Your capabilities versus Toby Young

Your capabilities versus Toby Young

Continuing on my theme of public cooperation and the lack of social cohesion we have all experienced in the last few decades, this morning I briefly lost my temper with Toby Young.

 

Toby Young, for those who are unaware of him, is the Conservative sponsored answer to ‘celebrity’ journalists such as Julie Birchill and Tony Warren.  All three of these people have had sparkling and very easy careers thanks to their expressed views and the people they court.  I remember when Toby’s book ‘How to Lose friends and alienate people’ came out, wondering why someone in my peer group had effortlessly made it into the mainstream with a mediocre piece of work, useful only as a present for family members you do not particularly like.

 

It is a very English sensibility, the idea that a sector of the population somehow deserve an easy life, on the grounds of a few connections, a lot of massage oil, and a nice dinner.  People are quite prepared to accept their lack of importance.  There is a kind of safety in sitting in your house, complaining and doing absolutely nothing whilst someone else takes money to do something simple very badly.

 

Toby has defended the indefensible several times on behalf of his cronies.  He has a very nice house, a very nice life, and a mealy mouthed appreciation of everything he has been given.  In short, people like Toby represent why taxation is unfair, why people like you are unlikely to ‘hit the big time’ without agreeing to something you don’t want, why a sector of the population who prefer money to morality continue to use their incompetence and greed to ensure that you have an utterly miserable time whilst they take their lovely dogs for a walk and laugh about what a scrounger you are.  He even displayed his incredible ignorance of what socialism represents in his Twitter feed.  Sorry Toby, but I was so irate by the time I got to your stupidity on health that I could not continue.  You are a moron, of the lowest order.

 

This week, I discovered that the entire West coast of Scotland are expected to use A and E in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Glasgow. If you break your arm in Campbelltown, you are told to go to Glasgow for treatment.  If you hurt yourself in Oban, you also go to Glasgow.  I can only assume that someone sitting in England made this decision, which has also had the side effect of devaluing already cheap property right down the coast. In addition to this, I have been told that the new hospital cannot take patients like my mother, and if she requires a drip or extensive healthcare, this will still be managed at home, and I as an untrained person will be expected to take on the duties of a trained nurse.

 

Labour sold you all out, so that Helen Liddell could sit on your television set and smirk about the 42 new hospitals she was so proud of.  Under PFI, these hospitals will be unaffordable in ten years, making privatization of an essential service more attractive to the population. The only people who benefit, are the builders that presumably donate to Labour and got the work.

 

My heart broke ten years ago, when I discovered what a shitty, corrupt little country run by very average idiots I live in. Sometimes a broken heart is a good thing, because you have to recover somehow.

 

If you allow things to continue the way they are, you only have yourselves to blame.  You are just as talented, if not more talented that the people you sit and complain about.  Do something about it. Your country is already infested with scum like Toby and his cronies.  Get motivated, and get your lives back.

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Fat people can dance

Today, I blocked a South African lady on my facebook page.  I do not block people regularly, as I have little dealings with anyone apart from seriously boring men on my friends list, and even they get short answers if they cannot be bothered looking up my work with the website provided before they talk to me. I am under yet another alias on facebook, in case Wolfe would like to block me again.
I blocked her because she posted a video of a thin woman dancing out of time, followed by a very drunk lady who had become intoxicated and had mistaken the forward and backward roll for dancing.  This was supposed to be funny.
“She seems exceptionally talented at rolling about.”  I tried to see if she had a sense of humour.
“That thin one can move.” she replied.
“Not in time.”  I replied, and provided her with a link to a very talented break dancer who is frankly enormous.
“Not my thing” she sniffed.  At this point I decided I had nothing to say to this person and blocked her.
I have no time for people who cannot see why other people are fat if she sits and victimizes them, for obvious historical reasons.
Let me get this straight, for any fat people reading this, and please follow the links in blue in the text.

The bigger the belly the better the lover
Obese people less likely to get dementia
Fat people may statistically live longer

Let us now pause for celebration with this lovely video

Now that we have shared this information, allow me to continue with the other side of things.
Allowing people to bully you out of doing whatever you want to do when young, makes you frightened as you get older.  The fat won’t kill you nearly as fast as the fear will.  There is no reason why you cannot swim, enjoy a walk, dance, garden or whatever else your mobility allows you to do.  I do not recommend running, as your knees and hips are precious, but that is a personal choice.
I am not recommending fat as a lifestyle decision, I am merely pointing out that as a victim of two vindictive sisters, who would have bullied me over something else if it was not fat, that spending your life scared shortens your life a whole lot more than eating.
I have gained and lost well over a thousand pounds of weight in the course of my life.  Basically it has usually gone something like this:  

I get upset, and nobody wants to admit or address my issues, so I eat to stop myself talking about it.
I continue to eat because there is nothing I can do to make things better for myself.
I stop going out in case anyone sees me because it is too upsetting.
I eventually find myself uncomfortable, frightened, isolated and I find something else to do.
Eventually I cannot do all the things I want to do and I put tremendous work into losing it all again, only to meet some tiresome guy, or have a tiresome ex return and start the whole cycle again.
In the meantime, my family have usually eaten up all the time in between getting me to do stuff for them and complaining about it.

