The moving on conundrum.

June 10, 2017

I hate that phrase ‘moving on’. There is an assumption of a forward direction being taken, where the reality is that you can just as easily be going backwards or simply standing still and stagnating. Moving on suggests progress to a better state of being. In reality ‘moving on’ rarely is to something better, just something different. Moving on from a cliff onto the rocks below isn’t progress, moving on from adulthood to old age and then death isn’t progress, moving on from a sense of happiness to one of sadness certainly isn’t. And yet, here I am… moving on… It’s certainly wasn’t through choice and I put everything I could into not moving on…. But here I am… What has put me off more than anything else is the thought of the other party moving on and just how far they have moved on already I shudder to think as I have a self imposed blackout on what they get up to, mostly because all it seems so bloody dismal and depressing to me. What I have been avoiding though is the idea that if I acknowledge that I have moved on, I will need to face the sad fact that they have too. The reality is even sadder than that though, they had mentally moved on when we were still together but didn’t have the guts to tell me. I think the hardest thing I have had to do was to separate my own self worth from someone else’s action. When all you can see is string pastimes chosen above you that could have been devised by one of lucifers minions as an especially cruel torture for really nasty sinners, and people that Roald Dahl would throw into the waste paper basket as characters too vile to be believable, it’s hard to comprehend what kind of dispicable creature you must be to make your way down to the bottom of the pile with that sort of competition But however hard it is for me to wrap my head around, that lowest of the low, bottom of the caste system is what I became to another human being and that really isn’t a good place to be.

It not easy realising you mean less that zero to someone you care for  but I have to remember that other people’s choices have no bearing on who I am as a person and that all we ever really are is responsible for ourselves and our own happiness. The truth is, everything I have ever achieved, I have achieved on my own and that having to portion off parts of my life to others has only ever slowed me down or ground my progress to a complete halt, I have never felt like someone has had my back and of late they were probably as likely to be sticking a knife in it. That said, a life for creative success alone is a bit of a poor do and is certainly no way to live a life. That, I guess, brings me back to the moving on business again, and here is where I am in danger of sounding really arrogant if I phrase it wrong but, being as idiosyncratic as I am, the chances of finding someone suitable drop massively compared to someone living a run of the mill life and it really doesn’t help that I don’t trawl around the pubs and clubs, or that I am not a joiner of things to meet people , be they evening classes, groups nor dating sites. It took many, many years to find what I thought to be that special person and many more before that to make sure that I was mentally and emotionally well enough to be in a relationship as I felt it would be irresponsible to be anything less. Like most clever dicks who think they have got every angle covered, I discovered that I hadn’t because while I was worrying about my own mental wellness, I failed to take into account that of everybody else. Whoops! 

Whilst only hiding under the duvet every third day might not seem much progress to everyone, to me it is a godsend. It is allowing me to slowly get my mojo back and throw my paint on canvas rather than words on the digital page. I am my own worst critic and given the chance I will put the boot in on myself at every opportunity. Every so often though I catch myself and have the strength to point out that I devised a way  of turning the drawings of people with learning disabilities into marketable soft toys that can be ethically manufactured just a couple of months back and produced reams of artwork and am working on another show, I achieved more tangible good in six month than some do in a lifetime. If that sounds arrogant then fear not, because in a couple of minutes I will have forgot all that again and be back to kicking myself up the arse. The point is though, that I always manage to acheive, despite the self loathing, despite the illness and exhaustion, I always seem to pull a rabbit out of the hat from somewhere, and sometimes the very things that slow me down become the emotional rocket fuel to power the next thing I do. Is this me moving on? Or is this just me being me? I guess it’s all just a question of me making a choice where there frankly isn’t one. It this the future for myself I chose? No! Is this the future for myself I wanted? No! Can I take this future and make it my own? Probably. I’ll guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Something Special.

January 19, 2017

The other night someone said some words to me that broke my heart, “I’m nothing special.” 

That is that they aren’t anything special. An old girlfriend of mine told me that I was wasn’t anything special some twenty five years ago now, she was off studying English at university and I was having to work in an unrewarding civil service job because I couldn’t afford to go to university myself due to the messy family situation that I was embroiled in. I was leaking like a rusty bucket mentally and I was discussing with her as to whether I should go and see the doctors about how I  was feeling. She felt I was just playing up the part of a struggling artist and was just seeking attention, “you’re nothing special!” she said, as if being mentaly ill would somehow convey on me that sacred order of artyness given to Richard Dadd, Vincent Van Gogh and whoever else. I looked her up a while back, no writing career, nothing of note for all that private education, I’m sure she is a very special person to her husband and child but outside of that there is no trace of her existence. I took one thing from that relationship and that was, judging by the people I met when I would go up to visit her at weekends before she chucked me, I was certainly smart enough to go to university. 

I was brought up to think that I was stupid from an early age, by the time I was seven I believed that I would be nothing more than a dustman or a site labourer, my mum told me that in no uncertain terms. Not that there is anything wrong with those jobs if that is what you want to do… When I got older my mum was determined I would work as a bank clerk, because I would be able to get a cheap mortgage. When I told them I wanted to be an artist, I might as well have said Prime Minister or the King, no one in my family would dare to reach above their station. Every step of the way was met with inertia and it took decades rather than the years it would in a nice, cosy and supportive, middle class household. 

