The Questions Cometh…

 

I was recently tagged by Elaine, who’s blog can be found at the following link:

http://ourconsciousness.wordpress.com/

Thank you Elaine! If you have not checked out her blog, you absolutely should!

Anyway, the task here is to answer the 30 questions provided in just one word! Then, tag three other people and provide them access to the same three questions, and so on and so forth.

As you will soon realise, I did a terrible job at sticking to the rules…

So, here are my answers to the questions:

1. Where is your cell phone? Here!

2. Describe your boyfriend/girlfriend? Can’t (I’m a bachelor)

3. Your hair? Disappearing

4. Your mother? Annoying

5. Your father? Ill (My father has prostate cancer)

6. Your favourite item? Laptop

7. Your dream last night? Nope! (what dream? I have enough trouble trying to sleep let alone dream!)

8. Your favourite drink? Port/Coffee

9. Your dream car? Ferrari

10. The room you are in? Comfortable

11. Your ex? Married

12. Your fear? Loneliness

13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Successful

14. Who did you hang out with last night? Work Colleagues

15. What you’re not? Normal

16. The last thing you did? Stress

17. What are you wearing? Pants

18. Your favourite book? VampireBlood (the Darren Shan collection. You see what I did just there? I turned two words into one! Aren’t I a genius! No, not really)

19. The last thing you ate? Salad

20. Your life? Collapsed

21. Your mood? Hopeful (it’s my birthday tomorrow)

22. Your friends? Unfriendly

23. What are you thinking about right now? I can’t answer this! There might be children reading!

24. Your car? Non-existent

25. What are you doing at the moment? Typing

26. Your summer? Hot

27. What is on your TV? Mass Effect 2

28. When is the last time you laughed? 31 minutes ago (honestly, how can I make this into one word?)

29. Last time you cried? Thursday

30. School? University!

Here are the sites of the three people that I have tagged:

Nelli

http://nelsville.wordpress.com/

Anna

http://justonemonkeytyping.wordpress.com/

Zen

http://zenscribbles.wordpress.com/

Again, thank you to Elaine for the tag!

Hope you enjoyed the post dear readers!

Cheers, and have a pleasant day – or night as it is where I am at this very second.

It’s Amazing how your Life Changes

 

One day you are involved in doing one thing – and the next you are doing something completely different. You have changed your life’s endeavors; you have adapted and evolved to life’s unexpected twist and turns; you have lost someone close to you, whether it be a broken friendship or a break up and so are forced to alter your plans for the future. So many occurrences each year alter that which we are eventually going to become.

I remember when I was thirteen and fourteen I wanted to hang out with what some might have referred to as the ‘cool crowd.’ And they accepted me – which was pretty awesome in itself. There is always a catch though. If you feel something is too good to be true it probably is. There was no way the ‘cool’ kids would accept someone that probably wasn’t quite as ‘cool’, or who wasn’t ‘cool’ at all, and yet here they were, giving me a bone. Well, the catch in this case was that it turned out they all hated my rotten guts and would sooner step on my head if they saw me drowning rather than give me a hand up, so I quickly left their little club. Instead, I found a new group of friends that actually shared the same traits and mannerisms, views and values as I. It was a perfect fit, and still to this day is – when we have the time to communicate.

Again, when I was in primary school, due to my insatiable hunger for video games, I really wanted to become involved in graphic design and the orchestration of such entertainment. Of course, this proved to be an ineffective idea because I did not have the credentials to ever become involved in such a field. I’m no good at the terrible algebra based equations and other such ridiculous mathematical ideologies; I’m not very good at graphical design, and I’m not very good at computer programs that are ridiculously difficult to utilise.
Then in high school when I was in a band, I think all of us wanted to continue to perform on a more professional level than that which we currently resided at. However, when our band broke up for reasons that up until that very moment were completely unforeseen and unfortunately unpredictable, that dream of ours came to an immediate end.

Additionally, I was interested in pursuing a career in acting, but to become involved in a course that revolves around this career at university, one needs to acquire the highest of high grades. I did acquire a few A’s and an A+, but on average I was predominantly a B student. In 2009, according to the statistics, a good few thousand people applied for the acting course at Melbourne University (apparently one of the top ten university’s in Australia) – only two were accepted. Yes, you read that right; two out of a few thousand candidates were accepted into the course. I knew that I would never be one of them and so decided to pursue my other passion; writing.

Now, with my three year undergraduate course nearly complete, I need to decide whether I will continue on with my postgraduate course, and if so, at which institution and what variant? Or will I go out and find a place in the workforce?

Another part of life that changes exponentially are the responsibilities that are placed upon your shoulders as you grow older. When young, everything is so simple, and I really envy the children of today. You can just tell that behind those innocent (?) young eyes, not one of them has a clue for the surprise they are in for when they eventually grow up. Or maybe they will grow up too fast? Sometimes I feel that happened to me – as though I did not have enough time to be young and enjoy what life hath been given to me. What are the repercussions of failing to enjoy youth to its full? When young, you run around the house and the world outside having a gay old time. You watch TV to your heart’s content and play with random plastic figurines. As you grow up, the time that you have for fun becomes minimised as the expectations of life, including giving back to society with money, hard work and effort begin to become dominating factors in influencing the choices that one develops.

