All conquering love

Hi,

I just googled "All conquering love" to see what the internet had to say about it. On the first page there were three biblical references, one mystic's book on the topic, another mysterious book ad with no blurb, an ancient greek reference, a reference to a personality disorder, an article on a mother's love for her disabled child, one poetry board lamenting lost love, and two pessimistic forums wallowing in the fact that there is no such thing as true love.

That is a very sad state of affairs. Only one story of true love.
I'm sure the mystic and the Christian's believe that the love they have for their gods and fellow man is the same all conquering love, but how many of them would really put their lives on the line just to maintain that relationship?

Hmmm, not that I really believe that wanting to die for someone should be the test of true love. That would be rather pointless, the minute you find someone you truly care for, one or other of you would have to step in front of a bus to prove it...oh and don't forget to put clean underwear on before you do so, otherwise  your poor mother might die of embarrassment thinking that she didn't raise you properly.

What brought about this train of thought was another film I've just watched "Gods and Monsters" . Fairly wooden acting, but Brendan Fraser is generally pretty ordinary, however the theme of the movie was lovely. It came down to the love for an eccentric old gent who was determined to stir the possum, and hopefully provoke his own death. He did his best to dehumanise his friends, to twist them into monsters from his movies, so that he could escape the monsters of his past...yet it was the love that spared them that fate, and in the end it was also love that enabled him to take his own life...a life that ended with dignity and love, rather than hatred and the corruptness. So basically a story about love conquering all.

I know you're wondering how love conquered all if the old guy still topped himself? He'd lived a full life, and now that he was at the end of it all, he was suffering from almost daily strokes, and slowly his mind was being corrupted from within. So a fairly dignified death, whilst he still had his faculties, was surely the better option.

I was talking to Maria the other day about novels, and we were comparing fantasy and sci-fi to romance novels, saying that basically they are just a bit of fluff and nonsense...but that they still had a role to play in literature simply because they filled a certain need within the reader. Now, I ought to qualify that statement by also stating that I like reading all of those genres...as much as I do crime, mystery or historical novels...I even throw in the odd classic, just so that I can roll about laughing at how badly written the trash is that I normally read.  That being said, all of those novels are purely written so that you can escape into a wonderous life that is not your own.

You may be seeking a true love, or a puzzle to solve, a quest to turn you into a hero or heroine, or some other impossible thing to make your world seem less real. At least that's generally what I do when I read. I want a world to immerse myself into, I'm not all that fussed with how badly it's written, as long as the lead is someone that I want to be. I feel much the same about movies or even tv. Perhaps that's a problem? That I'm too busy escaping from this world that I don't see the wonders around me?

A recent sci-fi I read was "The Host", and the aliens who'd taken over Earth and inhabited human bodies, had removed the violence from the world. They showed bland television programs, because nothing ever happened, and everyone was nice to each other, sport was played so fairly that for every goal that one team scored the opposing team was also allowed to score one. There was no drama left to write or talk about, but there was also a lack of passion. The few Earthling's who remained in control of their bodies, found tv too boring to watch...and the aliens to inhuman to relate to. The book was about the juxtaposition between the gain of society being so peaceful against the loss of passions that made us human. Eventually the humans won in a fashion...an alien who'd experienced the passion of a human who's mind would not be subdued, turned against her own kind opting to live as a human would.

I suppose that I am the alien, who choses to forgo the company of my own species, for that of a more exciting life in the make believe world. Perhaps I just feel so dead inside, that any opportunity to feel an extreme emotion, is like using electro shock panels upon my empty chest?

LOL, or perhaps I'm just a romantic, wanting to be swept off my feet and carried into a world more real than this one?
Kate

House not a home (a very depressed and teary rant)

I'm sick of my house not being mine...there are so many things about it that irritate me. Some of which I should just get to and fix myself, but I would just like some company while I'm working.

Some of which irritate me because I just don't like what's been chosen before me, and I can't justify the extra cost of turning into something I actually like.

Then there are all the things that I would like my space to have, which I can't have...which drives me up the wall. Personally i think i'd be happier in a shed, because then I could do whatever i wanted to the place an no-one would care, or have an opinion. I could put a wood stove in the kitchen because it's all one level. I could have no walls, or curtains to divide the space up...or maybe just movable walls for when I want to adjust things. Basically I want a blank space to create what I want not what other people think i should have, or what would work for them. 

