Category Archives: Jon

A Possible Clearout

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I did not get much chance to promenade today, what with shopping and sorting out my sick leave taking up most of my day. I did, however, find myself surfing to zenhabits, by chance really, whilst browsing my favourite social bookmarking site, digg.

99% of my hebdomadal visits there are are to peruse the gaming news, but today, for some reason, I clicked on the ALL [news] button, and found an entry entitled “How to Make the Time for Your Personal Goals”.

At this precise juncture I feel there is a lot to be gained from Zenning up my life. I went through a period about a decade ago reading self-help books, books about Tai-Chi, breathing techniques and the like. From that time I remember two such books that made a deep impression: “Tao According To Pooh” and the “Conversations With God” trilogy (of which the third in the series failed to appeal).

The medication I’m currently taking, Sobril, allows me to live the days with little or no feeling of time-stress, and I am actually able to concentrate on one thing at a time, something which has been very difficult these past months. These tablets have enabled an abundance of blog entries the last few days, and will undoubtedly give me the chance to focus on decluttering my mind, the idea of which came from zenhabits.

I have already started work on my first task, choosing four or five free-time activities I wish to pursue, ditching the rest. A preliminary list, then:

1. time with family
2. videogames
3. writing
4. reading

So, with my priorities figured out, I need to look at other past-time activities to see how much time/money/effort they take away from my priorities, if I can add them to the list, take them away from my life, or if they can be enjoyed without detracting from my goals.

The first casualty will be to stop following my football team, Wolverhampton Wanderers. I currently pay about £20 a year for the pleasure of listening to them play; however, most matches are played on a Saturday afternoon, which takes away (important weekend) time from the family. Either I listen to them on the headphones (totally asocial), or I cannot hear the match because of Freya and Jo doing things together (which means a waste of money).

Another reason for giving up Wolves is for their frustrating lack of success, even against teams they should beat. Wolves are depressingly shite, and I do not think it prudent for my general well-being to involve myself in their failures.

Secondly, an activity which I enjoy immensely, but takes up far too much of my time: ebay.

The last month I’ve managed to get lots of bargain clothes, games and DVDs, stupidly cheap. This has only happened because of the amount of time I’ve invested in browsing through page after page after page of unsuitable auctions to find something I like, and, at the same time, is going dirt cheap. It is a thrill to get these items for very little money, but I need to become more efficient and limit my time spent searching. Coupled with this I need to set myself a spending limit per month, which will certainly decrease my ebaying activities.

This is as far as I have come, which isn’t bad for only having the idea an evening. I think I’ll assimilate the concept for a day or so, and see if it’s possible or even desirable.

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They’re Coming To Take Me Away, Ha, Ha

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The inevitable has happened: I am officially messed up enough to be signed off work for two weeks.

I knew that, should my work situation not improve, I would become a casualty of war. I was hoping that last Thursday, a study day where the pupils stay at home, we teachers would take up what I consider to be a major concern for my mental health, the other employees and pupils alike: the (near) absence of consequences for breaking school rules. I’d even forewarned the sub-headmistress and headmaster of the likelihood of my breakdown, should nothing be done to help me, with talk of a few proposals coming by the end of the week to take away some of the weight. But to no avail.

So, Thursday comes, and I convince myself that, despite a hitherto shaky week, I would be my normal self, and that this day away from the children would be enough to (at least) carry me through the next fortnight, until Easter. Easter would give me a further week’s holiday to thoroughly rid myself of the ridiculous anxiety I have been experiencing for the last few months.

It appears not to work like that.

Thursday morning is spent fighting back tears, phasing out, feeling half-zombified. Thursday morning is not one such morning I feel like talking about the pupils’ influence in school, and how it can be bettered. Thursday morning should have been about me, and the numerous other teachers who feel helpless and powerless. Thursday morning was the morning I felt like no number of proposals would be enough, and that the only recourse would be a visit to the doctor’s.

I took Friday off, and felt shit. Saturday and Sunday weren’t much better, though we did manage to get out the house long enough for Freya to be unaffected by my situation. Monday morning comes, I ring in sick (until Wednesday), ring the doctor and…I start to get a panic attack.

Panic attacks are not nice. This is a truism, I know, but I still feel it important to note. The only solution to my predicament, after lying down in a dark room trying to breath it all away, was to go out for a walk in the woods. After about an hour I started to feel relaxed enough to attempt a return to home to eat something, and while away the time until the afternoon’s appointment.

I advised the doctor that I’d like both time off, plus medicine to stop any further attacks, and he obliged. This morning I needed a pill to ward off feelings of anxiety (they are strongest in the morning), and I’ve had a fairly ordinary day. I must try and go for long walks every day, and, personally, I want to stop thinking too far ahead, to things that have yet to be done. I was at one time quite good at thinking in the “now”, but I seem to have lost that ability, and I want it back.

