Mr20 felt bad so didn't have the heart to rip him a new one but did relate to him that I had done the exact same thing once upon a time. I'd wanted to hit a ball against the garage wall so put the family VW in neutral and rolled her back out through the garage doors whilst neatly folding the drivers door backwards as it caught on a post. But as I explained to Mr20 with much speed and accuracy, I was only 10.

Realisations revisited

My blogging has stalled of late and I miss putting finger to keyboard. Not as romantic as pen to paper but you get the gist. I decided to go back in time and see where it all began. On the 9th April 2012, I wrote about Keelan and his premature death. I figured out that maybe I'm a little better nowadays as there was no tears this time. I still love him fondly and hope to meet his child one day and tell him what a special guy his dad was and maybe see a little of Keelan looking back at me.
My realisations today surround the fact that you expect genes to be passed on but am surprised when they seemingly aren't. In reality, maybe its just that you can't see yourself in that light yet and that how you see your offspring is how others see you! I'd be happy with that. Was I like my Dad, are my sons like me? I hope so. My dad was awesome. He's with Mum (and Keelan now I suppose).

was I ever?

I spend a large amount of time shaking my head in frustration at the actions of those in my house way younger than I. It seems there's a perpetual stream of WTF! Part of me knows I was more than likely like that myself at that age but really was I ever? I had my last day of high school on November 30th 1984 and began my first full time employment with BHP on the 10th December that same year. Yes, I had 9 days off after school. If memory serves me correctly I did nothing of consequence. Schoolies was just a new thing back then reserved for the rich kids. Who on earth could afford to go to surfers for a week? I, like most of my friends did not have to concern myself with what I was "going to do". My future, at least for the short term, was mapped out. I was in control of my destiny! or was I ever?
 As I get older I have no idea if I'm getting more or less patient with the world. My 15 year old jokes about my 'flexibility'. He seems to think I'm set in my ways. Truth be told, I love to see new and better things happening. The operative word is BETTER. New music is fine if it's BETTER than say, Pink Floyd. I've not found any that is. Mind you, as I type this, Spotify (yes I'm that flexible) is playing Husky "Splinters in the Fire" and I'm enjoying it immensely. I can hear a guitar playing! an actual musical instrument that creates noise through vibration of some mechanical means. This year's Triple J hottest 100 was on the wrong day and named a crap track as number 1. I'm not for one minute saying I'm the biggest Triple J listener nor that I'm overly familiar with today's ground breaking music scene, but in the past I have at least liked their number 1. I'm shaking my head at them. I'm shaking my head because they turned their back on our day too. If another day is BETTER then I'm all in. Better for who though? All of us or some of us? or maybe most of us? that's an argument for another post though. Back to the thread please author!! Well I'm thinking maybe I always thought I was in control but it's a function of age that enables me to realise I know nothing, am in control of nothing and am simply a source of amusement for those that witness me seemingly being in control. Does that make sense? Ironically as a youngster I was informed I had a high degree of self objectivity but they were wrong!! way wrong!! Its only now I'm suspecting I'm a dick. I'm a dick for being frustrated, I'm a dick for for being inflexible, I'm a dick for not realising I've always been a dick, or was I ever?

Current status

I have just started a new short term job and as I now sit in front of a monitor all day everyday rather than a steering wheel all day every night, I thought i'd check out my blogger account. It seems very few have read anything in months. I did however see that a draft existed titled "Current Status". It was empty. Apparently I was moved to update you last time but no idea on what to say. So this time I shall. My status at the moment can best be described as 'pending'. My job is pending, my business is pending, my weight is pending, the repair of my front fence is pending (that's the subject of another post very soon). Who needs certainty when you have pending? Dad died. It was pending, then became a certainty. Back on Dec 16th the lovely man took in his last breath. It had been expected for a few days but alas, my last ditch effort to get there was not to be. I did however manage to incur a speeding fine but under the circumstances, I could never appeal as I'd feel I was using dad's death to save myself $183. Watching him die on those last few days was a new experience for me. When mum died a few years back, it was my big sister that did all the heavy lifting. I was absent by design. I was taken aback by the fear that showed in his face. His communication was not spoken anymore but just his face that told his story. He was scared. We all assured him that he was safe and he could go but could do little else but prompt the nurses to wack in another dose of whatever that painkiller was. Getting old and infirm and dying is not a glamorous thing to do. Its emotional, doubt filling, regret raising and scary. We all would like to think the last days are no different from now but that the last day hits with a bang and your out, gone. That's not how it happens people. For the lucky one yes, the rest of us no. Just wait, you'll see for yourself.
We had a simple service with the family and some of my little sister's work mates. It was great to see. It was my first eulogy. Its weird but I knew exactly what dad wanted. I didn't have to think about it nor worry about if it was entertaining or witty or heartfelt. Whatever came off my hand as I wrote was right and I was right. It felt right. It sounded right. I had a good grasp of his current status and my own if only for that day.

