A huge leap

Let me just give this post some context first before I bore you all to death with useless ramblings.

I wrote this post freehand 4 weeks ago, however I've kept a hold of it until the start of this week for very specific reasons, I didn't want to jinx a potentially life changing opportunity. I'm not normally superstitious but I was taking no chances.

I'll get back to this at the end of the aforementioned useless ramblings.


It's taken me some time to decide what kind of post to write to accompany my most recent poem, lately there have been very few text posts so I do feel a need to return to some kind of informative content past my poetry. I feel the need to explain what kind of purpose I put into my writing in general and underline exactly what I want to achieve.

My anxiety hit me young. Too young to be able to understand what was happening, too young to be able to ask for help. I performed well in school, one teacher told my mother to start saving for my university fees when I was only 8 years old.
Gone.

With anxiety came depression, another alien mindset, hellbent on confusing me into oblivion. Everything slipping slowly away, education a screaming passenger on an out of control roller-coaster yet still refusing to believe the now reality it had fallen into. All of this while not being able to understand, and me not being able to understand meant nobody else could understand either, to some I was an arrogant, ignorant child refusing to attend to their responsibility to learn.
The only thing I wanted to learn was what on earth was happening to my mind.
Those that had took pity, I shunned away for fear of letting them see how far my own mind had slipped.
Fear.

Then three laboured years later, a light. My educative environment had changed, a seemingly safer place to learn, away from the pressures of a mainstream schooling system. With it, a promise to see a child psychologist.
Hope.

What a glorified waste of time, I sought enlightenment, I gained what felt like a Rubik's cube of anger. What had they said when I wasn't there. If I had said more when I was there instead of fearing judgement of my parental companion, instead of having the confidence to ask to be alone. I felt as if I was promised the world and delivered an already devastated island, still uninhabitable, still bearing nothing of life. I had failed as a patient.
Reflection.

I think back to that whole scenario daily. In the right environment help can be there. In my youthful stupor and desperation, I wanted answers, to be told simply what was wrong and how to fix it. As practical as that sounds, I know now it's impossible. However, given the right environment...
Ambition.

I can't bear witnessing, reading, hearing of anyone go through the same torment so young. I just won't sit witnessing, reading, hearing of anyone go through the same torment so young. I feel all the mistakes I've made, all I have learned not just from experience but from therapy and research, I've developed a yearning. A need, to stop a serious problem that often goes unnoticed, so that nobody has to go day by day and be confused about why what and how. For the near future this is all I have, my own thoughts down on paper, typed through ones and zeros for people to read, and I'm pleased with the audience I've reached, I'm happy with what I've achieved through such a simple project and I love expressing my creativity through my poetry as well but where do I go next?
Onwards.

I'm not satisfied the audience I truly wish to reach is the one I can't just write to, this is all great empathising with those who've gone through similar, but those who are going through things and can't understand it? Where are they, past lost in their own minds looking for a way to understand? You don't simply think, this is what's wrong this is what I'll do, it's not as simple a taking a couple of painkillers and it'll be right in a few hours. At an age when minds are ripe for molding, an emotional upheaval is so, so challenging. I want to know more about why these things happen to us, what changes in our minds to make us feel such distress, and how to teach. Teach how better to prepare, teach how to understand, teach how to recognise.
Now I have that opportunity.



My next journey begins in September.
I'm going to enjoy having you all along with me as well.

I had intended on having a poem accompany this post, however after 3(finished) attempts, I couldn't find anything I was happy with. I feel the point of this post is clear enough without expressing any more emotion towards where I hope to be in 4-5 years time.

Supporting

To support mental health awareness week, I wrote a short one today:

The weight of expectation,

A burden of deliberation,

Understanding the assignment,

Feelings out of alignment,

With a specific job or task,

Yet every day you wear a mask,

What people see may not be too,

Thoughts of that expectation the same too,

Yet when the face you show each day,

Does not match with words you say,

Opinions people have can change,

They may think you strange.

“Two personalities?”

“He’s not the same as yesterday!”

One day, that’s all, you can’t close the door,

Do not fret for what they saw,

Is always you beneath the surface,

Always you behind the curtains,

You hide so they don’t see you cry,

You draw them as to close your eyes,

And think of how next to disguise,

The constant wherefores and whys.

To those who suffer, you’re not alone.

To those who help, thank you.

Continuity

I find myself restraining,
Feelings of sustaining,
Hatred, or love, it's all the same,
For each you'd kill and take the blame,
At a journey's start you have a goal,
A finish line that makes it whole,
And upon reaching the end of travel,
Feelings tend to unravel,
A seething spite you can't abate,
And an odd twist of fate,
In addition to a warped courage,
A chance to pay hindsightful homage,
To what once was and could have been,
And all the atrocities I've seen.