I believe everyone has specialness in them, it is just a case of working out what that special thing is and nurturing it. It is important to note that specialness is different from celebrity, with the rise of the talent show, the YouTube channel and, to a certain extent, the blog, people can get out in the ether with extreme ease, regardless of talent. I feel that there is such a thing as specialness parity, that point where someone’s abilities match the level of how special they actually think they are. When someone’s perception of their own talent is too low, it can be heart breaking, the further the disparity, the more heartbreaking it is. It can go the other way though… When people have absolutely no talent at something, but are convinced that they do, it can be teeth-pullingly awful. You see it a lot on programmes like the X factor, personally I think shows like that should be banned for the theatres of cruelty that they are. I meet people of that ilk locally, I avoid them when I can but it can get so very frustrating when people have belief that propels then forward way beyond their abilities. I wouldn’t mind so much but they always knock the truly talented aside as they try and barge their way into the spotlight where they quite clearly shouldn’t be.

I am a great believer in fairness and justice, if someone has a gift that needs some assistance, I will happily help, and have done many times, practical things, not just words. Mind you, it goes both way…  Have been known to put a metaphorical foot in the way if I feel that something is happening that I feel  is plainly wrong. I won’t go into details but I’m not averse to the odd bit of brandelism or sabotage if it comes to it. Waving banners doesn’t work , not since the miners strike, not since the Iraqi invasion (it needed two sides to be a war) but a bit of creativity might not work any better but it is so much fun and it will make some great stories when I get some distance on them. You may have to wait a few years though….

My own specialness isn’t in art, words or even making things, I am at best competent and that is only through hard work and practice. I would like to think I have some small gift in imagination but I think, if I’m honest, I believe the only area I truly have a speciality in is stubbornness. Call it determination if you like but I would stay stubbornness is more accurate and more honest. I suspect that if I was less stubborn I would probably been dead by now, dead or living on the streets. It is the sheer determination not to let the bastards grind me down that has pushed me through everything. It can be my undoing though, as I start grinding back, and said bastards don’t like it. I have made a lot of enemies over the years but as the enemy of my enemy is my friend, I have made a lot of those too. 

I would like to hope that everyone would acknowledge their own specialness and go with with it. Unless your specialty is being horrible, you can be rubbish at that if you want.

The void

October 24, 2016

There is so much I want to write about, so much I want to say but words are always a poor substitute for feelings. I’ve woken up with that empty hole gnawing away at me again. It’s ever present, it went away a few times over the summer but the reason for that has gone now it seems. The void is here inside me right now, telling me what a low priority I am, telling me of all the things I am less important than, bumped down from high priority to file and forget through a series of arbitrary decisions, then briefly yanked out, re-examine and stuffed back in the drawer again, only to fall down the back with the dead woodlice and calcified spiders somewhere on the floor to be ignored forever, discarded and left to rot.

I will pull against the void for hours now, as I do most days, reminding myself that only I can give myself self worth and to expect to get it from someone else is foolish at best, insane at worst, as insane as the situation is. Fighting against the knowledge that, in the end, even the crumbs of the cake I got when all the slices had been given away were just too much for someone as irrelevant as me. Even having the guts to put this out in the world will be casually marked down as self pity, another reason why I need to be jettisoned. 

So the fight continues day by day, distraction, achievement, self validation, pouring it all into the void that never feels like it will be filled with a voice in my head reaffirmed by the actions of others telling me how little I matter whispering constantly in my ear. “Because you’re worthless!”

God! I’m so tired! 

The bad fings

April 6, 2016

  The bad fings com at nite most lee an weee haf tu hyde away. They haf big long  toobs that they yous tu get thayre wurds right in tu crisez eers an in hiz hed. They sownd lick snakes all sharp an hissy wiff lots of wurds lick Never an Useless an fings like I told yoo sew an Everybody hates you. Wen it gets reel bad they show im fings like the see an say Fill your pockets wiff stones an walk or the special sweets for his bad hert an say Go on! Eat the lot an it will all stop now. The bad fings they pretend to be his friend an mak it sownd lick it’s a clever fing to do. They leev Cris all tired from fightin them an he gets soooo slo. The bad fings jump on his chest an do fings to his hert, they do it sew much thay wen his hert wen wrong an he nearly was ded an he did even no some fink wiz wrong coz it is always so bad.  now it is fixed the bad fings just squish it mor coz thayre is a stronger fing to squish. A lot of the time Cris finks it would haf been betta if he had just died at crismast we fings wer reel bad an his hert woz really bad then then he wud have sum peece an sleep all the tim.

Some times wen Cris is fiting the bad fings other huuumans get hert tu. He tris to squish the bad fings but they dodge him an he squishes people tu an then they get all upset and crisez bad fings fro party coz they won an cris in all lonely even mor. Some times other huuumans haf thayre own bad fings an they get near crisez bad fings an they mak reel nasty bad fings happen.

Cris is very care full to keep the bad fings away an lick to be quiet and get lots of rest an thayre are huumans hoo fro bad fings every wher they go an Cris hydes from them an don’t  go neer the places they are or the fings they do but wen they do get neer Cris gets reel Ill and stuff.  Sometime people dont lick Cris coz he fites  these bad fings because fings go wrong coz he fites too hard. Or huumans get cross coz they want he somewhere that will mak him mor ill an they don’t like it that he don’t go. 

When Cris is bizeeee doin paintin or makin the bad fings are still thayre but very fuzzy an you can see thru them and they are very week. But wen bad fings happen in crisez wurld an fings happen that don’t seem fair or mak cents they are solid an real an at nite they are lick metal all hard an solid an really good at hertin him.

Wen things are bad the bad fings get comfy and stay for months, kicking everything aside an makin shoor everythin is rely horrid. An wen other huumans try an help he says no frank you an he jus get wurs. Sometimes people makes fing wurs an they jus walk away or even wors get all cross an make fings reel bad. Fore tune ate  tree  som people stay an no how Chris finks and makes him get help of they just listen and listen an listen. They don’t listen at nite though coz Cris is tu kind to call them on the black talky fing and the bad fings rule. Then Cris is tired all day and wen it gets reel bad he sleeps in the day an then cant sleep at night then fings get reel nasteee. 


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