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Friday, 28 August 2009

Girl Interrupted Friday


The big question. Possibly too big for a Friday but I think Friday can handle it.

Therapy? To shrink or not to shrink?

According to a BBC website, one in four of us will suffer from a form of mental illness at some point in our lives. Well, seeing as I decided to stop eating at age 11 I think I got that milestone licked quite early, so onwards and upwards from there!

It makes sense though, because the brain is an organ just like the eyes or the liver, and if you don't look after your organs they can still function at below optimum, but they will be damaged over time until they reach a critical point at which they just break down.



The problem is that the brain is so frigging mysterious and nobody really knows how it all works. It is pretty straightforward to look after your liver or your eyes well, but there is so much misconception, myth and prejudice about brain illnesses that very few people actually know how to take care of their brains properly.

I figure our brains suffer from a mixture of attacks from nature and nurture. If you think about it, all parents will make mistakes, right, no matter how much they love you. They are only human. And our tiny selves develop coping mechanisms and possibly slightly faulty thought patterns from their mistakes.

Some of us will form faulty thought patterns from misinterpreting parental actions even if they don't make mistakes. It is not their fault, but it happens. Different people cope in different ways, and sometimes people's coping mechanisms are not constructive.

And sometimes you just have a physiology that is more susceptible to types of mental illness.

I reckon most people could benefit from having an outsider point out their faulty thought processes. For some people it might take only a few sessions to sort things out, but it is still beneficial, like eating carrots for your eyes. Obviously some people need years and years of intensive therapy to heal their brains enough to get by.


I have never been to a therapist in my life. My family is of the old school keep it in variety, and I followed suit. I did spend years analysing myself and trying to understand the crazy things I did, and years hating the parents for ruining my life.

Then I spent years feeling horrified at how much I had ruined their lives - I was a little monster. For some reason I had to challenge everything, but EVERYTHING. It was like I was pissed off to find out that they were only human and determined to point out their every inconsistency.

Now I am totally at peace with it all. They made many mistakes, I made many mistakes, but we love each other and that is all that is important. But I do think I have some issues that are definitely holding me back in life, and I want a therapist to wave his magic wand and make them go away.

Ok, I want a therapist to peruse through my deepest fears and angers and rip them out of me and put them under a microscope and show me their squirming wretchedness and tell me what it wrong and what I need to do to make it right. Cos I am not able to see it all on my own. Nobody can.

Like, how do I escape a legacy of generation upon generation of negative thinking? How do I convince myself that I am not totally useless at everything I do? How do I take over the world? Pinky??

Back in school I wrote an essay about craving freedom from people's expectations and wanting happiness. What I wrote was:

"I cannot tell what my future will be like but I know that I would like to be happy no matter how it turns out, and that I would like to be as free and as independent as possible."

Now my teacher went and ripped this apart, saying there is no such thing as freedom or happily ever after, and we can only learn to live intensely in the present. She wrote "there is really no future".

Um. While I understand her philosophical position and even agree with it, I still find each morning that I have lived another day and am now in a future. I think it might be constructive to try and change if the present if it is not so good, to improve a possible future. No?

Sigh. Talk about teenagers being misunderstood. If she had known me she would have known that at age 17 I was already far too cynical to believe in happily ever after. And the only way I know how to live is in the present.

What I was trying and clearly failing to say, was that I want my life to have more good days than bad. I am not saying I want happiness all the time, I just want more contentedness than misery. Is that not what we all want? I think that is something worth working towards. Like I realised last year, happiness is essentially a choice.

I know that I am not living as intensely as I could because I have these stupid issues holding me back, and as I approach 30 I may just find the guts for the first time in my life to try and face them and take them on, no matter how terrifying and painful that may be. EEEEEEEEEEEK! This is much more intimidating than driving!

Has anyone out there been to therapy, either for something really serious, or just to sort out some shit? Was it useful, damaging, scary, awful, wonderful? What did they do to you? Prod you with spikes? Sing to you? Make you relive playschool?

If you don't want to write it on my blog you could mail me at seamonkeypo@gmail.com.

I am asking because I am considering it for real, but knowing my track record it may just be too scary for me to actually do.

Ciaobye, and I promise to not be so intense next week

xxx Girl no longer Interrupted

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Girl Interrupted Wednesday

I have bad news for people in the vicinity of the general world postcode. I have a driving lesson today. It is my third driving lesson, and yes I am allowed on the actual road. Scary thought I know.

