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Sunday, 1 March 2015

A Place called FOREXHAVEN





A safe haven for the rich is probably best, when maintained by an empowered educated working class and a voting system that systematically removes the minorities, whether they are disabled or the unemployable sick.

When the working class have their safety and the rich have their bullion, then a place of comfort for those who are able to contribute to it, will exist.

To contribute, you either have to be rich or you have to be a sleek working part in the efficient maintenance crew.

This is what some 1st class countries are and many are striving to become, a place with a stable currency.

When you are super rich, you probably don’t care about which bank will give you the best return on your investment; you care more that your billions will be worth billions, whenever you wish to use a part of it for your next favourite exploitation.

Maybe some of the bullion stockers gathered and planned, to ensure a safe haven for their stores.

"Let’s call the place FOREXHAVEN". They said,

We will pump in the cash, for the perfect infrastructure, to streamline it's sustainability, with perfect standards of excellence.

We will get the best minds together and import any service needed.

We will empower the working class with education and training to maintain our system.

We will give them the direct voting power to decide on certain maintenance policies.

We will pay them well, even the lowest skilled worker, while they perform their roles. There will be no need to be educated professionally or to be smart to live a comfortable workers life. 

We will keep them trained and satisfied for their roles as responsible maintainers.

They will feel secure, think that they are contributing and feel that they have value.

And when they cannot perform anymore, we will inspire them to vote against any governmental  assistance for any who are not be able to carry their weight and threaten our system.

We will do this by reminding them that they have always been paid well by the companies.

And that these companies will also care for those who are disabled and unable to work as effectively as the healthy.

They will then happily vote against the minorities, by voting for the good companies to care for the minorities and provide suitable jobs without enforcement by the governors.

They will forget that, that no company will willingly employ a disabled, when a healthy one is available.

And the disabled are the minority in this healthy, well empowered abundant maintenance crew and hence, the minorities will continuously be filtered out without burdening us or being noticed.

Let’s make the tax system low to attract the rich. Yes, rich folk will pay less Tax Percentage wise.

But because they have so much, we will get enough from only one rich person, than from 10000’s of working tax persons.

Let’s do the same to attract companies.

In the end we will have FOREXHAVEN.

Filled, with a happy, well cared for maintenance crew.

Who will vote out the minorities if they need assistance that will burden us.

This way ensuring a perfect system, where the bullion will maintain its worth, even in the worst of times.

When the world might be fighting each other,

Some will be earning more bullion, by selling weapons and have safety in knowing that their planned FOREXHAVEN is available.

A Place called FOREXHAVEN, filled with happy trained role players, who blissfully maintain it, with effective efficiency.




Saturday, 28 February 2015

The beating hip: Part 2

Part 1 



Migraines, I first noticed in my university days. It normally started, with what felt like a little thump in my brain, followed by a minute blind spot that grew into a rainbow like kaleidoscope of blurriness, which would eventually cover 90% of my vision. 

This aura, would take about thirty minutes to reach full bloom, before it would fade away in about another half an hour.

I recall one particular day when I was at a local beach with some university friends, after finishing the final exams of the year.

It suddenly hit. It was hot and I thought I must be getting a stroke. The heat and the light were overwhelming and drove me into repeatedly vomiting.

What a nice after exam party, and not having even taken one sip of wine or enjoying any views of lovely bodies. Just straight to the hangover. Lovely!

When I think back now, I realise that I normally got migraines after the stress periods were over. Never during.

My body probably produces enough sustenance, hormones, energy etc. to carry me through the tough periods, but does not know how to recover afterwards. 

When the stress is gone, to get rid of these sustaining elements perhaps leads to a breakdown. As if the sewerage passages are suddenly clogged, overflows and sends some sort of overload to my brain, which just shuts down everything before it can reboot again.

I need to learn how to calm down slowly after a stress period.

After the aura, the numbing would start; it would tingle, many a times first on the one side of my lips then rush down like warm molten electricity tearing down my shoulder, arm and follow down my leg.

Always only one side until it at times cover my whole one side. Like an expanding lava flow of hot pressure, rising, tearing and burning. This would last about forty minutes. 

Nausea would start setting in during this period plus the dulling, thumping pain in the one side and over my eyes. 

Coupled to this adventure, my logic, speech and coordination is usually affected and my talking would be slurred and thoughts seem to flow in a more fuzzy undirected way.

During university days I had no medication for this. Which meant, eventually I would vomit and have splitting pain for the next 24 hours.

However this migraine was bit faster. The creepy aura, sparkling kaleidoscope of broken colours 
spread faster than before, blocking my vision in a few minutes instead of the usual thirty minutes.

Making me dread the traveling numbness that would erupt and tear down my side and this coupled with the existing hip pain, made me panic.

I have been on Diclofenac, so the governor calls the doctor to know if its ok to mix it with triptan.

Triptan I discovered a years back. It normally does not remove the aura, nor the traveling numbness, but the splitting headache and nausea is lessoned and within two hours I am mostly operational.

Beside the one side of the brain that feels loose and the false sense of being okness.

The advantage of a migraine is only evident when it’s over, I get a happy spurt, probably a serotonin flush and I feel very emotionally happy for a few hours. 

During this period my family find me rather adorable like a big fat teddy bear, because I don't seem to be as fast paced as normal in my reactions or speech.

Yes, says the doctor, but only one. 

I took one Triptan.

It was a very bad idea.

Part 3 coming soon

Wednesday, 18 February 2015

The beating hip: Part 1



I spent a long time, as usual, on the toilet, my place of peace and solitude.

Nobody disturbs me there. I have my secret smelly weapon, shielding any entrances from the pesky girls, who at times won’t give me my time, even on the pot, when,  they walk in, shouting and ordering me to do this or that etc.

