Showing posts with label paranoia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranoia. Show all posts

Monday, 15 October 2012

Despicable Dave



I am going to be very regarded as very brave – or very stupid.

Why? Because I am going to hurl two posts into the blogosphere about myself.

This is the first and it describes the negative version of the Plastic Mancunian – aka Despicable Dave. I will try to address the balance with my next post – the positive version.

The idea was inspired by a song I heard recently where singer referred to his own negative version. I started thinking about how complex humans are and how our daily lives are a constant internal battle between our various personalities and flaws as they strive to reach the pinnacle and take over our bodies for a period of time.

As with other people I am a smorgasbord of weirdness; but rather than trying to identify and describe all of my weird traits, I thought I would focus on the good bits and the bad bits.

Here are the bad bits and, as you might expect if asked “What are your strengths and weaknesses?” at an interview, I will try to turn them into positives – maybe.

Paranoia

As regular readers may have guessed, I can be the personification of Marvin the Paranoid Android. I have attempted to make light of this negative trait by personifying my paranoia as an imaginary nemesis called Captain Paranoia, a nasty person who is a constant thorn in my side, telling me how useless, ugly, thick, despicable and hated I am. The sad thing is that while I may have given the impression that I ignore him, the truth is that I don’t – and he is responsible for some of my worst decisions, my lack of bravery and giving strength to my shyness (see later).

The good news is that with age, I genuinely care less, so Captain Paranoia’s voice is weaker and I do ignore him more and more.

Nevertheless, he still catches me me out sometimes and I kick myself for my weakness.

Shyness

I may have given regular readers the impression that I have taken my shyness by the scruff of its neck, shaken it about a bit, and kicked it into the middle of next week.

The truth is that deep down I am still painfully shy and every day is a battle to force myself to be brave. I have techniques that do genuinely work when I feel courageous; the problem is that more often than not I will walk away rather than talking to a stranger and, when faced with the prospect of, say, walking into a pub full of strangers, the “fight or flight” reflex turns into “flight” – and I run away.

I am deeply aware that had I been a rampant extrovert, who could waltz into a room full of strangers and charm each and every one of them, my life would have taken a very different path.

In retrospect, I can’t imagine what that would have been like. Shyness has made me what I am today – and it’s not all bad. I am quite content despite this flaw in my personality, perhaps because over the years having extrovert friends and a little bravery have steered me somewhere in that general direction.

Also, my job, as much as I curse it sometimes, has helped me considerably – an ally against shyness.

Who would have though it?

Grumpiness

While I thrive on my ability to have a good rant and entertain the troops, I am aware that this self-indulgent desire to put the world to rights is not everybody’s cup of tea.

I ignore that and carry on regardless. People who know me well are often entertained – at first. Yet sometimes I don’t know when to stop and start to become annoying. Mrs PM has pointed this out on a couple of occasions.

I know that sometimes I can be a stubborn arsehole and when I am stubborn AND grumpy I can be infuriating, particularly when the target of my wrath is a subject that somebody who is listening feels strongly about, and when I get carried away, one or two people have started disagreeing and I have noticed that the grumpy rant becomes an embryonic argument.

I like to get things off my chest; I wear my heart on my sleeve and while a grumpy rant may be therapeutic (and it really is, dear reader), I sometimes need to step back from the precipice and turn it into a joke.

And I do – usually at my own expense – which helps matters considerably.

Procrastination

A year or two ago I declared war on procrastination. I am losing the war. For a while I actually started to arrange my days so that I could somehow schedule the writing of a novel.

I failed.

I know why I failed – writing fiction is hard – extremely hard. I can sit here at my desktop and write utter gibberish to post on a pathetic blog but trying to invent a story that is captivating, interesting and compelling with colourful characters, a wonderful plot with subtle twists and turns, that finishes leaving the reader wanting more, is very difficult.

I tried sitting there and writing it – but then I found myself doing other stuff like surfing the internet, listening to music – even doing the washing and ironing or hoovering to avoid the pain of trying to get some fiction on paper.

Sadly, the tendrils of procrastination have invaded other parts of my life too and I have on occasion simply ignored things that I have set myself to do – like writing a blog post.

I know I can beat this; at work I am very meticulous, planning everything I do, setting myself targets and generally achieving them.

So why can’t I do this at home?

The war continues.

Indecision

A standing joke between Mrs PM and me is that I am a Libran and therefore totally indecisive.

To a certain extent she is right and sometimes for her, a woman who is impulsive and slightly impatient, giving thought to decisions can be infuriating.

Whether it really is a negative trait is something I debate about. I am very careful and will generally not leap into something without first considering the pros and cons of it. The problem arises when I take too long to come to a decision.