Up until a few months ago I honestly believed that I would never learn to drive. I "knew" I was not able to learn to drive. Is it not amazing what a cage a mind can be?

Yes, I am 29 and for most people my age driving is like breathing but yip, I am a bit... different. Hereforth lies a woeful tale of cowardice and misconception.

I left home to study before my parents could teach me to drive, and I could not afford private lessons in Cape Town, so I had faaaaaairly legitimate reasons for not learning to drive back then. When I hooked up with the BFG his car got stolen and he left soon after for Antarctica, so there was that. Then we came to the UK and we had no car for ages... And somewhere in between all of these excuses and me aging hugely, I managed to convince myself that I was incapable. After all I have no spatial awareness, no instincts whatsoever in the driving arena, and I just suck.

It is weird how leaving something so long can build it up into this huge, terrifying obstacle in your mind. I became more and more nervous about the idea of driving on the road (without actually trying it) and more and more convinced that I was useless and a danger to other drivers. I got the BFG to start giving me a few lessons in parking lots last year but I knew deep down that it would never go further than that.

Until a few months ago, when I was talking with the new lady at work. When she heard me saying I would never be able to drive, she just laughed and said if she could do it anyone could and she firmly believed that all people can be taught to drive.

Now I have heard this millions of times before and never been swayed. But here was a girl who suffers from anxiety, who was terrified, who tried her test 9 times(!!!!) and never gave up. I would have given up long before my ninth attempt I suspect. I realised from speaking to her that my fear of driving was nothing, NOTHING in comparison to hers, but she had faced it head on and here I was happy and safe with my comfortable avoidance techniques.

What she said really made an impact on me, and then another lady at work told me almost the same story and I was like, freaking hell! I am a coward. And although I truly believed I could not drive, I also truly believed I could pass in less than 9 tries. Sense-making? No, but there you go.

I do struggle from a deep and terrible lack of confidence in myself. I always believe my capabilities are nil. But these ladies at work really forced me into admitting that before I decided I could not do it, I should actually try it.

So I booked myself a lesson in a moment of madness. The thought of it made me dizzy, and when I imagined myself nearer to the time, I figured I would freak out, feel ill, cry even.

Haha, how dramatic. I just used my usual technique of not thinking about it at all, and on the day I was utterly calm and it all flew by. I did not kill anyone or bash into anything. I was not even mildly nervous. And I had let my mind hold me back all this time because I thought or imagined I was terrified of driving? I never was terrified of driving at all. Apprehensive at most.

So ja, this is what the mind can do to you if you let it. I now wonder what it has prevented me from doing that I don't even know about because in my mind I "know" I can't do things.

But before this tale of cowardice and avoidance lulls you into thinking you are in fact safe on the roads let me just say that in my second lesson, I attempted to look into those mirror thingies on the side of the car that look like little ears (I have not grasped how to look at mirrors and still steer).

The instructor told me to check if any cars were coming, so I looked into the mirror and I saw a car, and at that moment I honestly had no idea whether the car that I saw was in front of me or behind. For real. True story. In fact it could have been above me for all the disorientation I felt.

So don't let your guard down just yet, methinks.


Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Girl Interrupted Tuesday

One of my weaknesses, and I have oh so many, is a desire for sympathy. I have poor likkle me syndrome (I made that up, I don't think it is a clinical diagnosis :p )

I am not sure why. But I know that when I imagine social situations and I imagine me recieving attention, and we all crave attention, the attention that I imagine is always sympathy, or at least empathy. I don't even need to imagine what they say to me, I just like the idea of telling people my sob story and them feeling for me.

I never used to be aware of this little craving of mine. I only began to think of it as a weakness in myself when I heard this song by the Goo Goo Dolls:




I happened to hear the singer, John Rzeznik talking in an interview about why he wrote the song. He said he wrote it to apologise for wanting sympathy from someone, that it was a wrong thing. I remember thinking, why on earth would you apologise for seeking sympathy and see it as wrong? How could it be, as he sings, "killing him from the inside out"? Everyone needs and deserves sympathy sometimes.

But then I got to thinking about myself, and I realised - I need it and crave it too often. I like to use my problems and experiences as excuses: ag poor me, I have been through stuff, you can't expect me to be happy or successful or cope well. I seek sympathy even from myself all the time as an excuse not to do anything about anything. And that is of course utter bullshit. I realised I have been excusing myself my whole life on the basis of poor likkle me syndrome.