Stifled

I'm not usually one for serious writing but something has stuck in my craw as it were. So many subjects are simply hijacked by social and mainstream media nowadays its such a shame. I was playing catch up with Media Watch last night (6 episodes in a binge session) and was amazed to see the lack of exposure for the anti gay marriage movement. Don't get me wrong, I am very pro gay marriage but I'm even more pro democratic process and freedom of speech. This same stifling of debate happens on so many fronts. Whether it be refugees from Syria or in fact anywhere else all seems to be in the "you're a bastard if you think differently" bucket. The bandwagon has become more of an band aircraft carrier. I can hear both sides of any argument and make up my own mind logically and without having to take an extreme stance. The number of political tweets being so damning towards the left or right make me sad. Can we not say both sides have merit but I'm swaying this way because of such and such? the recent ABC series on Rudd and Gillards self destruction "The Killing Season" gave me a much greater insight and my resolve towards both softened as a result. It does not change my mind that they were both wrong and that governing in a minority government does nothing to progress the country but hey, maybe they had a little cause for their actions. I want the world to keep talking about both sides and not just accept the most quickly tweeted and populous point of view nor the views of some famous actor that may or may not have a barrow to push. Even here now I am not writing the full extent of thoughts about the refugee or Ice epidemics for fear of incurring the wrath of some of the 6 people that will read this. Even I'm stifled.

The end

Well mum finally did the best thing and died a few weeks back. My big sister got the call and skedaddled down to be by her side but as is always her style, mum decided to wait another 10 days after the withdrawal of all but pain meds before succumbing to death. Can you imagine someone being reported alive in the wild after 10 days with no food or water? it would be in the papers and on 60 minutes the following Sunday night. It is quite extraordinary how the human body fights to keep going even after all brain activity has ceased. That in my view illustrates how flawed nature can be.
I was very surprised by my reaction too. I thought I had long since mourned her when the dementia ravaged her mind and left nothing but a blank stare. It turns out I still had some tears and was happy to let them out for the last time. Telling Dad was the hardest thing. My little sister and I sat with him and it was very tough not to feel for the man that spent 50 years with his wife and had to say goodbye twice. Once when we moved him closer to us and then again now. He was good. He was strong for our sake but it stressed him greatly. I could see it in his body, how he held his legs out rigid and how he went silent. Dad was never a noisy man but was never like this either. I cried more for dad that day.
It was decided to have no service but simply a viewing then lunch at the golf club. That's the way we roll and was so apt it's not funny. Not that wakes are funny but you know what I meant. There were family from all over that had come to say hello and tell me how much weight I'd gained and how big my boys had grown. Both were true observations. By that I mean both boys had grown and no, I was still petite.
My mum was the first dead person I'd seen. When my own grandparents died I said a big old NO to seeing them. I was so glad my boys made that same call. Watching "Walking Dead" doesn't count if that's what you're thinking. She wasn't there at all. Mum was more in her spirit than in her body. That's why she lived so loud I think. It exuded from her.
After the viewing mum was taken away and cremated. I went with my big sister to collect mum afterwards because she was too chicken to pick up the box of ashes herself. Never have I had so many inappropriate yet great one liners to deliver and unfortunately could not resists. My audience of was a tough one I must admit. I'm sure the funeral parlour staff thought I was the worst person in the world for cracking jokes but hey, mum would have laughed so its ok with me. On a side note, why are they called parlours?
I brought mum home and put the nice string handled block bottom bag on the dining table in front of Mr 13.
"what's that"
"It's mamma"
at some point I'm sure he will forgive me and we can laugh and laugh together.