I must rest my weary mind,
Beyond attempts of being kind,
Forcing my hand to open out,
It's time to end this unjust bout.



Expect more content soon :).

Impressions, mimics and reflection

The most impressionable people on the world, children, are molded by that which they are exposed to. I've spoke at length about how I feel and that which I do due to what has happened yesteryear.

Rewind 15 years, Labour are in power. The Queen Mother has just passed away. Arsenal football club are about to start a short period of dominance over English football.

I, an open eyed, analytical 8 year old, in the midst of a barbecue party, sit inside on a scorching hot Saturday afternoon to watch an FA cup final. On the television, the afformentioned Arsenal.

Now to paint a picture, I come from a very passionate football family. My grandparents, with whom I had a season ticket at the time for my home town club Sunderland, were not too far removed from a playoff final defeat at Wembley, before plans for remodeling, to Charlton.

This day however, Arsenal were stage center at the Millenium Stadium, and Chelsea were the villains hoping to upset my unashamed mesmerity at a quite frankly mind blowing style of football.

That day, I was an Arsenal fan.

Ever since then, I have been a Gunner.

My childhood henceforth was lived inside dreams of imitating Bergkamp, Henry, Pires, Ray "It's only Ray Parlour" Parlour. I celebrated the invincibles, raged against united after that Rooney dive, laughed at Tim Lovejoy, have been heartbroken after Paris, mourned the loss of the King, and that of Highbury which I never had the opportunity to visit, shed tears against Birmingham, and more recently a different kind against Hull and Villa.

Our better years are very clearly behind us, but the beauty of football means you can't rule out the best ones being ahead. This is a fact of life as well.

Whatever happens tomorrow, Arsenal will not dissipate in how they affect my life. Whatever happens with Arsene Wenger, Arsenal are still the same club, and a future should never be decided on past performances, even if control is handled by the same person. Football has evolved to a point, on and off the pitch, to a point where a manger's job is almost moot. Arsenal and apparently Arsene's recent failings say as much, players can answer for themselves, the manager still attempts to deflect the blame... the cycle continues.

When team cohesion, morale and work ethic win you games, titles and respect, a manager has a minimal effect on the eventual outcome.

This is by the by, and maybe a discussion for another day.

I sit here, wearing the yellow of the Arsenal, as we're going to Wembley.

Remembering past joys, an infatuation that developed to love and then complete adoration and worship.

I know whatever the outcome I will feel emotion.

Reminding me I am human.

Reminding me I can love.

Reminding me there is good with every bad.

F-Off Anxiety

Does everything in life hold a meaning?
It's true everything you see and do will trigger an emotion, whether it's anger or content, and emotions towards an object are what gives it meaning to you.
But in turn what does all of that mean?
Justify a object by an objective view, an endless search for validation of what? You don't look to justify the means, you are only ever asked to justify the emotion that triggered the means, and it's your own subconscious, that you can't control, that triggers the emotion.
So you're asked to explain the un-explainable, Describe the indescribable. To look for a meaning behind the indeterminable cause.

I think this is the main reason behind my anxiety, over analysis. To search for the meaning behind the object, you open a door to walk through; but why do you need to be on the other side?
There's no simple acceptance that it's an end to a means.
You close a door to keep something out, but why do you want to be boxed in?
It's almost like a never quenching thirst for pointless knowledge.

To understand that everything is just something with no need for expansion, that I can only dream of.
Now, you yourself might be wondering at this point why I'm waffling on about objective nonsense.

This is something I don't need to question myself on. There are acres upon acres of trees in the world that nobody understands why they are there. Just like there are millions upon millions of people in the world that nobody understands why they are suffering.
So for you to perhaps make steps to understand me, and realise it's not stupid, it is in no way silly, and it's effects are deeper than the foundations of some homes.
There are other people, who suffer in silence; frustrated, fearing, and fleeing from their own figurative thoughts.

I want anxiety to #F-OFF.
Only together can a society stamp out the stigma that surrounds the subject.


I am open to suggestion,
Ask me a probing question,
I'm an open book, I'll try to teach,
How to put your worries out of reach,
Yet I don't take note of my own word,
I scream and shout, but never have I heard,
Am I alone in this myself?
wallowing in misery and filth?
Or do I also have a shoulder,
As I lent to you, growing older,
Maturing in age and mood,
If only I thought I could,
Move past what seems a great expanse,
A desolate and lonely trance,
I don't want to admit that I am weak,
But I must face facts and look to seek,
A deeper form of understanding,
Of an aircraft almost never landing,
Of a state of constant suspense,
Leading me to feel this way, and hence;
I plea to you my faithful friend,
That we stop trying to against fend,
The laws of unknown emotion,
The source of this unruly commotion.