I cannot tell you how many similar, miserable people I see in the same predicament, particularly in the caring community.  Take heed, that it is the fear, and not the fat that is killing you.
So here is my recommendation:

Get rid of the people who don’t listen to you or show any concern for your feelings.  They are worthless, inadequate people who do not deserve you.
Show kindness only to people who deserve it, or who for some other reason you wish to show kindness to.
If anyone sneers at you for moving around, taking some time for yourself, dancing, or showing happiness, you have my full permission to give them the finger and carry on with whatever you want to do.
Do not allow anything you see on the internet to dissuade you from living your life, however you want to live it.
Thinster nazis will get dementia and die quicker, so bear that in mind as they abuse you. Enjoy a quiet smile at the clueless selfishness and lack of talent in the sack.
Bear in mind that the thin people complaining do not actually eat much less than you do.  They just did not make the mistake of allowing themselves to be crushed into a chair with comfort food. They went out and enjoyed themselves, with the added spice of having made you unhappy.

I will be losing weight again shortly, after I figure out the best way of dealing with the mother issue, and after I have started making the game, so do not assume I have some sort of fetish, however as someone whose wrists are 3 inches bigger than my sister of the same height, I am well aware that BMI is a lot of nonsense used by insurance companies and the NHS to torture people, and not everyone is supposed to be the same size.  I am positively Amazonian in comparison with both sisters, and I am also a lot stronger. I am never going to look like a gazelle. Get over it.
Finally, here are some nice pictures:
fatchickgroupfat
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The Joys of Misery

The Joys of Misery

So, after I tested all these games yesterday, plus a few more I was looking at for artistic reasons – it is sometimes easier to produce style than detail – my motherboard fried, after 2 minutes of Saints Row 2 (which otherwise I really recommend – but only if you have a relatively slow system.

 

I turbo charged my old t5400, and it is very sad that the motherboard got fried, as replacing it will cause much swearing when I get the new one.  Although it is marginally less fiddly than a normal PC, rebuilding an entire system is not something I particularly enjoy, although it is immensely satisfying having a hi-spec computer for under three hundred quid.

 

After a quick trawl on ebay, I have now purchased a bunch of stuff which will mean that instead of taking a week off next week, I will be awaiting parcels and rebuilding the computer room.  The one I used for the Prisoner game on Second Life is now going to be retiring, and will probably lurk in my studio until I get around to throwing it out.  In the meantime, I am a bit scuppered with testing games, I am still wary of sewing due to my sore hand, and I am not sure about writing at the moment.  It seems futile unless I throw more money at marketing.

 

Which leaves me with:

Plotting out the game structure on paper, which will take a room full of paper as it all has to lie carpet like on the floor with two cats playing on it whilst I draw it out.
Finishing my work on my new Victorian bannisters for the hall.
Finishing my redesign of the gardens.
Thinking about Best Adventure Ever, and what I want Kira to do apart from lusting after inappropriate people and accidentally starting social movements.
Studying, since I have about 12 programming languages to get through, and not very much time to do it.
Tinkering with the decor of the painfully beautiful work of art that is the house I life in.

I am a strangely busy bee, for someone who has no social life and who probably looks very lazy to the untrained eye.  Sometimes the carpet does not get hoovered as a result.

 

I am amused however, that I did not feel at all like freaking out when the motherboard fried, despite the thousands of poundsworth of software that cannot currently be accessed since the computer cannot pass POST.

 

On the grand scale of bad things to happen, it is far better that this happened before I started in earnest on the game.  Now I have purchased a second workstation and a new motherboard, and am redesigning the computer room to incorporate yet another in my bank of computers to enable me to back up my work. Sweet.  This can only be a good omen.

 

Ina

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Confrontation, confidence and class

Today’s burning topic is confrontation.  Much of your life is determined by your ability to tolerate confrontation, both in creating and receiving ‘turning points.’ Confrontation sometimes takes the form of a discussion, argument or all out war.  Confrontation and the ability to communicate determines whether people live or die.  Confrontation is the difference between moving on with your life, and remaining in the same stuck position for years.  I am a bit of a fan of confrontation, although I am just as inclined to avoid it as too stressful as pursue it for the purpose  of moving on.

 

Your ability to tolerate confrontation is determined by a variety of things:  your level of confidence, your level of communication skills, your level of emotional stability, your ability to tolerate stress in the form of your adrenaline levels.  I was once told that burglars are able to take up stealing from houses because of their low adrenaline levels, which I thought was fascinating.  I am far to anxious to do any such thing, which has hampered my progress since my twenties due to trauma. Before my mid twenties, I led a team of several people.  After this, I was not given much of a chance, and have come to consider myself less capable as a result.

