Life

Life.
It is for living.
It is full of situations. Each situation can be seen as challenging or to be avoided, or as rewarding, or as difficult, tough, hard, fun and a plethora of other words. I have no doubt however that it is not meant to pass us by.

When we are old and grey and look back on our time on this planet, there must be signs of interaction with others, signs of achievement, signs of being here.
There must be signs that all has not been taken for granted and that all that has been has not been in vain.

Perhaps this is just how I, a man, neither young nor old make sense of my existence.

I was perhaps follisome in my youth. I was certainly naieve. I have a sense of something that for me is a 'right way' of  being with others and often I have suffered for it. You see motives are never entirely pure. My motives of looking after others are surely in a small way, motivated by a fear of being abandoned or having no one around. I have learned in my time here in this place, that different cultures, interpret human kindness in different ways. Many here interpret it as something to take advantage of. That has nothing to do with the place. It's everything to do with the type of people that are attracted to being here however.
I am  always right. I am never wrong either. In the great energy system that is the human race, I like everyone else, am susceptible to energies. When I postulate an argument I am right, all of us are. This point of view if you like, is valid because it exists and therefore cannot be wrong. It is an energy in itself. It might not be apt for the situation but it is not wrong in the scale of the universe.
I can ignore energies if I wish, as many do, and close down, which I believe leads to illness. I can meet energies head on which can with unawareness lead to issues,  or I can weigh each one up and decide for itself and myself how to react in the most healthy way possible.

How difficult to write about a concept when I know that each and every word could be interpreted differently to the way I intend it to be. My way of dealing with other energies has become more and more to meet them head on. What has changed from my youth is the awareness of my own reaction to energies and synergies. Sometimes I wonder am I more .....in tune with the reality of what is happening. I notice lately I am encountering situations that are mirroring my beliefs. Up to this point at this phase of my life, I  have meet a lot of energies that were counter to my beliefs. Now I am being affirmed. Now, it is no longer the same belief system or  perhaps it's better expressed by saying my belief system has adjusted itself, been tempered and refined. I am still afraid of things I call challenges but I have learned if I don't stand up face to face and look them in the eye....( what does that mean? ) If  I don't take responsibility for myself then I can't blame anyone else for my happiness or un-happiness. The buck stops here so to speak. This goes for everything from my expanding waste line, to my lack of real writing, to my job search, to my romance, to my sense of self and well being.

I have a friend who's Gospel is 'all we have is projection'. I understand this but disagree strongly with it. For in a balanced universe of Gravity and Flight, black and white, good and evil, day and night, if there is projection then there is reception. Reception or receptiveness to energy is I believe a big part of who I am. I read something today about the doing. Stop the bitching, the excuses, the explanations, the reasons, just do it. In other words my writing career that I have long abandoned for moaning about the French or keeping fit, or drinking wine, or spending time playing games on the computer, or whatever, will never happen if I don't make choices. I must learn to channel the energy into the place it will give me most satisfaction. I am like a Nuclear reactor but I am only being used to light a 40 w light bulb in the storage room at the back of my brain. I have so much potential and it has to start somewhere. It's up to me to be receptive to this energy.

France V Ireland I am changing Razors

Being home in Ireland was great fun. It was a great recharge of the batteries.
Last night I was in a bar in the Nice. Ireland were in the second part of a 2 legged playoff in Paris.
If they won they would qualify for the world cup.  I was completely alone giving it loads surrounded by 50 french people in an Irish bar.  We scored and got extra time.
We lost to a goal that was against the rule of play on 2 counts, Offside and Handball.
Irish people today are up in arms.
The world is calling the French cheaters.
FIFA have actually blocked comments on the match report on their website.
Whatever about it being a game and passions running high, to block the right to free speech smacks of cowardice and distinc lack of impartiality and honour.

It is true Ireland outplayed the French but they didn't take their chances and they should have done. So I won't come up with conspiracy theories. We could have won the match had we scored.
It's sad to see that the values of high Morals have been cast completely aside in this day and age in the pursuit of profit. It's sad to see a governing body block free speech. It's sad to see a professional footballer cheat and not be able to admit it. It's sad that the professionals who are responsible weren't up to the task.
I have a friend called Gillette, she is the best a guy could get I believe. The guy who committed the foul last night is Gillette's poster boy, the company that is, not my friend's. So while Gillette my friend will always be the best a man can get, I will changing brands to shave. Never again will that brand cross my door till they drop poster boy for cheating.

Ka Ching,

No, I am not writing about some Chinese philosophy.

