Monthly Musings: December 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Anotha B: Unspoken

Content Consumption 2014

Summary

Monthly Musings: November 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Monthly Musings: October 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Ebola

Cue ensuing panic regarding the devastating disease that is reportedly fatal in 50%-90% of cases. Granted it sounds fucking awful (especially the bleeding from the eyes part, more on that later), but take deep breaths for a moment and actually educate yourselves before you begin declaring that the apocalypse is upon us. If you have a headache, sore throat and sore muscles, it doesn't mean you have Ebola; that's just called a hangover, have some paracetamol, a bacon butty and sleep it off princess.

The word "crisis" is being plastered over every tabloid like it's a leaked celebrity nude photo, alongside pictures of alleged zombies, and scenes of bio suits that look like they could be straight from Breaking Bad, with Heisenberg himself in a quaratined meth lab. The media frenzy even extends it's fearmongering to declaring that the killer virus has a 50% chance of hitting the UK shores by the end of the month, and stating that David Cameron himself has ordered an "emergency Cobra meeting" to discuss how the country is best to deal with a "deadly spread" in the UK. Christ on a fucking bike.

Here's a thought, and I know it sounds absolutely batshit cray-cray, but how about we stop letting people back into the country when they've been to areas of high infection? For instance, if someone has been in Liberia, Guinea or Sierra Leone where there have been over 2200 deaths due to Ebola, don't allow them to hop off a plane and head down to the local Maccies with their buddies for a fucking Big Mac. It's not really rocket science.

Also, for those of you who are too blinded by media, or too ignorant to bother to research this kind of shit for yourselves before running a panic train all over social media trend feeds:

People can become infected with the Ebola virus if they come into contact with the blood, body fluids or organs of an infected person.

Seems fairly restricted unless you're some kind of rampant sex fiend, a Dexter type serial killer hacking up his victims, or a smack head sharing unsterilised Ebola syringes. It explicitly states in every viable source I've queried that Ebola is not commonly spread through routine social contact such as sitting in the same area as somebody who is infected, or even as far as shaking their hand; it is not typically an airbourne transmitted disease, so unless you're letting people sneeze directly into your mouth like some kind of freak with a phlegm fetish, don't worry so much.

And finally don't even get me started on all this malarky about zombies... Jesus fucking Christ, if any of you seriously believe that this is legit, then I hope you catch Ebola. It's Halloween in a few weeks, if you see people in the street looking like zombies, they won't be Ebola victims rising from the dead, they'll be 16 year old degenerate teenagers blackmailing you for sweets and cash in exchange for them not kicking your head in.

I'm undecided as of yet whether the zombie rumours aren't just a clever marketing ploy for the Walking Dead that returns to grace our screens on Oct 12th... either way, I'm confident that Ebola is just much ado about nothing, like most of the shit that we are constantly force fed on a daily basis from every possible media source imaginable.

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Monthly Musings: September 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

HeForShe

Ever since feminism became widely acknowledged, the majority of males have grown to despise the term for it's association with men hating. This is undeniable, and until now, something that has never been publicly broached to such a diverse audience, let alone by a female speaker.

For myself, like a lot of other males, "feminism" and "gender inequality" have always gone hand in hand, each as part and parcel of the other; I guess I had become conditioned to rejecting the premise that males too are disadvantaged by gender stereotyping, since awareness was never under the scrutiny of a media outlet's microscope. Women courageously battled to overcome gender inequality, meanwhile men remained ignorant to the stigmas attached to themselves.

This topic holds prominence with myself at present; as a Father I have been repeatedly vilified by single Mothers, my parenting abilities dismissed or criticised, and any attempts at empathy shunned. When I was prevented from contact with my child and pursued the legal route, I was constantly reminded from all sources, even my female solicitor, that the Legal system favours the Mother in child cases, regardless of disposition or history. Even now, gender equality is an ongoing issue for equal rights in parenting; though the scales have shifted, the equilibrium is still absent, and Mothers are still looked upon favourably.

The main reason however that this topic is such a vested interest of mine, is because I am the proud Father of a beautiful daughter. I see that without gender equality, my daughter could be largely disadvantaged in life. I wish for her to pursue her dreams, to chase whatever she so desires without being disadvantaged or limited by her gender. I pray that she can be socially respected, and not sexualised, or subjected to harassment or discrimination.

"Men, I would like to take this opportunity to extend your formal invitation. Gender equality is your issue too; because to date, I have seen my Father's role as a parent being valued less by society, despite my needing his presence as a child, as much as my Mothers. I have seen young men suffering from mental illness, unable to ask for help, for fear it would make them less of a man. In fact, in the UK, suicide is the biggest killer of men between 20 to 49, eclipsing road accidents, cancer and coronary heart disease. I have seen men made fragile and insecure by a distorted sense of what constitutes male success. Men don't have the benefit of equality either." - Emma Watson

If you are yet to watch Emma Watson's inspirational speech, you can view it below.



Website: Click this link to pledge your support.

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Short Story: Struggle

BLAAT BLAAT! Gunfire erupted suddenly, disturbing the peace of my small suburban neighbourhood for the third night straight.

I fought my covers off and reluctantly sat up uncomfortably on the edge of my small single bed. Any less sleep and I’d be considered an insomniac because I’d had little more than a couple hours sleep over the last few days. My body ached, complaining that it wasn’t ready to go another 16 hour day without some more rest, yet the persistent echo of uzi rounds shredding the surrounding environment removed any hope of that. I reached out and retrieved my alarm clock from a pile of nearby washing that lay discarded little more than a metre from my bed. I rotated it in my hand so I could read the small L.E.D. display. 01.02am. I’d been asleep for just under half an hour.

I struggled to gather the energy to pull myself to my feet, but just about managed. I convinced my body I was capable of walking and staggered to the curtain concealed window. I flung back the curtains and thrust the window wide. BLAAT! The continual sound of rapid-fire gunshots reverberated through my street, amplified now due to the absence of a barrier between me and the source. I slammed the window back shut annoyed that I couldn’t even sleep in my own house. I swaggered across to the doorway while rubbing my eyes in an attempt to improve visibility, but it didn’t benefit me much. 