Legion: A Review

Last week I took a week off work in anticipation of the latest expansion to World of Warcraft - Legion. After reaching the new maximum level cap in little over 24 hours from launch, I have since experienced most content currently available at the current point of the game. In my review here, I will discuss the content I have played through, detailing my thoughts on each part of the game.



Introduction Quests:


Although these were available quite a while before launch, eventually climaxing on launch night, I felt it pertinent to discuss them here. For the most part, after running through them more than twice, they became long drawn out lore-fests. They were enjoyable for the most part the first time around, luckily they did become skippable after launch, cutting down severely on time required to get stuck in to the new content.

Leveling:

There are only four zones in total to level through in Legion, however don't let you fool this into thinking there is a lack of content in each zone. With the exception of Azsuna, and to an extant Val'sharah, each zone tends to have a small set of introductory quests, explaining the story behind each zone (Azsuna inflicts this knowledge onto you whilst flying into the zone). Ultimately, specifically in the case of Stormheim, these are the downsides to the zones themselves. Highmountain, which regardless of what I'm about to say is still the best leveling zone in my opinion, also has a few filler quests, which seem forced upon the player in order to extend the zone in line with experience gained from other zones.
Every enemy you find, no matter what zone you're in out of the four outlined, will be scaled to your level, so there's no worry of having to give up on a zone to move on via outleveling or gearing a certain area.

Dungeons:

This is one part of the expansion I cannot yet cover as a whole. Overall, the new dungeons seem rather linear in layout, overloaded with trash monsters, with new(ish) niche mechanics on bosses. Many of the new mechanics have been carried over from the invasion events that occurred pre-launch. Normal dungeons scale to levels as with zones, so if your friends are lagging behind at all, you can still easily play with them to experience the content together. From what I have experienced of heroic dungeons, they do not bear the same challenging resemblance to very close to post-launch as Wrath or Cataclysm, but still offer an ample challenge at the current point in the expansion.

End Game:

I will split this part into two categories. World Quests and Suramar.

World Quests:

This piece of entirely new content (to WoW at least) is the jewel in the already gem laden crown of Legion. World Quests are your source of daily, sometimes bi/tri-daily, reputation, gear, order resources, gold... Everything you could possibly imagine. It will be interesting to see how World Quests develop given the gear it offers are oft better than that available in heroic dungeons, although quite whether an elaboration at the moment is even needed is very questionable.

Suramar:

Suramar becomes your hub for end game questing content, opening up an entirely new faction to develop, and gain reputation with. The quests that arrive with Suramar are on a somewhat new level for WoW, very involving and entertaining, but you could say the same for the majority of the expansion, particularly Class Order quests. The zone itself is quite honestly one of the most beautiful creations to take place on Azeroth. Suramar is by far and away the zone you'll find yourself in the most come maximum level, so brace yourself before taking on it's introductory quests, it can be quite hard to stop once you've started. One single quest giver can often lead to a chain, from the same NPC I may add, of 5 up to 8.

So there you have it. A masterstroke at first glance, and although we're only a week in, it's exciting to think what may be around the corner. Indeed if the new content patch's teaser trailer is anything to go by, we're in for a joyous ride.

If you'd like to follow my progress through Legion, you can follow me on Twitch.

I hope to see you out there on the Broken Isles.

The Cost of Admission

I'm about to tell you a story. A story all about how, my life got flipped, turned upside down.

No.

In all seriousness, this will be one of my more lengthier posts. I started this blog to showcase my poetry, nothing more, and although my poetry had a certain depiction of my feelings at the time, it wasn't necessarily an open heart process. However, recently I feel I have put more effort into an explanation of why I write the post as a whole rather than the lyrical content. Similarly, I have begun to wonder what kind of direction that step is in. On analysis of the situation, it's more an admission than an escape, My state of mind in a particular moment, held forever in a few words of rage or fear, and  hung out to dry for the whole world to see.

But for the whole case of admission, it is still my escape. There will always be those who sun the concept of "airing dirty laundry" (if that applies here) or laying myself bare, however that is merely an opinion. I won't let a narrow mind stop me from expanding my own, as selfish as that may sound. There always comes a point where a person is close to breaking. No matter what emotion caused such a situation, for it will always be reaction not action that is the cause, there will be a way for that individual to cope. 

I write, some fight, some forget, or at least try. Everybody has their own antidote, to their own poison. However the time taken to find either is more or less equal.

To admit a fault is the first step to finding both. And so full circle.

I've admitted a lot here over the past 2 years, and only recently have I discovered writing is my one true escape.

With that, I intend to expand, an escape should have many routes. A single winding road tends to require more care and attention, such as it is, to upkeep.

So I am open to suggestion, this began with poetry, and will probably end with poetry, but wherever we stop on our journey, and what we accomplish on the way is unknown.

However I am excited to find out.

