How Many Times Must a Man Walk Alone?

(Personal rant ahead)

So yesterday was my 27th birthday. I spent it with family members, and spent the evening alone. I did invite people round, but not a soul came. Some of my would be guests were unwell, or genuinely had other plans before my invite; and that's fine. But the remainder either made excuses, cried off at the last minute, or never responded at all. It's a good job these days I'm a lot happier in mown company.

This experience hasn't upset me too much, because these things happen, and none of it was within my control. I do however think it's a bit pathetic the way some people carried on. It's not an isolated incident either. The amount of time I've tried to make plans with people, only to be cancelled on a couple of hours before is ridiculous- and no, of course they don't reschedule. 

It's times like this that I really do take stock of the ever thinning herd of people I give a shit about, and going forward, I'll probably just stick to those few for welcoming into my home.

In search of I

Recently I've been thinking I should be doing more. 

I mean this in a general sense; I feel like I've been existing, and not actually living. I have depended far too much, too often and too long on other people for happiness- when I should be seeking it out for myself.

It's been a while now since I last had any semblance of a plan in life. The last time I did, I worked toward buying my flat- and so it came to fruition. Since then I've just been getting by, or at least trying to. 

I have a home. I have family. I am lucky to have the love of a kind and beautiful young woman. I have a few close friends. I have a car. I have a job that allows me to live reasonably comfortably. What I do not have, is a feeling of accomplishment, worth, or self satisfaction- which is why I am making some plans for the future, the first steps of which will start on Monday morning.

It feels good to be doing something for myself for a change. I am the sort of person who, in the past, has always put other people before his own wants and desires. 

Lately however, I have become a little more of a recluse. I go to work, I come home, I eat, I sleep, I play games, I play guitar, I write, jam with the band sporadically and occasionally see one of my handful of friends for a cup of tea. I would see my Girlfriend regularly (for she is also the best friend anyone could hope for in life, and was long before we paired), but she is studying 180 miles away. I can't just hop in the car or bus and go to visit whenever I like, neither can she. The situation has been hard- but it  is only temporary. That thought however, does not exactly alleviate all loneliness. The black dog and I are still very well acquainted.

Others do not seek me out. I am not invited to things. Whether that is out of dislike for me as a person, being generally overlooked as a face in the crowd, or whether the people I know and associate with are simply too busy and wrapped up in their own lives to spare me a thought or correspondence- I don't know. All I know is that if I didn't put myself out there on social media, messenger, and the odd text message- I would hear from no-one at all. In the past I've contemplated avoiding making contact for a week to see if anyone actually cares enough to get in touch- but I needn't have bothered- because recently it happened completely by chance. I saw no-one but work colleagues, and heard from no-one but my Girlfriend and my Mother. 

Assuming (Nay- hoping) with faith in those I know, that the the latter of the three options is the truth (it is the least upsetting, at least), I have come to the following conclusion: I too, must busy myself. For myself. 

I will do this by furthering myself academically and creatively. I'm not going to do it to be liked, or to impress- but to seek and achieve something I want. Something, as I've said, I have not done in around the last five years. I want to work toward something I'm passionate about, like the woman I love is doing right now. She- above all other fervours and venoms I nurture from my solitude- is my muse in this. But again- it's not even for her that I do this. 

It's a long overdue journey in search of I.

One Night in Paris... And the Mourning After.

I looked upon last nights scenes from the multiple terror attacks in Paris with unadulterated horror, as I'm sure countless others did. As many as 140 people are dead, possibly more, making it the worst European terrorist attack in decades. It also caused France's borders to be closed for the first time since 1944. 

However, what we need to watch for now is the reaction.

As it stands (at time of writing), no group has yet claimed responsibility, and 8 perpetrators have been killed, or committed suicide by explosive. It is strongly speculated that it is Daesh (the group claiming to be "Islamic State" operating out of Iraq and Syria), or another group acting in their support.

The bloodiest act of the night was a hostage situation at the Bataclan Theatre in which over 100 people were held hostage. Shortly after armed forces stormed the building, the terrorists inside returned gunfire before detonating  suicide vests. The result was that up to 120 people may have died in the theatre alone. (Figure is as yet unconfirmed.) 

French prime minister François Hollande said at the scene "we will lead a war that is pitiless" which frankly scared the wits out of me for several reasons. 

Wikileaks reports that it is an avowed strategy of Daesh to use the crackdown (since the Charlie Hebdo attacks in January) to radicalise the Muslims of France. If they manage to harness even 1%, that's in the region of 50,000 people. 