Like I said – it is amazing how your life changes. On one hand, that makes the ride that is life quite interesting. On the other hand it can be disappointing and blatantly annoying.

What do others think about what I have conjured up on this subject matter? Agree, disagree? By all means, please, your opinions are welcome!

Naughty Nefarious, signing off!

Is it possible to fail – at being human?

 

You can fail a math’s test. You can fail to acquire an internship position. You can fail to successfully complete a project to adequate standards. But is it possible to fail at being a living, breathing human being?

What makes a human being who they are? Okay, would you consider a person born with a head and a torso, but no legs and no arms a human? They can do everything a human can, with the exception of using the appendages that they do not have. Is this specific person a human? Yes, in my opinion; this shows that physicality does not alter one’s humanity.

That would leave the psychology of humanity.

Tell me, when you see on the news acts of intense violence; unspeakable slaughter and genocidal actions; civil and international war; unspeakably heinous evil; the people who are involved in instigating these actions, do you think ‘this is not what humans are meant to do – they are absolutely terrible at being human’, or do you think ‘that is what humans are supposed to do, and therefore, my inability to commit such acts of violence proves I am incompetent at being human’?

Additionally, if you see people that you know injuring others either verbally or through physical abuse, do you think that they are failing to be human, or do you think that you are for not being involved?

Now, maybe someone could simply say that such an argument revolves around human decency and the idea that some people are generally good and others are not, and it is all a matter of choice.

I am making an alternative argument. I am saying, what if, hypothetically, to be human means that you need to be violent – that such is a mandatory requirement, a fixture of our genetic structure – that it is our destiny and we cannot escape from it – none of us can. What if humanity is supposed to naturally be a race of violent zealots?

What if those who are causing horrific acts of violence; those who do bad onto others; those who hate, loathe and incite rage; what if these people are not the monsters? What if the people who do not commit these acts; the people who do not harm, abuse and bully; what if these people are the freaks; the incompetent delinquents; the monsters of society?

Would it be too hard to imagine? War, after war, after war, after confrontation, after confrontation, after confrontation; it seems that one group of people on the planet win a tremendous battle, and the next day another, far more violent confrontation has sprung up to take its place.

Moreover, how many times have you thought you knew a person; you befriended them, talked with them, worked with them, helped them, and they in turn returned these favors and worked and talked with you? How many times has something happened, something nefarious, and all of a sudden, this person you thought you knew is no longer perceived in a positive light, but you see them as a horrible individual? They have made a mockery of you; they are tormenting you; they suddenly loathe you.

Was this occurrence inevitable? Were they always this person underneath what could have been a deceitful façade all this time? Or was it you who triggered this by wronging them? But if this was a surprise occurrence, then technically, it would not have been you who caused this, right? So, how could this have come to fruition?

One could argue that society has laws which state that those who enact acts of violence will be punished for their offences? But how often do you see these offences going unpunished? How often do you see those who are supposed to protect society and uphold the law doing quite the opposite? How often do you see people harming others in comparison to people helping others?

Why is it that violence is often inevitably the first action to be taken, rather than the hope for a peaceful resolution with formalised discussion?

Why is it that a person can commit the most heinous acts imaginable, and then be so easily forgiven by their God with but a few prayers and words?

Why is it that when most people become drunk and intoxicated they do not suddenly begin acting so nice and caringly, but so violent and aggressively?

Why is it that children as young as five are carrying knives and are becoming involved in acts of horrific evil, like stabbing another child?

Why is it that on the news, you are quite often no longer shocked to hear of a suicide bomber killing several dozen people; no longer shocked to hear a warlord is on a genocidal rampage; no longer shocked to hear a husband beat his wife to death and killed his children; no longer shocked to hear a young man went on a rampage in the city, murdering and raping women; no longer shocked to hear that a person was murdered and the person who killed him or her did so without a reason?

Why is it that the news is often filled with acts of evil rather than acts of kindness?

Why is it that random acts of violence are filmed on smart phones, uploaded to the internet not five minutes later, and after an hour are suddenly the most popular videos online?

Why is it that on occasion, doing the right thing can seem so wrong, yet doing the wrong thing can feel more right than any other option?

Why is it that sometimes sorrow, pain, anger, animosity and heart ache come as easily as breathing, whilst happiness seems so incredibly difficult?

On that note, I have one final question;

When can somebody honestly say without a doubt in their mind ‘I am not very good at being human’?

The rat bastard playing loud music down the road from me must be silenced!

 

If I can hear the sound of the bass, the drums, the guitar, the lyrics and everything else several houses down, what is it like for the occupants of the residence where the music is playing?

I for one have never truly understood where playing music as loud as friggin’ possible ever managed to be described as ‘enjoyable’.

Having your eardrums blown in by music that is been performed by a band playing some brute European deranged rock song is not my idea of a good time, but who am I to judge the deluded, deranged lunatics down the road from me who get off on it? Whatever rocks your boat I say, I would just rather prefer not to hear it over where I am.

The second issue, apart from the noise, which is bad enough, is the time. The music starts at approximately 9:30 at night, and then proceeds to continue until 2 in the damn morning.

Now, calling the cops about this is like calling the man who runs the ice cream van and telling him the exact same thing; some arsehole’s idea of a good time is playing music louder than any sound that has ever been recorded. On top of this, calling the local council about this is as productive as calling the cops, which already illustrated, is pretty friggin’ useless.

