A Long Time Away
Many months have passed since my last blog, and the reason for my absence to do with illness, which seems a somewhat plausible or implausible reason for my absence. Needless to say it's given me an opportunity to reassess the reasons for writing the blog in the first place.
Whilst my original intention was to record the events of my life as I ambled through it, with the intention of waffling on, tackling those subjects that attracted my short attention span, hopefully in an humourous fashion, I sadly lost my zest for it, mostly due to an extended period of writer's block, which is the bane of any writer.
So where to now? I ask myself, sitting in Starbuck's, drinking cold coffee on a sunny but cold February early afternoon, surrounded by as cosmopolitan clientele as it's possible to get in the middle of Bavaria. What direction should I amble in? another reasonable question I'm contemplating, given the delightful news that the old grey matter is still partially functional, and capable of writing short sentences, incapable of writing words greater than two syllables, which makes life considerably easier.
As is my wont for satisfying my creative juices, the time away hasn't been entirely devoid of doing anything creative, it's simply been concerned with other things that don't require much in the way of exercising the aging grey lump, that sits vaguely perched upon stooped shoulders, once upon a time muscular shoulders, now bent with the passing of time. But that's the imperative nature of biology and the physiological decay of a rotting human body.
No, such events are nothing I'm overly concerned about, they are as inevitable as they are predictable. Life moves with the certainty that at some point it will cease, and the road ahead will end at a road block of life's own choosing. Such a thought is nothing more than a symptom of realising, and accepting one's own mortality in the great scheme of things. Nor is it particularly morose to dwell on such matters. In a strange way morbidity needs to be acknowledged, not ignored, if only because it frees that great piece of gristle to ponder upon more enlightening topics, such as 'where do I go from here?'
'O bugger off!' it might be uttered out there, and no doubts a sentiment expressed with the same passion as a stubborn mule, intent on kicking you because you gave your last sugar lump to that delightful looking but ultimately lonely horse in the paddock, who to all intents and purposes is heading to the knackers yard sooner than you're heading for the crematorium. Both places dictating a final stop, both equally abrupt in defining the final demise of two unrelated natural specimens.
But whereas the horse sees out its last days, slowly munching and grazing the fodder offered it, thus living gracefully with a level of dignity afforded it by kind owners, I need to do something positive, to which brings me back to where I started, and where now I'm metaphorically stood at a crossroads, facing an uncertain direction, which way to amble on forwards.
My next blog will have me on the way, no doubt fuelled by the certainty of the direction offering a straighter, but not entirely straight, course to follow.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Feuding Queens & lost disco stars.
Well my first blog after a long time, absence largely due to illness and setting up an online training company, but now back to normal...whatever that means.
The British queen's jubilee celebrations have caused Queen Sofia of Spain to have a spat over Prince Edward's visit to Gibraltar, thus refusing to attend Queen Lillibet's royal banquet, which I find all the more obscene with many of Britain's poor not able to feed themselves a basic diet, let alone a decent one. But I'm sure those who attended had spiffing good time, the more so because they could happily ignore those far more deserving, concentrating on their own bloated guts.
As for the jubilee celebrations I'm ignoring them due to my republican nature, if the British need a party let's give them one by spending the money used for the grotesquely absurd Olympic Games and the royal shenanigans, on bringing some good cheer to Joe Public.
In the recent news it was very sad to see that Donna Summer had passed away, followed by Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees. Whilst much preferring the vocal delights of Ms Summer, nevertheless a British pop icon deserves an equal mention. Thoughts and condolences to all their families and friends.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
A recent report said that CEOs are worse psychopaths than normal psychopaths!
At the moment my mind refuses to sleep when entering the land of nod, and when I finally do nod off into Slumberville, I will inevitably awake from many a dream holding a conversation that at times is surreal to say the least, although at times enjoyable. But such dreams, never scary but occasionally amusing, often register no more than 4.7 on the silly slumber scale. But this morning I did awake from nod thinking about the working life I've had for the past...well too many moons have passed me by to put a figure on it, but it's been a long time, and though I'm in a happy spot whilst writing this I've no real ambition to become depressed, so I'll leave it at that.
