Morning, night ....

Two simple words. They used to mean a lot to me. It was nice to wake up in the morning and read the email that said 'night'. And then, later on, when you finally woke up - to get the one that said 'morning'. Once, long ago, when we fell out - as we did with such regularity - I asked you to at least keep sending me those mails. It was nice to know you were there, even if we'd stopped any other communication. We didn't fall out for long though, you always made me laugh and whatever it was got put behind us. (Well, most of the time). But things always change, and so they did with us. Our disagreements and fall-outs seemed to become more serious. The unpleasant words we exchanged were cruel and unkind - on both sides. Worse, it felt as though we both meant what we wrote. Innocent comments were misinterpreted. We both looked for, and found, insults and sarcasm where it was never intended. And when, in the early days, it was always me who stormed off in a huff, increasingly you started to say you didn't want to continue. Then there was the time when you said it would have to be something big for you to stop keeping in touch - but you didn't know what that was. Me, I just said I thought we would fizzle out really with too many arguments. What was it about that last day? Or that last week even? I don't know. But you ridiculed something I liked - the morning greeting. And then you ridiculed me. That last insult from you was truly disgusting. If it was remotely accurate then it was grossly insensitive to have said it. If it wasn't then it was still abusive and disrespectful to people who have to cope with a horrible illness. Every other time we have fallen out I always had regrets, maybe not the first or the second day, but in the end I liked to remember the good times. There is so much sadness and unpleasantness around that it seems silly to fall out with someone you like. The truth is that this time though, I am left with a nasty smell under my nose. You obviously had no intention of ever getting in touch again. But you could have done it in a less obnoxious way. It's not been too good a year. And on top of all the important damaging problems I've had, I believed someone's empty and meaningless words. Day 1, Week 3.

Clouds moving on

The title says it all really. Time for a change, so I am leaving this blog up, and starting a new one elsewhere. Thanks to all those who have read and commented. I have taken off the comment option, so it is now read-only. Out of interest, the post I wrote that seemed to get the most hits was the one about what to call someone who chairs a meeting. Hope it informed some people out there. Happy 2010.

Miss World - beauty parades are so nice for women :)

Miss World. Where to start? Easy really. 1) This is about objectifying women and 'judging' them in terms of their physical appearance. Naturally, this appearance basically has to fall into line with what men find attractive, or what society (ie men) currently deem to be the acceptable standard. This therefore involves tall, slim, leggy, long haired (obviously from the head - all other areas to be dutifully shaved), slightly - but not too much - curvaceous women. Oh hell! And young. I forgot that one didn't I? Gotta be young to be in there for the win. 2) The bit with Miss World about extra skills, personality and all the rest of it is rubbish. This is still about judging women on their appearance. In case anyone hasn't got the message - pretty face, nice eyes, lovely smile, long sexy hair, firm breasts of a good but not too large size, slim waist, and fit arse. Cattle market? 3) Don't bother arguing about Mr Universe - I'm really not interested. If you come out with that crap, you really have no idea what this post is about. 4) While ever women are valued, judged, and praised on their looks, all that is happening is that we are continuing to perpetuate this patriarchal society where women are no more than a token part of some arsehole's harem. A pretty possession. Don't bother telling me it is their choice to join in, and how much they get out of it. Women do this because they haven't woken up to the fact that they are being ripped off, fucked over, and generally being pissed on. They are buying into the world. A man's world. 5) And as for Peter Caruana - reported by the Gib Chron to have said: He told her that no one had ever made Gibraltar prouder and congratulated on behalf of all the people. Get real Caruana. This is a particularly insignificant event in the world. No discredit to Ms Aldorino but this whole farce demeans women. And you say that no-one has ever made Gibraltar prouder than a woman who has won Miss World?

Just another addiction ......