Of course, you could always try communicating with the guy playing the music, who takes your attempt to calmly deescalate the situation as an act of war because not only is he a few tiles short of a roof, but he can’t even speak a word of English so you might as well go beat your head up against a wall cuz if you stand there any longer your head will certainly look just about as terrible.

Of course, this leads me back to the title of this post; the rat bastard must be silenced. First off, why rat bastard? Well, because he is a rat. No, he didn’t inform on anyone to the cops – remember, he’s no good with speaking the Eng, so he’s informing skills will be about as useful as his ability to play music at regular room volume. By rat, I mean, he really is a rat. He has tiny black rat eyes, a little nose with whiskers protruding out from the sides, has a pink tail sticking out from the arse end of his body and is additionally covered in a gargantuan layer of hair. Okay, maybe it ain’t such an in-depth comparison, but there certainly is a similarity.

Now, let’s access that word ‘silenced’. I’m not saying that something untoward needs to happen to him – I’m saying that something untoward absolutely must happen to his sound system – it has to be silenced; muted; permanently.

The question would ultimately be how to successfully do so – hypothetically speaking of course.

As previously mentioned, any legal means would ultimately be unsuccessful, which would perhaps leave the illegal, or as some may call it, the desperate means. Basically, I would need to gain entry to the residence, temporarily gain access to the sound system – then grab hold of it and run out of there faster that Road Runner been pursued by Coyote.

I guess it would come down to how many people were at the ‘event’ in question, and, on top of that, how many people were inclined to have the music system there.  Surrounded by a bunch of angry, drunken music loving freaks who came for the songs would be somewhat unimpressed in my view by a certain handsome, intelligent, amazing, quick witted, humorous, fun loving individual stealing their reason for been there.

I could additionally take a sledge hammer to the sound system – that would put both it and me out of our misery, for I cannot imagine that it enjoys having terrible music pumping out from its mouth. The question would be how to get there – a person walking about a party scene with a weapon of mass construction would stand out like legs on a rattlesnake at an event of this proportion – unless there a builder theme to the occasion – then nobody will question me.

Or I could take a pair of scissors and chop the cable – but this issue can be easily amended to some extent or another – unless the cable is fed into the sound system rather than been an attachment which can be connected to the arse end of the device.

Decisions, decisions. Oh, maybe it’s all too hard. How many parties can these people have in a week? Quite a few it would seem. This would make me wonder what the hell they are celebrating? The fact that they are alive? Come on! What happened to the days when a party was just that – an occasion to celebrate the birthday of an individual. Now…well, wish me luck, in any event. Desperation makes people do crazy things and I fear I may be on the verge of doing something really out there. Now, where did I put that sledgehammer?

…And the Crusade to hath hold unto: The story of youth, of life, of what is and what should not have been

 

This piece will contain some coarse language.

All World Issues is one particular blogger that I follow. A young, Australian woman, this particular blogger has some many interesting, yet at the same time relatable views on life and other such ideologies and concerns. On Saturday I do believe, the young lady conceived a post on bullying, and her general dislike of such a nefarious issue in society today, the post that she wrote located at the link below:

http://allworldissues.com/2012/09/08/my-crusade-to-help-the-youth/

By the conclusion of her piece, All World Issues asked her readership if they wouldn’t mind developing a post of their own in regards to any experiences they had endured in regards to bullying. So, with that said, this here post is my response in regards to such a question.

Now, I myself have had some experience with bullying in the past. Perhaps I should amend that last statement. I suffered quite a fair bit, no, a shit load, that’s the word, a rather large amount of bullying when I was younger that was active during my high school years.

If there was one thing I could say about high school, it’s that I survived.

All World Issues is not wrong when she says that bullies will often target you for no particular reason. So, why me? I wonder how many people say that when it happens to them?

I was new. Most people at the high school knew each other from primary school. I came from an area that was farther out, whilst a majority of the other students just lived around the corner, so had grown up together.

Amazingly enough, I was lucky – at first. I befriended those who were perceived as the ‘cool’ crowd. They allowed me access to their friends and appeared to treat me like one of their own – to my face. Behind my back it was a whole different story, and eventually I guess they just grew tired of talking behind my back and made sure it was to my face.

I guess I realised I was not wanted when I was simply told that – in one way or another. The guy sitting next to me said I did not belong there at the school. Then he said I should go fuck my mother. I was 12 at the time, and believe it or not this was the first time I had been told this. I had no prior experience and didn’t really know what to do, and so told him to go fuck himself and I wished him best wishes in getting his tiny prick any larger than one centimeter.

That apparently didn’t go down well.

I realised again that I was unwanted that same week when the same guy, along with all his friends said they wished that I would ‘fucking die’; how so – a sword to chop my head off – and then to hack me into a thousand pieces with.

Maybe a little over the top, but still, the message was acquired.

Then the violence started.

I was winded twice during my first year. On both occasions I did not suspect the punch was coming.

Later on in that semester, the guy who had said he wished I was dead became angry with me when he attacked me and I knocked him to the ground. He managed to get the better of me and beat the shit out of me for fun. The class laughed.

