...my head.
It feels like it's got rocks in it. Rocks would probably yield more sense.
I think I've got lots to say, but am too lazy to say it. Even here.
maybe later...
PQB
Monday, 18 February 2008
Saturday, 16 February 2008
The city that never sleeps
Why is that I feel most at peace in the city? All that noise, all those people, all that going on, but yet that's where I feel *totally* at peace. My heart, my mind, everything is at ease when I'm up there, and I can feel the un-peace and unease starting as I leave its boundaries to travel home on the motorway.
There's only one city for me, and that's Glasgow. I miss it (and I've only been home 45 minutes). I love it at night. I wish I could write well enough to describe it. One day I'll have a go. In the meantime there are a handful of pics on flickr (the ones that were in focus, i.e. 3 out of about 150) which show two of my favourite places.
Shame I had to leave!
Today's been a good day, though.
I saw an old couple in the supermarket. I love to see old *couples* - so often you just see elderly people alone, and that can be sad - so it's fantastic to see old, long-married pairs going about their business.
This pair were particularly cool - the togetherness just oozing out of them and what struck me about them was the fact that they were still *chatting* together. All those years, and they still hadn't run out of things to say. Fantastic.
Someone approached me, in the same supermarket, and said: "I've been following your stories for months. I like your writing." Obviously crazed, but it's good to hear that. (I do make more of an effort at work).
Before leaving for Glasgow, I had to take photos at a ceilidh for local disabled/mental health patients. That was pretty cool - it's simple entertainment but there is so little provision in the way of services locally that its *everything* to them, and they enjoy it and really, really value it because of that. It's just &*%$£!@# typical that *all* my photos are out of focus. I'm annoyed, for them. I am hoping the wizards in the Department of Smoke and Mirrors at work can do something about them.
So tomorrow's plan is: kill two birds with one stone, and get out there and practise taking photos. Ones that are in focus.
And now, it's time for bed.
PQB
There's only one city for me, and that's Glasgow. I miss it (and I've only been home 45 minutes). I love it at night. I wish I could write well enough to describe it. One day I'll have a go. In the meantime there are a handful of pics on flickr (the ones that were in focus, i.e. 3 out of about 150) which show two of my favourite places.
Shame I had to leave!
Today's been a good day, though.
I saw an old couple in the supermarket. I love to see old *couples* - so often you just see elderly people alone, and that can be sad - so it's fantastic to see old, long-married pairs going about their business.
This pair were particularly cool - the togetherness just oozing out of them and what struck me about them was the fact that they were still *chatting* together. All those years, and they still hadn't run out of things to say. Fantastic.
Someone approached me, in the same supermarket, and said: "I've been following your stories for months. I like your writing." Obviously crazed, but it's good to hear that. (I do make more of an effort at work).
Before leaving for Glasgow, I had to take photos at a ceilidh for local disabled/mental health patients. That was pretty cool - it's simple entertainment but there is so little provision in the way of services locally that its *everything* to them, and they enjoy it and really, really value it because of that. It's just &*%$£!@# typical that *all* my photos are out of focus. I'm annoyed, for them. I am hoping the wizards in the Department of Smoke and Mirrors at work can do something about them.
So tomorrow's plan is: kill two birds with one stone, and get out there and practise taking photos. Ones that are in focus.
And now, it's time for bed.
PQB
Friday, 15 February 2008
enough already
I like this dragon. Sometimes I feel like a dragon, especially in the mornings before I've had a cup of tea. I wouldn't mind if I was like this dragon.
Billy Connolly said: avoid the company of those who say they know all the answers. instead, seek out those who are still trying to understand the question.
this is really reassuring to me - I am always trying to understand the question.
seriously, going to bed now.
PQB
resolve
I am the first to admit that for many years, I have had a very negative attitude about the small Scottish town where I live.
I grew up here, and my young adolescence was not really a happy time. I felt like an oddball, that I didn't fit in. I continued to feel this way for a very long time.
I felt trapped here and thus angry, resentful. I railed against my town for its negative outlook, its apathy. I didn't really see, somehow, that I was contributing to that. I certainly wasn't doing anything to make it better. I thought I was above it all, I was here by chance and bad luck, not by choice, the town didn't deserve me, I was different. (Yet another cringe. I suspect it will be a regular occurence. Let's just put a disclaimer here, now, that with every one of my blog posts, there will be at least one cringe at myself, somewhere).
Now that I have my new job, working for the local paper, I finally have the attitude "if you can't beat it, join it." In order to do my job properly, I *have* to get a really good grasp of the issues, struggles and joys that make up this community. I've ignored those for years. I can't anymore.
The great thing is that I have found in myself a deep, deep love for this wee town. I can't believe it. I am seeing things about the community that I never thought I would. I'm walking about with my eyes open and seeing that while it's true that many of those complaints are valid, there is so, so much that's WONDERFUL about this funny little place.
