Hell is other people

Even as a Christian, I can have a misanthropic streak inside me. Dealing with others, in the Cattle Market of life, can be a forced exercise.

Today, I passed an old man cycling on a B Road, heading home from Portadown, and only God’s grace kept me safe. Now, I’m trying to relax. Stinking Thinking has me in a tizzy whenever I make a mistake.

I had an interview on Zoom last Thursday. No joy, but I requested feedback.

The Derry and Strabane District is subject to a localised Lockdown, now. I must be grateful that my brother’s home. My plan was to relocate to the Donemana/Aughabrack/Glenmornan/Artigarvan area. But God hit me with a two-by-four on that.

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Insanity

I am ‘Not Wise,’ as we say in Rural Ulster.

Adulthood in and out of Mental Health has got me to the stage where I need to surrender. My rationale is lowered by my irregular sleep patterns. Lockdown has thrown so much emotion at me, it’s hard to see if things will return to normal.

My life was ruined because I had the MMR jab as a baby. I don’t want the Vaccines shoved down parents’ throats. However, I do know that God will heal the land of those who repent of their sins. It’s an arduous process. But, hey – no pain, no gain.

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A Million-Step Challenge

Walk A Million

Today is the start of a challenge, until 10 September, to raise money for a suicide prevention charity. The goal is to walk one-million steps in between then; on average, slightly less than ten-thousand steps per day. I have a built-in pedometer on my phone and can upload pictures with the help of Dropbox. Body-Magic on Steroids. πŸ™‚

I have decided to form a one-man team since I’m not associated with any Primary School or Gaelic Football Club. I called myself ‘Des the Proclaimer.’ 500 miles in roughly one-million steps; oddly enough. πŸ˜€

I had my daily ten-thousand steps for record achieved by 1:15 pm today; to free up the rest of the day. I was up pretty early and had to walk to the shop and back for items.

Tomorrow, I plan to visit Belfast for the first Post-Lockdown trip. I want to get my steps-worth done there with a friend from Stranmillis who began Lecturing Nursing Students last Autumn. Thrown straight into the Bearpit.

Memorial day tomorrow in America. If only the Indy 500 was still on. 😦

Also, I am catching snippets of the Streamed Manchester Jazz Festival.

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I wish I was in Macclesfield

Today marks the fortieth anniversary of Ian Curtis’ suicide. I was meant to be in his native Macclesfield today to commemorate. However, the Tyrants have us in Lockdown. England has gradual reopening, already, while Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales still want us to stay at home.

Nevertheless, I’m learning to cope. I ordered Lavender-flavoured Organic Shampoo; I never washed my hair in the past few years. Now, I’m doing more self-care. Also, I got cotton makeup pads to apply the coconut oil I got last week for my face. The leftover plastic boxes, from the orders of Chicken Chow Mein I’ve had, can be used to store the pads. Those takeaways weren’t such a waste of money, after all. Plus, I also have leftover boxes from the Mayflower curry powder.

Also, happy Victoria Day to all Canadians. Here comes Summer. In this country, it’s wet and miserable; Summer for us. πŸ˜€

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Standing my Ground

Yesterday, I ran errands in Cookstown and Magherafelt – I got masks and gloves in Cookstown; as well as A4-sized picture frames, and a downloadable photograph from a Chemist in Magherafelt to renew my driving licence online. Once I did apply online, I felt much better.

Then, in the evening, I attended a Zoom group for my Slimming World instructor- then was awarded my first ever ‘Slimmer of the Week’ award. When all and sundry were pigging out, I kept myself occupied with the internet, conversation and tea/coffee.

But, there is a delay in my mail arriving. There are a few things I’m waiting for which are in limbo. But, they’ll arrive in God’s time.

Holy Thursday today, whenever The Lord celebrated the Passover. I have the Lamb’s blood in my life. πŸ™‚

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Man-Flu is NOT an option

Over the past few days, I’ve been dosed with a cold and sore throat. However, just during that time, I made chicken in the slow cooker, did the dishes and laundry, mopped my kitchen floor and cleaned the coffee stains on my tables. In between then, I was talking to friends across the Atlantic on Skype. Man-Flu is NOT an option for me. πŸ™‚

There is an issue I have to resolve with a neighbour – which is still on the QT – and I have ensured that my uncle will be there with us to iron everything out. In the midst of all that, I need to keep on trucking.