Usually, however, the decision I make is the right one but that is little consolation if it has taken me over a week to reach a satisfactory conclusion.

I can’t ever see myself improving either, because I simply cannot just do something that appears to be right at first glance, without considering the possible outcomes.

Any More?

The answer is, of course, a resounding YES.

As humans, none of us are perfect. Some people think they are but they are wrong. We all have a bad side and I think that if you accept that negativity then you can go some way to improving yourself.

I have listed five of my negative traits but there are many more. I’m sure that if you asked my friends and family, or spent an hour discussing my bad points with Mrs PM, you would have enough notes to be able to write a book what a despicable person I am.

The truth is I am not despicable at all. My next post will hopefully provide some balance because, when I think about it, I am quite happy and content with myself – despite my flaws.

So there!

Over to you dear reader.

What are your negative traits? 

Are you prepared to admit to them in a comment on a blog written by a mad arsehole who lives in Manchester? 

I hope so – go on – be a devil!



Monday, 12 September 2011

Living With Captain Paranoia


Captain Paranoia really annoys me. He has been my nemesis ever since I can remember. I try not to listen to him but sometimes he catches me off guard and cackles, like the nasty little imp he is, when I fall for his lies

Over the years, he has lied to me, put me down and verbally abused me in order to shatter my already fragile self-esteem.

Here are some of the things he has told me over the years.

There is a hidden camera behind every mirror. Whenever you pull funny faces or admire yourself, the horrific images are transferred to YouTube and laughed at by billions of people worldwide.

You’re going through the green channel are you? The customs men there are putting on rubber gloves – just for you.

Women are scared of you  - they think you look like a crazed monkey


Your cats hate you.

Don’t go abroad – you will catch a horrible disease.

Redundancy at work? You remember that manager you swore at? He is the one deciding who gets the sack.

Can you hear those weird noises your car is making? I think that’s the brakes failing.

Yes – those people ARE talking about you.

Nobody really likes you. Your so-called “friends” just feel sorry for you.

Do you know how many women you groped at the party last night? That woman you fancy knows and now she hates you even more. Besides, she hates people who get drunk.

This rollercoaster will fall apart just as you are at the highest point.

They’re not laughing with you; they are laughing AT you.

It doesn’t matter how much deodorant you put on, you will still stink.

Did you lock the door this morning?

Women think you look like a mad scientist.


You know that bird flu they were talking about on the news? You’ve got it.

The person who used the loo before you has a nasty little disease – and you will catch it.

Your trousers have split.

This plane will crash.

If you ask that question they will think you are stupid.

They can see you on the toilet.

Have you locked the car?

That noise downstairs is a psychopathic alien axe murderer – and it’s coming upstairs.

Women think you look like a pencil troll.



It doesn’t matter that you were invited. They only did it out of pity.

They have installed CCTV at work and all of your rants are beamed live to the Managing Director.

People who wear glasses never get girlfriends.

This blog post will offend everybody who reads it.

Most of the time I ignore the little bugger; this is particularly true in recent years. I have to otherwise I would sit there in front of the telly not doing anything, not speaking to anybody and not going anywhere.

I love life too much to allow myself to be held back by paranoid thoughts. I have to confess that it hasn’t always been that way; I have had to be very brave to overcome some of the hurdles he has tried to put in front of me. Sometimes he has been right, of course, but I regard those episodes as character building.

You can learn from your mistakes and I have made so many in my life that I deserve some kind of reward, I reckon.

Besides, my theory is that as you grow older, you care less about what people think and gain more common sense. If somebody openly laughs at me in public I ignore them – or join in. Why not?

Here’s my advice:

Talk to strangers – you may make a new friend. If they don’t like you, so what?

If your mates take the mickey, join in. They are your mates after all.

If somebody dislikes you – it’s their loss – not yours.

If you feel guilty going through customs you will almost certainly LOOK guilty too.

Take a chance; places like Thailand are wonderful despite the fact you need to have numerous jabs to go there.

And Japan? Captain Paranoia tells me that there will be another earthquake and nuclear meltdown – but I am still aiming to go there in 2013.

And yes – you almost certainly HAVE locked the house... AND the car.

Monday, 25 April 2011

An Interview With Captain Paranoia


Captain Paranoia is perched on my shoulder. He has been listening to the government, watching the news and reading the tabloids. He has agreed to an interview.

Plastic Mancunian: Hello, my evil little nemesis. Please introduce yourself.

Captain Paranoia: I’m Captain Paranoia – the only person who tells you the truth. You know that every word I say is true and that terrifies you. And so it should. Will anybody read this interview? I don’t think so – you usually write total crap.

Plastic Mancunian: Thanks for that. You’ve been watching lots of TV, reading lots of news and listening to the message from our government. How do you feel?

Captain Paranoia: You’re screwed.

