Tuesday, 25 November 2008

The Road To Home

Scotland. The country where I was born, and still live. For me its a land of ancient mysteries and magical places. I find its beauty overwhelming and humbling. It's shaped me into who I am today. It has been the very centre of who I am. It's lochs, and mountains, people, stories and music have acted like an earthing rod. They gave me a grounding. At times it has been everything I have ever had. I'm a guy with simple pleasures, I don't need flash cars or big houses, sometimes all I need is a little freedom to enjoy the outdoors of this fine land to remember who and what I am.

That was how it was until 6 months ago. In just that amount of length of time everything I knew and thought I knew was turned on its head. Then just over two weeks ago I came home and it no longer felt like, well, home. It was strange. It felt alien. It was no longer enough. It kind of took me by surprise.

There seems to be two types of Scots, those who can't wait to grow up and get away from it and those who never want to leave. I always belonged in the latter group. I never saw myself leaving here permanently. I wanted to have time to travel the world for sure, but I always saw myself coming back.

I'm no longer sure that I can say that's the case any more. In around 12 weeks I'll be leaving here and I'm not sure I'll be coming back on a permanent basis. And the strange thing is I don't even feel sad.

I have around 12 weeks of working and saving to do so that I can take enough money with me so that I won't end up a sponge for the following 3 months. That's the simple part. The tricky part is to convince Border Patrol and Homeland Security to let me in for those 3 months. It was hard enough to convince them to let me in for just 2 weeks the last time. I wasn't expecting the 25 minute interrogation - but then the Monty Python crew always did say no-one expects the Spanish Inquisition, its just I really wasn't expecting it. I mean I wasn't even wearing a checked black and white tea towel on my head, or trying to get into Texas whilst sporting a Mexican style moustache above my lip. I may have said that I was a landscaper but I failed to see where I could hide a lawnmower in my luggage. I just wasn't expecting that level of paranoia for what was just an innocent 2 week holiday.

Next time I will be more prepared. I will have the same answers to the same questions. It just might not be so honest this time around. In that yes I am working now so that I can take enough money with me so that I'm not going to be a sponge and I will have enough money to go home again and buy another return ticket to renew my 3 month visitors visa. Next time around I really doubt that I can make enough money to do the same thing again, not in the space of a week or two's flying visit. I just don't see that being possible.

Why doesn't this scare me? It should. But I'm not. What the hell is wrong with me? I will need to find a way to work eventually. How I allay the suspicions of Border Patrol when I don't believe it myself I have no idea. Despite all this uncertainty I feel the journey I am now on is my road to home.

Which in itself is strange. 6 months ago I had no real ambition to settling in the USA. There were places in the States that I wanted to visit, fleetingly, at some point, but I had no intention of living in a country with so many lawyers, guns or psychiatrists. Neither of which to me seemed to be a healthy approach to dealing with your problems. Now, strangely, it feels like home. What the hell happened? What did she poison me with? Utah fry sauce may be famous but it wasn't so great that I should be missing the place. The love of, and for, a good woman does strange things to a man. I'm ready and at peace with my decision to give up the land that begat me and I'm looking forward to discovering Utah, & America, and becoming as familiar with it as I am with Scotland today. Now if only I could get a job photographing and writing about that journey of new discoveries. Och if only I had the ability to write.

Dougie MacLean: Caledonia

Wednesday, 19 November 2008

Sunday, 16 November 2008

Just Over Thinking

Maybe it's her face, no makeup at all as she tells me she looks like butt.

Maybe it's her hair, long, radiant and black.

Maybe its the way she feigns hurt when I say she's such a white girl.

Maybe its those wide beautiful brown eyes that look just as good first thing in the morning as they do late at night.

It could be all these things but I think it's her smile.

Or her laugh when I say something stupid.

Maybe it's her smell, the lotion she wears.

Or how my hands smell like her cherry blossom after I couldn't resist touching her soft, soft skin.