In the second semester though, something new happened. Wood work and other such classes are supposed to be fun for the guys. I leant three things during the class. One, I’m good enough with wood work that I would probably always pass with a solid C. Two, I’m probably always going to be a shitty carpenter, and three, a piece of wood hurts when you get clocked over the head by one.

I guess that guy who said he wished I was dead really meant it. I just never assumed he would take the threat to the next level. Perhaps I should have known – surrounded by sharp objects and such that someone who hated me enough might see the potential opportunity to do some damage. When the teacher temporarily left to go into the back room, the guy saw his chance – he grabbed a nice shiny piece of wood whilst my back was turned, and whacked it across the back of my head.

I got a whopping good head ache, nothing else, which I should have been glad for. I tried to tell the teacher what had happened – and apart from ignoring me, when it came time for the truth to come out, the entire class sided with the guy who had hit me – I apparently was a clumsy son of a bitch, had tripped, and had hit my head in the side of the metallic bench I was working at.

I came to the conclusion that I could not win and chose not to tell anyone else. I was the freak in the eyes of a majority of the people.

There were some that were not so bad. In music class I befriended a couple guys, and over the course of high school we founded ourselves a school band with some older students and managed to do a pretty good job at rocking and rolling around, which is probably one of my better moments from high school.

I could have left I guess to escape the times that weren’t so good, but a bunch of rotten apples were not going to scare me.

In the second year it was much of the same thing. There were less physical attacks and more verbal ones.

I must have been called every name available. A couple that stand out would include:

-fucking friendless freak (‘triple f’ for short)

-disgusting fucking creature

-mother fucking fucker

-fucking hideous lanky cunt

-Anglo cunt

-dead cunt

Imagine this every single day. It does get a little tiring.

I was also called gay, faggot and pofter a lot. It would seem that people who bully you are scared of sexuality. I however can attest to the fact that I’m a hetero, although I think those posts should not ever see the light of day because of their incredibly graphic content.

However, year nine was the definitive moment in my life.

Physical attacks went from one extreme to the next. I was frequently water bombed. I had my locker broken into on a couple of occasions and had my lock broken, with some of my goods been stolen.

Class also became more violent than ever before. I had a pair of scissors thrown at me on more than one occasion, and they clipped me twice. Once in the head, and once in the ear. I had a calculator thrown at me, but I guess my number wasn’t up cuz it missed. I had several pencil cases thrown at me on a number of occasions. I even on one occasion had a chair thrown in my direction. Now, you might ask, what was the teacher doing? My home room teacher and my English teacher were one and the same – and she joined in on the attacks. Not the physical ones, but on the verbal ones. I overheard her call me a freak on a couple occasions. I only assume she was talking about me because my name, the word ‘freak’, and the pointing in my direction all lead me to believe one thing. On top of that, on two occasions I told her about attacks and she said ‘what exactly do you want me to do? The class is working to the best of their capability, so quit your bitching.’

The only bitch in the room was her in my eyes. She didn’t last though – she left the following year to go make some other schools’ unhappy.

I began to do my best to keep out of the way of students. No one ever sat near me in class, and I was only so glad for that. I became quite sick and tired of doing things for those who hated me; staying out of their way, was more for them than it was for me.

This didn’t really work anyway.

Later on in the year, a substitute teacher took a class. The class, well, excluding me, joined into a circle, drew a picture of me, then set it on fire, and laughed as it burnt.

I guess for some that wasn’t nearly enough, for come lunchtime, it did not take me long to realise that the hissing sound I heard was deodorant – and it was been put onto me. You know that fire warning label on each bottle of spray. I always assumed it was there for a reason, and I suppose the guy who sprayed me was smart enough to figure that out too. I spun around to confront him and knocked the bottle from his hand. I turned back to close my locker, before taking off my jumper and dumping it in there too, shutting it and turning around – to find the guy with an ignited cigarette lighter in his hand.

Everyone around me looked real disappointed. I managed to avoid all of them, but not before they managed to spray me again.

I suppose the class was still lusting for blood come the conclusion for lunch, because when I returned, the class stood around me and the guy who had intended to turn me into the human torch took the lead. He shoved a knife in my face and told me he would kill me if I ever touched him again like I had when I knocked the spray can from his hands.

A teacher suddenly came around the corner, and everyone moved to their lockers.

Out of fear for my own safety, I began to carry a small knife in my bag. It was a simple switch blade piece, where you flipped it out from the side. It had a good enough point to it, but also had a ruler along the side of the metallic blade, for that was its primary job – ruling lines on paper and then cutting along them.

Unfortunately, one afternoon when I was placing books in my bag, a fellow student saw the blade, and told a teacher about it. Instant suspension for me – for one week. I told the vice principal who interrogated me everything that had led to this moment for I concluded that if I was going down, I would take as many people with me. The guy who had been attacking me all these years – the leader – suspended for three days. Justice?

During the course of my week long suspension I had the decency to acquire bronchitis, and so was away for two weeks rather than one, and upon returning to school, it was a very different place indeed.

For starters, the kid who saw my knife – he told the whole school it was plastic – and they believed him.

A foxy young woman who was a year older than I who I obviously in regards to my previous comment had a thing for also believed the stories. Let’s just say if she ever had a thing for me, it officially came to an end when she trusted all those who hated me over my word.