All was going to be fine

Dad is pretty much a single man now. mum is still alive but there is nothing of her left sad to say. Just the shell and even that is failing. Dad spent about 18 months living by himself in his home after mum had to go away then we moved him into his own little one bedroom unit in an aged home complex where he could look after himself but have some help close at hand should it become necessary. The nearest child was 1000km away so it was important if he fell or whatever that he had the magic button on his pendant to page for assistance. All very good in theory. He met a woman (reportedly older) at church and they struck up a friendship which was lovely. Dad was a solitary man after mum was gone so we all embraced the idea of this new companion that lived nearby. On the odd telephone call dad would report how he and Leonie had talked about this or watched that. It was all going to be fine. The kids were relaxed in their thoughts that dad was safe and well and had everything he needed. Maybe we were lax or maybe we were lazy but at no time did I ever think we had an issue. That changed in March this year.
Dad was making noises about wanting to move to Port Macquarie with Leonie. He had been referring to her as his carer for some time now and it had been accepted as a casual arrangement by us kids. The talk of moving to Port was of concern though as his assets and level of care required meant moving back out to an un-monitored home rang alarm bells in our minds. My sister and I arranged to see dad and talk with Leonie face to face to determine what the story was. It was heart breaking to sit and hear Leonie say to us and dad that he had the wrong end of the stick and that there was no room in her plans for him. I saw a flicker in his eye of real pain and I felt it for him. he was an old man with a new lease on life given his wife of 50 years was institutionalized only 200 meters away. I understood and did not judge. How can you? he is still alive and needs companionship. I asked dad if he thought he had got it wrong or if Leonie had changed her story and he was firm in the latter. I believed him and so the seeds were sown for a long and carefully thought out mistrust of this sweet little old lady. All the gut instinct regarding her manner and the way she trailed off her stories in an inaudible whisper started to magnify. Her contradictions of her own statements was no longer put down to an 'aged' brain fart but more serious. I did not like her at all. We left however knowing Dad had heard from the horses mouth Port was not to be. We had broached the subject of Dad moving up to Queensland with us and he agreed it was a good thing to look forward to. Leaving mum behind would be hard but he had had enough of those empty eyes staring back at him on visits and the constant reminder of his own mortality. We set to find Dad suitable care close to us and all was going to be fine.
My sister as the holder of enduring power of attorney for Dad had access to his accounts. As dad was still in charge of his own life there really hadn't been any need to look at the accounts. I suggested maybe she should just take a look to make sure. Sure enough, dad had withdrawn a few thousand dollars and when asked by Bron, said it was to help Leonie move to Port. That was fair enough we thought, she had been of help to dad and dad was free to give whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. It did however fill in another piece of the puzzle for us and raise the urgency to get dad to Brisbane as she was obviously moving soon herself.
The phone rang and it was Bronwyn. "I feel sick" she said in between teary weeps. Bron had received a call from dad's super fund to let her know as the appointed representative of dad, that a Leonie had called them to ask about the beneficiaries to dads account. I can't put words to the feelings that come when you hear that but your mind races from one impossible scenario to the next, all of them not ending well. The need to extract dad was now paramount. Within a day of 2 we had tickets and were flying down to get dad. My little sister had helped secure a bed in a high care unit in Toowoomba and we were on a plane to go get dad and all was going to be fine. We arrived the Thursday night and went straight to Dad's place. He was happy and well and Leonie was there too. I've never wanted to throw a little old lady in a creek before but this was a definite possibility. We talked with Dad about how exciting it was to be coming home with us and he agreed, reservedly but he agreed. We were booked on a 5pm flight Friday back to Brisbane. All was going to be fine. Bron and I stayed at a friends place that night, enjoyed a lovely thai dinner and a few bottles of good red. The stress of the past few months was slowly being resolved and tomorrow was the final step.
9.30 am we rolled up to Dad's place, knowing he was probably at his usual Friday morning cafe visit with some of the men in the place. We packed his bags, got a few trinkets for him too. Emptied his fridge, emptied his bin and waited for him to come home.
At 11.30am, we were really not sure where he was now. Bron rang Leonie's number to check if she knew where he was. I remember the blood draining from her face and her pleading words "but you can't do that". I took the phone and heard Leonie say "he's with me now, go home". Bron was not coping overly well with that news and I was quite gobsmacked really. We drove around to her unit, about 500 meters away. Bron stayed in the car whilst I walked up the stairs to the second floor unit. She opened the door but stood behind a security mesh screen and simply repeated her claim he was with her now and informed us she had called the police. I was polite. I was calm. Every ounce of me wanted to kick in the door and scare the shit out of her but I was calm, "all was going to be fine" I said. I called into the unit to Dad to come to the door so I could speak to him. I could only surmise he was sitting somewhere behind the door out of sight but could hear me. She turned towards where he was sitting and with an outstretched finger yelled "YOU SIT!". I've never heard anyone talk to my dad like that before and it would not happen again. She shut the door.
Bron called the police and although I could only hear her side, it seemed to be taking forever to get the message across. Finally she got agreement but only after talking to the officer (Jim, a really nice guy btw) that had responded to her call that morning. He only agreed to come after finding out the stories Leonie told him about them living together for 2 years were utter bullshit. She had said he got himself there that morning and was going to stay. The police arrived and I had the distinct impression this was a done matter in their mind and that we would be going home dadless. Jim's attitude changed markedly during the next 30 minutes. A key point when I asked Leonie why she had rung dads super and her response "I didn't and they didn't tell me anything anyways" Jim's eyebrow raised up at that point. The police have such limited powers with citizens so he could not actually force dad from the unit back to our care. The 2 police and me stood in her unit in front of dad and asked him what he wanted to do. He was a shattered and confused old man, pitiful in his lack of understanding of what was going on around him. When Jim asked him about what they had discussed that morning, all dad could do was point at me and say"what that one has been up to". I'm not usually easily hurt but this stabbed me hard. Those were her words I know but he was being a willing puppet. Jim realised Dad was just not in full control of his faculties at that time as his answers were all just plain wrong. We had all the letters from his doctors saying dad needed care, had his official assessment stating his eligibility for high care and the proof of attorney for Bron but this was not enough to force dad into our care. Jim now had a full understanding of the picture and his voice towards her changed as he realised he'd been lied to that morning and essentially used as a set up for us. The only thing Jim could think of was that as dad was unable to navigate stairs on his own easily, the 2nd story was unsafe in the case of a fire. Dad used a walking frame and so thought it was best to be back on ground level at his place. I can't thank Jim enough for his handling of that situation. I laugh to myself now when I think of Jim asking Leonie how dad got himself up the stairs that morning unaided and her telling him it was so. Me carrying dad and Jim carrying his walking frame seemed to have missed her attention at that point. "Sure he did" said Jim in the most sarcastic tone ever summonsed.
We got dad out and away but not after me having to tell Dad that he had 2 choices. Go with us voluntarily or we have a court mental health order made forcing the point.
I think we always prided ourselves on letting Dad do his own thing and just making sure he was safe when doing so. This new method was heart wrenching and totally distasteful but it had to be done if all was going to be fine.
We found out later that she had changed his address to hers with some companies, ordered a new bed suite on his credit card (cancelled and fully refunded) and was of 'concern' to other residents in the complex.
If you have an aged father and he mentions the name Leonie, don't assume everything is going to be fine.