Maybe its the way I can just be me and don't need to pretend to be anyone else.

Maybes its the way I love her just as she is and wouldn't want to change a thing.

Maybe its the way that by rights I think she should be out of my league and yet she makes me feel I deserve every minute of her.

You know it could be all these things but I think mostly it’s her smile.

Cause I love to see her smile back at me, when I know she is happy.

Maybe it's her touch, the feel of her hands when she puts her fingers in mine.

Maybe its the way I can forget about the outside world when I'm with her.

Yeth, I think its just the way that something as simple as her laugh can brighten the darkest hour.

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Laughing At Awful Things

I don't know about you but sometimes I'm convinced my brain operates differently than other brains. It's sick and twisted and finds humour in subject matter that isn't really meant to be funny. It might well be an inbuilt coping mechanism but I'm not exactly sure. I find human behaviour interesting, especially behaviour that is a little different from the norm. Suicide is just such one of those interesting behavioural decisions.

Now generally day to day I don't think much about suicide, in truth would never have crossed my tiny mind had I not read two articles in a newspaper, one on the subject of suicide and the other on the state of feminism in today's world. This was all it took for my mind to go on a little journey to the dark side. For some reason after reading this paper my brain decided throughout the rest of the day to merge the two subjects together and go off in strange tangents like I'm sure only my brain can. You may think this sounds rather egotistical of me, but trust me you don't want a brain like mine. It's a little messed up in there.

For example at one stage I was thinking abut some of the raw statistics when I realised that as I was thinking that someone somewhere was contemplating ending it right there and then. The odds are pretty high that someone is thinking of doing the same now as you are reading this. Do you ever think of things like that? I do! Why? I don't know, but that's how my brain works.

Something else I thought about, and this is where the two separate subjects merged in my head, was the fact that if women want to be considered truly equal with men they have to commit suicide in greater numbers. Why? Well for some strange reason men aren't considered good multi-taskers but we are great at suicide? When guys decide enough is enough and its time to end it all they are generally successful at it. Women on the other hand not so much. Women are 3 times more likely to try to kill themselves but men are 4 times more likely to have the the word SUICIDE stamped on his chart by the coroner. That's a serious swing right there and its also something feminists never speak about when they advocate for an equal world. Maybe its tough being at the top?

Don't get me wrong I don't find suicide funny, I don't advocate it, but neither am I judgemental of those who do have suicidal thoughts. I don't much wonder about the reasons. I think I can understand it, life is hard sometimes, there could be many reasons for it and with the credit crunch maybe there are even more reasons now than there was a few years ago.

What I wonder is where people find the time. It would be well down on my list of priorities. People are always wanting something from me, if it was something I was considering the bastards just wouldn't let me do it.

There a lot of myths about about suicide, the two most popular being that it is a sin and that it is selfish. Do you know how suicide became a sin? Moses didn't bring the word of God down a hill and say suicide is bad - don't do it. In fact for for centuries the most popular place to kill yourself was on church property. Why? In villages and towns everywhere church buildings tended to be the tallest building around for miles. It was convenient to do it in a church, especially if you knew when you jumped (or is it fall, I'm never quite sure?) you were less likely to survive with a rather painful broken leg. After a while the church got fed up with the cleaning bills. Any forensic investigator or episode of CIS will tell you that blood is very difficult to remove. Cleaning up blood is an expensive business. The solution to expensive cleaning bills – make suicide a sin. Overnight suicide rates in church grounds dropped.

As for selfish? Really? In these days of diminishing resources, rising food bills and consumerism that is raping and pillaging the planet maybe choosing to end it all is one of the few acts of selflessness we have left. I mean seriously if more people did it the price of oil would fall, food would easier to get by those remaining and the carbon footprint of the human population would be a little bit less too.