Under the blanket of darkness I fell into the bathroom, exhausted and in dire need of a cure for dry mouth. I reached down to the sink and turned on the rust corroded tap. Water emerged in infrequent spattered bursts but provided enough to wet my face and waken me better than all else. I stumbled back into my room and grabbed specific items of clothing from my variety deprived wardrobe, slipping them on instantaneously. 

In a matter of seconds I was completely clothed in my bullet-proof vest, khaki’s, and do-rag, plus I was already beginning to feel more alive. I reached across to a small imitation pine bedside cabinet and picked up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s, swigging it routinely. I breathed deeply feeling it’s effects at once, that fiery explosive fusion inside your stomach and chest.

I groped my way across to the light switch and pressed it gently. A small click and a blinding arc of light signalled that it was working fine. I recoiled, arm across my face, shielding my eyes from it’s harsh intensity, as I ducked back into the obscurity of the shadow shrouded hallway. I stood there momentarily gazing back into the room, noting the stark contrast between light and dark, and paused until my eye’s had adapted to the new lighting conditions, before re-entering. 

Now with the availability of light and with my ability to see what I was doing restored, I set about getting prepared to go out into the merciless streets of my 'hood. I slid open a drawer and shifted a few items of clothing aside to unveil my berretta. I lifted it from it’s slumber and slipped it into it’s holster positioned beneath my right arm- under my jacket of course. Then I selected a hunting knife and slipped that into a sheath attached to my durable leather belt, and also picked up my 'dusters sliding them over my hand, before pulling on my Nike gloves. Wallet in my pocket, ice on lock and car keys in hand signalled I was ready to ball. 

I pulled the door shut silently behind me and stepped down the couple of steps into my front yard. There was a chill in the air and I clutched my throwback tightly against my chest as I proceeded to creep down my road. Plain grey concrete buildings cornered me, intimidating me slightly, but not enough to make me turn back. I’d had enough of the self proclaimed gangsta’s popping off rounds, 'disturbing tha peace'.

My timbo’s squeaked slightly as I continued into the grey mass of my neighbourhood, passing the entryway to the back fields and onto the alley up to the garages. It was evident that’s where the shots were coming from. Gun smoke lingered fresh in the air and the still persistent gunshots echoed defiantly. I remember thinking that the cocky fools were about get a surprise when I emerged, spraying clips in all directions. I un-holstered my berretta and turned the corner onto the garages, concealed in the shadows. I crept across toward the sound of gunfire, poised ready to cap someone. 

There in the centre of the garages were two youths blasting at each other, while three other bodies lay discarded in an ever increasing pool of blood. One youth was crouched behind a small wooden crate, while the other was retreating behind the cover of a metal oil barrel. Gunfire was exchanged simultaneously. I continued to advance towards them both, prepped up to blaze them. I raised my berretta and aimed it at the youth closest, the one behind the crate, as he ducked and dodged with his back to me. With one minor squeeze, the barrel of my gun erupted and the youth slammed to the ground clutching at the gunshot wound I’d just blown in the back of his kneecap. The other youth turned to run as he realised that someone had just blazed his target only to present his vulnerable side, as I proceeded to empty slug after slug into his back. He stumbled forward, as blood erupted from the dot to dot on his back, spraying in the air as he fell head first into the concrete with a sickening crunch. I slinked out of the shadows and edged toward the youths ready to jack their funds… Next thing I know there’s flashing blue lights and a voice demanding that I discard my weapon and get down on my stomach, hands on the back of my head. Yeah. That was likely. 

Instead I ducked into the shadows, busting off shots and leapt over the nearest garden fence, landing heavily on a patio. I could hear the police re-grouping and prepping up to pursue me, so I clambered back to my weary legs and jogged down the side of the house into the front yard. 

The police were already emerging out of the entryway popping off gunfire at me as I ran across into the fields opposite. With the heat behind me I darted between the trees and made for the bridge. If I made it there, I was away. I knew many ways through those fields and I assumed them cops didn’t. 

As the bridge approached, I stumbled amongst the undergrowth, growing ever-increasingly out of breath. A searing pain shredded through my right shoulder and I felt blood spatter up the side of my face and spray onto my neck. I clasped the wound tightly and continued to advance towards the bridge while bullets whipped through the air all around me. I prayed as hard as I could that their aim was similar to that in every film I’d ever seen, you know what I mean, when they fail to shoot the target at point blank. However my prayers fell on deaf ears as I felt another bullet graze my thigh. I limped forward, soldiering on, but I knew it was pointless- I was incapable of evading capture. 

So I made a pivotal decision. I decided to go down blazing. I spun around dropping to the floor and began firing randomly at the blur of oncoming feds. But it was hopeless because my aim was impaired by my spinning head, light headedness consumed me as blood continued to spill from my shoulder. It was then that I went down. I lay there unconscious as the 5.0 cuffed me and dragged me to the riot van…

It’s never that simple though is it? It never goes to plan or runs that smoothly in a story when a catastrophic incident occurs on the second page that could see the main lead behind bars for 25 years, does it? So naturally you would assume something would happen to shake up the plot a little… let’s see what we can find to work with…

As the riot van slalomed it’s way between parked vehicles, sirens screaming into the silent darkness, a small, seemingly insignificant hobo stumbled along an alleyway. He was dressed in dirt laden rags and grasped a stereotypical brown paper bag, swigging sips of his choice of poison frequently whilst babbling to an invisible companion inanely. Any other day of the week, he would be an extra, just another member of the community; the kind of person who is thrown into a movie scene at the last minute, simply to add that realism. But not tonight. Tonight he was playing the role of an influential character, the type who was necessary for the story to progress.

