Rational Me?

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Woo! Witty title alert! Regardless, this is just another post to write for the sake of writing. I’m determined to do it and maybe if I can break into a small routine with my blog, I can finally put my mind at rest and stop thinking I’m not "good" enough.

Something has been bothering me lately on T.V. and it isn’t the crappy shows they're putting on. Heck, I don’t even watch that much T.V. at all, so I guess I’m not the expert, but this has been in the news, and it is annoying me.

People are getting pulled from the X Factor because they have a mental illness, suffer from depression or have had nervous breakdowns in the past. The TV company (because of public feedback, thank you very much Susan Boyle) has decided that those who are "significantly mentally unstable" should not be allowed to participle in the national talent show.

This annoys me for the following reasons:

•    They pulled the people HALFWAY through the process, so they had already been approved.

•    They were vague with their descriptions (Significantly mentally unstable? Whut?)

•    The public are not questioning this decision. At all.

The last one is REALLY hitting the proverbial anger-button. Nobody seems to think this is a bad idea except me.

Why are we focusing on people with mental disabilities? Are we less than human? And with hardly any medical records to go on beforehand, isn’t this down to personal perception rather than cold hard fact?

I will concede, some people cannot be rational, at all. They cannot process coherent thought and possibly live in a fantasy land where they have tremendous talent. So when the proverbial bubble is burst, they cannot comprehend what the fuck just happened to them and have a break down. But why should the people with genuine talent AND a mental illness be blighted by this?

Perhaps the TV station would have been more subtle if they had all the people with mental illness taking part in the show wear white armbands. Or ever, perhaps, neck signs that read "Don’t laugh at me, I can’t help it."

It is a double-edged sword. Not everybody can be can be on record to declare their mental health as stable so why take the chance? But at the same time, why discriminate? People with bi-polar work in politics.

The stigma that surrounds mental health is increasingly reaching unacceptable levels. TV talent shows can’t be to blame for a person’s mental well-being. Yet, they should not deny those who have a mental illness the right to participate.

Probably the most INSENSATIVE thing I will ever comparison - EVER!

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I used to work in journalism - I knew very well that when they needed to bend the truth to give the story that added bit of razzle-dazzle, they will throw journalistic credibility to the wind and go for it.

With that in mind, I make my comparison:

Living in Iran today must be exactly the same as living in a very steamy and seedy (noir) novel about Authoritarianism, Corruption AND the peoples rebellion against the state.
Apparently, with the streets the Taliban police so well below them, in the buildings above they're taking opium that cost less than a candy bar and indulging in wild orgies for weeks at a time, moving from place to place so they don’t get caught.

Sure, there is the strife about the few poorer families who aren’t really getting off on the entire state but living through the hell of it. And there are the authoritarian matriarchal women who police the street just so they can report women wearing lipstick - but above all of that, encompassing it all, below the radar of religious conformity is a society rebelling in (possibly) the best possible way ever.
Banned from taking drugs, drinking alcohol or having sex outside of arranged marriage, they are bingeing on opium, swigging back home-made alcohol (rumour mill suggests it's 30% proof) and having orgies. So Iran has basically turned into a Raymond Chandler novel.


The risk these people are taking - they know quite well, heck the world knows the risks from outside - and they don’t care. They do it. And this is not a handful of people, this is not a few stray gangs kicking up a storm to rebel against the system, this is 40% of the people.


To comprehend the risks - you get an STD, you're fucked. Doctor reports it to the local Taliban if you're not married so you're stuck with it. Get pregnant? Got a knitting needle to hand? Or pay random woman to pour cold tea down there until it snuffs the little one out? Oh get caught with your pants down and get it either stitched up of cut off.


This is a world where authority to God is unquestionable weather you like it or not. A world where you will conform to their ideals or you will not live to rebel. And yet 40% of the population is daring to live outside the rusting Iron-grip that is maniacal authority.


That is fucking awesome. Foolish. But fucking awesome.


They are living 1984 people. I’m not really envious as I have my freedom (and im only writing this to write something) but - Just wow.


Read the newspaper report HERE

The "Good" Fight.

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I think, to a lesser extent, I have began to develope a sense of equilibrium. I have lived this unrelenting drama for the past six years of my life and I finally think I am nearing the "put up OR shut up" point of it. Im vieing for a third option myself.