 I am writing about the hibernation I have been in since I was about 6 years old and first played with the idea of living a life of poverty and prayer to lord god in heaven. Declothed of that wonderful illusion around the age of 26 having spent a year and a half in organised religious life, and many years previously in disorganised religious life, I set out on a path of trying to make my life work.

In short the good brothers were uncomfortable with my taking it all so seriously and to the letter of the law, and of really putting it up to them, and they sort of moved me sideways and out the door, quite quickly in fact.

So began a life of study and creativity. For the first time in my adult life, I actually found myself with a group of people in University with whom I had little or no empathy. Consider if you will a 27 year old with a penchant for detachement trying to have a conversation with an 18 year old child of an upper class family, who's only interest in life is where the next 42 screaming orgasms and whisky chasers are comming from. The source of finance for the cocktail drinking life was usually mother or father, in the detached house on 12 acres up the north west somewhere. The cash was obtained by lying about some obscure course in languages that was absloutly necessary for this grade A student and model of Irish Citizenry.

Then once I was qualified so to speak, and with a very complicated love life, I banged around film and T.V studios and sets. Nothing permanent but all good clean and healthy fun. Never earning a huge amount of money either but slowly building a reputation as a reliable team working, non complaining, likeable bloke. In the film business this means you get hired. In Ireland the film buisness how ever isn't as prolific as other countries, and I was still broke.

I said it didn't I. Anyway, when boy came along it was time to get serious and get a steady income. I moved into IT after a dodgy bar job here or there. As luck would have it, I got a lovely number programming for airlines. I got trained up, did ok, got married and then that Sep 11th attack happened.

The day we all lost our jobs someone rang me up to see would I be an emergency teacher of english to a bunch of kids in rough part of town. Hell Yeah. I lasted 2 years teaching part time, there was a down turn in the economy. I had a young child marriage problems, confidence problems, goal issues, and my wife wanted to go home. I had also finally found my way into a political party that I had been trying to get into for about 2 years, I had produced and directed my own play without a loss financially, I had almost completed a course in psychology, but as usual these things are for the middle classes, and I wasn't, so finance and pressure from my partner I gave it all up. So we came to France.

I started after a year to teach english, just as my marriage fell apart. Then I got into I.T and being the sort of guy I am I had no idea of salary.

Now 4 or 5 years later I do. It's like just before my operation something went Ka Ching, or is ker chaing, anyway the penny, about 6 million of them in fact dropped.

If our dreams are ever going to come through, it's time, beyond time in fact, but better late than never, to get up off of my rear end and make it happen.

Who knows by the end of the year instead of stressing out at  the end of each month because I am overdrawn and then the bank charging me more money, and so a sticky downward spiral begins and gets deeper, I might just be able to come home from a meeting someday and look at lover at say .......Ka CHING.

I might sound sad, but I am just nervous as hell and pretty excited about the future.......ker ching!

(Image courtesy of : http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01431/euros-cash_1431091c.jpg )

Health

My arms feel like rubber. I feel like I am one of those nodding dogs. You know when I was 7 years old my parents went to the U.S.A. They brought me back an alabaster football player with a spring for a neck. It was fun. I think he had a red jersey, touch his head it would bobble up and down. Touch mine it will just fall forward.
I got the xrays back too. So here is another question. Anyone interested in seeing what they did to me on the inside?
Booboo is ill. She has rhynolaryingitus.....I haven't a clue how to spell it and I am too feeble to bother looking. She is a trooper but gosh it's a heart breaker to see her so ill.

Recovery

I am feeling a lot better. I have much less pain. The pain is more localised. Last night I slept a bit better but it was still 3am before I dozed off.
I will probably go back to work near the end of the month. Lover lost her job the day I was operated and it's an anxious time for us. I try to stay focused on the positive, on moving forward. I try to make it happen for me in a way. Not easy when I am not so lucid and I don't have much focus. I go to rehabilitation every day. My fitness before this issue, and the fact I am doing what I was told to do, seem to be helping me heal quicker than expected.
So it's all good news.
We go to Ireland for Halloween, just 5 days. I am so looking forward to being on my feet, seeing family and friends, feeling my ancestors, smelling the rain, feeling the wind....and 5 days of that will be enough to take the edge of the longing :-). I would murder a pint of Guinness.
So anyone thinking of me out there, I am fine. Getting to where I am supposed to be. Now if I can only find a way to have a lot more money life would be darn near perfect ......

