Satisfaction

On Submarines, in the 1990s, I vaguely recall a more senior lad who seemed to be above all the bullshit, detached if you will, seemingly floating up ladders and along decks. Effortlessness personified.

"Divvent fret Sateeb, it's aal just a game bonny lad" he'd say between drags of a duty-free-Embassy down the Blower Flat. I don't recall much else about him other than his other-worldliness - in the world but not of the world. Today I wonder if the vague impression he left was intentional? Symbolic? Instructive?

Paolo - County Durham

Recently Mick Jagger's lyrics have been floating aroond me swede. I can't get no ... der der deeer der der de ... Satisfaction. The heinous use of a double negative aside, I've had a nagging sense that I should be doing something. Something more. Something dramatic. Something to satiate the insatiable ego. Pursue wife/kids? Move back to Thailand? Buy a motorbike? Apply for jobs? Volunteer? Meditation retreat? Study Python more? A month on Koh Rong? Anything other than just being? And so it goes.

In the past I would've agonised over such thoughts. Attached to them. Nowadays I observe them from afar. Acknowledge them arise and vanish - randomly - poof - gone. It's taken decades to realise I am not those thoughts. They're illusory, kinda like the game my old shipmate was on about. They happen to us but are not us. This was a huge shift in perspective for me in 2023.

So what to do? Nothing. Just be. Enjoy the small things. The weather, the sunshine, the breeze, the stars, a cold water, a coffee, a bike ride, a massage, a game of pool, a meal, some fruit, good health, podcasts and writing some shit. Marvel at life itself - the fact we're plucked from non-physical-existence to be briefly manifest as living matter. And to what end? As an aperture for consciousness to explore itself? From another unique one-in-a-gazillion perspective? Maybe.

One Day Three Events

1. Weirdly, after 4 months of chronic neck pain, it simply vanished the day after my birthday (best present ever). Just woke up and it was gone. Massive relief. Massive gratitude. It's funny how when you're in pain you can't think of much else, however, once it's gone the memory quickly fades.

2. Later, that same day, unknown forces compelled me to kibosh the mullet experiment. It was time, though I don't know how I knew. One moment I was eating and the next I was in a barber's chair. Never go full hippy.

3. A large ferocious white dog has snapped at my heels everyday for 18 months. I've learnt to anticipate his ambushes as I cycle home. However, today he ignored me. Feeling rejected I did a U-turn. Maybe he was doing Tsu Sun's appear weak when you are strong? Or he simply chose today to call a truce? Either way my long standing foe had become friend.

So, a miraculous healing, a de-mullet-ing and a canine peace deal all on the same day. The day after turning 50. Very odd.

The day before

I've always shied away from being the center of attention. These days I'm alone most of the time, and quite frankly, love it. Perhaps I've become more introverted? Only able to tolerate other people in short doses (no matter how entertaining or nice they are to be around). Hell is other people wrote a boss-eyed Sartre back in the day. He's not wrang like.

Thus, it was with mixed feelings that the pool team lasses went to the effort of organising a cake. Initial embarrassment rapidly gave way to an overwhelming sense of belonging. I don't remember anyone making this much fuss before. How could they be so warm and welcoming to someone who only shows up once a week - and doesn't even drink? I was genuinely lost for words. Thank you all.

Speaking of pool, we somehow fumbled our way to the real semi-final (not the Wobbly Cup). I was happy to lead by example winning 21 of 28 singles this time around. However, the journey wasn't without drama as difficult calls had to be made by El Capitano.

Weak

Schopenhauer pessimistically states "Life swings like a pendulum between pain and boredom." I promptly returned to the gym and proceeded to destroy my lower back by fucking up squats. On Christmas day too. Pain, boredom, pain. Schoppy right again. Limping aroond like a spacca.

I've added skipping and boxing to the regimen. There's nowt like Nietzsche's will-to-power flowing through one's veins as one asserts one's physical dominance on a punch bag. Good thing they don't punch back - hehe. Bong Dar (former kickboxing champ) points me in the right direction.

Work

Work Permit

I didn't earn a single dollar in the calendar year of 2023. A whole year sat on me arse. Do I feel guilty? Fuck no. Enjoying the fruits of previous sacrifices. Reaping and sowing.

I sometimes wonder about former colleagues still busting their balls in centralised babysitting centers. I've come to the conclusion there are two types of babysitter. First, the ones who know (and accept) it's all bullshit but grind it out for the cashola/visa. I was one of these - perhaps this is why I always felt like an imposter? Second, the ones who believe they're making a difference and buy into all the edubabble bullshit.

I marvel at the mental gymnastics these people must be capable of - do they truly, deep down, believe that Scaffolded Differentiation (SD) is superior to Student Centered Asynchronous Learning (SCAL)? Whatever the feck that is. I was too thick to understand most of the jargon and always suspicious of charlatans who claimed to have ascended the holy ranks of pedagogical mysticism - funny thing is they always taught fewer periods than us mere mortals.

Bullshit baffles brains as we'd say in the Navy.

Despite the wonders of SD and SCAL, western education churns out more illiterates than ever. Did Aristotle propel Alexander to greatness with SCAL? Did he boast credentials sanctioned by Sandra, an obese diversity-hire, greasing the wheels of a self-serving bloated government bureaucracy? I doubt it.

The Drink

So aye, 5 years off the piss n tabs. 45 to 50 as clean as a whistle. Doubt I'll be going back either. Life is vastly superior without those crutches.

Motorbike

Enjoyed chasing Phil up Bokor on his little Honda Airblade. Might have to make the Bokor twisties an annual event.

Blog

So what's to become of it? I'm not sure. There's less to write about as life trends towards homeostasis. Equilibrium might not foster the inspiration necessary to continue a blogging trek. Who knows? Does it even matter?

The ramblings of a 50 something bloke who can't quite believe anyone reads this bollicks - lol

Random

Party

Bat Mobile

Fishing nets

Coffee