Computer games. I used to be amazed at the amount of people playing crazy games on the internet. When I joined Facebook it seemed to be full of posts about people moving up in Mafia Wars, or Vampire Wars. Do these people have nothing better to do, I pondered somewhat bemusedly. I never grew up in the computer games era, or even the computer era, so found all this totally bizarre. Aimlessly I clicked on one of my FB friend's requests for 'neighbours' in some game. FarmVille. Oooh, I could build my own little farm, didn't need to get my hands dirty, and could grow the prettiest crops. No problems with pests, or lack of water, or a bad crop. I could have my animals too, and a dear little cottage. I was hooked. I also wanted to gain the points. But why? I even looked at Mafia Wars and Pirates. Café World was a no-no. The first three dishes were onion soup, bacon sandwich and a burger. Once I had made the onion soup I lost interest. I do not want to be told what to cook. I started a Happy Aquarium, even though I don't really agree with keeping fish in tanks... They were very pretty. And there is Fish World, and naturally - FishVille. Oh and Island Paradise. And Robin Hood. And Roller Coaster Something. There may be others too where I still have a dormant presence. (Note, I am still on my idyllic island...) The truth is, that if other people need 'friends' to move up in the games, that's fine by me, but I don't have to play. Happy to be a sleeping non-participant. So what on earth is the attraction with the continual clicking of a mouse/trackpad to see points pointing up? Mindless? Well, in my opinion yes (and don't forget I am doing it). Escapism - without a doubt. Living a fantasy life as Robin Hood, or a Pirate, or a Mega Mafia Mobster. But the one that really seems to be on a winner, is Farmville. And Farmtown. I should say at this point I don't like the graphics on FT and I hate the unnecessary clicks to sell produce. Hence I have relapsed to an orchard where the fruit never goes off. It's the fantasy idea that we all dream of though. That little place in the country that is so easy to maintain, live off the land, and have a modest, but perfectly comfortable house. And for those of us who tend to be somewhat anal, we can lay out our farms perfectly, colour co-ordinate them. We can play the games to get more money, more points, more awards, more mastery signs - whatever we choose. At no risk. Nothing further from real life. I never watched soap operas until I hit on some bizarre production called Sunset Beach. It was too unreal to be true and a total load of rubbish - but the unreality of it was what made it entertaining. I watched soaps in Spain too - mainly because it was an easy way of learning the language. But for the most part, what are soaps? Mindless unreal escapism. Just like some of the adventure films/serials where the hero struggles against all manner of perils and always, just always, wins out. Computer games? No different. Mindless, unreal, escapism. A different screen, a different distraction. Heaven forbid we all go back to speaking to each other again - or even worse, reading books, and thinking. (For the record, Level 32 on FarmVille with 65,000+ points, and the fuck off biggest farm at 22x22).

Mobile 'phones and APNs

When I ring up my mobile 'phone company and ask if they have changed the APN (which apparently stands for Access Point Name) I expect them to give me the correct information. If, for some reason, they decide to change it, it would be helpful to let me know. In fact it might explain why I am unable to get hold of the internet from my 'phone when it changes from .net to .com. Thank you Gibtelecom. Good one.