Giving you what you asked for :-)

This is for you spooky people out there who said post the photo. I feel a bit odd about doing it but what the heck might help someone if they have to go through the same thing. So here is some factual information. All that red stuff is a sterilising fluid not blood. There is no blood but lots of bruising, all that stuff that looks yellow well it is, and blue and black and whatever.

I am better than I was when that photo was taken. I spend most of my 24 hours a day between sleep and awake...neither one or the other. Lover is looking after me so patiently and putting up with my extremely bizarre mood swings due to the funny meds they had me taking. I am in a lot of pain but it has dulled a lot. I don't really have any strength to speak of. I am loosing my almost 6 pack belly by the day. I don't have the strength to lift my arms above my head.  I have something weird going on in my throat probably the stitches...I hope so, otherwise I might have another problem. I am not tasting blood anymore which is good.
The cut is a good one, the scar won't be hugely noticeable I think. My left arm and hand are numb/pins and needles still, but immproving. This just has to be the last health issue I have. There is a life to be getting busy with.
Perhaps it's telling me slow down, but honestly if I was any slower I would be going backwards...Actually I am going backwards on the sports front. But hey. I am undergoing physio and all will be well.
Thank you all for your words of encouragement. Already I am getting flaky again and very sore so I have to stop writing and post.

Ouch

I am okay. I am in some pain. I am back home. I shouldn't be sitting here at the computer. So I am off back to bed. Thanks for all your well wishes...
Would it too yucky to post up a photo of me post op?
Thinking of you who are thinking of me, and wishing we could have a drink together and a chat....
Now back to recovery.

Ode to an Op

Sometimes when I write here, I avoid the deeply personal. I don't want people to get hurt and too many people who know both of us in my couple read this blog so it's not really fair. However this time I can go deeper because it is just about me. Yes I am going to roll like a hippo in the mud in my own feelings and splay them like a prostitutes' legs over the page for you to read.

My sugical procedure is standard. 

Lots of people get it done. 

I will feel better after it. 

This is the three line mantra that suburban buddists have been repeating at me for the last 48 hours.
This Haku of Health is supposed to make me feel good and positive and have me practically bounding into the hospital as if I was on a can of rubber red bull with a good dose of speed, and completely relaxed and content to undergo the operation that will change my poor sad sorry life............STOP RIGHT THERE BUDDY.

They are going to put me to sleep
They are going to slit my throat open. 
Pull the opening apart reach in a take out a disc that stops two vertebrae rubbing together that is incidently around my spinal cord. 
They are then somehow going to put in a fake one. 
Stitch me up
wake me up 
Send me home.


That probably doesn't pass for a sonnet but lets call it an Ode to an Op.

I happen to enjoy life at the moment and this is becomming a slight inconvienience. The other inconvienience is they took away the spell checker on this thing and I am too impatient to read through it properly. (Besides I am not getting paid for doing this, hence the sloppy work).

The surgeon told me not to stress out. I told him what was stressing me out was the fact I was getting stressed. I have grown up around hospitals, I have watched people pass away. I have laid out dead bodies.
However I don't like other peoples fingers in my body. No not even my lover gets to put fingers where some men really appreciate it.

I just don't like foreign bodies in me. ( I am not being racist here). I have seen E.R. worse still I have seen Dr. Greg House. I preferred Hugh Lawrie when he was a comedy duo with that other brilliant routound actor who played Wilde in the film of the same name. [House has got so formulaic, as to be completely predictable, except for the brain anurism that is caused during a routine chest X Ray because the patient forgot to tell one House's minions he took honey with his coffee and not sugar in his tea. Some deadly nightshade flower had been visited by a bee who made the honey, hence the complication. ]

Anyway my surgeon is nothing like him. I am a little anxious because it's all in French. My flow doesn't flow. I am not quick enough with the questions. I am thinking too much. I mean today I asked what I should bring with me. When I reflected I thought it was probably self evident. 

I didn't sign the paper they gave me before the visit to the anestheseologist. The paper said everything had been explained and I had asked all the questions necessary. So I didn't sign it. Then he didn't actually explain anything either just ask me a lot of questions. So it stayed unsigned. They didn't notice.

I am nervous. I am mostly nervous about the cutting, the bleeding the stitching. So let it be known in case I don't stop bleeding till all 8 pints have run out of me, or I never wake up,  or my honey intake causes some unforseen complication; let it be known that all my worldly possessions go to my two children and until they are 18 to my Lover who for privacy purposes will remain namless here. But if you find me on face book you will find her.
I am a little nervous about the putting me to sleep.
I am slightly anxious about visitors if anyone will come or not.
I am pissed that I won't get to see my son before during or after.
I am a tad nervous I wont wake up. Just somewhere at the back of my mind, there is just a little itch that this could be it.  It isn't it, but it's a possibility, a slighter bigger or slightly more recognisable one than crossing a busy street .........but nonetheless a risk.