So let's, for talkings sake, imagine that France declares open war on Daesh, and supporting extremist organisations. That will of course, lead to Britain participating in some way- with either bombs or boots. This is all the more likely, given that  it was recently reported in mainstream media, that Britain is no longer considered a major player in Europe. In addition to this, with the looming referendum on European Union membership, Britain will want to show it is a big player, one that will continue to be an asset to Europe whatever way our vote goes.

And if France, the U.K. and other countries go to war, you can bet your boots that similar, regular attacks on civilians will happen in these countries as a result, from terrorist cells who have discreetly travelled to our soil, or that have been established here in sympathy. We will be fighting enemies within and without, as what we would really be fighting is not an army or an country, but an ideology- and how do you fight an idea?

I wish I had an alternative, but I honestly don't. All that looks set to happen here is more violence. Open conflict on the ground at some point seems inevitable.

There are however, things that you and I can do. We don't need to lose our humanity and tolerance. We cannot allow ourselves to blame or point the finger at refugees fleeing Iraq and Syria- after all- this is exactly the kind of activity they are fleeing from. Over there it happens nearly every single day. It is important to remember that in the 1940's, millions of European people were fleeing persecution from another oppressive regime- many of them to

Northern Africa- so the shoe was firmly on the other foot! Neither can we allow the demonisation of liberal and moderate Muslims- to do so is no different to comparing every Christian to Anders Breivik or the Phelps family. Challenge it wherever you hear it. Too much life has been lost without further loss of human decency in those still living.

All these actions foster is more hatred and ignorance; a cycle of violence and hatred. We cannot allow this to happen, because this is exactly what Daesh want. They want recognition as a state, and their endgame is for that state to span the very breadth of the globe. It is important to remember that they are just as much of an enemy to peaceful religious peoples as they are to atheists like me. Just as much of a threat to the western world as the Middle East where their cause currently spreads like a disease. Do not give them credence and legitimacy by calling them IS, ISIL or ISIS. Call them Daesh. From Arabic it roughly translates to "one who tramples underfoot".

After all, that's what Daesh is doing. It is trampling societies, cultures, history and humanity itself. 

Age Before Beauty; And Long After.

I often find my head in my hands at this society's preoccupation with physical beauty.

Beauty means different things to different people- but regardless of that- such high value is placed upon it. Everyone judges people based on their looks. It happens every single day. I'm guilty of it, you're guilty of it; we all are.

What so many people forget is that it's only temporary. We all age. We all get old. And we all lose many of the attributes that society calls beautiful.

People try to slow it with products and surgery, but why? Getting older is part of life and inevitable. Why not do it with a little dignity? What happened to growing old gracefully?

I recently watched a documentary called "Advanced Style". It seemed to address the fact that fashion is overly preoccupied with youth. The maker of the film is also a photographer and blogger (the blog has the same title, if you want to go and look), who takes modelling photos of women over 55 years of age. It demonstrated clearly that you don't  have to be young to have a sense of style or be fashionable. It really brought home to me even more how utterly meaningless the current perception of beauty is. Physically, their best years were behind these women, but they replaced that with something else; A pervading and irresistible individuality; that is ageless.

If you fell in love with someone purely because of their looks, it's probably not going to last, unless you find something else in them to love.

Beautiful or not, we all get old and eventually die. People would do well to remember that nobody makes a good looking corpse. Harsh? Probably. Definitely true.

What this page is for.

It's been more than a month since my last post- I really need to get better at doing this regularly!

Any commitment to regular posts is for completely selfish reasons, it should be understood. Although this blog is open to any visitors from anyone I know, and the wider Internet, this blog is only for one person.

That person is me. 

Do not be under any illusion. What I choose to write here is my business. I may write about my personal life or in a more general sense. If I do write about personal matters, I am likely to anonymise people I know, rather than openly attack someone online. 

I'm not here to please anyone. Although I do have subscribers, and I do hope they enjoy the content I post- this page is an outlet for me first and foremost.

However- this is not a social media outlet like Tumblr is. It does not depend or thrive on external inputs or reader contributions. There is a comments section, but it is moderated (personally) and any non-constructive or troll-esque comments will not be displayed. I don't feed the trolls. Such people will not be given a platform. The only way there will be any acknowledgement of them, is if they are too hilariously funny not to; for spelling, logical or grammatical reasons.

So, I apologise if you, the reader, had any other presumption on what this page is for. I hope this sets the record a little straighter.