Another reason that it can't be a selfish thing to do is that its not exactly an easy pain free option to your problems. I don't know about you but I do know I couldn't do it. I wouldn't know where to begin. Shooting myself isn't an option because I don't own a gun and despite what the papers like to portray it isn't that easy to get a hold of one in this country. I wouldn't know where to go. I don't live in a country where guns are as easy to buy as a can of beer. Even if I did, I don't know how to shoot. I could just point and pull the trigger and hope for the best but sometimes when I'm doing something for the first time I mess up. Knowing my luck I would miss every vital organ and end up with a hole that I would have explain for the rest of my sorry life. Or worse wear a hat to cover it up – I look stupid in a hat.

I could try overdosing on the contents of the medicine box, but seeing as it can take me 3 hours to swallow one headache pill I'd probably mess up on that too and end of with nothing much worse than the runs. No, suicide is not an easy option, its hard.

You can't just jump off a bridge! It takes planning. A teenage girl in New York the other day fell 14 floors and survived. Knowing my luck I'd the exact same thing. Only I would feel even more suicidal because of the pain of the broken bones, but the broken bones would inhibit such an action.

It would be much easier to drink myself to death and in fact that is like a national past time in this country by a certain element of society especially amongst those who like to stay up until 3am on a Saturday night. But that's a long term approach, that takes dedication and I generally get bored of anything that requires that amount of commitment.

Tying myself to the rail tracks would probably be a waste of time because there is so much engineering works going on by Railtrack that Scotrail probably wouldn't be running any services on the line that day. I would probably have to go for a toilet break so as not to make a mess of my underwear and just at that moment a 26 truck coal train would roll past.

I suppose I could like others cut myself to see if I like the idea first but I'm kind of allergic to pain and quite frankly its kind of messy. Death by a thousand cuts just doesn't hold much appeal. Must be even harder for those who faint at the sight of blood.

There is always the old rope and chair trick but who nowadays owns rope? Sailors maybe. Tug-o-war hobbyists? I suppose you could go to B&Q and buy some, theres 10% off day on a Wednesday - you could get yourself a bargain just before you do the deed. Of course you could always put it on your credit card and not have to pay for it – that must a tempting idea to those who have more money worries than they can handle. A sort of sweet revenge on the visa company. But if you are going to jump off a chair with a rope around your neck you better hope you remember how you gained your knot making badge during your day in the scouts, otherwise thats going to be a long slow death or one painful visa bill when you have to pay for a rope at 20% interest that you have no use for.

Choosing to end it all and how is one thing but then there is the suicide note. In some ways I might find that even more difficult. I find this blog difficult enough at times and really, sorry to tell you this, but I don't care how people read this. But a suicide note has got to be much harder. I'm dyslexic, so sometimes I really struggle with my choice of words. Not a good thing to suffer from when it is your last opportunity to say a few words to your nearest and dearest in an uncaring world. What's more if you could express myself you possibly wouldn't be feeling suicidal in the first place. What do you write? Do you need to specify a date, or do you make the coroners day more interesting by allowing them to calculate the time from the state and growth of the maggots? Now that would be selfish! You are going to spoil someone's dinner, especially if the coroner is just new on the job.

Then there is how do you begin? To whom it may concern seems a little impersonal don't you think? Besides if you plan your death right you might time it so that those who made you want to do it are the ones to discover your body. Dear Mum and Dad? Can't help thinking that leaves out the wife and miserable brats who are going to survive you? See not so easy is it? How about?

Hey Guys!

Hope you are good! I am not good!

You are the ones who drove me to do this! I was doing just fine until you had to come and mess things up. I do hope that you happy now that I am dead.

Signed by the foul smelling rotting corpse in this room

PS Fuck you all. That insurance money you were relying on has a special no pay out on suicide policy. Kinda clever don't you think? That's why I took the time to write this note.

Ok so maybe suicide is a selfish act.


Now if you laughed at any of this welcome to the Laughing At Awful Things club. If you didn't? Thanks! Thanks for confirming my suspicion that my brain is a little messed up.