 

Having said this, the ability to confront is not necessarily a quality that successful people have.  Sometimes they are successful because they are incredibly skilled at avoiding it.  When put on the spot, however, these people are the first to crumble.  I cannot tell you how amusing it is, when you discover that your oh-so-cool friend is not very cool at all when presented with unexpected information or a new situation.

 

Chefs often have very intense confrontations, which actually makes for a very healthy working environment.  Problems are dealt with under pressure rather than festering, as they often do in offices. The upside of this is that problems with the working environment are solved extremely quickly. Many chefs retire into the army, which is simply a more controlled environment of disciplined confrontation.

 

National confrontations often take the form of war.  The UK has made great use of diplomacy to avoid this, whilst making a living out of wars elsewhere.  The British machine has worked very well in the past, but recently the system has been allowed to flounder, by people who do not understand history, who do not want to be reminded that the survival of all depends on fairness, and who thrive on a subtly corrupt system of favours and benefits for a select few.

 

In the future, we will see more legal, rather than political, diplomatic or military confrontations, since the corporations will slug it out using the money they have extracted from populations too stupid to prevent the inevitable.  In the meantime, people will earn less than ever before, for jobs that were once considered skilled.

 

Religious confrontations, tolerances of variations in interpretation, and social control enabled by division and the imposition of changes in doctrine, are often the most directly bloody of the lot.  Any study of religious history will tell you that life is extremely cheap when it comes to religion.  As I have previously mentioned, religions have often historically formed to improve the performance of armies, as well as providing pastoral services, exchanging information across national boundaries and exerting social influence via regular meetings.  There is nothing new under the sun, and the more intelligent reader should pursue a wide knowledge of religious history to understand the forces at work, and their relationship with the ultimate worship of money. There is ultimately no such thing as a benevolent religion, because religions seek to restrict behaviour and impose shared values where there are none.

 

A wise person seeks to control their own anger, and so improve their ability to tolerate confrontation, because this is the difference between fitness to rule, and a lack of fitness to succeed at a much lower level.  The same can be said for countries who seek to impose their values on others via military intervention. All empires wax and wane for this reason.

 

The same can also be said for religions which preach intolerance and a hatred for others.  A mature religion has learned the importance of remaining benign to preserve the sanctity of life. If you are asked to die for your religion, then there is a significant problem.

 

Beware of people, countries and religions declaring themselves perfect, pure or true, because they have lost their sense of relativity to others, including you.  The only result in all of those cases is ultimately death.

 

 

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It’s good to be unpopular

It’s good to be unpopular

Sometimes, it is good to be unpopular.  I am growing into it.

 

Anyone who has done a quick post trawl knows that I look after my mother, who has dementia.  I also took care of my father when he had it, and she was trying to be responsible, and not really managing it. I have restored a large house, and maintained the grounds. I have done this at the expense of my career, family life and personal freedom.  There are people in a state of slavery that have more freedom than I do.

 

My family, in response, who were brought up, if you could call it up, when my parents were in a different life phase, fear that there is some financial implication of my doing this, and have repeatedly attacked me, legally, medically, and in terms of trashing my name at every opportunity. They have also attempted to take my mother’s money and blamed my terrible behaviour for this.  My terrible behaviour consisting of taking care of their parents and their inheritance whilst they do nothing, and avoiding them as they repeatedly refused to help and attacked me.

 

You would think that at some point in twenty years, perhaps during the years when I spent a considerable portion of my day weeping whilst I looked after everything, that my mother would perhaps show some support of my taking care of everything.  Not so.  When she is with me, she will either tell me that I should not say anything, or find a way to blame me for her other children’s behaviour.  When she is with them, she complains about me.  I am not sure why people like my mother have children when they, and I quote “do not see why they should parent adult children, and have declared themselves retired from parenting.”

 

As far as I am aware, my mother had retired from parenting before she had me.  If the first three children are an example of parented children, and I am an example of a non- parented person, this does not say much for a parent who should be instilling compassion, helpfulness, self-worth and open-mindedness in their offspring. The first three wasted no time in announcing that they had no intention of being helpful, either in person or in terms of support with issues such as repairs, prior to my father becoming ill.  I tried many times to call them and ask for their help in imparting information to their parents, to be told that as I had no rights, I should not even bother telling them.

 

Is a role-playing sense of entitlement the only thing you should take away from your experience of being in a family?  Would you allow your at times unwittingly cruel parent to be placed into very expensive care at the expense of their health?  Especially when the alternative is that your life is taken away.  I have not been out for an evening from this house since 2003.