As he stumbled dizzy and anaesthetised across a typical back street, a familiar riot van cornered the bend sharply. Like a deer caught in headlights, the tramp froze in the middle of the road, squinting at the oncoming vehicle. The riot van, determined not to be responsible for yet another fatality, slammed on it’s brakes. Just like in all the police chases in any film you’ve seen, ever, the rear end of the van slid out excessively and clipped a parked car at the side of the road. This was all the force the van required to career out of control back across the road, send the dazed hobo sprawling across the floor and plough insanely through a small brick wall and into the garden of one of the residents properties. As it mounted the elevated lawn, the sudden rise in height caused the underside of the riot van to scrape noisily, grinding against the rough, coarse concrete paving that lined the fresh grass. As the back of the van jerked upright suddenly, the leverage on the pivot resulted in the van snapping like a twig under the weight of the counter-balance. Splintering steel sheared ruggedly sending fragments of razor edged metal showering like confetti over the conventional English garden, as a pretty damn huge split emerged in the side of the riot van. 

I clambered to my feet, squinting in the darkness, grimacing from the pain exploding through my beaten and bruised body. I staggered incapacitated, vision impaired greatly and fought my way through the wreckage that remained of the back of the truck. Hands still cuffed uncomfortably behind my back, I fell out of the crack in the side of my now immobile transport, into a small heap on the lawn. Clambering clumsily to my shaky feet, I glanced toward the cab of the riot van to see the driver and passenger slumped unconscious against the dashboard and steering wheel respectively. With a sigh of relief I limped over to the driver door and twisted my spine to an unnatural position to allow me to release the handle. With a short heavy protest, the door whined open. I leant in over the officer and located the keys to my cuffs. Blindly, with my back to them, I edged up the step and arched across the officers lap, groping wishfully. Within a few moments I was falling headlong out of the truck with the keys in my hand. 

After wrestling with the handcuffs for a couple of minutes, I rose to my feet, free again. I turned, spluttering as the cold air hit the back of my throat, and made my way back to the cab. I threaded the handcuffs through the steering wheel and linked the drivers right wrist, with the accompanying officers left wrist, before reclaiming my berretta and hunting knife, along with the other selection of my belongings that had been confiscated. Then with a slightly arrogant feeling of justice I proceeded to jog off down the entryway beside the local rundown School. 

I don’t know how long I was jogging for but it wasn’t long before I saw the sun breaking over the horizon line, silhouetting all the houses against a vast pink and orange blended sky, and that’s when I knew, my life would never be the same again…

Cannabis

So, it appears I have being living under a proverbial rock regarding the decriminalisation of cannabis.

I've only just seen that Colorado has legalised possession and cultivation of weed, and that on this Nov 4th election, Washington DC is poised to follow suit with Initiative 71. At present Washington actually allows adults aged 21+ to legally possess up to 1oz of weed for use in private (public use is illegal), but cannot cultivate without a licence.

"Initiative 71 allows adults over the age of 21 to possess up to two ounces of marijuana on their person at any time, and allows for the cultivation of up to six marijuana plants at home."

Looking further into this decriminalisation, I read that:

- In Colorado over 21's can legally possess up to 1oz of weed, and locals and tourists can buy a quarter oz in a single transaction.

- In Uruguay pharmacies can sell up to 1.4oz of weed per month to consumers aged over 18 who are on a Government register and are Uruguayan citizens. Registered users can also grow up to six plants at home for personal use.

- In Amsterdam over 18's with valid ID can buy up to 5g a day in coffee shops, however street sales are illegal. Smoking weed is tolerated in most public places, provided it isn't around kids.

And I've saved the most insane thing I've ever read until last: In Portugal, all drugs including weed, cocaine and heroin have effectively been decriminalised since 2001 for personal use under certain restrictions.

"Drug legalization removes all criminal penalties for producing, selling and using drugs; no country has tried it. In contrast, decriminalization, as practiced in Portugal, eliminates jail time for drug users but maintains criminal penalties for dealers. Spain and Italy have also decriminalized personal use of drugs and Mexico's president has proposed doing the same."

source: Scientific America

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Observation

I wish that you would all watch this, that you would actually watch it and really take the time to listen, not just click play and not truly pay attention.

I wish that you would find the time to appreciate the raw honesty, the validity of the points, and the heartbreaking reality in this poetic message.

I wish you would realise that we are all perfect, and it's our actions and perceptions that make it seem otherwise. We are writing history this very moment, and my heart bleeds for the direction of humanity.



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Isolation

The older you get, the more difficult it becomes to meet new people.

Life gets in the way as we readily become victims to routine, and as old friendships fade, it isn't always so easy to replace them. It is a sad fact that once you have left the social circus of education, and secured yourself stable employment, you simply do not encounter the situations whereby making new friends is easily done; we do not move in new circles very often.

Instead we soon grow accustomed to seeing the same faces every day, and detesting the idea of pushing ourselves into uncomfortable environments to meet new people through fear of looking like charity cases begging for friends, or simply because we do not have the time.

It is inevitable old friendships will wilt, because as we grow up our passions develop, and often our common interests become maligned. We spend more and more time focusing on sorting out our own lives, and less time worrying about other peoples; it becomes a chore to maintain non-reciprocated efforts and ultimately we throw in the white towel.

Perhaps I have become overly harsh lately, and allowed too many people to simply walk out of my life without making a fuss; then again, perhaps if they were worth keeping in my life, they wouldn't have left so effortlessly? Regardless, I'm sure I'll be amused by most of the people sending me birthday messages tomorrow who don't even bother to speak to me any other day of the year, simply because social convention dictates they should offer their hollow regards.

They say you can count your real friends on one hand; sometimes I think they're overestimating.

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Homophobia

Homophobia is one of the most retarded logics in existence; intolerance for something that does not even affect you. The (illogical) taboo that surrounded this issue in the past has diminished into nothingness in recent years - it is widely accepted and acknowledged now that there exists a strong diversity in sexual preference and orientation, and there is no "right" and "wrong" and nor should there have ever been in the first place.

It genuinely sickens me how people can so readily judge, harass and ostracise people for simply being themselves. If you have a legitimate problem with homosexuals, or bisexuals, or any of the LGBT community whatsoever for that matter, do the world a solid, and erase yourself. Seriously.

I'm not trying to be some white knight activist for gay rights, and I appreciate that I myself have been known to use certain terminology as an insult in the past; but I accept that this was just remnants of past social conditioning, and I consciously try to remain aware at all times of my choice of vocabulary these days.