No I don't know I will be fine, there is no one reassuring me on a professional basis and I can't tell the future.
So once more as I apt to do here,  like an English King with a hard on for the battle, I throw myself into the breach.. For mine own glory. I will have a scar I suppose that I can tell tall tales about when I recover.
But just on the off chance I don't get the chance to say goodbye and that I love you. Well you know I do. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. I will be less of a man. less of this man when I come out but I will also have a little extra. Perhaps that is something to look forward to. Being a little bit more special than I am already.
Wish me well.

Proof that excercise works...

So this is the difference that 100 days makes, or a summer. At the start of June I started a work out. I started because I needed to build strength so I wouldn't get hurt like I did last year, and end up totally incapacitated for a few weeks, and not be able to do any sports for a few months.... This is the result of my efforts.

 BEFORE

AFTER

Please note there is no trick photography. I am more tanned, I have lost 6kg in rougly 110 days. I cut down on the alcohol, I cut out white bread totally, I cut out startchy foods, like pototoes and pasta in the evening, I drank more water, and ate more fruit.  I still have some way to go. One thing is sure, the discomfort I am in now before surgery I am facing next Friday, would have been a lot more intense if I hadn't built up my core muscles. It's not so easy to move my head, so I can get up and out of bed by pulling on my stomach muscles. Once I am fixed and back running I will post another photo after my next 50 day session. I know I am not Addonis, ( or Addidas hihi) but I like that I am getting fit. It helps the mind too.

I wasn't expecting that

One of the great things about life is the unexpected stuff that crops up. A body can find themselves tootling along thinking they are happy and their buddy next door is looking in thinking you look sad. Projection has a lot to do with everything. However, positive thinking has too.
About a month ago, I strained my neck watching TV. Yeah life can hard.(I am joking). I didn't pay much attention to the neck strain, had it before, read the book saw the movie, hell I have even eaten the stew. Oh no wait, that was rabbits right. Anyway I thought I would work it off pretty easily. I continued doing my 30 minute work out on the floor every day, plus 50 push ups and started doing pull ups. The pain wasn't going anywhere. I continued swimming, it helped a little, but the pain when I would wake in the mornings was getting a bit much. Long story short, last Tuesday , I forced an appointment with Doc. We did the tests, yesterday. I went upstairs to ask for more painkillers as I was running out of paracetemol. The hospital is really well set up and the doc likes me, so he pulled me in, without an appointment in front of everyone. He called up the results of the MRI on his PC, ( don't you love technology) and then said, 'ah I think that needs surgery' I backed off saying cortisone and rest might do it, but he wasn't convinced. Then he sent me to the guy next door who stuck needels into me and gave me electric shocks. I thought of Gobles, and Pavlov, and I thought of smacking him one, but the pain inside was greater than that outside. Plus I knew he was trying to help. He walked out of the room and there was a discusion outside. I was then sent to a Neurosurgeon. This guy was my age. He had that sort of big boned body that comes from a wealthy background. As if he inherited good health through his ancestors access to the best food. His clothes were pretty sharp too. My inverted snobbery got the better of me.
He looked, and said OH it's a beauty. Actually he said OOH il est Beau!. An Italian speaking French to an Irishman in Monaco is always a challenge for both parties involved. I sized up what he said, knowing the reason he was in front of me was to make money. I asked him about alternatives which didn't sound pleasing either, I considered for about 2 or 3 minutes, stalling him by asking questions, about risk cost, recovery.....He told me there was no reason to stress. I thought of asking him if anyone had opened his neck recently and taken anything out, but seeing as he was proposing to do that to me, I thought I better not be cheeky. So next Friday I will have a disc removed from my neck and an artifical one put in. I won't have any more pain. I might not swallow so well for a few days. A friend of mine is Running an Iron man that weekend and it's my birthday on Monday. So I wasn't really expecting that, but I am okay. A little nervous, but ok. Life is for living and this is just another step on the adventure. I just have to remember to be positive and not project.