Secondly, a book had been passed around the year level – a blank exercise book, that was no longer blank at all. The pages in and around the middle were filled with the signatures of 126 people. I counted them myself. I assumed there were around 150 people in my year level, which meant that a lot of people had signed this petition, for that it what it was. A petition for what? The sentence in the very central pages said it all; we want Derek Childs to die.

How did I come by this book? My year nine homeroom/English teacher gave it to me. No, she didn’t sign it. I guess she thought she would get in trouble. I took it to the vice principal. His response?

He asked if I had been attacked recently. I said no. He asked if I had any wounds on me. I said no. He came to the conclusion that this was simply students been students and told me to toss the book in the trash and forget about it.

Forgetting about it was a little difficult. It did not take long for me to be attacked in class again, and after I ended up on the ground, in an attempt to redeem myself I really went to town on the guy who had attacked me – and I kicked his arse up and down the classroom. Well, not quite, but I did a good enough job.

There are however always consequences for embarrassing your enemies, and I paid mine the next day. I only wish that when people chose to fight you, they did so on their own. In a fair one on one fight, although I would have rather avoided such an occurrence, I had a considerable chance of winning. One on several though – excuse my language, but I was fucked.

Long story short, I ended up on the ground.

Eventually all of this became too much for me. There is some aspects of what happened I am going to avoid due to the fact that I feel I’ve embarrassed myself enough and there are some other occurrences that I do not want to touch because I don’t want to write about those painful moments, so I will just skip to what I inevitably did.

In class one day I found myself in another confrontation when the teacher left to yell at a misbehaving student. I had a number of items thrown at my head, before been told again how the class wished I would die. One such item thrown at me was a pair of scissors – the person who threw them also yelled out how he wished I would kill myself with them.

Now, I don’t know if I really wanted to actually kill myself, or if I simply wanted the attention of the teachers who had been ignoring me all these years; but I took that pair of scissors, opened them up, and with all my might I shoved one of the sharp tips into my left wrist. I then proceeded to do this five times, over and over again. I did not slice – I simply stabbed. I aimed for a beautiful blue vein and went to town.

As for the class – they cheered me on. That was until the blood began to seep out from the wound I had created. For some odd reason as I sat there, the blood flowing across my fingers and onto the carpet, the class actually became frightened and the one who had lead the attacks all these years ran for the teacher and told her what had happened.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on who you were at the time I guess, the damage I had done was not terrible enough that I found myself on deaths door – no.

I didn’t need stitches, but I did need a few Kleenexes and a good couple large band aids that needed to be changed a few times over the course of the day because the blood kept seeping through. I was fixed up at the nurses office, and the leader of the bullies was expelled.

Well, it only took three years.

As previously mentioned, he was their leader, so after that the physical violence died down. The verbal attacks didn’t though. If anything, the classes seemed more pissed off than ever that I had survived.

There was one teacher at the school who was particularly nice though, and he told me that as students grew older the attacks would die down, and very gradually I guess they did over the next three years. Very slowly, but still, they died down.

Of course, the one change that happened in year nine was that I changed myself. I began to stop caring what people thought, and I instead wore that ‘freak’ title they gave to me like a badge. This was of course after my little incident with the scissors. They thought I was a freak, and so I made sure that they would not forget it.

I survived high school. I made a couple friends here and there that are still friends to this day, and I was loathed by all the rest.

I am certain that lots of people have experienced worse than I. I agree with All World Issues that bullying is pretty horrible, but it ain’t going to stop. I don’t get bullied any more, but I know that some people don’t like me, but you’ll get that wherever you go.

I think you can either attempt to outgrow those who hate you and not care, or let it consume and overwhelm you until it takes control of your life. It is difficult to avoid the unavoidable, so me recommending that option is like me recommending you avoid the killer shark that is one second away from making you yet another trophy between its teeth.

Bullying gradually will become worse. There are numerous news stories about people been stabbed at school and murdered, and I am glad I didn’t become a news story.

Anti-bullying campaigns don’t work, and neither do the videos. You will never stop it; you just have to outlive it. If you can do that, then you have officially conquered it. This is my view, and not that of All World Issues.

That particular young lady wishes to start a campaign to build awareness against bullying and has other great ideologies in regards to such a plan. I’m glad that such a person is committed to such goals. I wish her luck and anyone else who attempts such a plan.

You ain’t gonna stop bullying for it is imbedded inside human culture, and honestly, how are you going to change human culture when there are 7.4 billion human beings on the planet. Now, many of them have not bullied others. Many of them have never been bullied. But the other couple billion people have either bullied or been bullied. I ask those who wish to help, can you really help solve all that pain?

People are capable of the greatest of things. They are capable of love, of happiness, of amazing intellect, of generosity, of selflessness. People can also do unspeakable evil. They are capable of hate, misogyny, and violence. This is human nature. Everyone can do good, just as everyone can do bad. Can you really change a couple thousand years of evolution?

Whoa, what a week!

 

There was one particular part of my week that changed; my computer that I primarily use for internet purposes. Yeah, it would seem that a ‘goodbye’ would be in order.