The thing was I woke with a bolt...the one through the neck was surgically removed awhile back...continuing the train of thought that Slumberville had lumbered me with...'I'm a lumberjack and I'm ok...' springs to mind for no reason at all at this point....and that train of thought was of the kind of bosses I'd worked for, and apart from a couple of notable exceptions of which one was a feisty blonde and blue eyed Australian woman, who was brilliant. I have to say the rest were nothing to aspire to unless you fancied raping, plundering and pillaging the commercial world heartily, sat upon the back of an Orwellian pig, blowing your own strumpet, attempting to bugger all in your despotic path. It does seem from my long experience that the vast parade of good for nothings I've worked for, all have this tendency to be eternally spoilt children, who clearly think that by stamping their size nines and barking orders to the 'little people' it will put the fear of god into them. Sadly this is the case, largely due to these slobbering toothless toy poodles ruling harems that don't want to end up in the chill of the winter night on the wrong side of the door. Yes, I'm talking about the modern notion of wage slavery, where the real value of paid employment has decreased yearly, whilst Genghis Khan and Attila et al's has risen obscenely.
Such lucid thoughts on my part have no doubt been stimulated by recent media articles claiming that all the CEOs that were studied exhibited psychotic tendencies that any psychopath would be horribly embarrassed by. Such studies are fascinating reading because they manage to fill in the missing holes in your own lack of knowledge concerning extreme psychotic behaviour. Such knowledge having been acquired tends to confirm every lasting doubt that the modern CEO is a raving lunatic, and the more insane you are the more you are admired by your peers, who secretly await the day of your demise and fall from heavenly grace. Such lunacy can also be found in the actions of predominantly British conservative prime ministers hell bent on continuing a war with the European Union, but that's another story entirely and would lead to my digressing far too much.
Anyway, and with that said, I have to agree that such studies need to be read, and heed paid to them. They will help to dispel any doubts about the behaviour of CEOs, although there will always be the rare exceptions to the rule. So should you see your CEO stamping their foot, and shouting profanities, simply ignore it...they eventually give up because nobody's noticed them. If you want a quiet life always answer yes, otherwise say 'no' because they'll have no idea how to react for a few moments, by which time you can make your escape enabling you to ignore their little tantrums. A favourite tactic here is to say 'no' a few minutes before you leave work, so you have time to escape the blast of hot empty air that seems to come from behind some obnoxious obstacle.
Please note
Should any CEO take offence at my comments, I'm happy I've made a psychotic nobody of any real consequence miserable for a while; the 'little people' tend to bite occasionally if pushed once too often. However, and no matter how ruffled the feathers are of preening vanity, my comments are aimed at no-one in particular, largely in the express belief that I've got better things to do with my time than pamper to delusions of grandeur. My time is more usefully spent making comments in response to academic reports I happen to find interesting, regardless of how upsetting highly paid, but destructive, CEOs may dislike them, or me for that matter, which is now highly likely.
The thing was I woke with a bolt...the one through the neck was surgically removed awhile back...continuing the train of thought that Slumberville had lumbered me with...'I'm a lumberjack and I'm ok...' springs to mind for no reason at all at this point....and that train of thought was of the kind of bosses I'd worked for, and apart from a couple of notable exceptions of which one was a feisty blonde and blue eyed Australian woman, who was brilliant. I have to say the rest were nothing to aspire to unless you fancied raping, plundering and pillaging the commercial world heartily, sat upon the back of an Orwellian pig, blowing your own strumpet, attempting to bugger all in your despotic path. It does seem from my long experience that the vast parade of good for nothings I've worked for, all have this tendency to be eternally spoilt children, who clearly think that by stamping their size nines and barking orders to the 'little people' it will put the fear of god into them. Sadly this is the case, largely due to these slobbering toothless toy poodles ruling harems that don't want to end up in the chill of the winter night on the wrong side of the door. Yes, I'm talking about the modern notion of wage slavery, where the real value of paid employment has decreased yearly, whilst Genghis Khan and Attila et al's has risen obscenely.