Plastic Mancunian: Why?

Captain Paranoia: You’re clearly a moron. You’re sitting here talking to me and eating a cheese sandwich with a can of beer and you have no idea that you are screwed? No wonder everybody hates you.

Plastic Mancunian: What’s wrong with eating a cheese sandwich and drinking beer?

Captain Paranoia: You’re a BINGE drinker. The government says so – and the Daily Mail. And cheese is so bad for you they may as well redefine it as “POISON”.

Plastic Mancunian: Really? What should I be eating then?

Captain Paranoia: I’ve seen your fridge and your cupboards and you’re doomed. You cans of food are so full of E numbers that they may as well be labelled “POISON” too.

Plastic Mancunian: What’s an E number?

Captain Paranoia: Something that will turn you into a mutant. Hang on, you’ve must have eaten loads because you look like a mutant already. Everyone thinks so.

Plastic Mancunian: I’ll go to the shop and buy some more food then. What do you recommend?

Captain Paranoia: Not driving to the shop. You’ll be killing the planet with your oversized carbon footprint. I’ve seen you – travelling to China and other places in an aircraft and ruining the planet for the kids. You don’t care about future generations, do you? You are causing the planet to heat up. It’s all your fault. And that old banger of a car of yours is so bad for the environment it is killing pets every time you drive.

Plastic Mancunian: I’ll walk then.

Captain Paranoia: I wouldn’t do that. You’ll be mugged. Have you seen the crime statistics for this area? You live in one of the worst places in Britain. You may as well walk around with a neon sign saying “Mug me! I’m an idiot.”

Plastic Mancunian: The police will protect me.

Captain Paranoia: Naïve as well as stupid, eh? There won’t be any police because of the government cuts. The place will be filled with desperate anarchists, all with one plan – to mug you.

Plastic Mancunian: Well if it’s that bad, I’d better take protection.

Captain Paranoia: And then get arrested and jailed for assault no doubt. That’s if you don’t end up in hospital, in which case you will probably catch some dreadful virus. Swine flu’s still around, you know. And it’s not an epidemic – it’s a PANDEMIC. It will follow you wherever you go.

Plastic Mancunian: Maybe I should leave Britain – go somewhere else.

Captain Paranoia: You’ll have to fly there. So you clearly don’t care about the environment. Besides, if the bugs don’t get you before you leave the UK, the terrorists will. Or maybe you will be arrested at the airport because you look like a weirdo. Let’s hope so, eh?

Plastic Mancunian: You really don’t like me, do you?

Captain Paranoia: Nobody loves you more than I do and I HATE you. Having said that, I like you enough to tell you how it is, because you are too stupid to read the papers and watch the news. If, by lucky chance, you manage to get on a plane out of England, you will probably end up in a war torn state ruled by an evil dictator.

Plastic Mancunian: Nonsense. Anyway, I want to talk to you about statistics. What do you make of the statistics that we hear on the news?

Captain Paranoia: They prove that you are screwed. D’UH!!!!!

Plastic Mancunian: How?

Captain Paranoia: What a moron. The government is warning you that you are five times more likely to lose all of your teeth if you drink more than four cups of tea a day.

Plastic Mancunian: I drink six cups of tea on a good day.

Captain Paranoia: Then you’ll lose all of your teeth by the time you’re fifty – if you make it that far.

Plastic Mancunian: What are the chances of me losing my teeth if I drink less than four cups of tea a day?

Captain Paranoia: I dunno – maybe 1 in 500,000.

Plastic Mancunian: So if I drink more than four cups, my chances of losing all of my teeth are what? 1 in 100,000?

Captain Paranoia: Not necessarily.

Plastic Mancunian: Surely this is abuse of statistics. The chances of me winning the lottery jackpot are one in 14 million, approximately. They tell me that I can improve my chances of winning by, say, buying ten tickets. “Yes Mr PM. If you buy ten tickets then you are ten times more likely to win the lottery jackpot.” What they DON’T tell me is that I have just spent £10 but my chances of winning the jackpot are still 1 in a million. Of course I could win the other prizes, but that’s not the point. The point is that the government and newspapers mislead us using phrases like “you are 500 times more likely to explode if you drink more than two pints in a day”. The chances of me exploding are infinitesimal, making the chances of me exploding if I drink more than two pints in one go STILL infinitesimal.

Captain Paranoia: You’re talking bollocks as usual.

Plastic Mancunian: Well thanks for that. Can I post the interview on my blog?

Captain Paranoia: Absolutely not! Nobody will read it and if somebody does, by accident, I don’t want to be associated with you. Now bugger off!

Thank goodness I don’t listen to Captain Paranoia.

Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.

Or on this blog.

Ditch Captain Paranoia and make this your mantra.