And I think I have improved hugely since I realised this. I have definitely become more aware of taking responsibility for actions and feelings.

But I cannot lie, I still do crave it sometimes. And there are certain people who seem to induce this powerful bout of sympathy-seeking in me. I don't exactly know why, but it is unnaceptable. Maybe these people are good listeners, or I feel some kind of connection with them, like they really understand me.

Whatever it is, when I see them I find myself blurting out life stuff that I would not tell other people in normal situations. I put on my "life is hard" face, and find myself complaining. Basically I abuse these people's good naturedness and good listening skills and it has to stop! It is stopping. I now remind myself before I see these people that I should avoid talking about certain subjects, and try to control my cravings.

When things are really bad people deserve sympathy and there is nothing wrong with seeking it in other people. But there are limits and I know I cross them sometimes. Only I am proud to say that I do it so much less these days, and need it so much less. I have come far since my whinging days, and I will keep on trying to stop making excuses.

What is your weakness? Do you fight it? Do you slip up? Do you have poor likkle me syndrome?

Monday, 24 August 2009

Girl Interrupted.


I am officially naming this week in the life of my blog "Girl Interrupted week."

This week I am going to explore my current state of mind and see where it goes. This could be very boring reading. But hey it's only a week. This week I shall not censor myself as much as I normally do. And by censor, unfortunately I am not referring to anything saucy, because there is surprisingly little of that lurking around in my brain right now.

This weekend I read my brain into a frenzy. I read a book written by psychiatrists, I read a book by a person who suffered from a severe mental illness and recovered, I read everything about every personality disorder and mental illness I could find on the internet. I also read about theories of gender, sex, hermaphroditism and other complications relating to sex definition (I think everyone knows that this is a hot topic at present). I read until I thought my head would explode.

One thing that is evident to me is that the age of black and white thinking is slowly, slowly gasping it's last wheezy breaths. I reckon it will take generations to die, but it may be on it's way out.

When I studied philosophy we referred to this kind of thinking as binary oppositions. It is the human (or at least the Western human) desire to divide and categorise; black and white, good and bad, man and woman.

These categories in no way reflect our reality, but they do fit certain stereotypes of reality. Because it is so much easier for our poor little minds to think this way, we have accepted that it does in fact represent reality. In this way we have completely lost touch with said reality.

Philosophers have tried to subvert black and white thinking for ages, and many attempts have been made. Deconstruction was an abortive attempt, but it tried to reverse oppositions instead of eliminating them. Postmodernism has come and gone, and yet most people still cling to black and white thinking.

My current way of thinking is to see everything as Grey. I am happy to embrace the confusion and anarchy of grey thinking.

Don't get me wrong, it is exhausting, and sometimes I delight in cliches and stereotypes because they are so self-fulfilling and satisfying. I laugh at my complete lack of spatial awareness and sense of direction because it fulfills the female cliche.

But when there is a cliche that does not fit me I immediately feel alienated, othered, defective. And nobody fulfills all the cliches of their gender, race, culture, society. There is no need for all of us to go around feeling defective just because we insist on making the stereotype into the law of reality.

So I see things in shades of grey. There is no clearly defined "male" or female". I think of things in spectra and gradients, and each person fits somewhere on a spectrum for each and every sex and gender characteristic. And there are many characteristic which make up gender, and then sex.

This is how I see everything in the world. Undefined, in flux.

Basically we are all goop in a soup yeah, and we could just flow and adapt if we so desired.

Maybe there are already theories out there by cutting edge types who tear down grey thinking.

But my brain is geared for grey thinking to the point where I feel like I know nothing, am sure of nothing, can judge nothing. It is pretty confusing. But it's ok. It's an adventure. Weeeeeee.

Thursday, 20 August 2009

"The best things in life are free


But you can give them to the birds and bees, I want money, doo doo doo doo, that's what I want..."

In my old and wiserly (is that a word? It is now) age I have come to some conclusions. Wisdom does descend along with gravity when one hits the age of 29.

I am a person who will NEVER know what they want. I have come to terms with this. It is all ok. However, I am starting to see one or two vague strands of insight into what it is I want in life.

And they are:

  • Simplicity. I want a quiet, uncomplicated life. No drama. No turmoil. No unnecessary complications.

  • Boredom. This may be another way of saying "I want a quiet, uncomplicated life. No drama etc" but I also actually enjoy being bored. I am not one who enjoys doing lots of stuff. Doing things is ok now and then but I am one for doing great loads of nothing. Doing stuff all the time exhausts me. Unfortunately BFG is a big time doer, so there has to be compromise.