Such lucid thoughts on my part have no doubt been stimulated by recent media articles claiming that all the CEOs that were studied exhibited psychotic tendencies that any psychopath would be horribly embarrassed by. Such studies are fascinating reading because they manage to fill in the missing holes in your own lack of knowledge concerning extreme psychotic behaviour. Such knowledge having been acquired tends to confirm every lasting doubt that the modern CEO is a raving lunatic, and the more insane you are the more you are admired by your peers, who secretly await the day of your demise and fall from heavenly grace. Such lunacy can also be found in the actions of predominantly British conservative prime ministers hell bent on continuing a war with the European Union, but that's another story entirely and would lead to my digressing far too much.
Anyway, and with that said, I have to agree that such studies need to be read, and heed paid to them. They will help to dispel any doubts about the behaviour of CEOs, although there will always be the rare exceptions to the rule. So should you see your CEO stamping their foot, and shouting profanities, simply ignore it...they eventually give up because nobody's noticed them. If you want a quiet life always answer yes, otherwise say 'no' because they'll have no idea how to react for a few moments, by which time you can make your escape enabling you to ignore their little tantrums. A favourite tactic here is to say 'no' a few minutes before you leave work, so you have time to escape the blast of hot empty air that seems to come from behind some obnoxious obstacle.
Please note
Should any CEO take offence at my comments, I'm happy I've made a psychotic nobody of any real consequence miserable for a while; the 'little people' tend to bite occasionally if pushed once too often. However, and no matter how ruffled the feathers are of preening vanity, my comments are aimed at no-one in particular, largely in the express belief that I've got better things to do with my time than pamper to delusions of grandeur. My time is more usefully spent making comments in response to academic reports I happen to find interesting, regardless of how upsetting highly paid, but destructive, CEOs may dislike them, or me for that matter, which is now highly likely.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Being a writer ain't all it's cracked up to be...Part 2!
So there you are, having now completed the next contribution to that fascinating world of classic literature; and if you happily mumble to yourself 'I'm the next Kafka', who can blame you. What you've done is what many aspiring drunken wannabe writers threaten to do, write a book, but somehow never manage to accomplish it. A book! A book! Esmerelda, for whom the bells endlessly toll across the bows of the old man of the sea, who's drifting the seven seas looking for Moby Dick, look I've written the book to end all books! It's a masterpiece, worthy of that immortal master wordsmith, Dr. Suess! The cat in the hat slyly raising an eyebrow in bored contempt, before falling back to sleep in utter disdain.
Having spent so much time writing the book, of carefully crafting sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, chapter after chapter, you've not given much thought about that most telling of armchair critics, your audience. Dear friends will delight in you having finished your magnificent contribution to literary excellence before moving on to more urgent issues related to how soft toilet paper should be! Some friends will offer encouraging platitudes that further bolster your grossly enlarged ego. Some remain strangely silent, but you put that down to technical difficulties in completing the book buying experience over the Internet. Failure is nothing more than a euphemism for avoiding paying the price of a cup of coffee. But you give your friend the benefit of the doubt, because they have many, and you have absolutely none!
Reality is a miserable monster at the best of times, and to be honest the basis of your book. As a writer you're not just a writer, but all the characters in your finished ditty; or at least a delve into your dark and very distant past so as to wreak literary murder on those characters in your life whom deserve their fifteen minutes of belittling fame, something you've waited years to happen. Once the euphoria has subsided, there's a disconcerting silence and the long winding road of public appreciation is a mountain of such huge proportions it becomes ever more evident that Martin Amis you ain't, not that that was the plan in the first place.
You're thankful that you've made some sales, but nowhere enough to buy a loaf of bread every day for one full year. You begin to doubt your literary genius. You curse your friends in such mundane ways, that the knowledge of love is your's, and theirs, saving grace; there are times in your life when you can honestly admit you're a stupid berk for having such ungrateful thoughts, no matter how fleeting. It's quite sobering to realise that whilst literally you have so few friends, due to the endless hours, days, weeks, months and maybe years spent staring at a computer screen, your greatest failure is a complete lack of marketing.
I readily admit I'm no more knowledgeable about marketing, than I am about producing flying pigs. Such mythical wonders are commonplace in my every day life; at least they make more sense than marketing tactics. But where do you start? Well, I could become infamous through having gone on a shooting spree, but I don't particularly want to spend any time doing time. I could accidently produce a YouTube video that gets a million hits, but I've no desire to appear any more of an idiot than I already am. I could, at a stretch, streak through the centre of town but that's doomed to failure due to the cold weather, everything has gone into hibernation.
