The way I see it

 Here I am again, another attempt at making sense of it all. Wondering what it's all about.  I have to be the man of the house. I have to be the strong one. At least in the eyes of my children. My son, who has recently started secondary school, looks up to me. I am constantly at war with myself in an attempt to meet the expectations he has of me as his father. The same has to be said about being the father my daughter needs me to be. Through her five year old eyes, and in her five year old mind, I can do anything. I can fix anything, make things right in this scary sphere we call life. It's at times like that, when she looks up at me with her beautiful big eyes, and skin, silky smooth, unblemished by the ravages of existence, that I wish I had a disclaimer, ready to hand. Something tangible I could give her, to let her know, I don't know it all, I can't fix everything, or always make things right. This, however, I suggest, to me at least, would be the cowards way out. A

I have not written anything for a while. In fact, looking back at my previous post, the last entry was in February.  I started the blog mainly as a platform to be able to detox my mind, to administer self therapy, enable me to find a therapeutic outlet to the daily grind and stresses of life. Previous entries have recalled moments in my life, tales of what has been. What I think makes me, well, me. Well, me, I, am deeply saddened by the atrocities that unfolded in front of the world last night at the Manchester Arena. Another cowardly act, hiding behind the smoke and cloak of a warped sense of what the world should be. I feel I needed to write at least something to acknowledge what took place last night. I did not want to just sit and watch the news unfold, and become numb to the reality of the cruel world in which I find myself resident, without at least putting something down as a recognition, and my own sign of respect to those who have lost their lives. And to those whose families

It's true you know, no matter how important we think we are, how significant we see ourselves, the world does indeed keep on turning. From the very first dawn of time, to the day you and I came into the world. It was spinning then, and it's spinning now. There is, for me at least, a comforting, consistent, well, consistency about this. Knowing, as much as I am able, that tonight when I retire into the world of sleep, this beautiful mysterious, awe inspiring planet we call home will still be turning. When I awake, bar a intergalactic disaster, it will still be spinning. When I find myself thinking about subjects like this, my mind often wanders. It's as if I regress to a child like state of mind again. I wonder, how many times the planet has spun since the day I was born, since the planet was created even. No doubt I could ask Google for the answer. I find myself deliberating. Does the planet ever get tired of spinning and spinning? Now, of course, there may be some who read

Fatherhood, it's a journey... You know, being a Dad, is, well, mysterious. There are no rule books, At least I don't think there are. I certainly cannot recall being handed one at the hospital following the two occasions of my children's birth. Maybe, however, there was a rule book, but only one. Maybe I missed it when they were giving them out at the anti natal classes? More than likely, I no doubt missed the handing out of this holy grail to fatherhood shortly after my fist born, when I popped out for a quick smoke, under the guise I should imagine of needing to declare the good news to others via text message. I did smoke back then, before I knew any better. Don't get me wrong, of course I knew, deep down within me, that with each drag, my lungs were dying just that little bit more, little alveoli sacks gasping like wheezy asthmatic pensioners. But, I didn't really appreciate or even give second thought to the impact such a habit could potentially have on my chi

I am me you see. I am very soon to turn 44 years of age. In the grand scheme of things, I agree, 44 is not that old. Compared to the age of the universe for example, estimated to be approximately 13.8 billion years old, source found here  I am but a mere glint in the eye of the creator. Of course, some will argue, that the universe is between 6000 and 10'000 years old, as some Christians do, and others different ages again. But, I am not writing this as a thesis on the maturity of our universe. No, I am writing it from a soon to be 44 year old point of view, and my place in it.  I don't have an issue with age. I cannot halt it. I cannot press pause, alight from a point in time, and when the mood takes me, press play, and carry on again. Isn't there a saying, time waits for no man? Maybe I should be a woman! I don't think I have heard the phrase, time waits for no woman. Maybe I haven't heard it, because I am a man! Maybe I have not listened closely enough. Who know