So you say you've seen it all before,

You know the score,

A negative is counted as a loss,

A line you thought you'd never cross,

Anticipation, trepidation,

No consideration, consolation,

And you still hold that expectation,

That time will pass without degradation,

Rust eats away at even petals,

And the strongest of all metals,

For all that is cosmetic,

Is enough to make me mentally sick,

I try to lay back and see,

The reasons behind my beliefs,

Is illness only selfishness?

Cries of pain for attention, no less?

Chastisement of my own being,

Is this the blind finally seeing?

Or another needless relegation,

To my feeble, crumbling self frustration,

I crave that finally realization, 

A world without this wild constriction.

Terrified

Words I thought had never been said,
Let me open up,
Like a book,
Waiting to be read.

I am in a somewhat horrible position. I am a person who wants to believe the best in people. It might be cliche, but it's very true. However there is an extrapolative to that in that I find it incredibly difficult to trust people. Once you've got me, I'm there but once it's broken, it's gone.
I had the opportunity recently to undertake a new therapy course of cognitive analytical therapy, which I regret in not taking said opportunity. I believed myself strong enough to continue down the road I am currently on and make it to my destination a considerably happier person.

This has not been the case.

It's very hard to admit you have a problem, when the problem is so situational. Is it down to my personality? Am I just generally a horrible person? Or am I cursed with this "critical hindsight"... THING?
It's moreso frustrating when the people close to me become a victim. The timekeeping of some of the people I am close to is woeful, and to that when I do become whatever the hell this is, I can only apologise.

The phrase "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" has met it's match here. A mental assault does not strengthen even the weakest of people. Instead it brings them to a new low, and whether it be for a minute or a millennia, they're no better off for it at the other side. I sometimes wonder what type of person I would be now if I kept shut inside of myself all of those years. I also wonder what type of person I will become if I carry down this path of self-destruction.


Define control,
That hyperbole,
A journey to find out what you can make yours,
Painting your walls, laying your floors,
But what happens when floor become flaws,
Fun is over-run, hobbies become chores,
Once what you deigned to enjoy,
Now feels like an evil ploy,
To make you give in,
Frown and not grin,
Close yourself off from commitments,
But are they commitments, or merely figments?
For imagination is a wonderful thing,
When you think of what it brings,
A certain modicum of control,
You can make that bell toll,
You can force that tree to grow,
You can stop time, or make it slow,
Just because you think of a meal,
Does not mean you cannot make it real,
To dare to dream, to act on thought,
That control is rarely sought,
I find myself here, with open eyes,
I think back to all of my highs,
Were they not once also a dream?
An intangible, pure, blinding gleam.

(insert title here)

I have this problem with motivation when things are going good. Motivation to let things how I so often refer to "flow" be published to this here little diary I keep of when I am most down. Yet there's still this somehow pressing need to share. I say pressing yet I seem to find it very easy avoiding it, which I'm not sure is a good thing, or bad. Writing generally makes me feel better when I'm down, so is it therefore plausible it would make me feel better when good? Yet to be tested, we will see very soon.

Here I pour my heart, my soul,
Here I admit emotions stole,
Here I try to be everything I aspire,
Here I can agree my deepest desires,
If I ever cry alone, in deep and painful love,
Is it you that gives me strength from up above?
A lord in life, my religion revolves around your words,
Now comes a time to abstain from all that I have heard,
A law is that which you make to prevent a crime,
And yet the same is what people break from time to time,
I never agreed to being what you would expect,
As if I knew what anyway, your attempts to protect,
Innocence perhaps? Growth potential too?
Besides the point, this is my way of saying, I've been thinking about you,
Anyone who knows me may agree,
Through written word I can enable others to see,
Assist in a broader view of how I think and feel,
Yet who I want to know... This may sound surreal,
I kneel, and pray, and try to say, I hope I've made you proud,
And imagine that smiling face in amongst the crowd,
"Listen, you're doing fine, believe my face if not my speech,
For as long as you remember me my helping hand's in reach."

The value of 2 cents increases dramatically

For once, let's not script anything. I'm going to give it to you straight, it's up to you, if you can handle the single shot maybe come back for a double next time.
If I were to give a current mood assessment it would be terrified.
If you were to ask me why, I couldn't answer.
If I were to think about it I'd consider any thousands of reasons why I should be terrified.
Only none of them make sense.

I read shorts on how anxiety effects people all the time. How it convinces you of certain events that are beyond outlandish. How you push everyone you know and love away. I want to rebel, but I struggle to find the strength past pushing the person closest to me away.
I can't describe this through speech, it's not possible. There are words in my head I don't know how to say, but writing, well writing makes so much of a difference to being able to find exactly the right word.
It's crushing, and strangely liberating. To be able to dream that anything is possible, if it were ever even remotely plausible to harness that, and create a new state of mind. That would be a marvel, if I ever found a way, that would make my life.
However, right now, it's not the case, and dreaming anything is possible is a terrifying prospect.