I know, I mentally have these flights of fancy "Oh im going to run away!" or "Oh im going to kill myself!" but I think for the first time in a loooong time I have come to realise that both of those options are just not possible at the time (provided I dont accidently die... )

Since I wrote that letter to myself about my inability to write, I fell into a useless despair - I finally had nothing and I could accomplish nothing. I was worth nothing and I doubted I would ever be nothing. Well, during that time in the emotional pit, there was no other escape from my emotions other than watching the people around me.

I dont like what I see if im honest, but when are we ever fully content? I think though, that I am ready to start writing again. And that is an accomplishment for me. Just the drive to start.

Ive been having dreams. Odd dreams. Night after night about random events and happenings. I had a dream my mother was trying to make a phone call to LA and didnt seem to mind that her phone bill was £800.
Some dreams I cannot remember, but I have woken feeling disturbed by them - disturbed enough to feel glad that I was awake. And if you know me, you know how much I love to sleep!
So perhaps my imagination is beginning to kick-stark back into action? Perhaps it has grown tired of its inactivity and decided to play out until I release it?

I still feel lonely. There is a friendship void in my life I cannot seem to fill.
It would feel as if all my friends had abandoned me... if I had any to begin with.

Prolonging the Inevitable

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I havent written anything since I posted that letter to myself a few months ago. I have tried to motivate myself to do so, but my inner-Iago demands to know why I should even bother trying... I relent to his wishes. His criticism merely "You're not that good at writing anyway".

I read the "Writers" Magazine, and in it I found over-whelming amounts of information. Stories from people who are writing, the lenghs they went to to pursue their only passion in life. I do not share their experiences. At all.
To be honest, I didnt really think of writing anything until I turned 16. My imagineation took over and the world was a new place, full of inspiration and interesting things I personally believed I was the first to experience ever.

That was never the case though. In retrospect, it was foolish to make such assumptions. But I was very lost as a child; I dont use it as an excuse, but when most children wanted to be a Fireman, a Vet or even a Shop assistant - I didnt have a clue what I wanted to be. I couldnt see clearly enough in the future to know what I would be able to do.
I dont think I still do.

All I do know for sure is that since I stopped writing, my dreams have been going insane. And I mean INSANE (im a cat and people are selling my belongings). Since I have put the proverbial pen down for my aspiration, my mind had managed to imagine - in vivid detail - scenarios' that play out to a backdrop of creation.
But, alas, I am quick to note them as "Good Ideas" and then sweep them under the imaginary rug that Iago is holding up for me.

I should not have read that magazine (I protest) - some of the greatest writers in history started with just a good story. They didnt need creative english classes or amazingly broad knowledge of the english dictionary - they just needed a good story and the imagination to see it through.

I feel so lost - creatively speaking - yet over-whelmed with my surroundings that I cant fathom where my feet should fall first.

Help.

Drama

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Drama hurts.

As a kid and (semi)-emo, moody teen, I loved drama. I practicly thrived on it - the slightest problems in my friends lives suddenly became mine. Small arguments in the family were nearly the breaking point for it and, im ashamed to say, if there wasnt sufficent drama going around at the time, i'd make some of my own up and add to the mix. but hey, who hasnt faked fainting in front of all their friends? ...and then went to hospital and told the doctor you blacked out because of a brain cancer... and then cry when he yells at you because, yeah, everybody hates you now.

Funny thing drama. It made childhood a fantasy of adulthood and made some rather dull programs fun to watch (Sunset beach anybody?) but as ive grown older (he says at 26) ive found my favour with drama to be dwindling. It's actually rather unpleasent.

Captin obvious is gonna merge his ugly head for the sake of my arguement, but drama as a kid is an extension of social fantasy - drama as an adult is an issue you have to address. You cant just switch it off when it is time to rest - drama wont solve itself, you have to deal with it - and it isnt as easy as turning your back on it.

I miss being a kid. If I could go back now knowing what I know, i'd do it. If I didnt know what I knew now then I wouldnt because i'd be a big fuck-up, but... yeah, if I knew what I knew now, i'd go back and just straighten up and fly right.
... and cash in on Harry Potter and Twilight by pretending I wrote it and JK Rowling and Ms Myer stole them from me.

DOESNT TWILIGHT FUCKING MAKE YOU SICK?! It does me. Just either vamp the silly bitch or get Buffy to go stake him.

Drama.