But this sit was different. 

Something in my hip started to pinch and when I got out of the toilet. I felt a sharp shooting pain down the outside of my right hip to my knee when I put any weight on my leg.

I tried to wobble it out and ignored it and when I lay down it hurt less.

That was Saturday, Day 1.

Sunday I had to teach a BJJ class and noticed an increasing pain as I demonstrated techniques to the class. 

However, as I warmed up, the endorphins dulled the pain, such that I attempted to roll once with a student, just to give my ego a little boost.

Normally the movement of BJJ helps my neck, but this was different, in all positions my hip would hurt even through the endorphins.

Monday I realised what a bad idea it was to have rolled.

No movement was possible without excruciating pain and to do a work out till the endorphins came, was not possible. 

Stabbing burning, pinching, hurting all the way to the soul of my knee and spiking till the foot. Even walking was no longer possible.

I called the doctor and got some Diclofenac 75mg tablets.

I could then move again, at a snail’s pace. What a relief!

But it was not gone. By Thursday it was driving me insane, the continuous agony.

The hip pain was beating my continuous neck pain. Bloody misery was extended.

It will get worse, says Murphy, and so it did.

Bob Marley, “You need a small axe to chop down big tree”.

Pain chops down the spirit of the strongest man; my body is now torturing itself. Even revealing the secrets won’t stop the torture, since I already know the answers.

So I am appealing to the axe secrets within, the prize is coming....
The victory will be…

The washing is polluting the changing room, and this body has no energy for that.

Even the nagging chat I had with my girls about the amazing house I run cannot motivate past my pain to clear that washing.

The governor then gets home from work and we end up having a debate about something I can’t recall now.

She is so smart. So fast, so correct, so logical, my pained brained logic loses and my mind is stressed, which triggers a migraine. 

Sunday, 8 February 2015

Mutating to Houseman




 

1 Hour and 2 minutes to fold the washing.

Multipurpose training room, this use was never foreseen.

Folding clothes.

The modern world.

Working Man is mutating.

I am the future.

Well, most things bore me. At least this way I can do something to help my family.

Then I feel I did something worthwhile. 

I used to design safety and control equipment for nuclear power stations. 

There, I never felt I did something worthwhile and it was boring. 

Was just some way to make sure our company made a profit. 

I think god broke my neck so I can do something I find useful. 

Being smart has made most things I do boring.

Most people stress and probably can never do certain things I have done, yet to me most things are just too easy and soon bore me.

I don't know all things, I just know quickly enough what will bore more.

Basics like caring for my family, cooking, cleaning and teaching them martial arts to protect themselves, makes me feel I did something useful for the day especially, since my wife has to work now because I can't find any suitable paying job.

Saturday, 31 January 2015

Queeny Returns

Queeny is returning from her skiing trip with the school.

A trip she did not want to go on.

A silent diplomat with intense courage and self will.

Queeny has won a few BJJ competitions and has a deep knowledge of MMA for a thirteen year old girl.

Maybe this is partly why she is not well befriended.

Or is it her thirteen years, in a class of some who are fifteen, having skipped a year of kindergarten, could this have been a disadvantage?

Queeny might be the same size, however is not at that age when talking about boys and romance occupies her, as with some teenagers.

Her teacher says she seldom partakes in the class, is a loner, but is not bullied by the kids and when something happens she would stand up for herself.

I worry about this trip. Did she at least enjoy the skiing?

When they left she looked so lonely and out of place amidst the herding kids.

She enjoys skiing, but what girl would enjoy being alone amongst many.

She would probably prefer to have gone alone.

She has been enjoying rock climbing on her own for years now.

She arrives a 19:30 today. I wish she could at least have made one connection.

We said she should be like little Mongkey, who takes a friend when she needs it.

Perhaps Queeny's feelings are too deep and she don't understand superficial interactions and chooses to be alone?

Perhaps the skiing activity would have pointed the chats, in a more sporting direction, instead of fashion, romance or pop music. Things she has no interest in.

Now I await her arrival and hope  to see a smile on my diplomat.

At times I cannot read what she is hiding behind her polite correct behaviour.

Is she happy or sad, even her smile confuses me at times.

I hope she enjoyed the trip, I have missed the confusion she has over me.




Friday, 30 January 2015

Pops's creations


Watching Pops creating anything. 

Be it her tea, her favorite cocoa drink or a model of  yack enclosure. 

Is like watching an artist. 

The way she savours the movements, the ingredients, the details in how she stirs in slow methodical flowing strokes, her utter concentration and of course the preparation makes it an an intoxicating event that cannot be denied.

Pops's spectacle normally starts preplanned, organised and timed.

She would first research a new interest using the library, magazines, the internet or her elders.

Depending on the interest, she would then set out to experiment or test what she has investigated.

Once she ordered a chemistry set and the pharmacy had to import a few chemicals. 

A time is then set for each experiment, nothing is left to chance, to spoil the fun in the creation she has planned. 

In the next few days, she has planned three meals she will be cooking for us. 

Her order is placed and the ingredients are coming.

It is going to be a surprise, she seldom repeats the same recipes. 

It is this open world of cooking and creating that still inspires her in this path. 

Tweaking the recipes to her tastes.
 
Pops's remains deep in concentration like a stalking predator who successfully caught its prey and is savouring the flavours that maintains her life. 

A simple cup of warm milk between her cute cuddly hands as she enjoys the heat of the cup and the taste of her preparations as the hours pass alone in her world of milk.

Exact and calm in her executions. 

On her own time. 

A spectacle to witness. 

A wondrous event.

A beautiful meal.


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