Peace and quiet

You know how in films sometimes music just seems to *fit*?
It causes a bigger impact to the viewer than many people even consider.

It very rarely happens in real life, not music of course, but just sounds and smells and sensations.

This is how I feel at the moment.

I am sitting on my windowsill with my back against the wall.
The window next to me is open and I have a fresh cool breeze caressing my cheek.
The sun is streaming through my window warming my fingers as they type.
I can hear only the wind in the trees.
The sound of the trees talking and telling a thousand stories to those who will listen.
Outside of my window is green, there are trees, and grass and the first leaves of autumn.

I don't want this moment to end, and yet I think I will be back tomorrow.

This post if anything is just a reminder to stop and sit for a while and enjoy the sounds of the world, which is something that many of us are too busy to do.

Joke

I don't know where this story originated from, all I know is that it made me giggle.

.........................................................................

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks.

As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that "'Captain Marvey' had asked me to announce that he'll be landing this big hunk of plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super."

On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather posh looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. "Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground."

She calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one."

To which the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat ....

Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I out-rank you. Tray-up, B****."

Old

I have never really fitted in with people my age. I got old well before my time.

From an early age I can remember saying things such as "when I was a kid". I could never understand the joy people got out of breaking things or hurting people.

Now I am older and understand society better (if that is possible) I still have trouble comprehending the great enjoyment that people get from breaking/hurting things. I can understand using the violence or the power as a stress relief, as a way to vent anger. I don't necessarily agree with it, but I can understand it. But there are people who have no such reason, no matter how weak that reason may be.

What has spurred this latest post is the way in which the younger generation (see, I'm doing it again) feel that a good night out is one in which they get completely off their faces, can't remember a thing, feel like complete shit in the morning and try and pull as many people of the opposite sex as possible.

Ok, most have us have filled one aspect of the criteria -a.k.a feeling as though magically during the night, your head has transformed into a bowling ball.

I just fail to see how in a society like todays, young girls think it a great idea to rub their groins against as many guys as possible and...

This is the best bit...

The bit that has *really* pissed me off...

...telling said guys where I live.

Admittedly, said girls live there too, but they needn't tell them I'm a flatmate afterwards.

Not one girl I was out with tonight was single either, and I'm sorry if it makes me old fashioned - but I just think that they are asking for trouble.

I don't know, I guess it's just me being old.

Older even than I usually am.

War

Whilst sorting through my stuff and downsizing those things one accumulates over the years. I came across an old piece of homework.

As part of the curriculum we were set a task, that task was to convey how it might feel to have been in the trenches in the First and Second World Wars.

It was set last week five years ago.

I remember it vividly because the day I read this out was today five years ago. My day started with war and ended with what was to start another.

The syntax may be out, it may be muddled, it may be a hotch potch of words, but I'm posting this because I've just re-found it, and it seems rather poignant that it should have been today that it resurfaced.

So, from the past I bring you;



What I Imagine War To Be Like

I imagine war to be like the putrid odour of decaying tobacco.

To know that every breath you take may be your last.

The feeling of needles bristling the nape of your neck

And to avoid close contact for fear of losing companionship

To know that all of your worst fears will come to haunt you

And to see a light in the sky of burning bodies and not that of the stars, the moon or the sun.

To know that somewhere, someone is trying to kill you in any way possible;

No matter how inhumane it may be.

I imagine that war is when all you can see is death and destruction as the people at home see the sky.

To fear sleep though you welcomed it, once in times more serene with skies of blue.

To know that the air you breathe contains the scent of death, and gas that will fill your lungs and drown you.

To have an expectancy that when you awake the person next you may have died in their sleep;

And you feel regret that it wasn't you.

The jealousy you may feel because of the dead who have lost all pain.

And to regret the constant feeling of remorse, for all the things you haven't done.

To feel that as all your companions die, your heart splits further in two.

You know that you cannot find comfort in food or a trip down the pub, and that the only way of stress relief is to pummel the enemy with shells.

And to try through these shells to transfer the pain you are feeling to those that caused you pain.

After a while - perhaps a week - you will feel no remorse for causing pain, but will be taking revenge for your own.

For every moment of everyday the one feeling in the air is fear.

Fear for your family.

Fear for your friends.

The fear that the enemy will triumph and conquer everything you hold dear.

Everyday will contain fear, not of death, but of pain.

Never ending pain.

Pain of the soul,

And of the mind.

But mostly you don't fear death.

Death has become trivial.

A saviour, a release, your passage to peace.

As nothing could be worse than this hell on Earth.

That people call war.


A mere three letter word, and yet it conveys the many fears of many people.