It disgusts me that we've become so ignorant to what we're saying and the implication of the negativity attached to it; even when people aren't homophobic they use "gay", "faggot" and the like as a choice insult. It disgusts me even more that people in this day and age still try to suppress other peoples rights; live and let live, love and let love.

As Macklemore says: "I might not be the same, but that's not important; No freedom till we're equal, damn right I support it."

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Monthly Musings: August 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Appreciation

The majority of people who are unhappy in life suffer from a preoccupation known as "destination addiction" which is the ideology that happiness is a fixed point which you can arrive at.

People who suffer from Destination Addiction believe wholeheartedly that once they achieve a particular goal or overcome a specific obstacle, then they will be happy; and furthermore, that this happiness will be perpetual.

If only it were that simple. The problem is that once the goal is achieved, or the obstacle overcome, another will be set. Nothing is ever enough, and your happiness is constantly tied to the next requirement.

Happiness comes from being content with your current situation; it comes from appreciating what you already have, and not resenting what you do not. It is about being grateful, thankful, and cherishing the blessings in your life. It means not competing to "keep up with the Jones"; there will always be greater and lesser people than yourself, more successful, more rich, more attractive; life is not a competition.

Happiness is the active choice to appreciate your life.

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Charity

I don't mean to offend anyone with this post, and it isn't supposed to make you feel like a fool if you've already partaken, however this is why I won't be taking part in the Ice Bucket Challenge, or if I do, I sure won't be donating.

The 2013 Tax Returns for ALSA (the charity everybody is donating to recently) is available online, from their own website (therefore you cannot deny it's authenticity). Last year, the ALSA spent £7,5 million on labour costs; the President of the charity was paid £220,000 for working 40hrs a week, the Chief Financial Officer pulled in a healthy £130,000 for working the same, and the Public Policy Officer took home a handsome £121,000 for his 40hr a week employment. (page 8 of the Tax Return).

The ALSA don't make any excuses, or even deny that they spend only 28% of the total money received on actually researching into cures and treatment - want to know what's ironic? That 28% is only £7.2 million, meaning they spent £300,000 more last year on lining their own pockets than they actually spent on doing what they were donated money to do.

ALS Assets Tax Return (found at: Hosted)

I don't donate to charity, because most of the donation just goes into the pockets of overpaid white collar criminals. I'd rather buy a homeless guy in Hanley a couple of pies from Wrights; at least then you know that somebody in need is actually benefiting from your charity, not some overpaid douche in their designer clothes.

Furthermore it is my honest belief that the media is engineered and manipulated to distract the public from reality, consider this: lately social media and RSS feeds have been spammed full of videos of celebrities doing the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS... it came from nowhere, suddenly flourishing into a media frenzy that saturates your vision. Why? What could the media want to distract you from so badly?

In the last six weeks, the death tolls from Gaza:

- 2,070+ Palestinians, mostly civilians.
- 67 Israelis, mostly troops.
The ice bucket challenge doesn't keep me blinded. On this note, people who defend Israel over the Gaza situation dumbfound me. It amuses me that their predominant argument is "Hamas started it. Hamas fired 3,000 rockets and killed 1 Israeli civilian." Allegedly that justifies wiping out an entire populated area? It's the equivalent of your neighbour chucking a pebble at your window, so you move away and then nuke the entire estate. Overkill doesn't even begin to describe. ‪#‎FreePalestine‬

Moving on, a brilliant video that adds weight to my argument about how the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge is nothing short of a distraction tactic that has swept the social media attention of the world away from the real issues at present such as Gaza, Syria, Ferguson etc is that of Orlando Jones.



Yes, ALS is a problem, and yes, of course I condone people supporting it; but realise that it didn't just pop up overnight, ALS has been around for a long time... I don't believe that it's a coincidence that the media frenzy around it just conveniently coincides with the perfect time to distract people from real world issues.

Charity; sometimes it's a convenient distraction.

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Currency

My comments on social media regarding this have garnered attention and incited a verbal debate. Given the recent tragic news of Robin Williams' death, I have posited that celebrity suicides prove that money cannot buy happiness.

Despite common consensus, your value as a person is not defined by the numbers on your paycheck or the amount of metal coins in your pocket. Currency is just a control system designed to facilitate your submissive slavery. You work to earn the money that you are brainwashed by advertising into wasting on a false economy.

You work a job that you hate, to afford things that you don't need, to impress people that you don't like. And whilst you continue to feed the system, you are taxed so that others can prosper from your ignorance.

I don't have the answers, but I have the perspective necessary to ask the questions, and to see beyond the transparent veil that so easily blinds the majority. Money and materialism are superficial ideologies that suffocate the things that actually matter; peace, love and unity.

Compassion and humanity are the cornerstones of true freedom.

Money cannot buy happiness.

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Monthly Musings: July 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Samaritans #10

I don't 'plan' on taking my life; I'm simply vocalising hypothetically based on the natural progression of my current circumstances. If something doesn't change soon, I envisage that suicide could very well become a welcoming prospect. For now, all I know for definite is that I can't continue how things are.

I feel like I don't want to stay living this way, and I cannot leave because I couldn't live with myself for abandoning my child, the only good thing in my life. So if I cannot stay because of my ex, and I cannot run away because of my daughter, then it's easy to see why suicide becomes a subconscious suggestion creeping up slowly.

The only other alternative is to remove my ex from the equation, which is where the dark fantasies come into play; simplifying the solution by nullifying the catalyst. If my ex were to disappear, then I could raise my daughter without her psychological abuse. I fear more about hurting my ex than hurting myself, especially when she relentlessly and intentionally provokes me. Sooner or later something is going to snap, and she will see a side of me that it's getting difficult to keep restrained.

__________________________

One definite fact you have told us is that you can't continue as things are, and you have been very honest in discussing two options as well as considering suicide

In an earlier email you said you need help. Samaritans will continue to be here to listen as you battle with your thoughts and feelings about your ex and your daughter but have you identified what other help you feel you need to stop this downward spiral? Not all help requires payment.

You are in a dark place please continue to share your thoughts, talking can help to find alternate ways forward.

Jo

Samaritans #9

I used to be able to just bite my tongue and take a deep breath when my ex was confrontational, but lately I find it increasingly difficult to not retaliate. I feel like she is baiting me, provoking a reaction, and on some level I am genuinely afraid that sooner or later I will just snap and physically assault her.