The next step is to go to school and try and get a decent set of working conditions. The major problem will/can not be resolved, but I can at least make my time in the classroom more enjoyable and less-stressful.

I have not thought further than the positive belief that these steps will be enough to satiate my requirements for a situation I shall be happy to work in. Time will tell.

What The ¤*§ü

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I’ve been interested in computers for more than a couple of weeks now, and even get to use the occasional “personal computer” in my day-to-day life. One thing I have newly discovered about this whole crazy IT thing: with so many unnecessary keys on the word-input device, or keyboard (I’m thinking “¤” and “e” in particular), why is there no ™ nor ® key?

It does not feature, truth be told, high on my list of things I wish I knew how to do – I’ve just realised why I used the preterite form, “knew”, and it’s thanks to Johanna (explanation of this eureka moment coming in a future entry) – though it appeals to the secret sciolist in me.

So, a call to computer people and, specifically, keyboard manufacturers across the globe: make the ™ and ® signs a permanent feature on future keyboards, because then I could do cool things like write “F®eya” or “a™osphere”. It’s all about kudos, folks.

Mini Mission To Haga

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We decided to go on a mini-mission this afternoon, on the spur of the moment, and ended up at Fjärilshuset, just north of Stockholm.

There were a fair number of people, most of them in the restaurant, it seemed, which was to our advantage. I wouldn’t say we roamed leisurely (Freya was far too excited, particularly at the various pieces of fruit that had been placed in the frogs’ and snails’ aquariums), but we could roam most of the time unhindered by human traffic.

As nice as the park was, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of actual butterflies. We spotted many koi, but, as nice as they may be to look at, that wasn’t the reason for paying 160kr entrance fee. I suppose, in fairness, we came out of season (I’m supposing butterflies have mating seasons in rainforest climes, don’t they?). If not then they need to do some serious rethinking or illegal importing.

The gift shop seemed geared towards receiving a fair number of visitors. I was mightily impressed by the range of rubbish merchandise and embalmed scorpion lollipops on offer (no batteries though, of course), but my eye was caught by the aptly named “Eco Expedition ™ Rainforest Exploration” toy-pack (see photo). Indiana Jones (whoops, it’s obviously not him) is out in the jungle, with his reasonably well-scaled binoculars, when he comes across a fuck-off huge frog. Not quite sure why Wild Republic bothered making the animal swallow-safe when Indy’s (there I go again, tut!) looking device is a certainty for death by choking. Maybe it’s because there exists such things as scorpion lollipops, and a lime-green and orange amphibian looks far too enticing to be given a reasonable scale.

Not far from the exit of the gift shop, just above eye level where most people would not ever bother to look, is a dusty advert for that (now) well-known company, Wild Republic. I’ll skip any scale-related errors here, to point out what I consider to be one of the nattiest slogans I’ve come across this year: World Leader In Nature-Related Fun. I reckon if I have to explain further the wonder of this little gem, then it’s not worth knowing why. I will point out, though, they are (self-claimed) world leaders. Where the statistics are for nature-related fun contenders is anyone’s guess, but if Wild Republic say so, who am I to argue.

And to end on an educational note, which all my entries do, we come to the notion that the word “butterfly” was originally “flutterby”. I have always reckoned this to by a sack of dogs cocks, so far-fetched as to be beyond risible, and into the realms of, well, a sack of dogs cocks. Extensive research (i.e. Wikipedia and browsing the first few results of googling “butterfly etymology”) seems back up my dogs cocks theory, though I did find out that:

a) butterflies do not poo.

b) caterpillar poo is called frass.

c) Sign language for the word butterfly involves interlocking thumbs, flapping flat hands like wings.

To Be A Giant

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Some time after we had moved to our current accommodation we were contacted by the company who owns the flat, Familjebostäder, who wanted to send a photographer to take pictures (obviously) of Jo and Freya, for use in their adverts/website. I have never known how they found out about and decided Jo and Freya should be the models they were after, and it feels slightly creepy thinking about it, though I’ve no doubt the methods used were above board, and no spies or hidden cameras were used.

Despite our foreknowledge it was still a pleasant surprise going to their site and seeing us (I say “us”, even though I was not asked to appear, not even in the background, under a bed, out of focus). Freya, however, being used to seeing digital pictures of us all on the computer, and not really understanding the concept of the Internet, was unmoved by the whole thing. Until the large-scale version came along, that is.

A few months ago Jo was again contacted by the FB(I), this time wanting to know if they could employ one of the pictures in a larger format. Jo was okay with the idea, thinking it would probably be a couple of metre-high indoor advertisements that’d be easy enough to miss or (mis)take as part of the surrounding scenery.

A 7-metre high hanging is currently emblazoning the FBI offices in Stockholm. Not quite what Jo had imagined when she gave the okay; in fact, very few (minus egomaniacs) could have foreseen the enormity of the end result. Even Freya was (quietly) impressed.