I loved her more

My big sister and I have of late, developed a new and genuinely close relationship, far better than we've enjoyed in the past. It wasn't really planned but just happened. I was unaware we didn't have a close relationship until recently. For as long as I've remembered I've been jealous of people around me that had siblings as friends. A girl I once worked with Tracy, had a brother that would come to the office to lunch with her and they would talk often about the family BBQ's and functions the entire family would commit to. I blame myself for not exactly facilitating this with my siblings as time and distance took its toll. I could have tried harder yes but that's in the past and so now I find myself here.
I've thought about this and consider what played the main roles in this story.
Firstly, Dad was left alone after mum had to be put in the dementia ward and well, he needed to know family was close. Bronwyn and I would talk lots about his care and what was to come of him and pretty much took control as our other siblings were not well placed to contribute. The work was really all done by her as the eldest and I sort of tidied up in the background and did any heavy lifting (literally) with cleaning out his home prior to downsizing. I know Dad was an excellent dad just by how Bronwyn has handled his affairs. I could not have been able to do a tenth of the job she did and I am ever so thankful and love her more for it. Her abilities and efforts made it possible for Dad to be the most comfortable he could ever contemplate being. She is quite possibly the perfect daughter to him. I loved her more for how she looked after my dad.
Second, Bron has over the past few years gone thru a shitty and messed up divorce and well I just felt for her and was ever vigilant in calling to see if all was OK and let her vent to a nonjudgmental and empathetic ear. Hearing her stories and just wanting to help but being unable to was tough but no where near as tough as what she had to endure. I had felt her unhappiness throughout her entire married life but how can you ever say that? How can you tell your sister she made the wrong decision 25 years ago? It was not my place and I trusted that things would be right one day and I was right. My gorgeous niece and nephews whom I would not change in a million years were the upside of that relationship for her. I loved her more for taking charge of her own happiness.
Bron moved to within a few km of me. Since she was 18 and moved away from home we've never lived closer than 100km to each other and for the past 10 years its been 1000km. This all changed some months back when Bronwyn and her true love Roger moved up here. They could well have gone anywhere else in the city and made it harder to see them but they chose my backyard. It's stupid but to run into your sister whilst doing the grocery shopping is just so lovely an experience. To see her every few days and see her growing happiness that's been missing for such a long time, is truly a blessing. I loved her more for being close.
I've been lacking motivation to write for a long time now but upon thinking it was time to get back to it, it was a simple choice because I loved her more.