It gets worse because I feel like I would find great pleasure in physically hurting her, and such feelings are usually alien to me. I have always been passive, never one for trouble. It scares me, the thought of losing control, and yet I feel like I would feel an intense sense of justice and justification if I physically retaliate to her abuse.

I feel like unless I do something drastic she will not acknowledge the effects her actions are having on me; she is remorseless thus far, and I only think about suicide when I think of how much it would ruin her life to know she was solely responsible for me killing myself, and the guilt it would make her feel. She is so manipulative that she makes me out to be a monster regardless of what I do; perhaps if I killed myself then people would realise that I am innocent in all of this, and how much she has destroyed me?

__________________________

Would you tell us what plans you have in terms of taking your life?

You describe how you hope your suicide will impact your ex, what are your own feelings about taking your life?

Jo

FAO: Citizens Advice Bureau

Support with a Family/Personal Issue

Good evening,

I am hoping to receive some advice and guidance regarding my relationship with the Mother of my child.

Following the birth of my daughter, my ex has actively attempted to prevent us bonding and having a relationship. I was left off my daughters birth certificate from the outset, and prevented from seeing her for six months until I won a Court case that ordered my name to be added to the birth certificate, and my ex to allow weekly unsupervised contact. It is no secret that relationships are tense under these conditions, however my personal situation has escalated to the point now that it is affecting every aspect of my life.

The Mother of my child is not content to allow access without attempting to dictate and control every facet of my time with my child. At first it was minor requests such as ensuring my child did not sleep until set times to keep her in routine; more recently the requests are excessive and unreasonable such as demanding I purchase expensive commodities, or even picking fault with every aspect of the care I provide to my daughter. I have become a victim of psychological abuse with constant threats of her revoking contact access if I do not submit to her unreasonable demands; she uses this like a puppet master to force me to submit to her requests.

I have never missed a payment of child support and yet the Mother of my child refuses to supply anything but the clothes on my daughters back when I collect her; this extends to then demanding I purchase specific items such as £50 shoes from Clarks, or a £30 toilet training system for the 8 hours a week that my daughter is in my care. I do not mind purchasing items for my child however my finances do not allow for her sudden requests and should I fail to purchase items instantly when she demands it, then I am publicly humiliated, chastised and belittled, called a failure, worthless and a selfish unfit parent, often in front of our child. When I have attempted to reason with my ex regarding my financial circumstances, I am told to move house to somewhere cheaper, or sell possessions including my sofa, as my child should be my priority. I would like to clarify that I rarely spend any of my wages on myself because I've become so conditioned by her abuse that I feel intense guilt if I even buy myself new work clothes when needed. I definitely do not live a lavish lifestyle; to elaborate on this, I rarely eat because I feel pressured into saving as much as possible to buy things for my child, my lunch every day is a 28p pack of Asda noodles.

I am currently in contact with the Samaritans because I am struggling to cope with how isolated and depressed I am becoming; nothing I ever do is enough to satisfy the Mother of my child and my relatives have expressed their concern for my change in character. I have become withdrawn as I do not feel like I have the right to a social life and instead try to cater only to the demands of my ex in providing anything she demands for my child - solely to ensure I do not lose contact again.

I am aware that I can pursue an enforcement order in the event that my ex breaches the current Court order and prevents contact, however that avenue costs £200 which I cannot afford and will naturally not happen overnight meaning I'll be missing my daughter in the interim.

I don't know what to do any more; if I could afford to I would query a family law solicitor to clarify where I stand with regards to my ex's demands (such as not being allowed to take my daughter to friends houses, or have non related guests whilst she is in my care etc), or even pay for counselling to deal with the effects of the relentless emotional abuse and to stop myself feeling so depressed that I just want to disappear. Unfortunately I cannot, and instead I am left to sink further into depression whilst it feels like nobody cares or wants to help.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Kind Regards,

Ben Scott

__________________________

Dear Ben

 

Thank you for your e-mail.

 

In order to proceed further and advise you on your query, we require further details from you.

 

Please could you give us your full name, address, telephone number and date of birth.  Please advise us if we can contact you this way?  IF WE DO NOT RECEIVE THIS WE MAY NOT HELP YOU FURTHER.  Please also see notes below.

 

We will try to advise you by e-mail, but if we have information we need to send you we may do this by post or phone due to limited resources.

 

If you do not live in the area we may give you details of your local Citizens Advice Bureau.

 

Due to the demand for our service we cannot guarantee that we can reply to you straight away, though we will deal with your enquiry as soon as we can.

 

Data Protection Act 1998 - to help you we need to keep a record of your case, which may contain sensitive personal information.  The law says we must get your permission to do this.  Our service is completely confidential.  We will not tell anyone about your situation, or even that you have contacted us without your permission.  Sensitive personal information is information about any of the following: racial or ethnic origin, political opinions, religious beliefs, trade union membership, health, sexuality or sex life, offences and/or convictions.  For the purposes of the Act the Data Controller is Stoke on Trent Citizens Advice Bureau.

 

When you reply to us with further details we will assume you are consenting to the above.

 

Thank you.

 

Yours sincerely

For the Manager

Stoke on Trent Citizens Advice Bureau.

Samaritans #8

I need help but I feel like nobody who can actually help is interested unless I pay them which I can't afford. I either have to struggle to hold it together whilst the world keeps crushing me or just call it a day and let what will be happen. It feels like I'm fighting a losing battle against inevitability.

I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel, it's just a never ending downward spiral that is slowly killing me. It begins to feel like the world would be a better place without me here,  that I'm just not good enough to be of any worth to anybody any more.

I'm losing myself trying to keep a hold on reality that just doesn't offer anything worth fighting for if my daughter isn't in my life. I'm scared of how this will end if nothing changes. I'm feeling intense anger about everything and it's getting more and more difficult to repress.

__________________________

Thanks for explaining how you're feeling about the situation with your daughter and her mother. We are sorry that you are feeling like this.

You say that you are angry and losing yourself.

How overwhelming are these feelings?