The Happy Monday

You know that thing you do when you take a path, the same path every day and you wonder what would happen if you took the other one? Well lately I have been getting the bus, then walking, then the train, then walking to work. Little girl has to be in the creche at 730am in the morning and picked up at 630pm at the latest. The result of our reconfiguring the trip to work, was me deciding to cycle to work everyday, put the bike in the car and drive home early to pick her up. However I still haven't got over some mental block so for the moment it's public Transport.
There are two buses that leave the same time from in front of the appartment. One goes down the hill eventually veering left where I get off, go down a lot of steps, walk quickly for 10 mins, cross the tram lines, and arrive at the station. The other goes, left straight off, down to the tram lines, where I can get a tram that drops me in front of the train station.
I was always getting the first bus, and wondering about the tram. If I got the tram I might see some pretty girls. If I got the tram I meet someone I know, If I got the tram I might be quicker....
So last Monday I got up late, no breakfeast, running late, sore neck, out the door. I got bus number 2. I was the only person on it till the second last stop. Two women got on there, and then got off at my stop for the tram. I ran accross the road missing the tram. I waited 4 minutes and got on the next one. The journey was slow, very slow, the tram was overcrowded. I focused on my interior self trying not to let the panic get the better of me as sometimes happens when I am stuck in a wall of bodies.
There were some pretty girls, but no one I knew.
I got to the train station and tried to get to the platform, my ticket was out of date and the controller stopped me. Shit. I had thought Monday was the 13th. I ran back to get another and there was a queue. I waited got my ticket and missed my train. It's odd as I write now, I am getting tense, more so than I was was during the event.
I stood on the platform and about 10-15 mins later another train pulled in. There were 4 people only around me, the door of train pulled up right in front of me. I pressed the button leaned my hand on the train and stood back to let people off. Something pushed at my arm. I turned and saw a small man, nervously trying to push through me. It was silly, there was loads of space the other side of me, there was no rush, there was plenty of seats, and not many trying to get on. I told him to wait, he mumbled and pushed at me again. I told him louder in French "Ay OH, Attend,laisse les autres descendre..." The guy looked at me and shoved me. Now picture it. I am fit 81kg 179 cm, dressed in jeans and smart casual shirt. He is about 59kg 150cm baggy trousers, heavy green jacket (it's warm) red dirty baseball cap, dirty and unwashed but not smelly. A few years ago if people were violent with me, I would stand my ground, pull on my inner core, stare them down, talking gently and reasonably and logically. On more than one occasion the situation has been completely diffused like this. Since I came to France I have sort of thrown out the pacifist and joined the Darwinians. I shoved him back HARD but not by any means with my full force. He was shocked and stunned. A stream of abuse came out of his mouth. He boarded the train as I did and the now 7 or 8 others waiting behind us. A business man roared at him, 'OH Monsieur comportez vous correctement". I took encouragement as I was already filled with doubt and beginning to feel this was all my fault.
I stared at the little man. He was shaking and shouting about having some card, a battery in the heart, and that he would report me. I walked away, as far as I could I found a seat and I sat. I couldn't believe when by hazzard he ended up following me looking for a seat. He was still moaning and mumbling ...he saw me and his tone raised up a few notches. All the time I was observing myself. I knew I didn't have the language skills to talk him down, but it seemed no one else did either. I can tell you that at 8 am in the morning when someone is speaking very loudly at about 300 words a minute and throwing obscenities around people get upset. The french reaction is a couple of OHH la la's and then silence. Suffer in silence. It's as if they all thought 'IF I don't look at him he will go away'. Some people got up and left. His main barrage towards me was that he had some sort of travel card, he took it out and showed it to me. 'So what?' I said quietly in French. His tone went up, he started to tremble more violently, he wished a cancer on my throat and on my wife and chilren. An intelligent lady called to him offering him her seat. He refused stating he didn't take seats from women, he had a battery in his heart and his card...( I thought of him telling him to change the battery), He abused me a lot more. His tirade was going on about 10 minutes now but I had some sort of shield around me......nothing he could say could hurt me, but it was tiring, and I was feeling the need to give him back the energy he was spewing at me. I told him to stop acting like a child.....then he lost it completely. MERDE...... MERDE MERDE, each one long drawn out, terrifying most of the people around him, his face screwed up into a rage MERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRDE. To which I instantly replied with my best gallac shrug of the shoulders, 'Et Alors?' He abused me again, calling me SCUM, it was a word the President of France had used, a specific word. I thought of replying in another Presidental gaffe, 'Casse toi pauve con' Get lost you poor fool, but I didn't.... he calmed eventually going to sit on the empty seat the lady had vacated.
When I finally got to Monaco I wanted to punch him in the head. I got off the train and went to work and laugh at it now for the most part. But a big part of me wants to know what that is all about? Why is that an accepted strategy of human behaviour? How does he feel he is benefitting himself by playing such a victim?... Une pile dans le coeur....a battery in the heart, my ass! I would warrant, but I can't be certain, there was nothing physical wrong with him at all. Certainly lacking love, it sounds trite now when I say it, but why? Certainly under some enormous psychological stress. When my verbal skills are better someday, maybe I will be able to put my arm around him instead of pushing...but for the moment, no one is going to vomit there crap all over me, without me respecting myself in the process and refusing to give into the fear.
I am beginning to settle into this life her in the hexagon, and I am glad I haven't chosen his strategy to get by.
One thing is for sure, I will be getting the first bus from now on and not the bus less travelled by, for that has made all the difference.