I’m looking to get back to work, so I’m considering hiring a car to get myself work-ready. 2019 was whenever I crashed-and-burned and have to focus on domestic matters. I’m on my own. Therefore no one can do it for me.

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Christmas on my Own-io

I’ll be on my own this Christmas. However, I’m content with that. Though, I may visit my friend from the art class and have a good chat. But isolation is a major issue for me. Solitude is more than a Soccer Ground in North Belfast. πŸ™‚

My job ended on Thursday – 20 December – and, in a surreal manner, I’m mourning the loss of that job more than I mourned the loss of my gran. Though it doesn’t compare to whenever I lost my mum. I did such a stellar effort in the job I feel that whenever I’m onto a winner, some spanner is placed in the works. Such is life.

Tomorrow, I head to Dublin as the Pavilion Theatre in Dun Laoghaire is screening the original Home Alone Movie. I have NEVER seen it prior, not even on TV. This is inner child work for me. πŸ™‚

I have come to accept modern Christmases. The family separation, the crass consumerism, the sudden dip in form for Arsenal. πŸ˜‰ It’s as if life on life terms makes us more philosophical.

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Bittersweet week

On Tuesday morning, I received an email from Queen’s University in Belfast saying that they’re placing me on a twelve-month waiting list for available jobs. Not wholly there yet. But I’m within touching distance of work. πŸ™‚

However, I found out yesterday from a friend in my art class that an old friend of mine; whom we both knew from the Beacon Centre in Cookstown, was found dead on Tuesday morning. Suspected suicide. That kinda knocked me off last night and I had a long sleep last night, until almost one this afternoon. Then I had to send a mass card to the Beacon Centre and they were away on a day out. I put it through the letterbox.

Also, I saw ‘The Meg’ on Tuesday evening in a Belfast Cinema with a Meetup group. Hooray for pippin. πŸ™‚

Now, I have to feel my feelings. :S

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Was at a poetry gig this lunchtime

I went to see Mike Garry headlining a poetry gig from 11:30 am to 1:15 pm at the Black Box in Belfast and got to immerse myself in eclectic poetry from him and the support acts.

 

I braved the elements this morning, exaggeration, to get the bus to Belfast from Castledawson park-and-ride; which should be my home address. πŸ™‚ Then after I got back I got groceries at Lidl. Chop wood, carry water. πŸ™‚

 

I found out about the Red Pill Studio and wonder how I can contact them without resorting to either Twitter or Facebook. Every time you log onto one of those two sites, God kills a Calf! Someone think of the Calves! πŸ™‚

 

Arsenal won again, after eight minutes of injury time and getting a penalty at the end. Jaysus, talk about skating on thin ice.

 

One of the support acts was a quintessential Millennial originally from a Scumbag area of Dublin, but now a budding Actress living in London. (imagine Buffy with a Flat Dublin Accent) I mentioned seeing Mike support John Cooper Clarke at Dun Laoghaire last May and about the bus that goes from Tallaght to Dun Laoghaire. The number 75.

 

Just a little plug for Mike Garry; his EP ‘St. Anthony – a tribute to Anthony H. Wilson’ is available on iTunes.

Back to work schemes

I am involved in a back to work scheme and feel that I’m running into several culs-de-sac concerning opportunities. Of course, the scheme is funded by the EU. Because of all of this I feel short changed.

 

Still dealing with Gran and she is still in and around the kitchen sink, at 91 years of age, and she said she ‘felt cold’ even though I was sweltering. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’ll just have to limit the amount of time I can be with her. Not that I don’t love her, but I need to attend to my needs as well.

Exhausted. Couldn’t be Arsed to watch the Europa Cup final on YouTube.But Liverpool are ahead at Half Time; BBC ticker. I’d love to bottle what Liverpool have in Europe.

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