But having sat down and thought about it, I didn't write my two tomes with marketing in mind; I wrote my two books because I wanted to sit down and see if I had the discipline to do it. Both took up a lot of my time, but time that was usefully used on accomplishing my dream; one that appeared during childhood, went to sleep and woke again after many years had passed by. Nor did I have it in mind to actually use the books as a way to contributing back to society, but that part makes wonderful sense.
I've always had a social 'conscience', of following the words, no doubt paraphrased wrongly, of Sir Thomas More, who said that those whom are educated should use that education to best effect by giving back to society. It doesn't matter that I'll die as a pauper, not that that bothers me in any great way; money I've always had deep misgivings about the stuff, and I've never been a fan as such as it always manages to bring the worst out in people; there are exceptions to the rule and they know who they are. But the books are out there and they might just be able to help others achieve their 'dream'.
The thing about dreams is that if they're to come true they need the support to come to fruition. Yes, we can all sit down and develop a social conscience at this time of year, but do we actually make a difference? I'd like to think so, that's why I write books. I've no great desire to become wealthy, what on earth would I do with it? Yes, you might have an answer but the only thing I'd truly like is to carry on in some way maintaining my very simple life, doing the things I enjoy doing, being creative, teaching, and trying to make one individual per day smile.
I know this has been a long blog, you might be reading it and I thank you if you're still with me at this point; it's nice to think I've still got company! Anyway, my books are on sale, click on one of the book covers at the top right hand corner and it takes you straight to the site where you can buy an eBook copy. The vast majority of the book sales will go to three different causes I believe in. Yes, you can get a 'free' 25% download of the book as a sample, but for the price of a cup of coffee, $3.99, why not simply buy the whole book instead!
No, writing isn't all it's cracked up to be, but it's a great way of potentially helping others.
Warm regards
Toni
.
Having spent so much time writing the book, of carefully crafting sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, chapter after chapter, you've not given much thought about that most telling of armchair critics, your audience. Dear friends will delight in you having finished your magnificent contribution to literary excellence before moving on to more urgent issues related to how soft toilet paper should be! Some friends will offer encouraging platitudes that further bolster your grossly enlarged ego. Some remain strangely silent, but you put that down to technical difficulties in completing the book buying experience over the Internet. Failure is nothing more than a euphemism for avoiding paying the price of a cup of coffee. But you give your friend the benefit of the doubt, because they have many, and you have absolutely none!
Reality is a miserable monster at the best of times, and to be honest the basis of your book. As a writer you're not just a writer, but all the characters in your finished ditty; or at least a delve into your dark and very distant past so as to wreak literary murder on those characters in your life whom deserve their fifteen minutes of belittling fame, something you've waited years to happen. Once the euphoria has subsided, there's a disconcerting silence and the long winding road of public appreciation is a mountain of such huge proportions it becomes ever more evident that Martin Amis you ain't, not that that was the plan in the first place.
You're thankful that you've made some sales, but nowhere enough to buy a loaf of bread every day for one full year. You begin to doubt your literary genius. You curse your friends in such mundane ways, that the knowledge of love is your's, and theirs, saving grace; there are times in your life when you can honestly admit you're a stupid berk for having such ungrateful thoughts, no matter how fleeting. It's quite sobering to realise that whilst literally you have so few friends, due to the endless hours, days, weeks, months and maybe years spent staring at a computer screen, your greatest failure is a complete lack of marketing.
I readily admit I'm no more knowledgeable about marketing, than I am about producing flying pigs. Such mythical wonders are commonplace in my every day life; at least they make more sense than marketing tactics. But where do you start? Well, I could become infamous through having gone on a shooting spree, but I don't particularly want to spend any time doing time. I could accidently produce a YouTube video that gets a million hits, but I've no desire to appear any more of an idiot than I already am. I could, at a stretch, streak through the centre of town but that's doomed to failure due to the cold weather, everything has gone into hibernation.