 

I have little to no prospect of using my education, making the career that I worked extremely hard for, having a family, building up a pension, or restoring my personal life to any semblance of normality.  I am unable to access third party help, because my eldest sister, in particular would see this as an opportunity to drag my name through the mud as she has done in the past.  My friends have long since become fed up with doing the chores along with me to see me at all.  The only people I see are my mother’s POA and tradesmen or people at her medical appointments.  There are times when I cannot even attend my own appointments, as she would be left alone too long.  Is anyone really worth this level of devotion, especially when she cannot spit out five words “you are putting my care at risk”  to stop her own children from attacking you on the basis of their own dishonesty?

 

I have had to make this decision many times over the years.  I have been extremely ill twice, during which she informed me that I could take a break whenever I want, simultaneously refusing to stay with one of the others or allow me any time off to recover.  As a result I have often wondered if her intention is for me to die, and I am really just here to make sure her idle children get as much money as possible.

 

Basically it is a question of how much stress you can handle.  Having watched my father’s unpleasant end in a hospice, where it was decided within days that he was difficult and needed to be drugged, I am not in a hurry to repeat the experience with my mother.  My family’s repeated attacks have told me a lot about supposedly respectable people, and the only plus in this situation has been having time to pursue creative projects.  I have learned a lot, but am yet to monetise this creation, so I keep learning.  This keeps my mind relatively flexible, but my physical health is now suffering to quite an extent.

 

I am quite sure that my mother’s POA, a neighbour and friend I was introduced to years ago when on another local project, is quite sick and tired of my constant anxiety in relation to the family, and I do not feel great about keeping him informed of the activities of my frankly scummy family.  He has done what he can for me, and anything else, I guess is probably superfluous. What bothers me, is that I now get the impression that sticking up for myself is frowned upon from every angle.

 

My mother does not help, none of the supposedly supportive third parties can help, he cannot help.  I am supposed to sit here, taking care of parental family health and business, with the expectation of being attacked by the beneficiaries.  This situation makes no sense to me.  I have lost count of the number of days I have lost to anxiety and worry.  The house has never looked better, but with a property this size, you always have a list of things to do. When my life is draining away, for the benefit of others, you would think that somebody somewhere would appreciate that I have to stick up for myself on the basis that nobody else is going to do it, even over things as simple as people turning up when they say they are going to.

 

I sat for years, miserable and saying nothing.  It did not stop the attacks.  Recently, I have taken to writing letters when issues have to be addressed, so that nobody can lie about what I have said.  Even this is risky, since the sisters are in a state of sufficient lunacy that my saying, for example, that it is not OK to make false police reports is evidence that there is something wrong with me rather than them.  This on the basis of them having more credit cards or property than I do.  At one point, my family even debated why I should be provided with somewhere to live whilst taking care of their parents. (even my mother had to have this explained to her several times before deciding that yes I could have somewhere to live)

 

It took a long time to accept that I was not the problem.  I basically did most of the work before I woke up and realised that the loudest and craziest complainants had not devoted a single day to the family, whilst I have had to give up everything.  I find it incredible, when there are so many people in a similar position, that there is nobody to protect the carer.  One care home owner told me that if she had a pound for every carer being attacked by their own family, she would not have to run a carehome.

 

So, in the event that everybody is claiming that you are a problem, even when they do not know you, or help you in any way, it is not necessarily because you genuinely are a problem.  It is because they are inadequate, selfish and are trying very hard to defend themselves by attacking you.  It is up to you whether you take the sensible route of getting as far away as possible, or put yourself through the trial of strength required to decide that no, you are worth more than money, that you are able to tolerate more than you thought you would ever have to, and that stupidity comes in many forms.  You are perfectly entitled to defend yourself, and perfectly entitled to opt out of toxic relationships, no matter who they are with, and just because society says that parents, for example, are supposed to protect and instill moral values into their children, it does not mean that parents are infallible or capable of actually doing the job.

 

Basically you cannot depend on anyone. It is up to you how you respond.  You can be as shitty as they are, or you can be the better person.

 

 

 

 

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Roosh v male emancipation

 

Today, I learned that I am a fat cyborg.

I am a fat cyborg because all my friends are male.  I am a fat cyborg because my exs have come back so many times that I actually had to devote a year to telling them to fuck off and leave me alone because I was in love with Wolfe.  I am a fat cyborg because looking after my disabled mother 24 hours a day leaves me with little inclination to conform to Roosh’s ideal world of submissive women awaiting a charmless twunt to waste their time and presumably steal their diamond’s worth of hymen.

So, all in all, I am quite happy to be a fat cyborg.

I took the trouble of looking through Roosh’s blog to see if I could find any redeeming features.  This is not the first time that I have taken the trouble to investigate the world of male emancipation.  I previously infiltrated the male rights movement on Youtube, thinking that since I was quite sympathetic, I would find some interesting points.  This stems from my disappointment at university, in finding that only one student was studying gender studies from a male perspective.  Seriously people, this ain’t good enough.