Just for me

I took steps today to recover a long lost love. A friend had slipped away through no fault of their own but from my inaction to keep them. My love is for me to maintain not them. Why did I think it was OK to sit back and just wait for them to make the move because I wished it so? It's me that needs them,  not necessarily the other way around. I care so much that seeming to be needy and pathetic is irrelevant as long as I can still have the friendship. People look at me and see a big and imposing man, an outgoing and loud alpha male unhindered by self control or giving a fuck about what others think of him. Its strange in contrast  to admit I am helpless to do without them. I will have that friendship again and not let it slip again. Its too painful.

Swimming with the tide

For so long I've just taken the easy path and swum with the tide, not fighting nor caring but just going with the flow. I've recently started pushing back and feel the invigoration of the pressure wave trying to push me over but unsuccessfully. It's unrelenting force once unbearable is now a cause for celebration as I exceed my own expectations and win the daily battles. Getting things done and maintaining the momentum is the key. Whether it's home improvements, buying boats, or simply having food on the table the urge to sit back and let life happen to you must be resisted and you be in control. Yes I'm a control freak as has previously been discussed but this is different. This is being decisive, knowing not only what you want but also what you need out of life and working towards achieving it. I've just been dumb lucky until now. Fate isn't going to steer me for the next bit but shall be a spectator as I flourish and grow by my own hand and not just in tow of others. 

worse

What is it that drives me to gnaw and chew at my nails, tearing up flesh like old tarmac and leaving me bleeding and raw? What is it that is missing in my brain that says "boy that's gonna hurt like fuck when you've finished" I have no idea. I started when i was 5 after my big op.(found here) so claims my mother but I really have no memory of never having the urge to consume myself from the digits up. I gave up smoking easier than this. I did have some success in that I worked my way up from my thumbs. Goals are to be achievable and small step improvements are always a good start. I left my thumbs alone and pretty soon the urge to remove those nails diminished. then the forefinger, given time they grew back and normal maths would expect you to think the chewing would have reduced by 40% at this point. Incorrect. I just focused the entire 100% effort on the remaining 60% of nails. take 2 more nails out of the equation and well you end up with blood. On the upside I have 6 perfectly manicured nails the pride of any drag queen! On the downside, I inflict such agony on myself it drives me to write to an anonymous universe asking why I do it. I've tried every chemical deterrent known to man, I've given those closest to me the absolute irrites on a regular basis. To say I am OCD about it is like saying I'm ..... I just took a strip off my right ring finger nail bed trying to think of a good word......lets just say I'm somewhat manic and stop it there. It churns inside me and I find it quite uncontrollable. I find most things about me quite uncontrollable. Maybe I'm just weak and looking for excuses or maybe I'm just plain FITH. Whatever it is, its worse than any alternative. I'm worse. just plain worse.
PS I just looked at google images wondering if I should add some colour and mine are worse.

Another Position Vacant

It hurts. Not a thing I can do about it but it hurts. I've had you around for so long it just seemed you'd always be there but times change, things change, relationships change. I'm sure one day we may run into each other and smile and be courteous but ex-best friends don't sit well with me. You are or you aren't. there's no in between. I could grovel and beg and force you into something you just aren't anymore but that would diminish what was once there. I'm accepting, I have to be. I'm as much to blame. I know that. Just know that my thoughts of you are nothing but warmth. You out grew me and I just have to be big enough to accept that. 41 years was not such a bad inning though. Id have preferred it was 82 though. Yet another position vacancy to fill. It's impossible though as you are the only one that could ever fill it. I miss you every day.