But having sat down and thought about it, I didn't write my two tomes with marketing in mind; I wrote my two books because I wanted to sit down and see if I had the discipline to do it. Both took up a lot of my time, but time that was usefully used on accomplishing my dream; one that appeared during childhood, went to sleep and woke again after many years had passed by. Nor did I have it in mind to actually use the books as a way to contributing back to society, but that part makes wonderful sense.
I've always had a social 'conscience', of following the words, no doubt paraphrased wrongly, of Sir Thomas More, who said that those whom are educated should use that education to best effect by giving back to society. It doesn't matter that I'll die as a pauper, not that that bothers me in any great way; money I've always had deep misgivings about the stuff, and I've never been a fan as such as it always manages to bring the worst out in people; there are exceptions to the rule and they know who they are. But the books are out there and they might just be able to help others achieve their 'dream'.
The thing about dreams is that if they're to come true they need the support to come to fruition. Yes, we can all sit down and develop a social conscience at this time of year, but do we actually make a difference? I'd like to think so, that's why I write books. I've no great desire to become wealthy, what on earth would I do with it? Yes, you might have an answer but the only thing I'd truly like is to carry on in some way maintaining my very simple life, doing the things I enjoy doing, being creative, teaching, and trying to make one individual per day smile.
I know this has been a long blog, you might be reading it and I thank you if you're still with me at this point; it's nice to think I've still got company! Anyway, my books are on sale, click on one of the book covers at the top right hand corner and it takes you straight to the site where you can buy an eBook copy. The vast majority of the book sales will go to three different causes I believe in. Yes, you can get a 'free' 25% download of the book as a sample, but for the price of a cup of coffee, $3.99, why not simply buy the whole book instead!
No, writing isn't all it's cracked up to be, but it's a great way of potentially helping others.
Warm regards
Toni
.
Being a writer ain't all it's cracked up to be...Part 1
Why are you an author? What motivates you? Why do you feel the need to put yourself through such a repititious and gruelling period of endless rewrites, redrafts, mind numbing grammar checks? Why, O Why do you do it?
One answer, and it's a cliche, 'I've got something to say about my view on the world.' This is often the only answer that anyone, or everyone, can get their head around, and I've no need to remind fellow authors such a remark doesn't even come close to the amount of dedication needed from the first word to the very last. Yes, each of those words finds its eventual place on the page. Often you find words buried deep away in that swirling, fluidily crammed lump of grey gristle sitting on top of your weary and bent shoulders.
Then you go through the bloody process of trying to figure out what bit of the 60,000 word jigsaw fits where, and why must it have an order and structure to it. It's your 'baby' who somewhere along the way becomes the devil and you hate and despise it, mainly because none of what's on the pc screen remotely resembles the very conception of an idea you had in the first place. Then you hate it some more!
But your thing of 'beauty' will teeter on the balancing line between sheer madness and immense fruitfulness; and which writer hasn't exhausted every known English derogatory and brutal cuss word imaginable in their quest to finish a chapter that seems to be of an entirely different animal than when you first started it. All the time remonstrating with yourself because your 'beginning, middle and end' is nothing like that. O the tricks that playfully disrupt your thinking, that when you think 'eureka!' 'by god I've got it', nothing could be further from the truth. Finally finishing a chapter could, if you've a battered mind to be, be better than sex; more often than not it's a period of unwillingly performed S & M.
Yet at some point in time, of many days when a six word sentence was all that you was capable of, due to a brain that refuses to function, refuses to obey the commands shouted at it, refuses to accept the 'Lord & Master' has a god given feudal right to a tithe of six horrible words, you finish the book. You've finished the long process of rearing your baby, and reached the point of letting go and sending it out into the world. Despite your baby having mocked you, run away from you, refused to accept your greater wisdom, or stupidity as the case may be, you send it out into the cold light of a brutal world.
Now, this is the point that the former love/hate relationship with your book becomes a full-blown love affair of the highest magnitude. There's nothing like that feeling of having accomplished one of the greatest feats known to virtually every author, a completed book! Despite the weariness of the long tedium that is an inevitable part of crafting a book, your heart lifts, a smile erupts...
And we will continue the final part next time!