Where does my sympathy come from?  Men, whilst their mistakes may seem unforgivable, such as suddenly remembering that they only really wanted to sleep with you until you got bored, as opposed to actually building a future together, are just like women.  The difference is that they waste a lot less time jostling with you for social supremacy, and they are unfettered by the constraints of a fertile life that really lasts only 25 years or so.  They do not understand that life is finite, because it is in the interests of the gene pool that they spray their tiresome seed around as much as possible until they are killed by old age, disease, or each other.  Quite a few of them just do not know any better, and why should they, if they can avoid the consequences?

The economy is set up in their favour for this very reason.  Were we to impose the constraints of fertility on them, that have been set aside for women, such as enforced leave, regardless of the source of their children, they would suddenly discover consequences for actions and we would quite rightly impose the same social norms “Why didn’t you keep your zipper up if you didn’t want kids?”  etc etc.  Instead of which, women continue to bear this burden.  Roosh, with his childlike sense of unfairness that his ass does not get kissed often enough, just echoes the views of many men, who quietly type with one hand and seek out big girl pornography whilst telling everyone how much they love anorexic chicks with fake tits.

The great shame of the modern male, in my view, is that they are being groomed to be just as neurotic as women when it comes to their looks.  It is undoubtedly great marketing for the personal hygeine products, and if you have some issues with body hair, I am sure that it is very nice that they seem to be taking umbrage with their own fur, but largely, I am afraid that I am with Germaine Greer on this one.  Anything over 5-15 minutes is a waste of your intellectual capacity and time, and you really should get a life if you spend it staring at yourself in the mirror. When it’s right it’s right, and you really will not care if your ultimate beloved has less than two eyes/arms/ears never mind if they have had twenty concubines, six wives or husbands, or have plucked their surplus eyebrows or beard. Sorry to burst your marketing bubble.

Anyway, back to the youtubers.  It turned out that their victimitis consisted of wondering how they could shake off the psychopath they banged in the bar of a weekend, and why should they pay for their own offspring.  What lovely gents.  I note that Roosh would like to prevent women from working.  What a bleak future his offspring are going to have, given that he seems to think anorexic submissive virgins are in unlimited supply.

Should they all be white too, Roosh, given your evident hatred for immigrants?

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Advice for carers

There is a shortage of advice for carers, particularly those, like me, who did not start out in life with the idea that we would be spending the best years of our lives stuck in the house with an ill person, or people in my case.  I will give you a short history before I continue.

I finished up with postgraduate study in 2003, as by this time my father was bedridden and my mother, despite having the help she was entitled to, was struggling.  I continued to work as many hours as I could, some jobs being completed on the way home from other jobs, and found various inventive ways of fitting in as much work as I possibly could around providing support for her in the form of looking after her property and lifting my father when necessary. This still meant that I had to work in temporary, hence easily ditchable employment. My mother would not admit that she required help, and so the siblings found it quite easy to belittle my efforts alongside providing no help.  Just before she succumbed to a stroke I was working full time as a banking consultant, part time as a government research interviewer, and doing some corporate research during mealtimes.  A total of about 17 hours a day, six days a week, the remaining time being spent on maintaining the house and gardens and letting her get out.

My father became steadily worse over the five years between 2002 and 2007, and it was impossible to take the reins due to the fact that my mother was extremely difficult before her stroke.  When it became apparent that she had a heart problem, I spent two years arguing with her as I tried to tell her to go to the doctor.  It was obvious that she was not going to take this advice, and again the siblings ignored my entreaties to invite her to their house to give her a break, or advise her to go to the doctor as requested.  Therefore it became pointless to speak to them at all, since it was clear that they were not prepared for their parents dotage, nor willing to listen to me at all. I have never had much of a relationship with them, since my unexpected arrival over a decade after they thought the family was complete, came as a bit of a shock to them, so it was no great loss.  Their subsequent behaviour has been so poor that I frequently have cause to think I would be better off with no siblings at all.  These are middle class, respectable people who are in late middle age, so this came as quite a shock to me, never mind anyone else.

There is no legal or supportive body to go to if you are in this position.  I have been told by several care homes that I worked in on a temporary basis whilst trying to help my mother, that it is entirely normal for the absent children to attack the unfortunate carer, and there is no help for you on this basis at all.  You have the responsibility, you have the loss of your own life, and you have the daily drama of caring for your relative.  The last thing you need is to be attacked by your own family.  Having been through a particularly bad example of it, I can tell you that the only backup you are likely to receive in the face of such attacks is to be told, after investigation that you are off the hook.  You are basically at the mercy of adults who are functioning as particularly nasty children.