Films

I've watched a couple of films recently that perfectly exemplify the concept - or rather use/abuse - of women as sex objects. No not 'sex symbols', or people, or anything else. Objects. The first one was nauseating. Described as 'a stylish and brutal glimpse into the intense violent underbelly of a ruthless underworld where the mob boss rules with an iron fist'. (slightly adapted.) The blurb went on to say.. 'In an empire of fast cars, upscale drugs, and expensive women, money is god but power and money alone can never buy trust...' Upscale drugs? Is that another word for expensive? Sort of like 'top end'? Anyway, I digress. I should have been tipped off by the term 'expensive women.' What does that signify? Well, it signifies that the women in this film, have expensive tastes, presumably in jewellery, champagne, clothes, etc etc etc. But more to the point, it signifies that these women are bought. Purchased. Possessions. Objects. They sell themselves without even realising it. Not just their bodies, their independence, their freedom, their volition. In some cases their lives. Once the women are involved with these nasty, obnoxious, violent, abusive, immoral, murdering, raping, so-called pieces of humanity - they have sold their souls. They are no longer treated as people, as sentient beings who merit respect. They are literally objectified. They are passed around like a bottle of beer or a communal joint. "Hey want a beer? Hey want to fuck her?' There is no difference between sharing the beers or the women. Who cares what the women think or feel? One of the head thugs abuses his wife for not producing a boy. Naturally it is her fault that she produces girls not boys. It is her fault for having two X chromosomes and not his failure, despite having the determining Y chromosome. It goes without saying there is no fidelity within relationships. The same murderous thug is at some club with his mates and a few of their sex objects and some young woman is suddenly thrust into the scene. Apparently she wants to work at one of the brothels they run, so naturally he takes her into the toilet to fuck her and decide if she is good enough. She wasn't. He brought her back and dismissed her with a few derisory comments about her lack of ability to perform/please/gyrate sufficiently. I watched it in the hopes it might get better. It didn't. It certainly wasn't stylish and it was extremely offensive and disgusting. Onto film number two. Naturally this again featured women in their essential role in life as sex objects aka prostitutes. A couple of American teenagers were kidnapped by an eastern European gang to become part of their prostitution network. Obviously this involved turning the women into drug addicts by imprisoning them and forcibly injecting them with heroin. The backdrop for this was some filthy sleazy hovel where all the women were chained to beds while they were undergoing the addiction process. Top tough American father managed to rescue his daughter, just after she had gone on parade on the internet to be sold as a virgin. Despite looking totally off her head. Some different messages here. Man as abuser. But also man as saviour, hero, protector. We women just can't do without that type of man, can we? Or can we? Ironically both films were set in Europe (with the exception of a few scenes in the second film). Is Europe the hotbed of rape, prostitution, and abuse? Both films also included scenes where women were shot to make a point. In the first, an Eastern European woman was killed as a token gesture to frighten all the others who were being exported for prostitution. (Again, she hadn't made the cut). In the second, the 'hero' shot a former colleague's wife as a negotiating point. 'It's only a flesh wound,' he said, as the woman lay there on the floor terrified out of her mind. Yeah right. 'And the next will be between the eyes if I don't get what I want.' Some hero eh? Looking after women, saving prostitutes, and shooting his former colleague's wife - who had incidentally, welcomed him into the family home, invited him to dinner etc etc. Before I posted this I thought I would check out the reviews. Naturally the second one was described as a good, hard-hitting action film with a strong performance by the leading (male, of course) character. Did the reviews mention the horrific abduction, rape, drug addiction, forced prostitution of the women? Well, they did mention the terrible drilling of the knee enforced on one man. Not for the squeamish apparently. Onto the first film. Seems this one also got some rather good reviews because of its tough action. And that's what matters. Isn't it? Here is a quote from one review: It features gangsters 'trying out' prostitutes, raping people with pool queues and calmly executing east European prostitutes as an example to those that are being loaded onto trucks for export. It also comes very close to being misogynistic. Were it not for Claude's wife Beatrice being the only character with a shred of humanity and empathy, it would be easy to slate this film's depiction of women as violently misogynistic. This is a film that lacks a story, lacks proper characterisation and presents a form of 'realism' that is utterly contrived. But despite this lack of bottom it is an amusing way to spend a couple of hours as it is never dull. Very close to being violently misogynistic? Dear me, what dictionary are you using? Now, for the benefit of the dull ones out there - one redeeming female character does NOT, I repeat NOT, counteract all the total abuse and violence against women from men in this film. Where is this reviewer coming from? Secondly, watching women (and men) being raped and murdered is not an amusing way to spend a couple of hours. Amusing implies funny, entertaining. This film was neither of those. I haven't named either of these two films as I have no desire to publicise them. I daresay anyone interested enough will be able to find them anyway. And while ever crap films like these are justified as amusing, entertaining, action-packed - and the rape/murder/abduction/abuse of women is barely mentioned - women will continue to be seen and treated as sex objects. Because they are just films aren't they? This sort of thing doesn't happen in real life? Does it?

Solitude - a post script

Just to prove I am not occasionally averse to speaking to people... On Sunday we went for a walk up the Rock. It's always handy having a nature reserve with spectacular views five minutes walk away up the back streets. Being a Sunday it was pretty busy with tourists all gazing in fascination at the monkeys. On the way back down we bumped into some Spaniards, who it seemed had got the cable car to the top, and were now walking back down so they asked us if they were going the right way. We said yes, and started chatting with them about their day out and trip up the Rock. They had obviously enjoyed themselves - even though one woman was horrified at the height and the steepness of the Rock, plus the interminable steps on the way down from the top. We were laughing and joking as she said that she hadn't realised she was going on a hiking expedition and that she had lost at least 20 kilos - which she said she wanted to lose anyway. So we wandered down together in a loose group, sometimes talking together in Spanish, and sometimes we chatted on our own in English, while they spoke to each other in Spanish. There was no obligation to keep speaking to each other. And that's the advantage of meeting strangers, and walking in a group. You can talk when you want, and be quiet when you want too. Sort of like living in a city. Surrounded by people but so easy to keep your own sense of privacy.