I have four computers at my house. One is quite old – I procured it back in 2008, and it still uses an old version of XP and has a very slow operating system. Now, this particular relic is located in the garage of all places, not because it belongs there, which I guess it kind of does, but predominately because it is still useable. My personal gym is located in the garage, and Windows Media Player is still fully functional on this computer, and that, along with the pretty awesome subwoofer’s I have attached to the computer make for some pretty good music playing capabilities. True, it ain’t as good as the surround sound stereo I have in the rumpus room where you can play music in one country and hear it clearly in another, but it still works all the same. No point in throwing out something that can still sufficiently do for you what you want it to – my view anyway.

The second computer is from 2009, and at the time, believe it or not, was the fastest system one could acquire. This computer can no longer play video games of today, which was probably blatantly obvious by the year this thing was produced. It is incredibly slow and half the time fails to do what you want it to. The internet is now out of date and the computer still utilises on XP system, so I cannot update it to Windows Explorer Nine cuz I don’t have Windows Seven. I can’t be bothered putting what is basically still a relatively new system onto an old computer just so that I can use the internet. This leads me to my laptop – a fine piece of machinery that I acquired at the conclusion of 2010, which has had some issues in regards to the internet in the past, but should now be hopefully working fine.

My other computer is one that I acquired at the start of 2011 which still is at the top of its game. Don’t ask me for the specs – never ask me for the specs. I have no idea what the monster has inside of her; all I know is that to this very day she is capable of giving the computer’s today a run for their money with the system that she runs with, being able to still play the games that come out with peek performance. The system is the kind that the gals and blokes over at MLN use, or used to at least since they are always up on the newest kind of tech to support their gamers. The computer uses a pretty massive if I must say so myself HD 3D TV as its monitor. The issue with this, and believe me, there is an issue, even with a gorgeous thing like this – is that everyone else wants to use it. I always wanted a giant monitor and a kick ass gaming system, and have separate PS3 and XBOX 360 consoles attached to this particular area of the house, so no matter what platform the game is on, I can play it and throw massive LAN parties there as well. That is the problem – I always wanted a giant system, and I not only got the system, but all of the crazies that come with it, my friends on frequent occasion coming over and having the time of their lives. Bunch of bums really – dunno why they can’t buy their own systems, then they wouldn’t have to not only keep me from using my computer but wouldn’t eat me outta house and home in the process.

So, with this said, the system I predominately use for the internet is the one bought back in 2009 – or was at least until every single social media site I am on, from Word Press to Facebook, et al, began to malfunction and not work as well as they used to cuz I did not have Windows Internet Explorer 9. So, the reason I have not commented on many of your pages, or liked many of your pages or even visited many of your pages over the past couple of days is not because I am a bad guy, well, maybe that, but the primary reason is because of my crappy internet connection. So I had to update my laptop and give that the internet, and the security that came with it, and the billions upon billions of downloads that it wanted from the (almost) two years I have had it to ensure it was up to friggin’ date before I could begin to use the internet (finally) to go back to my life on social media.

It’s funny – this time two years ago I had not a thing to do with social media. Okay, I had a Facebook page that I frequented about once every blue moon, but I had no connection to any other social media page and I quite enjoyed my life back then. Now, I have changed so dramatically, and am connected to a cool few sites, and I do not know how I would live my life today without some social media every now and then and all of the pretty awesome perks that come with it. I mean, reading the kinda stuff that you guys make – classic! Can’t find that anywhere else, and I thank you guys from the bottom of my heart for all the entertainment, comments, likes, follows and what have you that you have provided to me over the past few months.

Thanks guys!

So now that I have the internet working, again (!), hopefully I will be able to get my life back on track.

Thank you for reading!

Naughty Nefarious, signing off!

It was an Embarrassing Day!

 

This piece contains some rather strong coarse language.

Okay, let me paint u a picture – I’m 4 years old. It’s a weekday, and I am already running late for kindergarten, and I suddenly have this enormous urge to relieve my bladder. Now, bearing in mind at this point I was not exactly what you could call ‘skilled’ at aiming my projectile weapon. Quite often my payload would go everywhere but where I wanted.

I remember once when I was 7, it was a very dark night and I decided not to turn on the lights as to not wake up my parents, cuz their bedroom was next to the bathroom. I was busting, and I managed to make it to the bathroom in time – to watch my penis go absolutely crazy. I took hold of Naughty Junior, and took aim, kind of, and watched the havoc in what appeared to be slow motion – it went everywhere. On the walls. On the ceiling. On the floor. On the toilet rolls (that is what they all for, right, so that wasn’t so bad, right?). On the towels. On the mirror. Yes, it was a nightmare. In the end – not one drop managed to make it into the bowel – some of it I will admit hit the seat, but, that still counts as a ‘miss’. Like basketball – you don’t get points for hitting the rim. Cleaning it up was the worst part – at one point I miscalculated the extent of the damage and slipped on my ex-bodily liquid and skidded across the tiles and happened to slam into the cabinet. I was headed for the shower but managed to grab hold of the door and did an amazing 180 degree spin away from it – I was really impressed. Safe to say my parents awoke – and they were less than pleased.

Anyway, back to when I was 4 – judging by my brilliant history of missing every time I tried to relive my bladder, which I apparently continued for some years to come, I decided to sit down. Yes – which was as it later seemed, not the greatest of plans. So, there I am, relieving myself, when I slip – no, not off the toilet, that would have been not embarrassing at all. I slip into it. Apparently, when I sat down my arse cheeks were teetering on the edges of the inner most portion of the seat, and I just so happened to lose my balance.