Now I want to make you a promise, only I want you to promise me the same.
I promise that nothing will ever be this bad again. I promise that even in the darkest of places, a light can be found. I will be your light, whenever you need me to be. I will tear at the walls of darkness until there is nothing left, if you'll let me. Between us, darkness will cease to exist past the point of moonlight.


Here's one from months ago, I kind of left the one I intended to publish at work.

These days pass, no thought here,
A smile there, a little cheer,
To laugh, love, live each day,
And barely give anything away,
There, you stare, with mounting fear,
A false hope that the fog will clear,
One thing remains uncertain,
One thing that's clearly hurting,
What it is, you'll never know,
Or feel unknown's glancing blow,
You are designed to withstand,
But does this emptiness force your hand?
Make you live a different way?
No, you make do and stay the same,
Worry seems normal, and fear too,
The absurdness appears in how you do,
Simple tasks with such restraint,
And all because the emotional pain,
Becomes unbearable? Maybe no?
Immobilized by fear and so,
Anew you start every day,
Waking to a new sun's ray.

Frozen

A one of those weekends that make you think, "I'm here, but I don't feel it at all". When your body is all there, you can feel the world working around you but your mind refuses to accept that you're even alive at all. I can't put into words how scary it is when everything is going 10x faster than it should, you're frozen to the floor as your body slows down to a complete stand still by somehow speeding itself up. It's a collision of two polar opposites, you stand still while the pace everything seems to go forces your heart to pummel, over beat, and the gradual numbness of each limb creates the complete feeling motionless.
Twice that's happened now.
It's like a waking paralysis, if you've ever had the sleep version.

Two pieces of sad news over the weekend of people struggling to cope day to day, and as a result, sadly taking their own lives. Nobody knew of their struggle, or even if there was one, until everything came to an end. If this was to ever be you in that situation, as I have, and many millions before, talk to someone. Anyone, before it does become too late.
That's the key, before it's too late. It's easy to ignore a problem, but when it's on an emotional level, it has a way of manifesting itself into something much more, and becomes something else entirely.

You're never alone, it's only ever if you leave things so past far gone that you'll ever feel it.


Ethereal, as if smoke,
Thick, black dense fog making you choke,
Abated breath, a giant sigh,
You lay and ask the world why,
What have you done to force this hand,
What have you done to wear this brand,
It shows, and threatens like a bull,
And charges down looking to cull,
To strike down false labels worn,
False that you could have sworn,
For it feels truer than ever else,
No comprehension, your brain melts,
It's not for a path for you to walk,
Without that friend to sit and talk.


Follow me on Twitter @genethecowpoems
Get in touch

The World's Longest week

After really does seem like an eternity, this week is finally over with. The losing of jobs, moving of roles within the same job, and all the stress that came with it has been unbearable. No, it wasn't me who lost the job but I feel like I've been put far enough through the ringer that it may as well have been and then some.

I have gradually more and more been putting how things have transpired particularly over the last couple of weeks into words so expect an influx of feelings with maybe a dash of purpose over the coming months, and in my new job role I'll have a lot more free time in which to write more creatively and put way more thought into it than I ever have been able to do.

Every cloud has a silver lining, but it's finding that precious glint within the mountain of uncertainty that's the challenge, I don't really want to find out what will happen over the next month or so but I don't have a choice in the matter either. People around me remain optimistic to a degree I would not think possible, I just hope that shines a light of hope that I can cling onto as well.


Excuses, I try to make,
To renew myself, for goodness sake,
Escape monotony and start anew,
I thought, past this, I'd grew,
That constant looming, snarling tomb,
Encasing not only me, but you too,
Putting myself out on a limb,
Yet worry stays and things look grim,
How on earth are you so calm?
Assuring me there is no harm,
But you know me, and how I work,
Forefront of my mind, is getting worse.

Relapse

If I could just make it disappear,
Wipe the slate entirely clear,
I would without a second breath.

I have dreaded this day, I have dreaded this day for the past year and half. The day I admit my mind has decided to relapse, to fall back into the murky abyss of my own old enemy, the anxiety and it's partner in crime depression, or would this be repression?

I stopped writing, maybe publishing, because I had really ran out of things to write about. There were no more lingering, overwhelming feelings of hurt or panic, just a steady flow of normalcy. Yet here I am again, stringing feeling to feeling together in a matter of seconds, minutes, because for some strange reason, a pen feels like a better tool of portrayal than my mouth.

Just admitting a problem exists feels like a first step, before going back to some form of therapy and regaining lost tools in order to repair, or begin to repair, a daily state of mind that is copeable. You know the saying, "A bad workmen always blames his tools"? What if he had no tools, what if the only thing standing between him and the repeat failed escapade is himself?