There are people who genuinely care about this community. It's special to see and a privilege to be in their company.
A man came to the office today. He comes in a lot. He's what my mother would describe as "a little slow". I wonder, though.
Every time he comes to our office, he's drawing our attention to some aspect of our town that is wanting: it usually involves litter, fly tipping, a fence or structure which has become scruffy and needs a lick of paint. He's fed up of seeing the problem continue without anyone doing anything about it, and he comes to the newspaper to see if we care enough to highlight it and publicise it.
And unlike many others, he doesn't want recognition for doing this, he doesn't care about that, and he's not just moaning for the sake of it. He just wants it sorted, because he thinks it makes the town - *his* town, my town, our town, your town, the tourists' town - untidy and scruffy. He thinks it's letting the town, and the side, down. He has a pride in this town and he wants it to be the best it can be.
He is perhaps one of those citizens that is ignored or shunned, at best looked down upon, certainly not respected or feted or lauded, perhaps a figure of fun. He is quiet, he's not had the best advantages in terms of education, he's not rich. He goes about his business without asking much of anyone until he sees something that he thinks needs to be changed. That makes him much wiser than many of us and certainly me.
I'm ashamed to say that in the office, we've not always treated his concerns with the respect that they deserve. Today, I resolve to change that.
***
Today I went, in my work capacity, to a walk-through inspection of the local town hall which has lain in disrepair for several years and is currently the focus of a working group who hope to save it.
I've not been inside this building for probably 30 years. The last time I was there, I won first prize in a raffle: a Sindy Ballerina. I still remember the thrill of realising I'd won, and how beautiful this blonde Sindy was in her white tutu with her very bendy feet.
Anyway, that has no relevance whatsoever to this story... The old hall has potential. I just really, really hope it can be saved. In my new found love for this crazy little town, I just want it to become *something*. It's located in the heart of the town, and I just keep thinking how good it would be if it *became* a new heart for the town.
My rose-tinted spectacles are firmly attached to my face at the moment but I really hope that it becomes something good, something great...
***
My front page story this week talks about the resolve of the community when it comes to fighting on an issue that's been dragging this town down for over thirty years. As I said above, as I look at the community through new eyes, I see all these little pockets of resolve, of drive, of fighting spirit, which I never noticed before. I need to be a part of that, stop moaning and start doing.
Anyway, it strikes me that finally (six weeks into the New Year) I seem to be in the mindset to resolve...to make those New Year's resolutions. The lack of direction in that respect was worrying me. I'm glad it's finally put in an appearance. Maybe by the time summer comes I will have actually written some down. Something for anyone reading this to look forward to...
One that I am writing down is to remember to look for the beauty in the ordinary or everyday, and to get my camera out and record that.
I started off by setting up a flickr (see links) and placing my first photograph which is truly a thing of beauty...my lovely, lovely Ducati, which is far from ordinary but which is certainly an understated creature.
OK I am going to shut up now.
I grew up here, and my young adolescence was not really a happy time. I felt like an oddball, that I didn't fit in. I continued to feel this way for a very long time.
I felt trapped here and thus angry, resentful. I railed against my town for its negative outlook, its apathy. I didn't really see, somehow, that I was contributing to that. I certainly wasn't doing anything to make it better. I thought I was above it all, I was here by chance and bad luck, not by choice, the town didn't deserve me, I was different. (Yet another cringe. I suspect it will be a regular occurence. Let's just put a disclaimer here, now, that with every one of my blog posts, there will be at least one cringe at myself, somewhere).
Now that I have my new job, working for the local paper, I finally have the attitude "if you can't beat it, join it." In order to do my job properly, I *have* to get a really good grasp of the issues, struggles and joys that make up this community. I've ignored those for years. I can't anymore.
The great thing is that I have found in myself a deep, deep love for this wee town. I can't believe it. I am seeing things about the community that I never thought I would. I'm walking about with my eyes open and seeing that while it's true that many of those complaints are valid, there is so, so much that's WONDERFUL about this funny little place.
There are people who genuinely care about this community. It's special to see and a privilege to be in their company.
A man came to the office today. He comes in a lot. He's what my mother would describe as "a little slow". I wonder, though.
Every time he comes to our office, he's drawing our attention to some aspect of our town that is wanting: it usually involves litter, fly tipping, a fence or structure which has become scruffy and needs a lick of paint. He's fed up of seeing the problem continue without anyone doing anything about it, and he comes to the newspaper to see if we care enough to highlight it and publicise it.
And unlike many others, he doesn't want recognition for doing this, he doesn't care about that, and he's not just moaning for the sake of it. He just wants it sorted, because he thinks it makes the town - *his* town, my town, our town, your town, the tourists' town - untidy and scruffy. He thinks it's letting the town, and the side, down. He has a pride in this town and he wants it to be the best it can be.