One answer, and it's a cliche, 'I've got something to say about my view on the world.' This is often the only answer that anyone, or everyone, can get their head around, and I've no need to remind fellow authors such a remark doesn't even come close to the amount of dedication needed from the first word to the very last. Yes, each of those words finds its eventual place on the page. Often you find words buried deep away in that swirling, fluidily crammed lump of grey gristle sitting on top of your weary and bent shoulders.
Then you go through the bloody process of trying to figure out what bit of the 60,000 word jigsaw fits where, and why must it have an order and structure to it. It's your 'baby' who somewhere along the way becomes the devil and you hate and despise it, mainly because none of what's on the pc screen remotely resembles the very conception of an idea you had in the first place. Then you hate it some more!
But your thing of 'beauty' will teeter on the balancing line between sheer madness and immense fruitfulness; and which writer hasn't exhausted every known English derogatory and brutal cuss word imaginable in their quest to finish a chapter that seems to be of an entirely different animal than when you first started it. All the time remonstrating with yourself because your 'beginning, middle and end' is nothing like that. O the tricks that playfully disrupt your thinking, that when you think 'eureka!' 'by god I've got it', nothing could be further from the truth. Finally finishing a chapter could, if you've a battered mind to be, be better than sex; more often than not it's a period of unwillingly performed S & M.
Yet at some point in time, of many days when a six word sentence was all that you was capable of, due to a brain that refuses to function, refuses to obey the commands shouted at it, refuses to accept the 'Lord & Master' has a god given feudal right to a tithe of six horrible words, you finish the book. You've finished the long process of rearing your baby, and reached the point of letting go and sending it out into the world. Despite your baby having mocked you, run away from you, refused to accept your greater wisdom, or stupidity as the case may be, you send it out into the cold light of a brutal world.
Now, this is the point that the former love/hate relationship with your book becomes a full-blown love affair of the highest magnitude. There's nothing like that feeling of having accomplished one of the greatest feats known to virtually every author, a completed book! Despite the weariness of the long tedium that is an inevitable part of crafting a book, your heart lifts, a smile erupts...
And we will continue the final part next time!
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A cup of coffee can change the world!
Following on from my last post, the earth's not moving in term's of interest stirred in my idea to help in some way the global occupy movement, a school in New York, and finally subsidising lessons for English language learners. And I have to ask why?
It may well be my photograph, which admittedly resembles a convict pose. Sadly, the camera lens and I have never had the remotest desire to form a 'love affair', and there's never been a photograph my entire life that would happily hang on a wall, or sit on a shelf, piano or mantelpiece. One might happily reside in Madam Tussauds Chamber of Horrors alongside the likes of Frankenstein or Quasimodo. No, I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm perfectly resigned to the fact, after wearing my mug for so long, my path in life would at least be different.
But then again, it might be the idea I'm a complete stranger to virtually everyone on Planet Earth, and here I am asking you to buy a book, which I might think is better than it is, but you get a choice of 2, 'Nick & Jenny' a serious piece of fiction and 'Danny's Navel Adventure' a very comical look at one man's quest to discover if he's ever been in love! So as I'm asking you to buy one of my books, you might be asking 'is there some ulterior motive behind this, which is just a ploy to sell a lot of books, on pretence of good charitable deeds, so as to fill his pockets for himself?' A perfectly reasonable thought to my mind, and fully understandable if you're leaning in that direction.
Now in a world that's become increasingly sceptical, and most of the time we're thinking that everyone appears to be ripping us off, such thoughts are always there, so I can't blame anyone if they do think that. All I can do is come up with an idea that, if it works and that needs your help, it will benefit a number of people in different ways.
It may well be my photograph, which admittedly resembles a convict pose. Sadly, the camera lens and I have never had the remotest desire to form a 'love affair', and there's never been a photograph my entire life that would happily hang on a wall, or sit on a shelf, piano or mantelpiece. One might happily reside in Madam Tussauds Chamber of Horrors alongside the likes of Frankenstein or Quasimodo. No, I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm perfectly resigned to the fact, after wearing my mug for so long, my path in life would at least be different.