Jo

Samaritans #7

 I have been the victim of psychological abuse for a while now, but always just tolerated it because I consider it outside of my control. The aggressor is the Mother of my child, and the situation has steadily become increasingly difficult to cope with. I am not in an intimate relationship with this woman, although naturally in order to have any involvement with my child it is inevitable that communication is required.

At any given opportunity, without warrant or recourse, the Mother of my child publicly humiliates, belittles and emotionally abuses me. She attempts to control every aspect of my involvement with my child even so far as dictating steadfast routines, rules and regulations, and any slight deviation from these justifies a torrent of abuse. The routines, rules and regulations she dictates are inconsistent and subject to change at any given time without prior warning. Any time I point out that I am trying to be accommodating of her demands but am unsure what they are, I am belittled and told it is our child "developing routines" and that I should be able to use my common sense. When I do use common sense, I am scolded for not sticking to routines that she has advised. I am rapidly losing all hope of ever being able to be an adequate Father in her eyes.

She often threatens to take me to Court and prevent access to my child if I do not meet her unreasonable demands - she holds this over me like a puppet master, the threat of stopping me seeing my child allows her to treat me however she wants. She dictates I must purchase specific items for our child, and if I cannot afford at that exact moment then I am an unfit parent or am selfish. At present she has demanded that I purchase a £30 potty, and because I cannot afford she has stated that I should sell my sofa to cover the cost as my priority should be my child, not my own comfort. When I point out that I'm not in the financial situation to have surplus money saved for such occasions, she becomes aggressive on a tangent about how she can afford to buy everything our child requires and how I'm a failure as a Father because I cannot. I pay child support and yet when my child is in my care she literally comes with the clothes on her back and nothing else, not even shoes or a coat -  I was condescendingly told that as a parent it is my duty to provide footwear and a coat for our child too, and not just any footwear, £50 shoes from Clarks.

It has reached the point now where I have no social life because I feel guilty for spending any money, instead I scrimp and save every penny in preparation for the next "mandatory" excessive purchase; I don't have visitors because the Mother of my child dictates who I can and cannot have friendships with based on her own judgement, and it's easier to agree than rock the boat and jeopardise losing contact with my child; and now it's even reached the point where I don't enjoy spending time with my child because I live with constant anxiety about what problems are going to be brought up when I drop them back off. She insists I keep a written diary of my time with my child so that she can scrutinise every aspect and subsequently find faults, and it's getting to the point where she has sucked all the enjoyment and enchantment out of my life. I work a full time job to earn money that I never spend on myself, I live a lonely withdrawn life in isolation, all so that I can give my child the best life I can, and it's still not enough. Nothing is ever enough. And I have nothing else left to give. Nothing left to do but accept that I cannot ever be good enough. That I am completely worthless. That my child would be better off without me.

The only happiness in my life is the one day a week with my child, but now my ex has even taken that from me. Every day is dark, cold and lonely, and I don't know how much more I can take before I break.

__________________________

You write so about the abuse you are suffering at the hands of your ex, and how it is affecting your relationship with your daughter. It sounds like you are in a very dark place at the moment, and I am glad that you felt able to contact Samaritans to share with us just how bad things are.

At the end of your email, you wrote that 'every day is dark, cold and lonely', and that you don't know how much more you can take before you break. Would you like to tell me a bit more about this?

When things seem like they're too much to bear, it can be difficult to envisage a way forward, and a time when things will improve. Has all that is happening to you left you feeling that you don't want to live any more?

Samaritans are here to support you when things become too much to cope with, and we are completely confidential.

Take care,

Jo

Expectation

Let us begin with defining what expectations actually are. An expectation is a preconceived idealistic principle; it’s the desired outcome of an event.

Without expectations, we cannot suffer disappointment. If we have no hopes or desire surrounding an aspect of an event, then we cannot be disappointed by the outcome, because we did not anticipate any particular endpoint. The moment we consciously begin to theorise about the development of a situation, or the potential outcome of an event, we expose ourselves to the possibility of disappointment.

Often we will find that it is unavoidable to ascribe particular preconceptions to an event; for instance, if your birthday is approaching then it’s a relatively sound bet that on some level you expect acknowledgement of this occasion, whether it’s verbal, written or in the form of a gift. If our birthdays passed silently and unacknowledged we would likely experience disappointment because we have expectations about the outcome of the event. Expectations are a curse, and a hindrance.

We are hostages to our expectations, and the expectations of others. It is fairly common that we find ourselves in uncomfortable situations merely because we feel obliged to cater to another persons expectations, or societal pressure. We uphold this naive belief that it is our duty to honour tradition, or a false sense of loyalty by moving outside of our comfort zone at the request of those we care about, or to present ourselves in the public eye as martyrs for a cause.

I am confident when I say that the majority of people also fall victim to their own expectations, or the expectations that they have invoked in others; that is, they set a precedent for themselves in the form of a goal and regardless of their dwindling passion as time progresses, they relentlessly pursue it in a bid to attain the sense of accomplishment they sought initially, or the acceptance or praise they originally anticipated from others.

I can speak from experience with situations such as University; in all honesty by the second year I had lost interest, and yet I forced myself to see it through purely because my actions had resulted in a weight of expectation. What would people think if I quit? Would I regret not finishing what I’d started? Ultimately I finished with a 2.1 degree, but the sense of satisfaction I had yearned for (and expected) at the outset was replaced simply with a sense of closure and relief… and disappointment because I did not obtain the satisfaction I expected.

Accomplishment for the sake of accomplishment is void of purpose; it is more beneficial to redirect your efforts, than waste them on a passionless venture. If you find that your current situation and expectations are maligned, then I implore you to be courageous enough to admit that your ambitions have evolved, and that your desires have matured; no matter what others think, quitting is always the best choice when you have lost interest in a venture, or aspect of your life.

The failures aren’t the ones who quit with a valid reason, the failures are the ones who waste their lives, and sacrifice their contentment for the foolish notion of expectations.

Expect less, appreciate more.