Today

It fills to the brim, every day more than the last
it swells and creaks and creeps into every last crevice
the push is unrelenting but subtle, barely a puff but complete in its coverage
its hue is black as the ocean depths, depriving of oxygen and squeezing out breath
it has a smell too, musky, dank, dirty and vile all at once.
its here to stay now. get used to it.

Position Vacant

You've all pretty much figured out I'm a confident person if you've read these posts. I don't have an issue making my case or wants known, I don't resign from responsibility easily and I pretty much am a control freak in all things on this planet that I can possibly control and some things I shouldn't. I've also blogged about my belief in being right.
What if I'm wrong?
Decisions made at forks in the road can have quite dire effects. Take the wrong path and end up god knows where. I have been very lucky in my life that each fork has ended up in a better place. If there was any chance it wasn't going to end up that way, a big dose of luck kicked in and made it right. Buying and selling houses or cars, having kids, moving states, investments, changing jobs, or getting married. They all worked fine! Is that good luck or good management? Is it a function of me being right or just dumb luck and I was wrong the entire time! How can I not consider this may well be the case and that any future decisions could be so fucked up my luck just throws its hands in the air and walks off talking back to me over it's should that I'm on my own now! I'm finding myself more and more paralyzed by this thought but forge ahead in "doing things" and "getting things done", "being a doer" to disguise the fact.
Maybe its time for me to just sit and let others make my mind up? Run an ad in the jobs section "Position Vacant - Decision Maker. Previous experience unnecessary as we have no good yardstick to measure you against".The good side of that is that if it works, I gain. Whatever the decision was, I didn't have the stress about knowing if its right or wrong, just the benefit of it's outcome.  The bad side that if it doesn't work out, blaming my newly engaged decision maker is fruitless and all I can do it sack them. I'm leaving the decision regarding getting a decision maker to the decision maker I hire if I decide to hire a decision maker.

We forgot about nature

As a child, we had a small dog called Puck (after Puck of Pook's Hill) and we had him since birth essentially. Due to the nature of his name, he got used to his outside name too. 'Lob'. This was required as the eyebrows of neighbors upon hearing us yell 'puck' up and down the street were raised in disapproval. So there it was , Puck inside and Lob outside. It made complete sense to us. One day, he was just no longer in the yard. He was old and grey and I missed him. My dad told me dogs just know when nature has finished with them and they go away to die in peace.
Years later as a teenager, my now wife's family had a golden retriever called Benji. A lovely family member they'd had since a pup and at the age of about 14, simply went down to the back garden, lay down under a bush and died. Nature was there big and proud but the yard fence was bigger and prouder, stopping his most natural migration to his final moments and death.
It seems to me that we've forgotten about nature in some respects.
As some of you may have read, my mum is suffering chronic dementia and resides in a secured high dependency facility. When I say high dependency, I mean total dependency. There is just no one home anymore. Walking into such a place is quite confronting. There is a range of oldies in varying states of oblivion. Some happy, some with verbal diarrhea, others seemingly quite normal and then there's the one that are no more. The blank staring eyes, unable to talk, walk, control their bowels, feed themselves, smile, laugh, cry or even acknowledge their own existence. Nature has finished with them but we haven't. Resources a plenty are poured into these places keeping our elderly comfortable and fed and cared for and I question why. I can say this because my own mother is there in that bucket. It's impossible not to feel differently about her given her condition, but I feel for the mum I used to have, not the existing remains. The mum I used to have was mum, she was OK, not the best, not the worst but was OK. The collection of cells passing themselves off for mum nowadays is nothing short of criminal.
But what makes you god? I here you ask. What makes it OK for you to decide who goes and who stays? Take a look into their eyes and you'll know that answer. I am enamored by eyes. I love them. These eyes have nothing, no spark, no life, no knowing, no appreciation, no joy, no sadness, no nothing. Nature has taken that from them but we have as a society decided to overrule Nature, sideline it, render it a passenger and forge ahead maintaining life at all cost. We are wrong. Trust nature, let nature decide. We forgot about nature.