But then again, it might be the idea I'm a complete stranger to virtually everyone on Planet Earth, and here I am asking you to buy a book, which I might think is better than it is, but you get a choice of 2, 'Nick & Jenny' a serious piece of fiction and 'Danny's Navel Adventure' a very comical look at one man's quest to discover if he's ever been in love! So as I'm asking you to buy one of my books, you might be asking 'is there some ulterior motive behind this, which is just a ploy to sell a lot of books, on pretence of good charitable deeds, so as to fill his pockets for himself?' A perfectly reasonable thought to my mind, and fully understandable if you're leaning in that direction.
Now in a world that's become increasingly sceptical, and most of the time we're thinking that everyone appears to be ripping us off, such thoughts are always there, so I can't blame anyone if they do think that. All I can do is come up with an idea that, if it works and that needs your help, it will benefit a number of people in different ways.
- The 'Occupy' groups around the world are fighting to maintain a core principle of trying to find a different way to live in the future. Unless you're a banker, or a politician, or an ostrich with its head buried in the sand, most of us believe we can't continue with the old status quo because it's hurting far too many people. I'd like many become largely disenfranchised from the political process because I'd largely lost my belief in democracy. 'Occupy' has returned that belief and made me believe that change can occur and a better world can be had for all. We need to break from what was, or is still, there. We accepted that our 'betters' knew better, what we now know is that our betters are a small band of financial brigands wholly intent on denying us a more equitable world. It's no longer a 'pipe-dream' it's there in the reality of the Occupy encampments in cities throughout the world, that crosses borders, cultures, religions and every political spectrum. The 'occupiers' need support in many different ways, what they don't need is continuing apathy and a sense of loss.
- Then there's a school in one of the five boroughs of New York, whose whole remit is to show disadvantaged youngsters that life doesn't have to end up as a drug addict, hoodlum, gangster etc. As a teacher myself, whatever doubts I may hold about the effectiveness of statutory education, I still believe that a life spent learning is one much more beneficial than a life spent in ignorance. The individual who learns is one who questions, and the greatest learners are those with a desire to change the world around them. Such individuals may not make massive changes, but they will change their environment for the better. I left school at the age of fifteen, destined for a life of poverty and drudgery, an individual controlled by the environment I was servile to, hidebound by a class structure determined to keep me in my place. One day for no apparent reason a small seed of hope, belief and with the encouragement of a few rare individuals I entered a top ten British university and life changed for me; I was 37 years old. My potential may never be reached, but every day I learn and I try to make a difference in some small way. I'm no saint, far from it, and I'm as complex as the next individual, but I believe that the process of learning can not only change who I am and my relationship with the world, but those I choose to try and help.
- Finally, as an EFL teacher I will often find learners who can't afford lessons because they do not have the economic means to improve their English language skills, so enabling them to better their lives and those of their families. That disturbs me greatly because I'm in no position to offer them the support they should have. No one eager to learn should be denied the opportunity to learn because of money, such an idea is as abhorrent to my thinking as the banker profiteering from the misery they have caused. Whilst not wishing to appear, especially at this time of year, as some sort of 'do gooder' on a 'mission', but I'd hope, using the only 'tools' available to me, to open a small window and give back to others.
Above are the reasons why I want to sell one of my books. The cost of each book is $3.99, the price of a cup of coffee. If a cup of coffee can make a small difference to the world, isn't that a world you'd rather be a part of. I want the world the change, I believe I can make a minute difference. Together, by 'giving up one cup of coffee', the eventual difference could be enormous. What kind of world do you want to live in?
Warm thanks.
Tony
Thursday, November 24, 2011
1 cup of coffee is going to help a lot of people!
Everyone who truly knows me, knows that I've always had a social conscience and that I've spent most of my life fighting losing battles, mostly because I hate injustice, that the law is an ass, that politicians are duty-bound to being completely ineffectual when elected to power and love the life of corruption and corrupt practices formed by ideologies which protect and serve the '1%'. I am by nature a quiet protester, although in the past I've been known to stand up for what I truly believed was the right and proper thing to do.