I'm a little fed up with working from other peoples plans. I want some help doing what I want, not always helping other people do what they want.

Right, I'm angry and teary now. I'm fed up being pushed and pulled into what other people want, friends and family alike. It's hardly any wonder that I don't want to talk to or interact with anyone, when I feel like there is nothing that I do which achieves anything that I want. "Go to bed, get up now. Live your live this way, live your life that way. Come here, go there. Fill in this form. Look this way. No, it has to be my way." I'm sick of hearing all of that. If I could be different then I wouldn't be living here. Do any of you ever think that perhaps this isn't how I want my life??? That perhaps I'm doing the best I can with the crap that I have??? Don't any of you realise that given a different brain or set of circumstances, i'd be a long long way from Ballarat, and actually doing things that I love, rather than stuck here with crap, and a brain that doesn't work well enough for me to actually achieve anything that I've always dreamed of???

It makes me so angry and sad, that this is all I can look forward to...and that day after day I have to get up and smile and pretend that I like this life. I don't! If I was given the option of giving up the use of my arms or legs, just so that my brain would work right I'd do it in a heart beat. Frankly suicide is the easier option, than going through the motions pretending that this half life is ok. Certainly it would upset people if I wasn't here, but they'd get over it. But don't worry I'm not going to do anything which anyone else would consider a stupid option...because I'm still bloody well trying to please all of you! A quality that I hate about myself right now.

So please excuse me if I decide not to talk to anyone, I'm depressed and I have a damn good reason.

All I want to improve this crap is a space that is mine, and has a few simple things that can be salvaged from my dreams from how my life should have been.

Kate :(

Interlopers

I'm sick of sharing my house with interlopers.

All I want is to spend the next month or so without anyone sharing their opinion upon how I should live my life.

I don't want to feel obliged to talk to or feed anyone.

I don't want to listen to anyone whinge about how sick they feel.

If you're sick, go home to your mother because I don't want to know!

Oh and please don't tell me what I should watch or read...I'm old enough to make up my own mind!

As for telling me to go to bed...well you don't want to know where I want you to go!

Kate >:(

Being Erica

Hai hai,

Being Erica is a lovely Canadian show about  thirty-five year old woman who's life is full of dead ends. She enters into a agreement to participate in a radical new therapy to help her get her life back on track. The twist is that she gets to re-live days in her life, and see what changes if she acts to change the original outcome. Some things are able to be changed, others can't, and she needs to learn how to take the most from every situation...and learn that everything has consequences. 

The series starts out with Erica writing down all of her regrets. Which Doctor Tom then makes her re-live...forcing her to chose the same or different outcomes, and then live with the consequences.

So the point of this post was to ask this question that I found on the Being Erica website: If you could go back in time to any point in your life, what point would that be? Why would you choose that moment, and what might you do differently?

I have a heap of things that I'd probably do differently back in childhood...most of which centre around how socially awkward I am with peers. I would like to try talking to Dr Ziggy, way back when I was first diagnosed with depression, and try to get a more stable lifestyle sorted early on.

If we skip forward to young adult, I'd skip a couple of boyfriends, but add in a couple of others earlier on. Oh, I'd make the most of knowing people from other schools. Hmmm, and if possible I'd have stayed at school in Hamilton. I'd go to uni and study part time rather than full time...and hopefully finish that course. I'd also organise visas and work for while I was travelling in Europe.

I'd ride my horse more often, and keep up with hockey.

I'd make the most of revealing clothing, and feel good about my hair and figure.

I'd take back hurtful remarks which were only said to blend in with the crowd.

I wouldn't be afraid of being different or strong.

I would explain that I wanted to go to brownies and ballet so that I could see friends outside of school hours, not because I wanted to actually do those activites. I'd ask if I could call friends on the phone instead of assuming I wasn't allowed to use it. I'd organise sleep overs.

I'd be up front about hating public speaking, and not submitting homework which I thought was a waste of time. I'd be more insistent about studying latin rather than crap subjects like geography.

I'd say that I played the piano everyday, rather than let Gilly take it and sell it.

I would make Nonno write down a recipe for strudel, instead of letting him make piles of this and that. I like to follow a guide, even if eventually I substitute ingredients.