The Good Life

After a conversation with a friend I realised why I write here. Most of the time it's to offload. I suppose my PC becomes my shrink. I sit in front it and tell it stuff. I don't tell everything because I know people are reading.
Suffice to say that the mood of a lot of what I write, is bound to be frustration.
I have come to a realisation in the last few weeks only, that finally, after 6 years of frustration, that I am where I am. This is where I belong. My accepting that, which I couldn't have done sooner because I was on my path and not yours, has allowed me to be happy. I am happy. I don't have a great job, I don't have a lot of money, I wish my discs wouldn't keep acting up but these are all paltry concerns. I have a few good friends in the world. I have two wonderful children. I have a lover. There is food on the table. There is even beer in the fridge that I don't really feel the need for. Since I decided early June to kick myself in ass, Life has come up trumps. Things are afoot. I can sense huge changes since April. There is a voyage ahead and it's very very rewarding.

The quality of Mercy is not strained

You know it hasn't rained since my pal was here in June. I just heard a noise behind me in the room, the skies have opened and it has just pissed rain really really hard. It will freshen the air, clear the pollution, dampen down the dust, cool down the sea, and day to day will be just a tad more bearable.
But by gollygum drops we are lucky to live in such a beautiful place. Boy is back on the mainland, he will be here Friday. I can't wait.

Chill

It's been a strange summer. All that I could ask for in some ways and yet it irritated the bejaysus out of me. When I look back on my Summer which is not over yet, I realise someone has been in my space since June, give or take 70 days of no time to myself. That was countered of course by getting on the bicycle or trying to go for a run or swim. Result I am fitter at the end of Summer than at the start. Thats ok.
I am carrying some small niggles and hoping they don't blow up on me into something serious.
Lover and my baby girl have gone to Italy, taking with them the wonderful but irritating dog, and the lovely and helpful mother in love, (lovers mother). Boy is in Corsica since August 2nd. I am now alone. I am wondering what effect it has on the system.
I am not in the slighest bit lonely. I have frustrations with where I am at. I am trying to do something about it. Today however I will chill. It's hot, the Mistral or it's cousin is blowing up from North Africa, but gently. So it's very hot. I was raised in a watery sea of green grass. Here it's arid, red rock. Perhaps that's a compliment rather than a conflict, or at least it should be viewed as so.
The future is calling, it's time to start thinking of what shoes to wear for the journey. However that decision can wait perhaps till tomorrow.
Today I will do the opposite of the atmosphere, and just chill alone.

An Epiphany?

Today I got on the bike too late in the day but not too late as to suffer too much. I was late out of bed, I ate breakfeast.

Lover wanted a pic nic but I had shared on Friday I wasn't interested. I had a long cycle planned for Sunday and I am sticking to it.

Up I went and realised as soon as I was saddled my front tire was devoid of air. I felt like a plonker, right in front of the appartment pumping air into my tire. Maybe it was a sign to stay home....

I cycled up hill, and as I went I noticed those purple trumpets, creeping over the fence almost herarlding my every effort.

I saw an old(er) man walking his bike uphill, he gave me his hat and it made my day.*
I went further up and further, and then down a step decline to go back up again. Superman on the worlds fastest road bicycle passed me and left me for dead.
I could swear he was doing at least 45-50 kph uphill, I was struggling with my steady 9.

Every kilometer that passed more trumpets sang to me, and white and yellow bursts of applause reached out to touch me as I went past.
It was a good cycle. I went farther than I have ever been up and up.

At some point looking out over the hills at Aspremont just before turning for Tourettes Levens, a phrase popped into my head. I belong here.

It has taken 6 years but I belong here. That phrase came back again and again. I thought how lucky I was to live in place, the hills, the scorching sun, the sea. This place where I have children and a lover. I thought of my neighbour who is an avid cyclist who might yet turn into more than a passing acquaintance. I thought of discussing with him how lucky I was to be here.