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Monthly Musings: June 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Anotha B: Not Much For Your Fella

Patriotism

It's time for the World Cup again, *sigh*. I am not a lover of football, because I do not find any kind of emotional connection to the outcome; I'm impartial, because I value events in proportion to their effect on my life. Win, lose or draw, my life continues largely unaffected. My detest really flourishes however, in the presence of part-time patriotism; the majority of the country who constantly pick fault and badmouth everything about England, only to suddenly don an England shirt, erect an England flag, and praise every last crumpet on this island. I don't always go on Political rants, but when I do... tl;dr

Let's test that plastic patriotism with some sheltered history of England's politics. The UK's democratic representation was surrendered by King George V in 1911 when he allowed Herbert Henry Asquith to persuade him into passing the Parliament Act.

Prior to 1911, in order for a Bill to pass and become an Act, there were three parties involved; the House of Commons, the House of Lords, and Royal Assent. In short, this meant that both the House of Commons and the House of Lords would need to agree on the Bill, which would then be passed on for the Queen to formally agree and enforce as an Act of Parliament, henceforth making it Law. The Parliament Act of 1911 effectively removed all rights of the House of Lords to challenge or deny the progression of a Bill from becoming an Act. This means that any Bill the House of Commons wishes to make Law can be directly implemented without intervention by the House of Lords, or even the need for Royal Assent.

"Any certificate of the Speaker of the House of Commons given under this Act shall be conclusive for all purposes, and shall not be questioned in any court of law."

To further clarify, the House of Commons can enforce anything they like in this country without recourse, even from the Queen. This is not a democracy, this is a dictatorship. It can be better understood by realising that when a Bill is going through Parliament, the speaker will call on 10 MP's to represent a Committee of Selection to make amendments to the Bill. The House of Commons comprises of 650 MP's, and statistically the majority will be in favour of whichever Political Party is currently in power. It therefore stands to reason that the Select Committee will always be biased to whichever Political Party is in power, and resultantly the Bills passed through Parliament will reflect this.

We do not live in a democracy; we live in a country governed by corruption, where a mere handful of people can enforce whatever they like, and nobody can legally do a single thing to stop them.

Now show me that English pride.

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Monthly Musings: May 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Freedom

Freedom truly is beautiful, isn't it?

A world where people are comfortable being exactly who they are, with no need to hide away ashamed or in fear of being persecuted. A place where communities comprise of multicultural diversity, no hate or discrimination for living the life they choose. A country where we welcome individuality and the right to peaceful existence. A land where we can be ourselves, and be accepted for who we are.

I am personally fatigued by the constant onslaught of racist and homophobic statuses, posts, and comments all over social media lately, often regurgitating propaganda about how we need to get England back to how "it used to be", to get back to the proud core Christian country it once was.

Firstly, I personally believe religion was a control mechanism introduced back in the past to incite fear amidst the masses, a method through which people could be scared into doing as they were told before we had a proper law system. It was also an astute way to cope with loss and despair, through the belief and faith that there was a divine purpose and reason for everything. Secondly, everything evolves and changes - most notably geolocation. If you were living in a third world country in poverty and squalor, then forget trying to convince me that you wouldn't better your living conditions given the opportunity. I personally see a lot of the very same people against immigration condoning British citizens relocating to other countries like Australia because of the better standard of living; the hypocrisy is not even subtle.

Do not be mistaken, I am well aware of extremists and terrorism, about the National Security threat of relaxed border controls - but that isn't a racist notion; my concerns are not tied to, nor reflective upon entire racial segmentations. The answer to the problem isn't to fear, and accordingly persecute entire races on the actions of a select minority. If Islamic immigrants petition to build a Mosque and exercise their customs in the UK, that's fine by me too as long as it does not directly influence or affect me - they have the right to do whatever they want within the confines of the legal system.

Also I am very pro equal rights, most notably regarding homosexuality - it's difficult to even justify an argument because it seems so redundantly obvious to myself that everyone should have the right to be in consensual relationships with whomever they chose. Sexual orientation does not influence the important values and contributions of either gender, and honestly, it doesn't affect anybody else. I see retarded dialogues about how homosexuality has only become an issue because of the publicity it's garnered; ironic when the same people have always been fine to have the media constantly force feed heterosexual couples down their throats.

If you are genuinely racist or homophobic, then you need to seriously re-evaluate your life.

"Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves." - Abraham Lincoln

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Monthly Musings: April 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Time

I am going to attempt to summarise, coherently, the illogical fallacy of the concept of time.

In a multilayered universe, we envisage the past as a chronological series of events that precede the current moment in which we exist. The past however does not exist in a literal sense. Allow me to elaborate.

Present is the only definitive point of existence. Our reality is defined by the interpretation of our consciousness, influenced by the inputs we ascribe to our 5 limited senses; these interpretations can only be acknowledged at the current moment of time, as we experience a situation. Without conscious acknowledgement of a past event, it’s existence is indeterminable. Therefore, it can be astutely argued that the existence of a past event can only be given validity when we consciously acknowledge it within the present moment. In consciously acknowledging a past event, the event itself becomes a present occurrence, that of a thought or memory that is being interpreted by our brains in that instant.

If we refuse or fail to consciously acknowledge a past event, it’s existence is refutable, because without the present moment in which we interpret it, the past could not exist. Hence we can conclude that the past does not exist in a philosophical sense, because it relies entirely on the present moment and current interpretation of our consciousness in order to define it’s existence.

Any given point in time can only exist in the present moment when our consciousness manifests the interpretations required to acknowledge it.

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Monthly Musings: March 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Politics

I used to be very dismissive about politics, wilfully choosing to close my eyes. I believe that was the result of the facade presented all my life, whereby we are engineered and manipulated into turning a blind eye and not looking outside the four walls around us. How unglamorous is politics? We grow up with this picture of fat old white men with red cheeks and elegant clothing around a big table discussing issues that ultimately don’t seem to affect us. That is the myth that they propagate to keep you ignorant. The truth is much different. The reality is much more important.