So, here’s the picture; I am officially half way in. My arse is about two inches away from needing a snorkel. My feet are dangling just above the floor and I am helpless to move. So – I call for my mother, who at the time was my heroine. In she comes – and laughs at me. She doesn’t cry, which is what I was doing mind you. She doesn’t scream or yell ‘golly gosh!’. No, she nearly pisses her pants as she watches me dangle from where I am like a fish before eventually coming to my rescue – or not. She takes hold of my arms and begins to drag me out – she drags. She pulls. She pushes. She yells. She growls. She groans. She pants. She pulls. She prods. (This is beginning to sound like a regular porno). She yanks with all her might – but I won’t budge. Daddy was out at work at the time. He left every morning at five to help control Melbourne’s power. So, it was just me and mummy – who could not save me. She says she might need to get the neighbor to help yank me from the bowels of hell. Shit no! At least that is what I would have said back then if I had known such a term existed, cuz bearing in mind at the time I was innocent and sweet. It was the following year, my first day of primary school actually that I leant the words ‘fuck’ and ‘cunt’. Yes, my parents were proud they had sent their son for a higher education. NOT! Anyways, the mere mention of the neighbor’s assistance causes my inner self to empower my body to wrench myself free. I push and my mother pulls, and eventually I am saved!

That however ain’t the most embarrassing part. The local newspaper decided to make a story out of this, titled ‘toilet tries to eat stupid little prick and an arsehole’. (This part is meant to be a joke. I know, my friends didn’t laugh at this either!)

FYI – I don’t miss anymore!

Naughty Nefarious, signing off

Feeling a bit blasé…

 

Let’s talk about feelings…yes, I know, long drawn out sigh!

But what I really want to discuss is my feelings. I know, that is kind of pretentious, but hey, this is my blog, right?

One thing I have come to notice, especially online, is the way I convey my feelings to others. In blogs, I have this way about me, where as soon as I begin to talk about something serious, something that means a lot to me, I temporarily shut down, and I am no longer me, Derek Childs, a.k.a Naughty Nefarious – I become a sub-version of both these personalities.

How so? Instead of writing seriously, or from the heart as some might say, I take what I want to say, and I often make some rather crude or vulgar joke about it, or I formulate it in a rather rude way and try to make that which was meant to be serious into quite the riot.

This is quite the vulnerability for me. Basically, this occurs most when I begin talking about who I like, and who I would like to be with. I say how I really am infatuated with a certain someone and how I want to spend time with them, and then I make a sexual reference, not in a romantic way, but deliberately as to avoid the whole romantic sphere that I have generated.

I should probably not have to do this. In truth, I don’t have to do so period.

The issue is with ME. I don’t know why, but I want to talk about these feelings and issues online, and then when I do so, I begin to joke about them. I mean, how can I be taken seriously as a blogger or as a writer if I myself am not taking these issues seriously myself?

I would love to say that I intend to turn over a new leaf here, but I don’t like making rash promises that I cannot keep. What I will say is that in the future, if you read any more pieces of mine, I am certain you will know what I am talking about here when you see them.

How, the intro to the piece probably displays this whole conception to a ‘T’.

So, this is me, talking about how I talk, and how I am basically going to refuse to change.

Believe it or not, when talking to the people I have feelings for, it comes a lot easier. I know, hard to understand when reading this, but…I know I can do better, I just don’t think I really want to. I am not uncomfortable with the blogger I have turned out to be, but I ain’t gonna change cuz this is a part of me and I guess it/he is here to stay.

Thank you for reading.

Naughty Nefarious, or whoever the hell is writing this, signing off.

A Post-It Note on Bloggin’ Posts!

I have been blogging for, oh, going on seven months now (I am including the use of my other blog in this summary). I am not entirely down on all the information pertinent to successful blogging, but I would like to think that I ain’t no novice either.

I however did not write this post to talk about my experiences, although that may not be a half bad idea for when I run out of other ideas to discuss. No, I want to discuss my beliefs and my findings in regards to followers and the content that people find most fascinating to read. A few of the people I follow have been discussing such ideologies, so I thought I might put my bib in and discuss this subject matter too.

Now, I would like to believe that if I follow someone, then they will follow me back. Such is specified in the Word Press help guide as to what will come to fruition (yes, I read the manual!). I have noticed that many people thank one another for going to blogs and looking at what others have specified, and then later click the ‘follow’ button to keep up to date with any and all additional content. I however also have a couple addendums that contradict this stereotype. I ain’t gonna name names (probably cuz I can’t for the life of me remember), but I followed this young lady on my other blog not long after I began, in March. My other blog is committed to poetry and prose, and such was what this young lady was involved in generating. Anyway, I liked her poems – I found them emotional, sad and in-depth with ideas that made one think. Over the course of two weeks I ‘liked’ five of her pieces and I followed her blog. She did not follow me. In fact, after I ‘liked’ those five pieces I mentioned, she enjoyed my visits to her blog so much that she prohibited me from ever visiting it again! Her site became restricted and privatised! WTH!