I digress.

As a way to reconfigure,

I opened up to reconsider,

Terrifying states of mind,

Blind leading partially blind,

I can't see through clouded eyes,

Clouded by my feeble cries,

Cries so blunt they cannot pierce,

Desperate tries to be fierce,

To scare the darkness away,

To keep the fear at bay,

A bay, a beach, a gleaming smile,

The waves arising, trying to rile,

To ruin, to quash, the growing joy

Growing tepid, growing coy,

Growing up and growing old,

Fears folding, feeling old,

I expected to find a meaning,

Yet here I am back at the beginning.

Reassurance

Over the past month or so I've concocted a blog post or two in my trusty notebook, but not got round to actually posting them at any point. Before I get round to one I wrote quite some time ago, I'd like to touch on something unrelated to the post itself. Whilst browsing social media last week, I came across a post that a friend had commented on regarding someones survey to help with their university dissertation. Usually I would just ignore such posts, however, on this particular occasion, the title rather caught my eye. "The role of masculinity in men seeking help for a mental illness". In relation to my own situation, it's clear the more unmasculine a man the more likely they are to seek help for such issues. Me personally being petrified of confrontation showing simply, considering I've met some and a half brash, outspoken arseholes in my short time, who are quite clearly hell-bent on remaining housebound, anxious and depressed yet so stubborn and blinded by their own pig ignorance it will just stick like a huge cloud constantly raining, dampening their already drowning spirit.

Oh those lovely mental images.

That took up more paper than intended.
/rantover
Until next time.


Two stones, one bird,
Second chances never heard,
Forgiveness comes, regret goes,
Guiltiness never shows,
Pack it up, get out of here,
You're a memory not a fear,
I'm not alone anymore,
Here, safe I am, but you still are,
Dicing with destiny, fate
There are those that would relate,
Am I one? Unknown,
The only certainty is I've grown.

Reflection

These past couple of weeks I have been unwell, that's an understatement. Barely being able to talk, or swallow. Most of my time has been taken up with games again, definitely in a more relaxed way than the past. However I have watched a few things on youtube, mainly VODs of professional League of Legends, but one thing really caught my eye that I definitely wanted to share.

For people not aware of Sky, he is a stand-up comedian by trade, but releases life lesson, often exaggerated or figurative, videos on his youtube channel, and also posts funny League of Legends videos.

This specific video really hit me, I know there was someone in the past who was trying to be so assertive with me, and I can only apologise for my blind ignorance. Maybe assertive was the wrong word to use there, they didn't exactly say they were going to come out and be there for me no matter what, but they were anyway. They knew exactly how I was feeling and still came calling no matter what.

I don't have my book of poems with me today, so let's try one straight from my consciousness.

It's not easy to listen,

But they see your tears glisten,

Just trying to hold back for someone else,

Why? This isn't a question,

Don't be scared of your true self,

Being who you are frees your mind,

Take heart from the positives they find,

I know, you can't find your own,

This, isn't being kind,

But they have enough thought not to leave you alone,

So stick by that friend,

Or family or lend,

Your ears to someone you know is like you,

One day, in the end,

It's going to result in not feeling so blue.

GeneTheCow's pizza north east reviews 2014

All pizzas are reviewed on quality of base, crust, cheese and toppings where applicable although by trying to remain impartial, I have attempted to base judgments purely on margherita, also overall atmosphere which is of course going to impact how much you enjoy your pizza!

1. Bella Italia, Durham

Base - 10                                                       
Crust - 8
Toppings - 9                               Overall - 9
Atmosphere - 9
Price - 8

Sitting right on the banks of the river, Bella's menu is an immediate eye catcher. Offering a full medley of rustic and contemporary Italian food, there is enough to satisfy anyone's taste buds. If you, like me, have your eyes on only one of the choices on offer, it is impossible to be disappointed, blending seamlessly their fluffy moist base to a thin, crispy crust.


2. Fiume, Washington

Base - 8
Crust - 9
Toppings - 8                                 Overall - 8
Atmosphere - 7
Price - 6

Again sitting right on a river, Fiume's modern style strikes you as somewhat of a shock at first. Perched on the top of a modern bar which does get rather busy, the atmosphere upon exit and entrance can be somewhat overwhelming at certain times. The restaurant itself however is somewhat flawless in it's design.


3. Tosca, Sunderland

Base - 6
Crust - 6
Toppings - 10                                  Overall - 8
Atmosphere - 9
Price - 9

Easily accessible by every area of the north east, right next to park lane interchange, Tosca's quaint, quirky, almost cafe-esque style makes it seem serene. The pizzas themselves amount to almost a crispy flatbread with the TASTIEST toppings you could imagine. The chocolate orange cheesecake is also to die for.