Monday, 16 June 2008

A Change From The Usual Programming

I don't, generally speaking, do movie reviews, for a few reasons really:
  • I rarely get to go the cinema.
  • I don't think most people care what I think, plenty of people can say it better than I could hope to.
  • I'm not a critic, if I don't have something positive to say I would rather say nothing at all. I don't think its my place to criticise unless its something really atrociously bad - then its fair game!
  • Besides - if I took movie reviewing seriously I might have to watch Sex In The City which holds no interest for me. Those two or three hours could be better spent elsewhere. And believe me I would watch that before I would watch some of the other crap out there.
But, I'm going to break a habit of a blogging lifetime. I decided that it was about time I actually made some time for me and spent a couple of hours at the GFT (Glasgow Film Theatre) watching Mongol. I love the GFT, its a beautiful old fashioned cinema building. It only has the two cinemas which are quite small by today's standards but the Art Deco interior is stunning compared to the rather bland huge multiplex cinemas that have largely replaced the traditional cinemas of old.

Anyway the film. Mongol is a gorgeous piece of photography and is well worth watching for that alone. The landscape of the Mongolian and Kazakhstan is truly stunning and the film makes the most of this backdrop to create what is a beautiful film. The acting isn't bad either. I'm not entirely sure I buy the story that the reason for Temudjin conquering and uniting the warring Mongolian tribes was due to him falling in love with a girl at the age of 9. It makes a nice story but from what I've read of the history of Genghis Khan it probably came about more due to a combination of circumstances, luck, opportunity, and no small amount of ambition rather than love of a good woman who he met as a prepubescent boy.

Besides there is supposedly 16 million men in the world today who according to geneticists can trace their origin to one man in Mongolia who was alive around the aggressive foreign policy of Genghis Khans rein. Now call me a cynic if you want but the thought that Temudjin would unite the tribes of Mongolia through the love of a good woman and then spread his love around so seems a little unlikely. Of course geneticists can't say for sure that Genghis Khan was the man in question but he probably had more opportunity than most seeing as he was top boss so to speak and probably had more opportunity than most under him.

Anyway the plot may not ring true, but it is a nice story nonetheless it just goes to show that its not only Hollywood that can rewrite history to suit the creative process - the Russian film industry can do the same. Perhaps wisely the film Mongol only addresses 34 years of Temudjin's early political life and steers clear of the story of raping, pillaging and concubines. That's not to say its all sweetness and light, there are a few bloody scenes but it was a violent time in the history of Mongolia so a little blood spillage is to be expected. However even the battle scenes were handled quite artistically.

If you don't mind watching a film with subtitles you could do far worse things with 2 hours of your time. There is a nice moment in the film where Temedjin is speaking to his young daughter and teaching her the word for meat and justifies this word as the reason for Mongolian being the most beautiful language in the world. A nice scene in itself and probably the writers justification to its Russian/German backers that for sake of authenticity it had to be acted in Mongolian, a language that few of its intended audience would understand.

Go watch it, and if you don't like it I'll let you throw popcorn in my direction. Honest I won't duck.

Sunday, 1 June 2008

Whenever God Shines His Light

No I'm not getting all religious on you, I was just listening to grumpy old Van Morrison as I was writing this and the title seemed apt.

Sometimes getting home from work at 6:30am when the sun is already up and most everyone else are only just contemplating rising out of bed gets old. But on a gorgeous summer's day with blue skies and fantastic light its best not to waste it by going to bed, far better to go for a long walk - especially if you have a camera and 6 day old 30mm 1.4 in your bag. Can I just say I love this lens, I may only have used it ta couple of times and still getting used to it but damn its a lot of fun, so much so it was 4 hours before I got home and that was after a 12 hour shift. I really need to get out more.

I'm convinced that this lens (with its very nice bokeh - thats the blurred out of focus background) in hands better than mine could make just about anything beautiful but it would be nice if someone made a lens that can make me feel comfortable in front of the camera that didn't involve an expensive and painful make-over, but now I'm just being silly.