My advice is to opt out completely.  Despite what you may be told, there is no reason why you should make yourself available to be attacked.  My course of action was to ensure that I was notified of the impending visits in order to avoid them.  For the first few years of looking after my mother, I simply avoided the house during these visits.  Recently, I have been more inclined to guard my belongings, and ensure that my mother is not left alone as she tends to forget what she has been told within a few minutes.  I get no time off at all.  The vulture-siblings are not aware that she rarely gets through a night without needing something, and they have chosen to be so unhelpful and vicious that I am trapped in the house 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. This is preferable to accepting help from a third party, with associated worry garnered from years of my eldest sister seeing any third party involvement being an opportunity to accuse me of things I have not done.

Considering the amount that each carer saves the taxpayer, in the course of their poorly paid excuse for a life, and the associated knowledge of the person being cared for, who is almost always receiving far better attention than they would in the conveyor belt care home system, I find this lack of support astonishing.  Yes, there are courses available, should you need them, to help you react correctly to the situations with the person being cared for, there are day care facilities provided by local bodies where you can drop off your patient, should they agree to it, but nobody cares if you are persistently victimised by your own family.  Nobody cares that your life has been destroyed, and nobody cares about your privacy.  You can, if you do not care about privacy, get help from a third party with the direct daily activity of caring, but in my position, with two vicious sisters, this is not at all helpful.  I have learned over the years to either take my mother with me, when I do need to go somewhere, or schedule it at times when it is either impossible or unnecessary to inform them at all.  All this to protect my mother and her assets from attack by her own family.

You will find that your house becomes messy very quickly indeed.  It is amazing how much mess one tiny woman can generate.  Your family may also attack you on this basis, especially if you lack the funds or inclination to redecorate frequently.  Personally, I spent several years decorating whilst caring for my parents and neighbour, and became a familiar figure, covered in paint, in my local area as I was rarely out of my painting clothes.  I am about to have to start again, as this house is large and I keep it on a five year cycle.  As long as you enjoy this process, it is something you can do whilst your patient is sleeping or watching TV nearby.

You will find yourself crying a lot, particularly if you are female and are looking at a life with no children or opportunities to go out.  This means that you cannot even hope that a gallant gentleman will save you from destitution in your dotage, so you have a bleak old age to look forward to, whilst your selfish relatives roll around in the money they were able to make by being selfish.  The only good part about this element is that you are forced to be inventive.  Towards the end of the period of my being able to work, I worked from home to avoid claiming the benefits I was entitled to.  This is considerably easier to achieve than it used to be, thanks to the internet, but particularly with a progressive illness, you will have to give this up eventually in favour of something that you can either do whilst providing care, or nothing at all.  Be prepared for some dark moments as you realise your hope of the life you previously worked for is diminishing with time.

As your patient’s illness progresses, it will become increasingly difficult to keep up with even the simple things that you were able to easily cope with, so it is wise to be extremely mean as you may have to draft in a gardener or painter that you did not need to begin with.  The time you spend in a chair with your patient is still valuable to them.  If you are fortunate, you will have some means of utilising this comfort companionship.  Artwork is particularly good for the elderly generally, so if you can find some creative spark, especially craft related since you can get them to help, this is a good way of reducing your inevitable feelings of helplessness and loneliness.  Again, being online, you can find various places to dispose of what you have made once you have come up with a product.  Cooking may be your thing, but make sure you have an audience to consume what you have made if this is the case.

There are some examples of fairly high powered people who are in exactly the same position as you, and who have admitted that caring is the hardest thing they have ever done.  You have to be tough and self aware to pull off the whole caring thing, and being a nice gentle person will not cut it when the person you are looking after becomes difficult.

Some days are horrific, and you will feel like the worst person in the world because you did not cope as well as you should have.  You are a person too, so it is important to remember that the scummy person criticising you has no idea what you are going through, or that nobody becomes an angel at age 70.  My elderly best friend was one of the most evil, fun people I have ever encountered.  She would have been fun at 30, and she was fun at 89.

There are times when your patient will start a fight out of boredom and frustration, and it is in the nature of dementia, in particular, that they will play people off against one another for sheer spite.  It is in your interests to remain out of it, for your own sanity as well as ensuring that your patient does not inadvertently catch themselves in the crossfire.  There are very few cases in which carehomes are the best option, so even if you have a bad month, it does not make you a bad person.  Two years ago, my mother did not let me sleep for more than two hours for four months.  It was appalling, but we got through it, just as we got through her stroke, the death of her husband and brother, and the dishonest and despicable behaviour of her children.

Finally, pat yourself on the back for your commitment despite all this.  You are probably stupid for being so softhearted and allowing everyone to take advantage of you. Congrats for having what it takes to tolerate the bullshit that goes with it.

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Online education

The world of online education has developed considerably since I last checked five to ten years ago, and, having had an unexpected windfall, I am currently exploiting it to the full.

This has meant that I have postponed a lot of the stuff I was working on, in order to develop the next strands of work.  Apologies if you were happy just with the old ones, but every so often I have to rampage off to learn something in order to develop the next chapter, so to speak.