Firstly I want to point out something most people fail to acknowledge. The media is controlled by the Government with the sole purpose of blinding the mass population from the real issues of society, where behind the mask, politicians are merely the puppet masters in a huge corrupt game of smoke and mirrors. The naive ignorant masses blindly swallow up all the celebrity gossip, trivial news reports and consumerist bullshit that ultimately serves only to preoccupy them in their small superficial worlds, meanwhile we are all exploited and controlled to profit a select minority. Instead of preoccupying yourself with mundane bollocks that is of no benefit to your living conditions or your economic status, try shutting out the distorted media that is distracting you and seek the real stories out that matter. They won’t tell you on the 6 o’clock news about how fucked up the world really is behind the mask - sure they will show you about war and crime, because they know it will make you fearful and welcoming of the illusion of protection presented by a Government body.

The world is being exploited and destroyed, the population enslaved by corporations who’s sole purpose is to sell you shit you don’t need so that they can profit from your superficial fantasies. And you parade around your mates with your new phone and expensive clothing like it makes you something special? You’re just a pawn in a much bigger game who has been convinced that wasting money on frivolous non essential expenditures makes you more important than the next man of a lower economic class. The social status ladder is a bizarre man made beast where the majority compete to prove they’re “better” than other people by spending money on more expensive crap and by becoming so self obsessed with their image that they pour their hard earned money back into a corrupt system engineered to profit from it. I could honestly go on about this all night, but I notice this is already reaching “essay status”, and I know regretfully that the content will be overlooked by 99% of you. And it’s such a shame, because you don’t even realise your ignorance will be your biggest downfall, and the combined ignorance of the population will be the ultimate undoing of the entire generation.

So I sit here wishfully hoping like some naive pipe dream that at least a handful of people will hear what I’m saying and open their eyes to the situation… but unfortunately, ignorance truly is bliss for many, and they’d prefer to take the blue pill than the red, and sit comfortably inside their Matrix as slaves to the system.

And such is the generation in which I was raised, and my heart bleeds for the generations that follow in our wake.

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Monthly Musings: February 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Friendship

Friendship becomes a fickle notion as you become older. As inevitable cynicism begins to take hold, we bitterly realise that at best we have a few friends, but in honesty, most of the people we are surrounded by are acquaintances at best.

Those who were once such a huge part of our lives disappear like driftwood, swallowed by the cavernous mouth of the sea of time. We likely didn't even notice at the time, always too busy, too lazy and too distracted with our own obligations and responsibilities. Time waits for no man, and friendships deteriorate as our social lives diminish. Work commitments, relationships, children, marriages, mortgages, pension plans; we got old.

Do you recall how close you once felt to so many people? Back in school, college, university? We were social butterflies back then, constantly surrounded by opportunities to integrate with different crowds, swirling amongst the waves of new faces. Now you slump back onto your sofa after another long day at the office, kick up your feet in front of the television and realise that the landscape has changed, and you don't even know where to start looking for new friendships.

I guess what I’m saying is that I realise now how fickle friendships are; those "best friends" from school are now naught more than a distant memory, and as their faces blur in the haze of alcohol induced nostalgia, I realise how introverted I've become.

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Monthly Musings: January 2014

An overview of opinions and observations for the month.

Brutal Honesty

 There is so much I want to say to you, but I simply don’t have the courage.

You’ve been a huge part of me for so long; my first ever love, the only girl who has held a piece of my heart for as long as I remember. We were so perfect, and my fondest childhood memories all involve you. 

You gave me the sweetest memories, the most precious times. You’ve been my security since forever, the one I always run back to - the one girl who can make me fall apart whenever she so chooses. But we’ve changed. I accept I changed first - I fell into a bad crowd, I got into drugs, I never made time for you and whenever I tried you pushed me away because of the lifestyle I led. And we grew apart. I realise now how shit of me that was, how inconsiderate and how much I failed you, how much I failed us. I fought to get myself back on the right track, back to who I used to be. And it wasn’t easy, but I finally succeeded. I made it back, but it was too late. I’d already lost you. 

You changed. It was inevitable really. After all the times you’d judged me, it was you who ended up leading the very same lifestyle that you’d rejected me for. You started lying to avoid seeing me, to get out of us spending time together. I never confronted you about it, but I couldn’t let it go - after everything, I was too observant and analytical. I know a few times for sure, but suspect more times than I can prove. You were supposed to be coming to see me but never turned up. The next day you said you’d left your phone at the gym, locked inside a locker where nobody could access it, and had your phone locked so nobody could get on it. You said you hadn’t picked it up until 18:00. At 14:00 you the same day someone logged into your Whatsapp from your phone.

Tonight you’d planned to come see me, but said the bus never turned up when you’d been waiting at the bus stop for over an hour… I was waiting for you at the bus stop where you should have got off and the bus came past when it should have, which means you lied about it not turning up. I guess what I’m saying is that I realise now… it’s over. We’re over. There is no future for us, because we both let our relationship die. We let our friendship die. 

I’m not blaming you, but I’m not taking the blame either. I’m merely acknowledging the facts. I love you. I’ll always love you. But I’m done with waiting for you, praying we can be what we once were. 

Everything has changed. Nothing is right anymore. It’s time to leave our happiness as nothing more than a beautiful memory in my past. I can’t bear to taint my memory of us anymore. It hurts to think less of you :’( xo

Clarity

A New Year often means a fresh chapter in life, even if unacknowledged; subconsciously we always try harder to make the start as perfect as possible. If this sounds like hogwash, compare the legibility of the first word written in a new diary to the last.

I'm feeling reflective as I often do around this time of year. It has dawned on me that since having a child my life has changed so much - I haven’t had sex since before she was born, taken drugs since before she was born, or had an interest in getting really drunk since before she was born.

I’m not trying to come across as some kind of saint, I’m aware I still have many flaws - I guess what I’m trying to say is, that having a daughter has completely changed my outlook on life. It makes me consider the outcome of everything I do, it makes me aware of my character, and how my behaviour affects those around me. I honestly think that the Court process has made me a better person too, as crazy as it seems in hindsight. I value and appreciate all the small things in my life, I don’t take simple things for granted, and it taught me a lot about myself and about how I handle pressure and obstacles.

These days I barely recognise the person I used to be, and I am grateful for that fact. Given the choice of the two, I’d choose my current lifestyle any day of the week. Having my Godson and my daughter in my life has really given me clarity on what matters - and it’s not the things I used to think did.

I hope you all make the most of this new year too.

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