  • tranquility. This is another way of saying "I want a quiet, uncomplicated life. No drama etc"

  • Introspection. I like to think. I need to think. Alot. People always say I think too much, that I should just get on with my life. Aha, but these people are doers. For me, thinking is getting on with my life because it is a very important part of my life. It is what I like to do. I don't think it holds me back from getting on with life, cos I am still living while I am thinking. The world needs thinkers as well as doers, yeah?

  • A house. One day, maybe in the distant future, it would be nice to have one. For a specific reason; I want walls to paint. I am no artist, but I am obsessed with bright colours and patterns, and I keep fantasising about going mad and using the walls of a house as giant canvasses to turn into my personal art project. Unfortunately this requires money, as well as a country to call home.

  • Financial security. To know that I will always be ok financially. Sadly this is entirely unachievable, but it would be great to have.

  • A cat/hamster/giraffe. This all depends on the size of my future garden really. Oh I guess a garden would be nice too.

  • Travelling. There is definitely a lot of the world that I still want to see.

  • rollerskates, the moon, a new trombone... just thought I would throw these in there in case the wish fairy happened to stop by.



Unfortunately most of these wants are beyond my control. Fate, or God, or chance or entropy or Santa or whatever controls your future does not really care about what you want. Like for instance, drama has a way of finding people, even placid people like me. What can you do? You have to dance with her, the drama queen. There is no fighting her.

But this is what I want. I know this much.

What do you want, little blog people? Maybe some of you enjoy dancing with drama. Please, when she comes knocking at my door, can I send her your way?

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

It never rains it floods.


Ah yes. What a day yesterday was. A wonderful, successful day, really not.

Fucking hormones. Every month is like a lucky packet for me, I never know what I am going to get. Today I felt no anger, sadness or any kind of irrational emotion. But everything went wrong in that clumsy, haphazard, I-have-no-control-over-the-atoms-in-my-vicinity kind of way.

  • I flooded one of the growth rooms at work. Well, it might have been me. I went around admitting to it, and apologising about it profusely, so everyone thinks it is me. The circumstances pointed to it not being me, but because I am the main user of the place it seemed appropriate for me to be the culprit. But new evidence appears to say it really was not me and now I am really pissed off for apologising. Confusing innit? Either way, I spent all morning scooping up water with a dustpan.
  • My experiment did not work. IT has been MONTHS since that has happened. I have been on a sweeeet roll.
  • I spent about three hours today trying to make sense of this schizophrenic DNA sequence. It does not fit together how it should, it makes no logical sense. Obstinate little fucker.
  • I lost my monthly train pass which costs £255.
  • While looking for my monthly train pass in the train I hit my head on the drinks tray.
  • I made a personal discovery today. Oh the joys of Google. Google is an online shrink and GP, a consultant and friend. These last few months have been full of personal discoveries and revelations that explain things which have been part of my life forever. These are not nice, happy discoveries. And they just keep coming. You find something out, it shocks you but also relieves you because it explains things, you try to accept it, adapt to it, then something else comes along and you just wonder how much more you can take. Please Google, no more revelations just yet, I have had enough for now.



But it really didn't matter, because my emotions are perfectly on track, and I am fine! The flooding kind of amused me, I lose stuff all the time, and the DNA stuff, well, DNA is a spoilt brat. Yay for stable emotions!

The personal revelations are not so cool, but what can I do? Broken is broken and from broken can only come fixing yesnomaybe?

Maybe.

Friday, 14 August 2009

Why





the seamonkey?

very philosophical question.







Wednesday, 12 August 2009

Magic markers


I had a pretty awesome birthday, as birthdays go. Firstly, card anxiety was totally unfounded. They bought me a card, even though birthday angel was away on holiday. A bunch of mostly boys somehow managed organise themselves to get me a card without me knowing about it. I am impressed.

Secondly I got some awesome presents. I got kokis! I am so frigging excited about my kokis. My boss asked me what I got for my birthday, and I told him markers, cos you can't say kokis here cos no one will know what you are on about, and he was like "WHAT? Markers? But Po, you can get markers from stores for free (we have a stores where we can get stationary, as well as assorted chemicals, enzymes and other things that Biologists get very excited about).

