There are three kinds of intelligence: one kind understands things for itself, the other appreciates what others can understand, the third understands neither for itself nor through others. This first is excellent, the second good, and the third useless.

Monday, December 26, 2005


The funny thing about Christmas is that it’s full of traditions, yet no two families traditions are the same. This year was different for me and my family, simply because of my nephew.

A usual Christmas would involve my sister arriving at our house in the early hours, where we would wait for her and all open our presents together. Last year was exactly the same as any other apart from she bought baby Ben along in a basket. This year was different. Christmas is for kids after all.

We loaded the car up at half past six and drove to her house, where we all exchanged gifts and had breakfast followed by a game of cluedo. It was the first year that I can ever remember leaving the house on Christmas day.

Still, it was worth it, and I hope to do the same next year. Besides, we kept all the other funny little house hold traditions. Like hiding chocolates on the Christmas tree for each other to find. Fighting over who gets the chocolate in the advent calendar. Buying each other socks and sitting down to watch the wizard of oz as a family.

To me, those are the things that make Christmas, taking time to talk to each other and do things for each other. Spending a whole day in each others company without arguing or shouting. I study religion but I’m not religious so to me it’s a celebration of family which I guess, in a round about kind of way, is what it should be about.
Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

The true meaning of Christmas.

“You are standing up to your knees in the slime of a waterlogged trench. It is the evening of 24 December 1914 and you are on the dreaded Western Front.
Stooped over, you wade across to the firing step and take over the watch. Having exchanged pleasantries, your bleary-eyed and mud-spattered colleague shuffles off towards his dug out. Despite the horrors and the hardships, your morale is high and you believe that in the New Year the nation's army march towards a glorious victory.
But for now you stamp your feet in a vain attempt to keep warm. All is quiet when jovial voices call out from both friendly and enemy trenches. Then the men from both sides start singing carols and songs. Next come requests not to fire, and soon the unthinkable happens: you start to see the shadowy shapes of soldiers gathering together in no-man's land laughing, joking and sharing gifts.
Many have exchanged cigarettes, the lit ends of which burn brightly in the inky darkness. Plucking up your courage, you haul yourself up and out of the trench and walk towards the foe...
The meeting of enemies as friends in no-man's land was experienced by hundreds, if not thousands, of men on the Western Front during Christmas 1914. Today, 90 years after it occurred, the event is seen as a shining episode of sanity from among the bloody chapters of World War One – a spontaneous effort by the lower ranks to create a peace that could have blossomed were it not for the interference of generals and politicians.”

Of all the Christmas stories that I’ve heard over the years, this is the one story that stayed with me, the one story that really gave me hope that peace - even if it’s just for one, single and solitary day - can truly exist.

Sunday, December 04, 2005


My musical taste summed up;


I left work today at exactly 4.05pm. I stepped onto the car park and my eyes were instantly drawn to the setting sun.

The clouds were arranged in a rolling pattern of dark grey, their undersides splashed with hues of purple and orange. In the middle of the colour and just barely visible through a slit in the cloud, was a tiny finger nail moon, almost transparent in the last of the blue sky. For a minute I was awestruck, its beauty just stopped me dead in my tracks.  

Despite the obviously different tinge to the evening light, no body even so much as stopped to look, all apart from one person that is. A small child shouted ‘look at the sun!’ as her mom tugged her along.

It struck me as being a little sad that the only people who have time to stop and appreciate the world around them are little kids and low life day dreamers like me.

Friday, December 02, 2005


You know the kind, muttered on a drawn in breath, just loud enough for you to hear but no one else, meant to offend you and only you.

The problem is, I’m a very sarcastic person myself, not in a bad way mind, I usually employ the up front, obvious sarcasm, designed to get laughs not patronise. However, I firmly believe that there is a time and a place for it and if you insist on using sarcasm, you have to be able to accept it when it’s used on you or in response to something you’ve said. The same goes for just being an ass hat in general. If you snipe and bitch at people all day then you should be fully prepared to deal with a little attitude when it’s thrown back at you.

Imaginary scenario:

Me: ‘Knock knock’ (I knock on the door and open it) Hi, can I have my dispatch notes please?
Me: Are these the only dispatch notes you have for me?
Me: Hello?
(Admin manager points to a stack on the table behind her – please note that she is supposed to put these items in my in tray)
Me: There aren’t any more in here but I’m still missing some, any idea where they could be?
Admin manager: *Sigh* Ill look (precedes to look through the pile I’ve just looked through) wait there (points to the knock and wait sign on the door)
Me: There really is no need to talk to me like I’m a dog.
Admin manager: Really?
Me: Well that’s a fair comment I suppose, I can be a bitch some of the time (admin manager smiles sickly)
Me: But you know how it is, every pack of dogs has a leader, and if you haven’t noticed you’re a hell of a lot further up the hierarchy of bitches than I am.
Admin manager: Get out!

Sometimes I try really hard with this woman, I’m stupidly polite, I smile lots ( I give myself cramp in my face sometimes!!) but still she gives me this frosty ‘you’ll wake up with a horses head on your pillow attitude’. So I gave a little bit back and I get thrown out.

You really can’t win with some people