I would tell Nonno how much I was adding to the nest egg he'd given me.

I wouldn't just roll my eyes and go into another room when Nonno was telling me what to do...but ask him why instead, and perhaps even tell him my own thoughts on the subjects. LOL, although this would probably have hastened his thoughts that I'd defected from him.

I think I'd like to have asked Polly, Nonna and Nonno about their lives when they were younger.

I would like to have taunted Richard a little less.

Ok, i'm stopping there because I've just had a mood swing...and I'm not feeling all that pleasant.

It's almost funny but for most of this post I've been feeling happy and strong thinking about all the things I'd do differently. Yet when it came to thinking about Richard standing forlornly at my bedroom stairs, I hate that I put him through that...yet at the time it gave me a smug sense of power, which is why I repeated that weekend after weekend.

Kate

Shutter Island.

Hi ho,

Zak suggested that I watch shutter island, as it would be a movie that I would enjoy. :) He wasn't wrong. I was pulled right into the story (even if the acting was a little distracting at times).

This summary is from the IMDB website, which is where I look up all info on movies or TV programs. Shutter Island summary can be found here, as well as below.

• It's 1954, and up-and-coming U.S. marshal Teddy Daniels is assigned to investigate the disappearance of a patient from Boston's Shutter Island Ashecliffe Hospital. He's been pushing for an assignment on the island for personal reasons, but before long he wonders whether he hasn't been brought there as part of a twisted plot by hospital doctors whose radical treatments range from unethical to illegal to downright sinister. Teddy's shrewd investigating skills soon provide a promising lead, but the hospital refuses him access to records he suspects would break the case wide open. As a hurricane cuts off communication with the mainland, more dangerous criminals "escape" in the confusion, and the puzzling, improbable clues multiply, Teddy begins to doubt everything - his memory, his partner, even his own sanity.

The best bit however is the twist at the end, which I hope to not spoil for you.

Anyway, being a hospital for the criminally insane post WWII it's hardly an unusual propostition that you would see someone who is Manic-Depressive (BiPolar)...which of course you do. It got me wondering if Zak equated me with the Manic-Depressive in the movie, or if he hadn't connected the dots between A and B. Most likely he hasn't noticed the link. Which is quite sweet in a way...makes me feel that little bit more normal. LOL, on the other hand if he did link A and B, then I ought to feel quite insulted!

The BiPolar person isn't exhibiting symptoms aside from her psychotic break makes me wonder if Hollywood even bothers to research the illnesses they are trying to portray. It is however, quite obvious they seized upon the two illnesses that are well known to the public to help authenticate the Insane Asylum image. I suppose that I should be thankful I'm not Schizophrenic, as they were tared with the "I'm covered in my own filth" brush. So much for social media trying to educate the masses about mental illness.

So, back to me (lol, anyone would think it's all I ever talk about). Hmmm, I wonder if I could behave as calmly as the bipolar person did in the movie when they killed their family...I honestly doubt it. After having listened to the accounts of friends who have also dealt with BiPolar psychotic breaks, I doubt that any of them could say the same either. Usually there are lots of tears, shouting, rocking back and forth, clinging to loved ones begging them to stop the insanity...hardly any of which was evident in the movie version of a BiPolar break. Although I suppose since this scene was such a tiny part within the whole of the movie, I could cut them a little slack.

I suppose that if taken solely as a movie thriller, and not an accurate portrayal of mental illness (which is the position I ought to take) this movie captures exactly what Hollywood intended it to.  After all would people really want to go to the movies to see real life? 

Here's to the escapisim of movies, the knowledge that the good guys always win, Santa always arrives before the sun comes up, the funny guy gets the girl, kisses are accompanied by fireworks, and that everything is wrapped up in just over two hours.

Happy viewing!

Kate

For the love of deafies...

Hello,

This is a quick video post for all those like myself who are deaf enough to mis-hear every song and conversation.

Cheers Kate

Oh so in to cats (Fall Out Boy) - watch more funny videos

Death

Hello, 

I was just trawling through blogland, because Kelly suggested a link between Alice in Wonderland and bipolar, and of course that turned up a heap of bipolar blogs with people expressing their take on the subject.

