In empathy with Liam Neeson

My Mental Health issues allowed me to soak up all the negative s**t that TV and my society offered. Several times, I saw black people and had the urge to shout ‘The N-Word’ – or other derogatory terms for them – as that was the first thing that entered my head. I wasn’t racist. It was just the sign of a confused child not knowing how things are in the big wide world.

At University and my work placement in Dublin, I went out of my way to be friendly with coloured people. While, deep down inside, I was hearing, “Go back to your own country!” Then, I allow myself punishment for those thoughts.

In Ireland, racist obseneties are everywhere. However, we got away with most of it because we played the ‘Thick Mick’ stereotype well. But now, our conutry has the same issues with identity and immigration as others. The reality of economic development.

Now, I wish that Mental Health isn’t portrayed as whiter-than-white. Rather, it should be portrayed as human. With human failings. Also, why bring up the issue with racism in Football now whenever these issues had been ongoing for over forty years? It has been raised at a delicate moment whenever issues of identity are first-and-foremost.

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Weekend in Glasgow, plus other things

The weekend just past I took a cross-ferry coach from Belfast to Glasgow to see the Paul Draper gig at King Tut’s Wah-Wah Hut. The night before I left I only had two and a bit hours sleep and had a long day afterwards. On the coach from Cairnryan to Glasgow – en route to Edinburgh – I was sick on the twisty cliff roads heading to Ayr. I went to the toilet to be sick and lost my balance. The coach driver was pissed off at me – wondering why ‘A Grown Man’ would leave such a mess – but at Ayr a woman getting off there let me have the rest of her water bottle so I could get a Co-Codamol in me. That – plus frantic prayer – got me to Glasgow without barfing again.

The main issue was eating too much on the ferry. I had a fish supper, plus a few other nibbles. But on the way home I only ate a light breakfast; granola with yoghurt and milk plus a cappuccino. Also, I bought two bottles of water for Co-Codamols and I didn’t barf yesterday at all.

On the way over at Saturday morning, I spoke to a guy from Lisburn who is heading to Ayr to star in a pantomime. We had a good conversation about how the British mock our Northern Ireland accent whenever we head there. Also, I was talking to a couple from Leicester on the ferry to Cairnryan on Saturday and they met Mark Selby – the World Snooker Champion from Leicester – and showed me a picture of him on their phone.

Also, there were quite a few from Quebec who went on the same coach from Belfast on Saturday as me, then on the ferry back to Belfast, I spoke to another couple from Quebec who rented a car from London and were driving across Britain and Ireland. Plus I got to see the last twenty-odd minutes of the All-Ireland Final. Heartbreak for Mayo; what’s new?

The gig itself went well but left early due to having a long day. But getting sleep on Saturday night really lifted my mood on Sunday morning.

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Heroes must suffer

http://www.stevenpressfield.com/2017/04/make-your-hero-suffer-2/#comment-132469

I have realised that we must all suffer at first to live a fulfilling life in the end. Diamonds are simply million year-old trees. It seems that artists in particular – be it painters, writers or creative types in general – have a pretty tempestuous life. But we come out stronger.

Yesterday I drove to Plumbridge as a trial run drive in preparation for a job I applied for to see if I would go for at least an interview. But I was going through a road past the Sperrins I had never been on before and was so consumed by fear; driving new places these past few years has been a forced exercise for me. But in the end, when heading back, I realised that driving on a road I wasn’t comfortable with for a part time job wouldn’t be worth it. The juice just isn’t worth the squeeze.

However, today, I went to the place in Magherafelt I used to live at and went gardening this morning and early afternoon. It was good to muck about with my old posse. I even heard from the gardening expert there that the soil contains serotonin. No wonder I felt better. 🙂

Now this evening I’m not attending the art class. I need to slow down the pace a bit. My uncle had a suspected heart attack and is in the Royal Hospital in Belfast. My health is my wealth, for now.

First World Problems (and First World Solutions)

Yesterday I was sick when driving and was so desperate to get my laundry done that I forgot to take my smartphone out. (d’oh) However, god willing, the account that gran has in Monaghan will soon be closed as she now has a PPS number and my brother will send it to our solicitor in Cookstown. Hopefully I can sort out a new smartphone and clear off my debts. 🙂

 

Gran was mad looking home yesterday, but the doctor says she may need to spend a few more days in hospital. Tomorrow I’ll be heading to Rathlin Island for a trip with my posse. Without a smartphone I am kinda tied up with progress on gran. God willing, it will be sorted out.

 

Still have a sore throat. Back on the Co-Codamol. :S

 

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