4. Mama's Italian Kitchen, Houghton-le-spring

Base - 7
Crust - 8
Toppings - 7                                      Overall - 7
Atmosphere - 7
Price - 6

Priding itself on being a haunt of footballers and famous people, expectations are usually met by a hair. Plain in it's presentation, slightly over average in it's quality, I feel the price reflects it's reputation as opposed to it's quality.


5. Little Italy, Seaburn

Base - 8
Crust - 5
Toppings - 8                                        Overall - 7
Atmosphere - 8
Price - 7

When you sometimes get a crustless pizza...
Little Italy is idyllic in it's setting, you couldn't get closer to the sea without building a restaurant on the beach. The staff are on a level of friendliness that is unheard of in most places, rumours are they're thinking of investing in a new pizza oven, watch this space!


6. Avanti, Houghton-le-spring

Base - 6
Crust - 6
Toppings - 8                                          Overall - 7
Atmosphere - 8
Price - 8

Another pub conversion to restaurant the same as Mama's. Many of the old features of the pub still remain though, full bar, seats built into the wall, surprisingly however this does not detract from the overall feel of the restaurant.I consider the food to be of very good quality, the more modern feel to the music played helps the atmosphere tremendously.


7. Roma, Sunderland

Base - 7
Crust - 9
Toppings - 8                                          Overall - 6
Atmosphere - 4
Price - 8

Strange how this used to be my favourite restaurant, until I got too full from one of their top-notch pizzas and had a panic attack on the way home.Their food is great, the restaurant itself mirrors Tosca in it's quaintness, yet it plays god awful country music, huge mood killer.

Expressive

I waited until this particular moment to say something because any contradicting comments would be met with somewhat guarded hostilities. I would love to know why so many people come out in tribute to a famous person dying as the result of a mental illness, or circumstances dictated by emotion, and want to raise awareness for such things? Things like this happen every day to normal people, normal people who die, or live to cope with such situations very differently, some exactly the same as recent events. I believe the expression fair weather friends is appropriate. Considering the impact of the general situation, it's good more people pay attention to the details, but when all the attention disappears as seems to have done for the most part now, it's as if all the awareness was raised for nothing. Everyone is completely different, I was able to get through my situation without any physical harm to myself, but I know several others who have self harmed or even committed suicide.

I would also like to spare a thought for counsellors and therapists who help us all through such situations. The whole profession holds a very special place in my heart, when I was told they have their own internal counselling system it really hit home how much those people put themselves through in order to make our lives easier to live.


Labels bandied about,
What's stopping you from finding out,
You talk like you know the score,
Have you been there before?
Before you judge or think you understand,
It's not just sadness, or a general bland,
Everyone's considering themselves experts in this field,
But we're all different in how we wield,
Emotions, feelings, even a smile,
I implore you, reconcile,
Depression won't effect just one man,
There are billions suffering even you can,
Voiceless, unheard, hiding away,
All relationships frayed,
So consider in your thoughts not just the one,
But the one in three at that same low,
Never forget when all's said and done,
These people cannot simply run,
They need your help and understanding,
It's as easy as handing, over a smile, over a hand,
Over a conversation about their plans,
And for those in silence, just a thought,
Happiness cannot be bought.

Capable

Some people's life dream is to meet some random celebrity or to visit some hot island in the southern hemisphere. Mine is to meet someone who's music makes me cry. There's something about Passion Pit's music that hits me right in the back of my throat, particularly if I'm having an off day. I've cried outside and inside the four walls that I would call a home, all to reach some form of "capable" state.

It's amazing how often I use that word in my own mind, nothing is ever capable until the situation has truly passed.I find it somewhat ridiculous, certain situations popping up that are quite unbearable in their intensity and yet the actual concept of the whole idea is laughable. De-realisation, nothing is true, it may seem like something from Assassin's Creed but for someone who suffers from anxiety, the unsaid rule of every paranoiac thought, every irrational worry. It doesn't matter how ridiculous, how outlandish, as if the odds are stacked in the "defences" favour, there will be a time where the worry train comes off the tracks. So find someone who will live with that, you find someone who finds it themselves "capable" and who is actually willing to help the situation. You'd guess the difference that makes and go figure how happy you'll become, if politeness costs nothing, ignorance can cost a sanity.


Effort, if you could just learn to control,
What you are putting in, will drive you in to a hole,
Who's arms will be there to pull you out,
Mine for all, I've been thinking about,
All you've done for me and the position we are in,
Is there a day goes by that I'm without a grin?
Since the day we walked hand in hand, your face has been alight,
And after finding out why I can't sleep at night,
All you've wanted to do was help, and you still wear that smile,
Some day, you'll be repaid, while,
My thoughts don't exceed the expression of feelings,
I'm a dreamer, I deal in reelings,
The biggest compliment I can pay to you,
You're better than my imagination, that's the full truth.