Right

I sit and stare in to the ether and the edges of my field of vision go fuzzy yet the centre of my stare stays crisp and rigid. I am thinking to myself could I be wrong but knowing all the while that I'm right. My belief in my being right is concrete. But being right is only ever useful if those around you accept the fact. Denial is common. What use is being right if you're told you are wrong? Maybe its not about being right, but maybe life is about grey and greyer. My chest aches with the words I hold back for fear of angering but I know I'm right so why even bother pushing my point. I should embrace the grey, celebrate in its cloudiness and hide among its puffs. I can still be right in there too can't I?

Trust me

My youngest has what can only be described as an over active fear of bees. A phobia of biblical proportions. Even today on the cusp of 12, whenever a bee comes within his field of vision, no matter how far away it is, he'll recoil in fear and demand I do something about the clear and present danger. I have no idea where this came from but did once, try to remedy it without success.
The family was frolicking in the pool as families do. Water splashing, laughing and all around a great time in the sun. We had an airbed in the pool too, taking turns trying to stay on whilst the others were all trying to flip you off it. It was one of those magic family times that can only ever get fucked up by the dad.
Griff saw the bee and immediately went into flight mode trying to dodge the insect flying a good 6 or 8 feet above our heads.
"Dad he'll sting me, kill it, make it go away"
"don't be silly son, he has no more interest in you than we have in him"
I continued, "bees don't sting unless they are threatened, its the way they repel enemies so that the others in their group are safe". My calming dad voice echoed across the water as I help Griff up on the airbed out of the water so that I could allay his fears about this innocent little bee going about its business. Griff was not happy about this and wanted to return to the water and safety but I felt it reasonable to let him understand that there was zero risk and that he was being unnecessarily paranoid. He looked at me dis trustingly and I could only reply "trust me".
The bee must have been broken is all I can think. It flew straight down onto his leg and stung him deep.
As Griff's eyes widened and he experienced his first bee sting, his attention turned to me and my inability to keep a straight face. His horror at me was unmistakable. I know its bad to laugh at a youngster as he struggles with nature but hey, you had to have been there! I did try to conceal my smirk but rather unsuccessfully I'm afraid. In one sense, it worked because his pissedness at me over ran the pain of the sting and he maybe felt less as we excavated the pulsing spear from his flesh. I like to think that anyway, trust me!  

Happy

I started this as an outlet for my artistic release. Someone had advised me that I was lacking and my natural need to express myself was severely hampered in my daily life and suggested I should find a way such as music or writing. I tried the sax lessons but that caused more problems than it solved so I write and here it is.
I've written lots of stuff about useless crap and stories and stuff but not much in the way of how I see life. I should put it into words more often so that I can better understand it myself.
I've had a moment! A moment of clarity and dare I say an epiphany.
Brisbane has storms of late. Big storms. Rain and thunder and lightning and it literally dumps an ocean onto the streets only to disappear within minutes and the hot tropical sun come out of hiding and play. One such storm happened the other Sunday morning. I was up and planning my next trip to the hardware store (I'm not a proper man most times but boy howdy do I love a good hardware store). I wouldn't have classified myself as anything but normal at that time. Driving to the store, I came over a rise and looked out across a freshly stormed city. Everything was glistening wet with the morning sun. Its rays highlighting every flat surface like a sea of mirrors. It was quite spectacular. The sun vaporizing in minutes what the best efforts of the storm could achieve in hours, the steam rising from the ground as I watched. At that time I had a conscious thought that I was happy! I was marveling at life and where I lived and how could anyone take this for granted. I hadn't actually thought about being happy or not before, it was as if the thought just hadn't really occurred to me. I've always just been what I am. Then I thought maybe others actually do identify themselves as being happy and that's the key. It happened again a few days later in a totally unexpected but unprintable place. I'm working on developing a habit of admitting to myself when I'm happy rather than just being the usual blaaahhhhhh. Maybe it will bear fruit, who knows but I'm not thinking about what I haven't got, but what I have. I am blessed with people around me that make me so much more than I can be on my own. I need to acknowledge that too. Why the fuck would I ever be unhappy when I can look at rainy roads and feel elation? Soas this makes sense, I'm making a promise to the world to be cool. I've no interest in being anything but happy anymore and I'll be happy for you too if you need it.