My spirt spoke and said no it's not luck. It's choice. I made my choices and now I should give myself my own hat.*...

I belong here. My sweat has seeped into the ground as have my tears. I belong here.
Later I noticed the trumpets had wilted in the midday heat, I too was wilted, at the end of my force, I tried my mantra I didn't believe it, I was too tired.

However, on this strange day of days, it's true to say, I belong here.

*[in french when you are congragulated, they tell you chapeau, or hat. It's like doffing the hat to you]

Seeking the past?

I seem to have had an urge to track down old friends in the last few years. I am not someone who keeps friends too easily. Maybe as I have matured I have remembered to return emails, phone calls, not forgotten names and birthdays. I have always been forgetful.
One time I met a lovely girl at a night club. We went back to her place and didn't have sex but we had a nice evening. She left on holidays for two weeks the next morning. When she got back and rang me, I had no idea who she was. It was hurtful for her. It took me about 3 or 4 days to remember, when I did, I rang her back and tried to apologise. She didn't buy it, I didn't blame her.

I have met a lot of people in my life. A lot of ships have passed both by day and night. Lovers and friends have come and gone.
One thing I am interested in, is how everyone is. I wonder how past friends have faired in their lives. Have past lovers found their prince charming, who I certainly wasn't, or princess charming for that matter? Have past buddies become dads, successful business men, are they gay and out?
Who are the children that call these people Mother, Father, Lover and will most likely never know that for a moment in time, I shared a part of their identity, contributed to their makeup and was clearly affected by their presence in my life?

One or two people I have managed to track down to some success. One or two, to point blank empty stares coming back from the internet as first touch messages are replied to, and then there is the deep white hole of an empty space and time continuim where the relationship now carries on in it's pre-recontact form. Each of us having ceased to exist for the other. I think my forwardness in admitting I still 'feel' for these people might be a part of it.

What is curious for me, is that no one is looking for me.

That line jumps out of the page and whacks me accross the face and I sit there not reacting, turning the other cheek.

I am not sure to be honest I would want too many of my old entourage, groupies, hangers on, lovers, friends, acquaintances tracking me down, for a deep and meaningful. At the same time, however, there are many who made an impact on me. I remember the good times, the sharing, the things we had in common and I wonder what part of me was so weird that no one wants to get in touch?
What part of me is it that is so weird that does want to get in touch?

Perhaps I am basically lonely, I would guess in hindsight I have rarely been not lonely around people. In fact probably the only time I can be sure to be not lonely is when I am alone.

Perhaps I am just a good natured soul who cares in my own clumsy way. Perhaps I have just too much time on my hands and not enough occupations.

Either way those of you, who touched me, reached out and allowed your fingers to caress my soul and opened your ears to it's music, even it did make you run screaming, I am grateful for the time we shared, and hey if you are reading this and we shared something in the past, get in touch? The rest of you, for the most part I wish well, success, wealth health and happines. Yes there are one or two of you I wouldn't piss on if I saw you on fire at the side of the street, but hey, you make your bed you lie in it.
I am sure I have changed just a tad for the better, I wonder have you?

Another Beginning

Last night was nuts. Boys last night we broke the regular habbit and ordered Pizza. I am normally sort of fastidious about what I eat and Pizza is usually on the menu maybe once or twice a year. Yeah so what?
This month we had it twice. They are great, but just not any good really.

So last night boy was feeling tired. He had scuba dived for the first time on Friday with the summer play centre.It had taken a lot out of him.

His Mam and I had a huge row on the phone at the beginning of the week about when he would go back to her. As usual it was earlier than I planned.
Partly my fault as I didn't understand her message at the start of the stay. However her need to abuse and holler down the phone when I ring to sort it out is depressing.
I have lost practically all respect for her which is a shame. I just keep reminding myself she is my son's mother.

Boy didn't manage to eat the pizza. We sat and watched the 'Goblet of Fire' one the better Potter films, I was wondering why

he wasn't holding on to me for the scary bit, I turned to him. He was fast asleep with his head on his head, as if he was trying to figure out some problem.

We woke him up gently and offered him the chance to go to bed. He refused. I had promised him as last night treat. It was a trip at 11:15pm long after he should have been asleep, to Italy. We had to pick up baby's grandmother from the train station.