I have managed to cobble together about 3000GBP worth of courses for around 200GBP, and look forward to using my new found skills during my next assault on the cold and stony heart of Mr Wolfe.

To avoid aging and becoming stale, I recommend that a personal review is done every five years or so, especially if you have ongoing creative work.  Here are a few options, often free, for online learning:

 

EDX – courses from the World’s best universities

Coursera – free online courses

Udacity – free online courses

Alison – free online courses

Udemy – free online courses

futurelearn – free online courses

open 2 study

Derby University

Free Master’s Degrees in the EU

I am sure you could find more, but these are the ones I am working on at the moment.  I will stop occasionally, but I need to get about 30 courses complete before the next stage of the project, and I have encouraged Twisty to do a few also, so I guesstimate that the first games will not be complete until June.

Do enjoy looking through the courses, and be aware if paying for a course, that if you would like more than one, they tend to send you special offers when you buy one, so be prudent!

 

Ina

The post Online Education, free and paid for appeared first on Ina Disguise – Author.

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Capitalism, Socialism and Corporatism

The Resist Capitalism hashtag on Twitter has made me laugh for a variety of non-funny reasons. It amuses me that there is a backlash to an efficient brainwashing system that has led us to the point we are at today. If you care to go through some of the old economics articles from the cloud on this very blog, you will see that it is a topic close to my heart.

Having said this, the level of economic education displayed by some of the tweeters is woeful. Here is a brief line-drawing of how the economy developed from the cave until today.

First there were cave dwellers, who survived by hunting and gathering. As Hobbes said, life without cooperation was nasty, brutish and short, and large prey was difficult to catch without assistance. Therefore caveman A either killed caveman B, or grunted at him to assist him in bringing home the bison.

Cavewoman A and Cavewoman B were not much better, but survived marginally longer if someone was there when they gave birth. Hence humans learned to cooperate over simple tasks like not starving to death, drowning, being killed by animals or dying in childbirth.

As territories are finite when you are on foot, the local economy at this point was somewhat small and uncultivated, and so no permanent leader was necessary until more cavepeople joined the first few. At this point people assumed tribal roles.

Once we have a defined territory and tribal roles, cultivation becomes possible, leading to a pre-feudal scenario where division of labour reflects division of wealth.

The leader, picked by the tribe and thereafter either inheriting or taking the leadership role, makes decisions such as who wins the argument, when to fight other tribes, and what to show and tell visiting strangers. Therefore if anyone innovates, it makes sense to present the innovation to the leader, since he/she is more likely to figure out what the innovation is worth and how to go about maximising the benefit. Therefore, a pre-feudal scenario, whilst something of a wolfpack, is still vaguely fair, since there is an element of democracy simply by the fact nobody is volunteering to overthrow the leader.

As cultivation and toolmaking progresses, the economy develops into a feudal economy, and the innovations and quality of produce goes up. In theory, and in many cases in practise, wealth trickles down fairly readily to the cooperative peasants, since if it doesn’t the local, land based economic machine is very easy to stop if everyone agrees, forcing the feudal leader to capitulate to whatever the cooperative peasant workers want.

As this scenario develops, a smart leader uses people against one another and forms a militia, to protect the land holdings and maintain order. Maintaining the peace and an effective military force is made much easier if you have an organised religion to add to the mix. Nobody would have heard of Jesus or Mohammed if their armies had not kicked ass in the face of paganism or less well armed militia. Organised religion also provides a rudimentary education, healthcare and local orphanage services, and networks across Europe to share information in order to develop more efficient baby economic systems.

Cottage industry is really started with wives of useful sturdy peasants making yarn and textiles from home, travelling merchants paying for the items they produce, in order to keep them alive between payments from the leader, who is now considered to be a member of the landowning classes, due to his experience and violence in the course of time. Leaders of leaders are now selected, to enable several local economies to join forces to expand. Successful areas become richer, hold markets and pageants to show off their wares, and further benefits are enjoyed by the leader/landowner, who by now believes he has a given right to more than everyone else.

Cottage industries, gathering raw materials from the merchants rather than the landowners, become bigger with time, and gradually mechanise until townships form around bigger working units. Urbanisation commences, with supporting services such as gambling houses and brothels. Spare children from the original rural populations now go to the growing towns. At this point there is a need for the beginning of socialism, since a purer capitalist system is developing. As you can see, Socialism is simply the cooperative peasant workers reminding the leader/landowner/merchants/factory investors that since they cannot survive without the workers, the workers should be fairly treated.

Do you get it, yet? It is not, as you seem to have been told, a question of capitalism versus socialism. It is capitalism regulated by socialism, and rightly so. Problems with socialism arise when it becomes more complicated, and people forget that the entire system arose in the first place for everyone’s survival and not necessarily competition between competing interests of rich and poor. In no way should it be considered OK to starve out your supplying nations just because you can, or allow industry leaders to dictate when you go to war. Economic history is full of examples of the money dictating the mores of religion and nationalism. Never mind the war, look what the money is doing.