Solitude

The other day I bumped into someone I know who lives nearby. I know them well enough to stand around chatting to. It turned out we were going in the same direction. My heart sank. I did not want to spend 20 minutes trying to think of some banal chitchat to pass the time while we walked together. I didn't say where I was going. I watched them disappear off, and promptly took a different route. Phew. I dragged my feet - but our paths almost coincided somewhat later when they came into view. I skipped off in yet another different direction. Another narrow escape from forced conversation. Some months ago, one of my partner's former workmates spotted me in the high street and started chattering away as though I was his long-lost best friend. FFS. I had only ever said hello to this guy once or twice before! I expected him to go about his business, but no, he accompanied me all the way up the street until he arrived at his destination. As he was such a chatterbox, it wasn't too difficult to mutter the appropriate grunts and monosyllabic responses in the right places. When I mentioned this strange encounter to my partner, he smiled and said; 'Oh, but he would just be trying to bum a tab.' I thought back, and indeed, the first topic of conversation after the initial greetings, was whether or not I smoked. Which I don't. But by then he was committed, and would have lost face to clear off into the crowd. So he tagged along merrily at my side, prattling about this and that. Five or ten minutes up the high street was just about tolerable. Any longer than that is not. When I am walking somewhere, I like to be alone. With my own thoughts, and to walk at my own pace, and to look around, and enjoy my surroundings - architecture, landscape, people-watching, noticing any changes happening in my local environment, whatever. I do not want to have to think of what to say next. I like my own space. And I enjoy walking on my own. Sometimes I think about how to solve problems, sometimes I think about what to cook for the next meal, and sometimes I just look around - appreciating life. A chance encounter is fine, and I'm happy to exchange a few words. And then resume my journey. Because that's life in a way. A journey that you make on your own, with, if you are lucky, a few fortunate encounters on the way.

Dogs bite......

Overheard walking up the high street. 'Now you mustn't touch dogs again, because they bite strangers.....' Well that's a great way to instill fear of dogs into a child. Not for a minute do I agree with some nervous noisy child waving its arms around and sticking its fingers into Fido's ears, eyes, nose, mouth, prodding him/her or pulling Fido's ears/tail. I doubt my incredibly placid dog would bite at all that but never mind him, I certainly would. But there is a happy medium. What on earth is wrong with teaching respect - both for the dog and the person with them. How about saying to the child that it would be a good idea to ask: 'May I stroke Fido? Is that ok?' You could follow that up with saying that it is always polite to ask, as the dog lives with someone else and it is important to get their permission blah blah blah..... That way no-one is upset. If Fido doesn't like children or people of any type(and I can often see why), a simple no is easy enough. 'No, Fido doesn't like that.' Or 'Yes, that's fine, give Fido a gentle pat/stroke on the head, shoulders, (wherever Fido is happy). Fido likes children/adults/everything except cats.' Telling children that all dogs bite strangers is plain wrong, and it leads to the sort of behaviour that I have seen. Children go running around the dog screaming and yelling because the dog is a frightening monster. Or worse. Maybe they throw stones and victimise the dog because they want to prove they are not frightened and that the dog won't dare bite them. Stupid over-protective irrational parent. And the child was looking very upset at being told off for doing something wrong. I felt for that child and wondered if she will grow up with all her parents' prejudices as a result of their flawed and thoughtless teachings.

Offensive quotes

Spotted on the internet today...

"vegetarians? your as bad as them pakis and sambos!"

"a neighbour gavw me £15 for chopping some of her bush...i mean apple tree"

"You must be one of them gayers. One of them vegetarian gayers.... "

Gosh. It always amazes me how funny it is to insult
a) vegetarians,
b) people of Pakistani origin,
c) black people whether of Afro-Caribbean ancestry, or African, or American African, or anyone black in the UK, or just anyone who is not white,
d) women and their pubic hair,
e) gays.

Depressing. :(

Edited to add:
1) All spelling errors are attributed to the original posters.
2) These quotes come courtesy of Nigel who used to look at a forum. He has now stopped.
3) Why do people feel the need to write offensive, hateful, obnoxious language that quite frankly could be classed as inciting racial violence? Let alone victimising vegetarians and gays and taking the piss out of women who have pubic hair.

Note to self. Check out whether men have pubic hair too. And whether or not they chop their bushes. Yawn. (Irony for anyone who hasn't worked this out). No, these comments are not funny or witty. They are unacceptable and so are the people who post such comments on forums.