Haha, yes, but these are
special magical markers. These are the ones that professional illustrators and graphic artists use. I cannot draw to save my life and have no idea how to use these things but I thought it would be fun to play around with them. I guess anyone who is a professional and knows how to use them properly is cringeing right now at the thought of some nutcase like me massacring such expensive equipment. Oh well. Kokis!

Then BFG and I went to the park and ate pizza and it was an amazingly warm and beautiful day and I was so frigging happy that I could walk around without a jersey. Aahhhhhhh.

Apart from all that, turning 29 is a bit of a downer. What an awkward age. I feel like seeing as it is the last year of my 20's I should be in some kind of frenzy to squeeze every last drop from my days before I turn all old and mature. 30. EEEEEEK. Don't mention that number to me.

Of course I am in a total non-frenzy. No frenzy here at all. I am all frenning with no Z.

When I was at school our teachers truly made us believe that we could be anything we wanted to be. We could achieve whatever we set our minds to blah blah. To be honest at age 29 I don't think I have achieved much at all.

Careerwise - well I don't have one. My kind of job has very little future progression. I don't know why or how I ended up in a field that I find ok but don't love, but there it is. As far as jobs go I am so so lucky; my job is about as good as I could want it to be for what it is, and my boss is really nice and easy to work for.

But I don't think I could go back to my school teachers and say, look at me, see how far I have come.

Maybe this should upset me, but it doesn't really. At least right now I have a job, one that I don't mind doing. I earn enough money to go traveling, and buy chocolate digestives and books, lots of books. That is something.

I was born to be a drifter, and am too laid back to be an overachiever. Life is just life you know, I just take it as it comes.

But I will say that at age 29 I don't have much to show for myself. I haven't exactly contributed to the betterment of the world.


And that is just that.


Gonna go play with my kokis now.

Monday, 10 August 2009

Card anxiety


I have it. It happens to me every year.

You see it is my birthday tomorrow. And of course at my place of work, as it is in all places of work I have been at, whenever it is someone's birthday, there is usually a Card circulating the place, being secretly signed by everyone.

At my work there is a lovely lady who remembers everybody's birthday (I have no idea how she finds them out) and organises the card and the signing. She pays for all the cards herself. She is like the birthday angel.

Of course there is a chance that nobody will know it is my birthday, because I am new and I don't exactly go around announcing the fact. Now in itself, I could not give a rats ass whether I get a card or not. Actually I hate cards. They seem like a huge waste of time to me. Less money wasted on cards means more money available for presents! I never bother buying people cards any more. And I really don't care if they know it is my birthday or not.

Of course I will be bringing cake -you HAVE to bring cake, it's in the rules- so they will know in the end.

And there is the problem. It they don't get me a card, and then I bring cake, they will feel all bad and guilty that they didn't get me a card, and say sorry and make a big fuss, and then I will have to tell them that I really don't mind, and I really DON'T, but of course they will think I am just saying that and that I am really upset, and there will be more fuss and by the end of it I will be so confused that I will probably end up feeling upset anyway, because I didn't get a card and I don't care, but they think I care and oh blimey I will end up caring out of confusion.

Of course, I could not bring cake and they would be none the wiser, but then what if they do get me card and I don't have cake.... the horror.

Social interactions are so damn complicated. Who writes the rules to these bloody things?


Down with cards. Down. A pox on cards and their associated anxiety.

Friday, 7 August 2009

Speaking of South Africa


Which is all that I seem to be doing these days, I have been asked to go on the radio by a work colleague to talk about where I am from. I know, like WHAT? Me, the shyest person in the world?

It is unlikely that I will have the guts to actually do it, in fact I feel ill just thinking about it. I really don't do the speaking thing and my voice sounds terrible, so whispy and insubstantial. I am not keen to do it at all. But I am useless at saying no to people, so if I do end up doing it, I need to come up with a selection of South African music for him to play.

It is a local hospital radio station and I am reckoning most of the listeners will be old, so I am going for old school, easy listening kind of stuff. I think kwaito may not go down so well with this audience. So far this is the cheesy list I have come up with:

  • Johnny Clegg- English and some Zulu
  • Mango Groove (hahahahahahahahahaha) ahem- English
  • Amampondo - Xhosa
  • Freshlyground - Xhosa and English
  • Miriam Makeba - Xhosa
  • Parlotones/ some other softish rock - English
  • Springbok Nude Girls (hmm, not so easy listening but they are just so legend) - English
  • Maybe some Ladysmith -Zulu
What else? I need ideas of classic songs in all languages. Do you know of any legendary bands or songs I am missing out on? In any language, official or not? He wants an eclectic mix because the whole point of the show is different cultures.