Boy was a little freaked when we got there, the train was over an hour late, we hung out. There was the usual drunks, down and outs, tired fathers, anxious mothers, taxi drivers, impatient ciggarette smokers, plenty of trash and grotty corners. At night the effect was rather errie. The excitment coupled with the tiredness meant he had a good time.

Finally Nona arrived, with Sid. Sid is blonde for want of a better description. He smells. He got down off the train and promptly crapped on the platform. Nona was mortified. Boy was laughing his head off but still wanted out of Errie'sville train station asap.

Sid is a dog. A big dog. A year old, strong muscular well behaved and tried to take me on with his growling twice already. He should watch out I bite.

It was 2am by the time we had all hit the sack. Myself and boy shared the big sofa bed in the living room, ( another one of his special treats). I woke several times covered in sweat. It's 27 C in the house at night. NUTS.

I had planned to be up to running speed this month I am not. My nutrition could be better. I have a lot of fatigue I shouldn't really have. So I am just going to make it up in Calories and excercise. The meds are moving the brick on my chest.

I sound like the 'Godfather' at the moment. The dust in the inhaler sticks to my vocal cords....it's interesting. It changes

my normally resonant tenor voice, to that of a down and out scumbag who might slit your throat if you look at him. I don't mind until the crap in my lungs comes up.. Yuck.

Okay I am not even proof reading this. Baby has had some problems with the doc finally telling us the compliment milk we are using, when her mama is not around, is no good. She has an allergic to cow milk she told me.

The doc is an odd character for me. A somewhat goodlooking but aged lady from China. Polyglot, but a head like a sieve. She probably experiences the same things I do trying to think in three languages, or two and two halves.

Right I need a nap. Then shopping and then nothing planned. For the first time in 6 weeks I don't have the day planned around boy. I wish I did. I won't see him now till September. I saw my ex sister in law. She looks good 6 months pregnant. I have
always had time for her, always will. There are a lot of babies around boy at this time. It's great for him.

I have been up and down struggling but then well I will get out of it sometime.

what does it mean?

So I am a little freaked. I have a 17% lack in lung capacity. I have no idea what the implications of that are.

Diminished Capacity

No sooner had I written my previous post than I put my back out again, but in a different spot. I was sitting eating, a bit stressed out, and my back started to cramp. 1 hour later I was doubled over and could hardly move. I managed to make it to the car and the drive home was full of cussing at every gear change.
The chiropractor came the next day and snapped me a few times, so I could eventually straighten up.
We went camping finally after the little one had been running a huge fever. The fever broke she visited the doc who gave us the go ahead. I spent my time throwing boy in the air instead of doing any meaningful workout. My back was feeling better.
This week I cycled to and from work and while I was faster than last time the climb home killed me. I had been feeling pretty low on energy since we came from camping. I couldn't figure out why the fatigue. I finally left monaco at 8pm in the evening getting home about 940pm shattered.
I left Monaco late as I had to visit my allergolog. He has told me now I have a diminished lung capacity. This explains a lot, an awful lot. Possibly the fatigue too. I am waiting today to find out how dimished. I am still tired. The new inhaler takes a bit of getting used to.
Oh and here is the bike route Go tap the elevation button when it loads it looks like fun

Back to Sport

I have the all clear from the doc. This is really good news.
There is a marathon in November I was aiming for last year, I thought I might have time to do it this year, if I am not ready I am not ready, but it's a little difficult to motivate myself when I don't have a target.

I am not in a rush, but I don't want to be kidding myself either by going too easy. My Training totals are not great for these last two months but I know I am making progress. Yesterday I hit 700meters in the pool which is pleasing. May 2008 I was swimming a Kilometer a pop 4 days a week in the pool so I have some ways to go.
Today I have a 50KM cycle planned between Nice and Antibes at 730 in the evening, it's a social thing and 40k will be easy enough,as it's comletely flat, the first 5k will be a piece of piss, as it's downhill, that makes the last 5km which will be a new distance for me a bit of a challenge.

I make sure I eat enough and drink enough so I don't bonk, the weather here is 28C at 9am so you can imagine the conditions. They are the same type of conditions that would probably exist if I ever get to compete Iron Man France.

I am cycling only once or twice a week at the moment, but once the month of July is over I am have a bit more free time. and can focus a bit more.
I have August Pegged as the month to see my training Organised.
I am at the moment paying attention to fatigue and hunger, I am doing core, and some upper body stuff to gain strength, I have a heart monitor, so they are all steps in the right direction which I didn't have last year. I have improved the diet and make sure to take in much more fuel than I had been.

It only remains to be seen can I keep myself motivated.