He is perhaps one of those citizens that is ignored or shunned, at best looked down upon, certainly not respected or feted or lauded, perhaps a figure of fun. He is quiet, he's not had the best advantages in terms of education, he's not rich. He goes about his business without asking much of anyone until he sees something that he thinks needs to be changed. That makes him much wiser than many of us and certainly me.
I'm ashamed to say that in the office, we've not always treated his concerns with the respect that they deserve. Today, I resolve to change that.
***
Today I went, in my work capacity, to a walk-through inspection of the local town hall which has lain in disrepair for several years and is currently the focus of a working group who hope to save it.
I've not been inside this building for probably 30 years. The last time I was there, I won first prize in a raffle: a Sindy Ballerina. I still remember the thrill of realising I'd won, and how beautiful this blonde Sindy was in her white tutu with her very bendy feet.
Anyway, that has no relevance whatsoever to this story... The old hall has potential. I just really, really hope it can be saved. In my new found love for this crazy little town, I just want it to become *something*. It's located in the heart of the town, and I just keep thinking how good it would be if it *became* a new heart for the town.
My rose-tinted spectacles are firmly attached to my face at the moment but I really hope that it becomes something good, something great...
***
My front page story this week talks about the resolve of the community when it comes to fighting on an issue that's been dragging this town down for over thirty years. As I said above, as I look at the community through new eyes, I see all these little pockets of resolve, of drive, of fighting spirit, which I never noticed before. I need to be a part of that, stop moaning and start doing.
Anyway, it strikes me that finally (six weeks into the New Year) I seem to be in the mindset to resolve...to make those New Year's resolutions. The lack of direction in that respect was worrying me. I'm glad it's finally put in an appearance. Maybe by the time summer comes I will have actually written some down. Something for anyone reading this to look forward to...
One that I am writing down is to remember to look for the beauty in the ordinary or everyday, and to get my camera out and record that.
I started off by setting up a flickr (see links) and placing my first photograph which is truly a thing of beauty...my lovely, lovely Ducati, which is far from ordinary but which is certainly an understated creature.
OK I am going to shut up now.
a new start
Blogging is something new for me.
It always struck me as something *not* for me...why would anyone want to read my ramblings? I don't write particularly well (ironic, given my job). It seemed self indulgent, somehow. *This* seems self indulgent. I am cringing as I type. The fact that I typed "I am cringing..." makes me cringe even more.
But the more I think about it, the more I realise it might just help me.
I'm quiet in real life, a listener, not a talker. That doesn't mean I don't have things to say. Often, I feel very inadequate because I don't say much. I feel I must be boring.
I've been thinking very recently and figure that it's OK that I don't say much. For so long, one of my favourite quotes has been "go quietly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence." It's time I stopped liking that, and started living it. Ceasing to fight against my quiet nature may just help me to find the peace I claim to seek.
Why seek peace, and be looking for more opportunities to add to the noise of the world at the same time?
I've always felt there's not enough listening in the world, while at the same time feeling I don't contribute because I don't say much in places where already everyone is just waiting for you to stop speaking so they can jump in. Maybe my contribution is saying nothing. Maybe that's what I am meant to do.
And of course, instead, I will just ramble here to any poor soul that happens to stumble across my blog... They'll become the peace-seekers then!
It always struck me as something *not* for me...why would anyone want to read my ramblings? I don't write particularly well (ironic, given my job). It seemed self indulgent, somehow. *This* seems self indulgent. I am cringing as I type. The fact that I typed "I am cringing..." makes me cringe even more.
But the more I think about it, the more I realise it might just help me.
I'm quiet in real life, a listener, not a talker. That doesn't mean I don't have things to say. Often, I feel very inadequate because I don't say much. I feel I must be boring.
I've been thinking very recently and figure that it's OK that I don't say much. For so long, one of my favourite quotes has been "go quietly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence." It's time I stopped liking that, and started living it. Ceasing to fight against my quiet nature may just help me to find the peace I claim to seek.
Why seek peace, and be looking for more opportunities to add to the noise of the world at the same time?
I've always felt there's not enough listening in the world, while at the same time feeling I don't contribute because I don't say much in places where already everyone is just waiting for you to stop speaking so they can jump in. Maybe my contribution is saying nothing. Maybe that's what I am meant to do.
And of course, instead, I will just ramble here to any poor soul that happens to stumble across my blog... They'll become the peace-seekers then!
Saturday, 2 February 2008
stop, thief
I seem to be my own best stealer of peace...well, me and blogger. And google. Trying to log back into my own blog was something of an ordeal. But hey, I'm here now.
Maybe, maybe, I really don't want peace. Maybe I want the drama. I seem to do a great job of bringing it into my life...and I mean that *I* bring it in. I go looking for it. And yet I protest that I hate drama.
Plus I have the PMS from hell.
Maybe, maybe, I really don't want peace. Maybe I want the drama. I seem to do a great job of bringing it into my life...and I mean that *I* bring it in. I go looking for it. And yet I protest that I hate drama.
Plus I have the PMS from hell.
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