Tilting

Who'd have thought it was possible to sit so long doing nothing?
Story of my life and all that...

Last time I spoke about emotional karma, a slight elaboration, or branch as such, would be something called tilting. The first time I came across the term it was being bandied about by people who were looking for excuses as to why they were playing badly at games. More specifically, League of Legends. In simple terms it means that a bad mood will effect actions, making decisions less likely to be effective. For example, I'll use League of Legends as a scapegoat (5v5, 10 player game, team work imperative), if something goes wrong on your part, be it a bad decision, a lack of game knowledge or mechanics or even a system failure, you'll know you've done wrong. However, in a situation as team focused as League, the majority of your fellow players will let you know about your mistake, usually in the most violent or thoughtless way possible. They'll jump on your back and try to wrestle you to the ground, or so it would seem, because in turn they're also putting themselves on the ground, but this is an iteration of emotional karma not emotional karma itself. Because you feel as if you've made a mistake, you want to correct that in the best way possible, show 'em what you're made of champ! Wait though, your team is totally dragging you down and your desire for redemption is now making your decision making very poor, all you want to do is react to being put down but you're running head first into the same situations again without thinking.

Tilting.

This principle can also be stapled onto every day life, specifically in an environment where I work, where those "team mates" have suddenly turned into customers. Several people completely ignoring everything you say, only for your mood to then drop to the depths of... something really deep. Suddenly look, you're really annoyed and you're treating customers differently to the start of the day.

Tilting.

How is it possible to stop this from happening? Well in the game sense it's easy. Stop playing.
In real life sense it's generally way more difficult, you can't just stop playing. The sense of achievement from beating a game knowing you've overcame every odd to then come out on the other side victorious is immense. So the way I like to think of it is, I'm playing space invaders, every customer I get I shoot down whether they be good or bad, sometimes I get power-ups from those kind enough to take the time to listen. Every once in a while a boss comes along and I conquer them will all my willpower and at the end of the day I'm left feeling unreal.

Tilting.


Look out for my smile on those cold rainy days,
I'll get you through, make it okay,
Bring out the sun, make it shine bright,
Hold back the moon, hold back the night,
Every minute with you is like a holiday,
My mind's own vacation thoughts of that sunny day,
My only hope is it's the same for you,
Giving you peace of mine calm and true,
If being together quells any fears,
What reason is there it can't last always?

Open up

I genuinely wish people were more open about mental illnesses. No matter how much awareness is raised for people who are actually suffering, the fact is everyone is at a vulnerability, anyone can fall ill without a warning and those are the people I worry for the most. They're clueless as to what they're actually going through, unaware of help and support available to them. We as a country with free health care should be educating children about mental illnesses, showing them how to recognise signs not just for their own sakes but for their friends and family too. Just having someone who understands, or at least understands to how to react (yes, everyone is different in every separate case but the fact remains that when the dust settles, there is one person stood alone in a barren wasteland not knowing which way to turn) to someone who is desperately crying for help in most cases, a simple arm around a shoulder can do wonders on a road to recovery. Even someone who has recovered needs just as much support to make sure that any relapse however minor is dealt with in the best possible way as to avoid any huge deal made, just having someone to talk to can make the world of difference.

I have found personally that any relationship, whether family or love, is impossible in a situation where one is not accepting, be it the sufferer or anyone who cares about said, of the condition that they've found themselves in. You need to be able to rely on one another for support, because as difficult as it is for one, it's as difficult for the other. Even the person without an illness suffers, they need just as much support, it can actually help the person who is suffering to know they're being relied on just as much to hold someone else together, it brings about an element of realisation. This can't really happen if the gears of the relationship aren't turning as one, but it's often to realise such things as depression and anxiety can cloud judgement to the point of delusion.

I believe in emotional karma, being happy myself will make those around me happy too, one good mood deserves another. It works both ways though, being sad will bring other people down, that's why the effort of others also triggers emotional karma. If one person smiles for half an hour in public, at least one other person will smile, thereby triggering a waterfall effect, only becoming stronger with time.

If one person smiles, everyone can smile with them.


Love lasts forever, as long as one half lives,
But love cannot exist, if only one half gives,
Taking your whole life is easy when there's nobody to repay,
You'll realise one day.

Nobody goes through life without giving love,
Feel sorry for those who think they are above,
One day they'll be taken in, unable to breathe or say,
As the winds of love take their breath away.

It'll be hard for them to realise give them a helping hand,
That could have been you without emotion, bland,
Some people will refuse to let you help them find their way,
They'll fall in love too, one of these days,
A love so true, it will stop their thoughtless ways.

So pray for the thoughtless, the mindless and the fake,
When somebody decides to take the time,
To love them more than they love themselves, they'll finally be awake.