Another alarming feature of the twitter hashtag was the number of people who seemed to think that they were being presumptuous to discuss this. You have the time and the privilege of thinking about it. Unless you come from a fascist corporatist state, which many of you do, there is no reason why you cannot discuss alternatives to capitalism. However, it is not capitalism you should be resisting. It is corporatism. Corporatism is the road to a very real hell on earth, and it is reaching critical mass in Europe and the USA. All that GM pollen is rotting your brains.

Capitalism, on the other hand, is your democratic way of reversing the pickle we are all already in. Instead of handing your money to the same people every day, assuming that you are getting a better deal on your Iphone, tablet, broadband supplier, supermarket, bank, etc. you really ought to be considering who benefits. The only people who can stop the rich getting richer are you, the masses, and you do it by voting with your wallets.

Spend your money with wisdom. Stop supporting gargantuan companies that you know perfectly well tell your governments what, when and how to act. Stop supporting whore-politicians espousing the lies of corporatism, and stop assuming money means talent or wisdom, because it does not. Use less chemicals, and don’t think anyone genuinely cares about your new mobile or clothing, because these things do not matter as much as your fellow humans or descendants.

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Creative Funk and Blockages

Writer’s block means that you are either processing something, have yet to experience something necessary to your development, or simply have too much to worry about. It is not something that you should ever put yourself in the position of fearing. As someone who has many creative strands to my work, I usually deal with it by using one of the others, whether that is making cartoons, games, artwork or helping other people work through their stuff.

Chatting to a friend earlier this evening, we were discussing why he does not seem to want to promote his acclaimed work. It turns out that bad experiences from his past prevent him, on the grounds that he is somehow jinxed. This, coupled with having had successful projects hijacked, has led to a creative block that has been extremely frustrating for me as the viewer, and extremely limiting for him. Despite this, he has managed several small projects, but is suffocated by what I can only describe as a sense of despondence and fear of success.

In this case, it is film-maker’s and graphic novelist’s block, rather than writer’s block. He, in common with another film-maker I have had dealings with, limits himself by not effectively working around the blockage. This is an intermittent, rather than a constant, problem, and in the meantime I take the rather selfish approach of involving him in my stuff (he does all the photography for the store, and is creating the covers for this year’s crop of books.) I feel quite bad about this, however, as his time would be better spent generating more of his own work and starting new strands, in a holistic development. You often find, on your downtime from one area that you work in, that you unexpectedly grow in a new direction.

I have many authors on my friend’s lists, and barely a day goes by that someone does not complain of being blocked, or that they feel guilty that they have not written that day. In comparison, I frequently do not write for months at a time, and feel nothing at all about it. As I have previously mentioned, Agatha Christie said that she knew she was a professional writer because she wrote things she did not like, at times she did not want to write. I have no plans to be in this position. Deadlines are helpful, but you do not become better by hammering out pulp. I am lucky enough to be feeling quite vital at the moment, but should this change, I have a game to construct and some artwork to do.

It often does not look as if you are doing anything at all, when your work is creative, and then you look back on your day and you have written a press release, researched another couple of textures, absorbed some patterns and shapes, tidied your workspace, sorted some materials for another day. If you look on your writer’s block in a similar way, your brain does need time to store information, process it, and proceed to output mode. You can try scribbling tasklists and notes to yourself in the meantime, to try to speed up this process, but it will happen by itself eventually. Mindmapping was a useful technique I used at university, and it certainly helps a lot with business plans and presentations. Plotting the thought bubbles sometimes makes things a lot clearer.

Negative events often cause you to remain in this state of blockage or funk for several years, when you could just break it down into neat chunks. I was very aware throughout this particular creative period, of what was going on, because I had seen it all before. Years ago, I might have bothered to meet Wolfe, on the assumption that there was some magical source of the waterfall of emotion, but even two years of personal misery did not deter me from the creative outcome, thankfully.

Be aware, as a creative person, that the bad things that happen to you are probably even more useful to you than the nice things. Relentless positivity is for insecure, easily threatened people that are unwilling to develop in a realistic way. The bad years, you will find, provide a more stable footing for your growth in the good ones, if you teach yourself to look on it the right way. My friend can now make well regarded film with minimal money, due to the horrific things that have happened to him. If I can just get him past this unwillingness to shout about it – there is no reason why he cannot expand on this if he wants to. It has taken probably the whole fifteen years I have known him for me to understand why he strangles himself with the hostile form of self-doubt that prevents us finishing certain projects. Which brings me to my final point – unfinished projects should not be binned – it is possible that your brain awaits a future event to teach you what you need to know. Growth is not always a smooth process, but it gets a lot smoother when you learn to protect yourself from shock, and that no material is bad material when you are a creative flower.

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