Oh Lordy, have hit a patch of inertia, I resist the crushing guilt of calling it depression, but that feeling that many things are just so big and unappealing to be doing that nothing can happen until that is done, and so nothing gets done.
The pile of washing to put away threatens to declare Independence and move out. The professional development file moulders away in a crate looking half finished and pitiful, and very little of it fills me with purpose and enthusiasm.
The answer will be to make and list an reward myself for the little achievements, to take exercise, eat well and spend time with positive people. Just starting and finishing something would be useful. Especially as I shall be seeing two clients tomorrow and will be there to engender hope and nurture their desire for change into action, me? Yeah right.
So now I really really should make my way over to the shop and buy some food, because every great journey starts with the first step right?
Hmmmmm.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Thursday, 12 November 2009
No No NO
I think as someone who actively adheres to a system of faith I am supposed to have strong views about homosexuality.
Today I bumped into a program on TV about homophobia in the black community, a comedian Steven Amos was 'exploring' the phenomena, and it was an education.
I guess I thought that homophobia was not just the preserve of the black community, but now I know how it seems entrenched, but when he was talking to some church representatives in Jamaica, I had to cover my eyes.
I felt that my views would probably alienate lots of the people who I'm supposed to be in community with. How I may have completely failed to develop a sense of moral outrage and condemnation about homosexuality. There you go. Amongst all the heinous things that people do, and think and say I have failed to be offended by that. I might even rate my sorrow as somewhat less than if someone tells me they spent £40,000 on a car.
I may have to repent when someone gets round to showing me the error of my ways.
Today I bumped into a program on TV about homophobia in the black community, a comedian Steven Amos was 'exploring' the phenomena, and it was an education.
I guess I thought that homophobia was not just the preserve of the black community, but now I know how it seems entrenched, but when he was talking to some church representatives in Jamaica, I had to cover my eyes.
I felt that my views would probably alienate lots of the people who I'm supposed to be in community with. How I may have completely failed to develop a sense of moral outrage and condemnation about homosexuality. There you go. Amongst all the heinous things that people do, and think and say I have failed to be offended by that. I might even rate my sorrow as somewhat less than if someone tells me they spent £40,000 on a car.
I may have to repent when someone gets round to showing me the error of my ways.
Monday, 9 November 2009
Wildlife
I live in the broad, grubby embraces of a large city in the north of UK. It is...it is what it is. This week a coupe of things happened to me which make me smile about big city life.
I had a voicemail message left on my phone, a softly spoken man left a long message in a language I really didn't recognise, though it could have been an African west coast sort of language, some of which I listen to at work amongst the patients, and on the bus, because there are bus journeys I make where I am the only anglo-saxon/celt descendant there.
Which is alright.
Then on Sunday about lunchtime I set off to protest in another suburb about plans to ''develop" a Green space into football pitches, and walking along the pavement I say two young, very young women, one pushing a toddler in a pushchair, both women wearing pyjamas, slippers and an overcoat. It was a particularly grey, damp and chilly November afternoon.
I do live in a somewhat strange place, and I'm experiencing somewhat odd times...where things seem to be happening according to rules and traditions which I have very little grasp of.
Or perhaps that's just my age.
I had a voicemail message left on my phone, a softly spoken man left a long message in a language I really didn't recognise, though it could have been an African west coast sort of language, some of which I listen to at work amongst the patients, and on the bus, because there are bus journeys I make where I am the only anglo-saxon/celt descendant there.
Which is alright.
Then on Sunday about lunchtime I set off to protest in another suburb about plans to ''develop" a Green space into football pitches, and walking along the pavement I say two young, very young women, one pushing a toddler in a pushchair, both women wearing pyjamas, slippers and an overcoat. It was a particularly grey, damp and chilly November afternoon.
I do live in a somewhat strange place, and I'm experiencing somewhat odd times...where things seem to be happening according to rules and traditions which I have very little grasp of.
Or perhaps that's just my age.
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