Has it really been 6 months?

Today, June the 1st, marks 6 months of being on paleo. 

You guys know what that means!

Yup- landmark. You're being subjected to more progress pictures! 

Enjoy, I guess! Or don't! Whatever! I'm proud of it. No, I'm not done yet. Yes, I'm still a way off my target, and no, I don't know how much I've lost-- but what I can tell you is that since January first, the belt I'm wearing in today's pictures has had two extra holes made in it.

Let's travel through time!

01/01/15

60 days later

Today, 01/06/15

I'm really feeling good looking back over these, it does feel like progress. Soon I may have to go a wee clothes shop...

From here on in, now that it's hopefully going to be getting warmer, and I plan to do a lot more cycling, as well as some hillwalking, and continuing lifting some weights at home.

Who knows- if I keep at it, perhaps in another 6 months, it could be a one man gun show!

An Analogy; in the Style of a Children's Story

Once upon a time, there lived a large fluffy dog, and a little tabby cat.

The dog and cat were the best of friends, despite having very little in common. Everyone's notions would suggest they shouldn't be friends at all. They didn't look similar, thought in different ways, ate different foods, and enjoyed different things. The dog was loud, and often barked if he saw something wrong, but was kind and gentle. The cat was quiet, and enjoyed being cosy in her little spaces, but also had a bit of a habit of scratching at things; even things that weren't hers. The large dog and the little cat took long walks together, ate together, drank together, enjoyed music together and played together for many a long and happy afternoon. They often disagreed- and now and again fell out, as friends sometimes do- but they got past these things, and felt much better after both saying sorry for the mean things they had said to each other.

The cat had not always had a happy life. When she was young, her family had been very cruel to her. Even now she had grown up, thinking about it made her very sad, and also worry about things from time to time. Sometimes it would even make her cry, and wonder if she would ever be happy again. 

However, the cat often talked to her friend the dog. The dog didn't know what it was like for the cat, because he had not been through the same sad times as she had; but he was always there to listen, calm her down, and do his best to make her feel better. Sometimes they would lie and talk to each other for hours until they both went off to sleep.

Although it made him feel happy to help his friend; sometimes the dog felt very lonely. A lot of animals liked him, but because of that, it was hard to admit that he was sad sometimes too.

One day, the dog lost a very special friend.

When that happened, he was so sad that something changed. Sometimes he didn't enjoy his favourite games anymore. Other times he didn't want to go outside.  Some of the dog's friends moved away, but he still had a friend in the little tabby cat. 

Over time, things changed for the cat too. She found another cat to live with and a place to call her own. She made new friends in different places, and found a few new things she was good at. This made her proud. She liked to tell the other animals about how far she had come, even though bad things had happened to her. 

Eventually, the dog went to an older, wiser dog to find out what was wrong with him, and to get some help. He got some good advice, and some medicine to help make him feel better, but the wise  old dog said the large dog should talk to a good friend about how he had been feeling, because being honest about it would help.

The dog knew exactly who he wanted to talk to. 

When he did talk to her, the little tabby cat said the dog should just stop feeling sorry for himself. She said that she was tired of hearing him bark all the time, and she had other friends who didn't make so much noise. 

The dog was confused and heartbroken. When the cat needed him, he had rushed to her aid whenever he could. Now that he was in trouble, it seemed the cat wasn't interested, because she was happy and secure now, and the dog was far too sad for her. He began to wonder whether he had ever been the cat's friend at all, or just another scratching post. 

The dog slowly began to feel angry, and eventually loudly barked at the cat to tell her what he thought of her. They stopped being friends, and the cat began to hiss at him whenever she saw him. The dog growled and bared his teeth, and after that she stopped.

The dog began to feel much better about himself. Sometimes he still feels very sad, but that's alright, because he learned some new tricks, and still takes his medicine every day.

Now, when he thinks of the cat, he isn't even angry anymore, he feels pity. He just hopes she never has to hear someone else say to her what she said to him. 

Most of all though, he feels very thankful for all of the wonderful animals he is friends with, and knows now more than ever what that means.

---

The morals of this tale:

1) Value and care for your friends, even on their worst days- regardless of how you're feeling.

2) People who cannot do the above are not your friends.

3) Depression can affect anyone, no matter who they are or how they seem. 

4) A great friendship isn't necessarily built on what you have in common

5) Just because you've had a hard life, doesn't mean that your struggles or achievements are more important than anyone else's; they're just different.

6) Dogs are wonderful animals. Cats? Less so.