My rebellious nature is highly ingrained and first surfaced during the late 60s, when my 'hero' at that time was Tariq Ali, one of the student leaders who went on demonstrations and to my young eyes was the ultimate rebel with a cause. At the same time the youth of America rose up in demonstrations against the Vietnam War, and then the French students also got involved. It was a fascinating time for me because it showed that people with enough passion could change the world around them. It was a couple of years later that my then aunt Hazel called me a 'Marxist', although I had no idea then what a Marxist was, but it sounded so exciting to have pinned to me a label I could wear with real pride. Equally, even though I was wearing rose tinted glasses, I also saw on my nightly television screen images of the police and state brutality being inflicted on demonstrators for voicing their protests against democratic governments, acting not in the wider interests of society as an whole, but acting to maintain the status quo. Some 40 odd years later nothing has changed.
These were the few years of social upheaval, of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy dying in front of me. Nixon was becoming 'Tricky Dicky' who happily sanctioned the bombing of Cambodia. The photographs of war photojournalist Don McCullin entered my conscience and rammed home the futility and depravity of destruction on innocent people, all in the name of democracy.
Today, as I write this, people are becoming 'occupiers' standing up for their right to a decent life, of following democracy in its purest form of social participation, of trying to hold those responsible for the terrible financial mess the world is suffering from. Today, my conscience is again outraged that 99% of the world is being sacrificed to maintain the corrupt practices of the 1%.
I, like many, cannot get to an occupy site, but I can do something useful but it needs your help. I'm in the process of setting up a bank account in the USA, which will be used to help the OWS groups around the world, and hopefully help a school close to New York, and further help me to set up my own online teaching company so that I can subsidise lessons for people who can't afford to pay but who should be helped to make a better life for themselves. Everyone needs a break sometimes.
All you have to do is go and buy either one of my two published e-books, 'Danny's Navel Adventure' and 'Nick and Jenny'. They each cost $3.99, which is the price of one cup of coffee! That one cup of coffee is going to, hopefully, make a real difference to the world we live in. Click on the books at the top right-hand corner or the link here and it will take you straight to the page where you can buy either book.
All of us have the opportunity, right now, to make a small difference. There are people out there trying to make the world a better place, and that's the world I want to live in.
Thank you for your support!
Warm regards
Tony
My rebellious nature is highly ingrained and first surfaced during the late 60s, when my 'hero' at that time was Tariq Ali, one of the student leaders who went on demonstrations and to my young eyes was the ultimate rebel with a cause. At the same time the youth of America rose up in demonstrations against the Vietnam War, and then the French students also got involved. It was a fascinating time for me because it showed that people with enough passion could change the world around them. It was a couple of years later that my then aunt Hazel called me a 'Marxist', although I had no idea then what a Marxist was, but it sounded so exciting to have pinned to me a label I could wear with real pride. Equally, even though I was wearing rose tinted glasses, I also saw on my nightly television screen images of the police and state brutality being inflicted on demonstrators for voicing their protests against democratic governments, acting not in the wider interests of society as an whole, but acting to maintain the status quo. Some 40 odd years later nothing has changed.
These were the few years of social upheaval, of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy dying in front of me. Nixon was becoming 'Tricky Dicky' who happily sanctioned the bombing of Cambodia. The photographs of war photojournalist Don McCullin entered my conscience and rammed home the futility and depravity of destruction on innocent people, all in the name of democracy.
Today, as I write this, people are becoming 'occupiers' standing up for their right to a decent life, of following democracy in its purest form of social participation, of trying to hold those responsible for the terrible financial mess the world is suffering from. Today, my conscience is again outraged that 99% of the world is being sacrificed to maintain the corrupt practices of the 1%.
I, like many, cannot get to an occupy site, but I can do something useful but it needs your help. I'm in the process of setting up a bank account in the USA, which will be used to help the OWS groups around the world, and hopefully help a school close to New York, and further help me to set up my own online teaching company so that I can subsidise lessons for people who can't afford to pay but who should be helped to make a better life for themselves. Everyone needs a break sometimes.
All you have to do is go and buy either one of my two published e-books, 'Danny's Navel Adventure' and 'Nick and Jenny'. They each cost $3.99, which is the price of one cup of coffee! That one cup of coffee is going to, hopefully, make a real difference to the world we live in. Click on the books at the top right-hand corner or the link here and it will take you straight to the page where you can buy either book.
All of us have the opportunity, right now, to make a small difference. There are people out there trying to make the world a better place, and that's the world I want to live in.
Thank you for your support!
Warm regards
Tony
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