Now this post isn't actually about Alice in Wonderland, although I may save that topic for another post down the line...this is about a video I saw on The Trouble with Spikol . Basically Spikol was talking about the allure of having a terminal illness since it would wrap up her life nicely, and that the way people view life and death is highly subjective due to their experiences.

Now here are my thought's on the subject:

I have never thought about wanting a terminal illness, but that is probably because I'm the daughter of a nurse...although I can certainly understand the appeal of it as it was described as "wrapping everything else up nicely". A huge benefit would be to surviving family, knowing that you hadn't taken your own life. Thereby circumventing all the ill feelings they would have to reconcile as they dealt with you actively choosing not to be in their lives any longer.

Now as you know, I'm fairly well medicated and live an almost stress free life so that my mood swings are mostly under control...but that doesn't mean that the very first thought 98% of my mornings isn't "I wish I was dead.". I've also lived though enough depressions now that I know that if I can make it through each day, eventually the depression will lift.

I joke about life with my family, and that I'm aiming to be 125 years old...they all think I'm crazy for wanting to be a decrepit old person for that long. However I look at it as make up time for all the crappy bit's that I haven't been able to live because I haven't been able to enjoy my life.

I have a Do Not Resucitate order known to my family if my brain or organs are damaged enough to not function for whatever reason. lol, but i'd also like to be stuffed with movable limbs, so that my family can keep me around forever.

So I suppose I'm stuck half wanting to be in this world and half not wanting to be here. I've done my best to limit the impact I have on the world, so that my ups and downs create as little mess as possible. I'm not having kids because that's unfair to them, although I love my neice and nephew to bits, and would miss them if they stopped coming to stay every week. All of which I've expressed many times before. I certainly try to live a full life within the limits I've set for myself. There are things I regret, but there have also been many unexpected pleasures that have resulted from the way I live.

So, Spikol has an ongoing thought in her head about how nicely things would be wrapped up if she were to die that way. Myself, I can't combobulate terminal illness as an answer for my life...the accompanying pain for a start throws up a flag, and has me asking do I really want to make things worse before they get better? Personally I can think of far more pleasurable ways to spend the last days of my life, and then round it all of with a quick death. That of course has me putting my own needs before others...Spikol's tidy death put's others needs before her own, but if you're going to go down that path then you may as well bite the bullet and keep on living. Which defeats the purpose of an early death.

I know that occasionally in the depths of a depression I've thought that everyone would be better off if I wasn't around, but the fact is I'd be depriving all the people I know of my wonderful presence. I have friends and family who actively seek to spend time with me, so therefore there must be something about me that they see as being beneficial to their lives. So, even if I can't see the point in me being here, they can...which I suppose is the ultimate reason for me still being around.

The only other reason, could be that there is something I'm meant to discover and share with the world, lol, but I hardly see that happening any time soon.

Hmmm, I wonder if I did discover something and spread the word about it, if I'd up sticks and die the next day? My purpose in the world having been fulfilled, and all that? I wonder how many people die thinking that? Maybe I should go and hang out in terminally ill wards, just so I can hear the pearls of wisdom that tidily wrap up other peoples lives. I may discover the meaning to the life the universe and everything. Although most of the nurses i've listened to in my life, probably wouldn't recommend that...and I can't say that they have any more answers than the rest of us.

Did you know that combobulate isn't really a word? Discombobulate is, but apparently it came about fully formed. It's derived from words akin to discomposed, discomfit and other words of like. Although combobulate could make it into the english lexicon, if enough people were to use it...such is the beauty of the english language.

Yet again I've waffled on and off topic, as is my wont. So I'll leave it at that...and prepare the easter egg hunt for the kids in the morning (well in a couple of hours time actually).

Cheerio,

Kate

Anti-war ditty vs welcome home ditty.

Hello!

Well, I discovered this song when I was looking for the lyrics to 'When Johnny comes marching home' (which found myself humming as I was playing games on facebook). It's an older song to the same tune, and luckily for me I discovered Bob Dylan singing it...which makes so much sense when you consider the times and politics Bob would have held at the time he recorded it, since it's an anti-war/anti-recruiting song.

Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye - written in the early 1800's

While goin' the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo
While goin' the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo
While goin' the road to sweet Athy
A stick in me hand and a drop in me eye
A doleful damsel I heard cry,
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Chorus:
With your drums and guns and drums and guns, hurroo, hurroo
With your drums and guns and drums and guns, hurroo, hurroo
With your drums and guns and drums and guns
The enemy nearly slew ye
Oh my darling dear, Ye look so queer
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Where are your eyes that were so mild, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your eyes that were so mild, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your eyes that were so mild
When my heart you so beguiled
Why did ye run from me and the child
Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

Where are your legs that used to run, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your legs that used to run, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your legs that used to run
When you went for to carry a gun
Indeed your dancing days are done
Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

I'm happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo
I'm happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo
I'm happy for to see ye home
All from the island of Sulloon
So low in flesh, so high in bone
Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Ye haven't an arm, ye haven't a leg, hurroo, hurroo
Ye haven't an arm, ye haven't a leg, hurroo, hurroo
Ye haven't an arm, ye haven't a leg
Ye're an armless, boneless, chickenless egg
Ye'll have to put with a bowl out to beg
Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

They're rolling out the guns again, hurroo, hurroo
They're rolling out the guns again, hurroo, hurroo
They're rolling out the guns again
But they never will take our sons again
No they never will take our sons again
Johnny I'm swearing to ye.

Basically it's about Irish conscripts who went to fight in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) for the British East India Company, and the devastation to the families back home who weren't returned whole men. Thus serving a reminder to all young lads who were off to seek adventure, that they weren't guaranteed a life free from harm, or a body capable of work when they returned home.

Now when you compare this song to When Johnny Comes Marching Home, by Patrick Gilmore, you get quite a different sense of war. It is more a song of triumph and welcoming. Never mentioning what could happen to the men's bodies during the American Civil War, but rather celebrating the fact they've made it home. I'm sure many a family of the time wished this about their sons, fathers, brothers, uncles and nephews...it must have been a bitter pill to swallow for all those who had loved ones who never returned, or rued the day that their men were crippled. It's a song quite filled with the hope of seeing everyone return home safe and sound (which is why I often sing it to myself). I certainly feel it's an odd juxtaposition between the songs. One warning of the dangers of war, whilst the other celebrates the returning of soldiers in such a triumphant manner that it almost causes you to forget the dangers in participating in battles.

Just for comparison here are the words by Patrick Gilmore written in 1862.

When Johnny comes marching home again 
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
The old church bell will peal with joy
Hurrah! Hurrah!
To welcome home our darling boy,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The village lads and lassies say
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
Get ready for the Jubilee,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll drink him a toast or two or three,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The laurel wreath is ready now
To place upon his loyal brow
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.
Let love and friendship on that day,
Hurrah, hurrah!
Their choicest pleasures then display,
Hurrah, hurrah!
And let each one perform some part,
To fill with joy the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home.

Now that I've heard the earlier song, I think I'll sing it's words instead, as it surely reflects my own opinions of war more succinctly.

Kate

An Irish Blessing...and only one day late.

I know that yesterday was St. Patrick's day, but I didn't really feel the need to say anything about it until I saw a partial poem on facebook.

It was of this traditional blessing:

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May God be with you and bless you:
May you see your children's children.
May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home
And may the hand of a friend always be near.

May green be the grass you walk on,
May blue be the skies above you,
May pure be the joys that surround you,
May true be the hearts that love you.

Oh and while I'm at it I'll include this nice little poem about death:

Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the star shine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I do not die.

I have a feeling the last one was read out at Nonna's funeral...but I can't honestly recall because I was so lost in missing her.

Either way, neither have anything much to do with St. Patrick, and not being Irish Catholic, all I can say about him is that I think his legend goes along the line; When he brought Christianity to Ireland, he also drove out all the snakes ridding the isle of those devilish beasties. Which I'm sure you'll agree is a long way from the beer swilling day of green faces that we associate him with today.

If you were drinking yesterday I hope you enjoyed your pints, and are not feeling green this morning.

Hooroo, Kate

Kittens

Hi everyone, 

I just found this posted on a random blog and it amused me so much I've decided to repost it for all of you. I love the mother cat followed by the kitten comment. In another shot, the stage directions for the camera operator and following sound effects are pretty funny. 

Have a giggle, go on, you know you want to!

Kate

Edited 19th March:

I just watched this again and had to comment that the pornstar music for the kitty is a little disturbing, lol. I hope she heard it on that dodgy deodorant ad...cause that would be truely freaky otherwise!