And what FreshlyGround song should I use? I am not a fan at all, but I reckon they will go down well with older folk.

Lastly, there is a grevious lack of Afrikaans liedjies on that list. What are the classic Afrikaans songs, man, I can't recall any? I prefer the older ones, but maybe you can suggest the latest hit to me as well?

And anything that I have missed. Please, any suggestions would be hugely appreciated.

I want to represent well, even if I give them music that no one actually listens to any more :)


Thursday, 6 August 2009

Shit in my head


I have nothing funny or interesting to say these days. My mind is like a broken record, going round and round with the same thoughts. It is so so dull being me. I think I should sample my average thought process here to show you how ridiculous it is in my head right now (apart from the thoughts about food, but those occur every 5 seconds or so, like boys with sex):

-I want to move back to South Africa
-I cannot take this bad weather any more, it is making me physically and mentally ill, I was not cut out for living in Northern Europe
-I want to move back to South Africa
-South Africa has many problems, are you sure there is place for you there any more? And stop thinking about yourself, what about kids? If it was just you it would be fine, but is South Africa a good place to bring up lilywhite kids these days? I have no idea.
-Will they always be scared for their safety? I would be
- Will they be able to find work? Work opportunities in the UK seem boundless in comparison to South Africa
-They won't be able to travel easily like we could because of the UK visa thingy and the crapness of our passports.
-Is it selfish to go back to South Africa just because you cannot take the weather in the UK?
- What about the education system in the UK? I have two parents teaching here and from what I hear it is not good at all. But is South Africa's any better? I do think the universities here are excellent; would it not be great for future sprogs to at least have the choice and the opportunity to study here if they wanted?
-The NHS (National Health Service) is pretty bad but South AFrica's public healthcare is abominable and from the sounds of it, the private healthcare is on the line. How the crap could I afford private healthcare anyway?
-If I stay here, my kids could have options and possibilities that I never dreamed of because I never knew they existed
-but will they get to run outside barefoot and learn to love the outdoors like we did as kids? I never go outside any more. How will I teach them?
-And I will be one miserable mommy
-I always struggled financially in South Africa, always. Could I support kids there?
-I could move anywhere else in the world if they will visa me
-I want to move back to South Africa
-maybe I should stay in the UK and get a British passport, that way I can always easily see my family who have now settled here for good.
-but that means staying in this dark, cold place at least 3 more years and I am dying here, dying. THERE IS NO SUN. It has left the building.

-I WANT TO MOVE BACK TO SOUTH AFRICA



Arrrgh.

There it is, warts and whine and all. It feels pretty ugly to lay it all out like that, but why pretend? This is what is in my head pretty much every day.

I know these thoughts are inherently selfish and self-obsessed, because most people cannot pick and choose where they want to live. Most people in South Africa don't even have a house, never mind the financial security to worry about emigrating.

I didn't have the financial security to emigrate when I came to the UK, I had to lie and pretend I had money and borrow from my grandfather.

But I do have the financial means now to consider moving to other places; anywhere in the world where they will take me, really. Hello world, one times Po looking for a warm sunny corner to call home?

I do need to make a good decision though because I don't have the financial means or the options to do it more than once.

I want to feel comfortable in my skin again. If I were a better, stronger person, a person who had bonded with her wellies, I could achieve that here. But guess what, I am weak, mentally and physically, and I take my energy and comfort from the sun. And slops.

Damn those imaginary children who plague my decision-making. Is it fair that these phantom brats cause me to make decisions that may make me unhappy, all for their future prosperity? I may not even have bloody children. I could be sterile for all I know.

I just want to make a good decision, not the one that is most appealing but one that is sensible.

Why is that so damn freaking hard?

Maybe I should stick to composing songs, cos the internets should not have to deal with this shizzle, innit?

Monday, 3 August 2009

Who's got the monkeys?

In order to thank all the wonderful people who have read, pretended to read, or at least meant to read my blog, I thought I would whip up a little something just for you.

I recruited the help of BFG and the Sister. We were inspired by our joint favouritest movie, Aladdin. And I think the result speaks for itself. I hope your socks are still on at the end of this:



video


We are thinking Britain's got Talent or X-Factor. Which do you think fits our oozing talent best?

If you are still alive after listening to even 5 seconds of that, you get a Po Stamp of Approval. Now go get your hearing checked.