I myself have not followed every single person who has followed me. For instance, I do not follow people whose blogs are not written in English. What’s the point? They may be good, but I ain’t gonna understand a word of what they are writing. Of course, I’m so blind I couldn’t see a car if it was parked right next to me, so for all I know, my lazy ass eyes did not notice a ‘translate’ button located somewhere on the page (?). I’ll look into this…

In regards to my own posts, I have noticed that anything to do with video games – usually not so many hits on those. Anything to do with relationships and my ideologies on women usually get a couple hits, and so too do my views on my stereotypes in regards to the Australian way of life. For me – relationships and advice and ideas that people have discovered I usually find quite interesting. Pieces that contain humour I find especially easy to read, and those with views that are original and very well thought out are additionally easy to digest.

So without further ado, I am now going to mention some of my fav blogs that I follow. I would like to note however, that even if I do not mention your blog here, it does not mean in the slightest that I think you ain’t awesome…it’s cuz there simply ain’t enough room to name all of you!

In regards to life in general, I would recommend the following:

http://readncook.wordpress.com/ These pieces are easy going, and the use of photos that often come attached to many of the posts allow the reader to become further immersed in the uploaded pieces.

 
http://knowthesphere.wordpress.com The following posts look at 
life as aspects of certain ‘spheres’, to further understand what 
we do, why we do things and how. It is quite difficult not to 
like these posts.

http://betweenfearandlove.com/ These pieces are often very easy to understand, and one is able to relate to many of the ideas and themes encompassed therein.

http://www.slapppshot.com This bloke’s posts are very well written and at times quite humorous. It’s great when someone can talk about something serous, yet can go about it in a way that remains intriguing and keeps you coming back for more, and Slapppshot has got that down to a ‘T’

http://yanaamari.wordpress.com These posts encompass not just pieces on life, but poetry as well. If I may in but one word describe this blog, I would probably refer to her blogging style as ‘adorable’

http://blessedwithastarontheforehead.wordpress.com The posts
located here are very in-depth and easy to digest, whether you
are full or have an empty stomach. These posts are quite
motivational.

 
Additionally, for motivation, and if you are interested in 
issues concerning the disbandment of bullying and other such 
nefarious occurrences within society, I would recommend the 
following blog; http://talinorfali.wordpress.com/

 

For relationship advice, the following are quite edible:

Here is the link to Author Jodi Ambrose: http://jodiambroseblog.com According to this young lady’s blog, her posts are supposed to provide relationship advice – I have indeed received some, and when she does give advice it is absolutely flawless. However, most of the time her posts are really just about experiences in life, and if they don’t cause you to LOL at least half a dozen times, then there is obviously something really rotten in Denmark.

 
For advice from another professional, here is a good link to 
try: http://marriagecoach1.wordpress.com

Additionally, I would
recommend: http://ellayourbella.wordpress.com

 

For posts on love in general, these are two that I know are quite resourceful:

http://truelovejunkie.com/ – contains vast amounts of romanticised poetry and posts

http://realtruelove.wordpress.com/ – very in-depth articles on love

 

If you are a tech or science geek, then the following two blogs are for you:

http://SoshiTech.wordpress.com– Keeps you up to date with 
what’s in the know in regards to tech, the internet, etc.

For space, science and television shows to do with space and 
science, I would look no farther than:
http://galaxybureau.wordpress.com – which will keep you 
frequently informed!


For posts on video games, I recommend:
http://playstationkw.wordpress.com – If you are an avid 
video gamer, then this is the one place you can rely on to 
fill your thirst for information. These posts are really well 
written and will cause you to think about many different 
issues. Video games no longer seem just for entertainment 
after reading these posts, but as avenues of life itself.


For photos, I would try the following:
http://thedaintylenses.wordpress.com/
http://manipalphotoblog.wordpress.com

http://curlymiri.wordpress.com

http://photobotos.com 

For a blog regarding aspects of writing, I would recommend 
this particular blog: http://cristianmihaid.wordpress.com

As for poetry – on my other site, I have noticed that pieces
which are shorter and have lines that are consistent with the
length of the poem usually find themselves gaining the most hits. Longer pieces – not so much. Pieces that stretch the realms of my imagination and add content that is original and brand spanking new are often enjoyed by a couple individuals, most often by followers that I have already gained, whilst it is the smaller pieces that gains additional new followers.

As for myself – romantic posts, yeah, I’m a sucker for them. Sad posts I will enjoy reading, but have a lesser chance of me actually ‘liking’ due to this fact, cuz I feel, how can you honestly like something that was so downright emotive? If you ended up feeling rather shitty after reading something, why could you possibly like it? Perhaps that’s just me being an arsehole. Pieces that have terrific lines and just stay with you keep me coming back for more. Here is the link to a poem by the Silver Poet. The concluding line of this poem stayed with me for quite a while after I finished reading it;
http://silverpoetry.wordpress.com/2012/06/22/earth-owl/
I especially like pieces that have, when they use rhymes, have interesting ones. Anyone can rhyme ‘cat’ with ‘hat’ and ‘see’ with ‘me’, but it is when someone uses terminology like ‘promulgate’ and ‘escalate’ and other such words that are not often found in such poetry that a piece becomes quite interesting.

For additional sites that contain pieces of poetry, I recommend you take a look at my ‘Poetry Discussion’ post which will provide the links to poetic blogs that I quite enjoy following. The link to this particular post can be found here: https://stationdeva.wordpress.com/2012/06/11/poetry-discussion/

As always, these are but my ideas and opinions.

Naughty Nefarious, signing off