I am sorry to have to tell you this, dear readers. It will shock you to hear it. My wife is lazy. There, i have said it, its out in the open. She seems to be insisting on taking the *whole* gestation period of an average women before giving birth. I mean, seriously folks, do i look like someone with a long attention span?
Apparently it is not appropriate for me to attempt to "unwrap" my new baby early. I feel like my life is in a very strange kind of Christmas Eve twilight zone in which I get myself briefly over excited at the thought of presents and then feel worn out and drift off to sleep, waking to discover not that Christmas Day has arrived but that I have succeded in sleeping for a full two minutes.
In other baby news, we had a vistiation from the Head of Midwifery the other day to discuss our "particular issues". Despite fears that we were going to have to do battle with a dragon over a whole range of issues (e.g. in an emergency, if wife had to be sliced, i would not leave her alone in the hospital as she would then panic - hence if hospital insisted that i could not stay outside visiting hours we would discharge her) they were brillant! They accepted each and every one of our issues, and even gave us the top lady's mobile number in case we encountered any problems and needed her to tell people that she has agreed to meet our requirments. Hopefully of course it won't come to that. I am, at any rate, planning a pain free birth (for me, if not the long suffering wife) at home, where i can surf the net and read books in comfort whilst throwing in the odd soothing comment such as "there, there dear" and "ohhh that's got to smart".
In other news I did a web search today to see if I could find some more information on the problem of evil - the topic result for my search criteria was indeed an interesting starting point to any approach to the topic - unfortunatly however it didn't move my thinking on substantially as it was my own blog post!!
yours as ever,
Bored and Broke,
the Broken Man
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
A Broken Blog
HI, this is Broken Man's Wife. Sorry for the long absence - I usually update the blog with Broken Man's scribblings, but for some reason I haven't been able to access it for a while, and Broken Man has only just had the time to fix it so that I can.
So, this is his last blog entry - it is from a few days ago, but hopefully normal service will now be resumed!
A Broken Blog
Today my neck hurts, a lot.
Today work has been hard..
Today I am trying to answer Epicurus paradox without success.
Excuse my silence, when things look black I retreat,
I could pretend it’s to regroup – its not.
I just can't face the world right now
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
So, this is his last blog entry - it is from a few days ago, but hopefully normal service will now be resumed!
A Broken Blog
Today my neck hurts, a lot.
Today work has been hard..
Today I am trying to answer Epicurus paradox without success.
Excuse my silence, when things look black I retreat,
I could pretend it’s to regroup – its not.
I just can't face the world right now
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Sunday, 9 November 2008
Remembering and Forgetting
Today is remembrance day in England, and it has got me thinking. One of the people on my course is a pacifist, I am not. I have always believed that there are occasions when force is required to address an issue. The age old questions which have been used such as would you shoot someone about to press the button on a bomb which will blow up a school have never seen like much of a dilemma to me, i would pull the trigger.
The question is why do we spend a day a year in which we think of those who have died “serving their countries in wars, having laid down there lives”. Why do we value this more highly than, for example, people who have worked to build infrastructure, or people who take our rubbish away? What is it about dying that makes someone’s contribution worth so much more? And is that someone has is prepared to die that really means so much to us, or rather, that because they are prepared to pull the trigger we don’t have to?
I don’t believe that most people signing up for the Army do so in the thought that they may day, particularly the young believe themselves immortal, but they do sign up believing they may have to kill. It is the scares from that which i think are the hardest to heal. While i would pull the trigger- or rather believe i would, i don’t know if i could live with having done so. This brings me back to the cross, was Jesus death on the cross a bigger sacrifice than someone who will pull a trigger? What is it about the cross that makes it so incredible?
In honesty i find it hard to get my head around crucifixion. It is so outside anything i have ever experienced. However the whipping he received before hand that cuts to the core if you will excuse the phrase. The inner strength it takes not to cry out take him not me, stop, anything if you stop. The thing that makes the cross so incredible, that makes the passion so meaningful, is that there was a supreme choice. For every moment of pain on the cross, Jesus could have stepped down, he could have saved himself, he could have ended his suffering. What kept him there was his love for us. As much as we try to understand what those who have served in wars have felt, it those who have given up there lives protecting colleagues, a solder who jumps in front of a friend, someone who makes a choice that says no, take me not them. It is that beyond all else we remember, and with Jesus, we remember that he repeated again and again for every second that he was beaten, every moment he was on the cross, take me, not them.
The question is why do we spend a day a year in which we think of those who have died “serving their countries in wars, having laid down there lives”. Why do we value this more highly than, for example, people who have worked to build infrastructure, or people who take our rubbish away? What is it about dying that makes someone’s contribution worth so much more? And is that someone has is prepared to die that really means so much to us, or rather, that because they are prepared to pull the trigger we don’t have to?
I don’t believe that most people signing up for the Army do so in the thought that they may day, particularly the young believe themselves immortal, but they do sign up believing they may have to kill. It is the scares from that which i think are the hardest to heal. While i would pull the trigger- or rather believe i would, i don’t know if i could live with having done so. This brings me back to the cross, was Jesus death on the cross a bigger sacrifice than someone who will pull a trigger? What is it about the cross that makes it so incredible?
In honesty i find it hard to get my head around crucifixion. It is so outside anything i have ever experienced. However the whipping he received before hand that cuts to the core if you will excuse the phrase. The inner strength it takes not to cry out take him not me, stop, anything if you stop. The thing that makes the cross so incredible, that makes the passion so meaningful, is that there was a supreme choice. For every moment of pain on the cross, Jesus could have stepped down, he could have saved himself, he could have ended his suffering. What kept him there was his love for us. As much as we try to understand what those who have served in wars have felt, it those who have given up there lives protecting colleagues, a solder who jumps in front of a friend, someone who makes a choice that says no, take me not them. It is that beyond all else we remember, and with Jesus, we remember that he repeated again and again for every second that he was beaten, every moment he was on the cross, take me, not them.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Cohen, long babies, tutorials and essays
For my birthday I was given a ticket to see Leonard Cohen. I am not one to get excited. A wry smile once in a while normally suffices. Yet I confess I am rather pleased about this forthcoming event (next week).It does however collide with a meeting of my tutorial group, and so on Tuesday evening just gone I phoned up my tutor and apologised in advance for my absence. I was informed that normally they would move the date if one of us couldn’t make it, but I had really not given enough notice. I am of course less than convinced about this, and more to the point, the tutorials really are not earth shattering events – while the chance to hear Leonard Cohen sing live – well that happens once in a life time!
Some examination of baby sites reveals that at birth my baby (well, all babies) are expected to be around 19-21 inches long. It’s a sentance that trips off the tongue fairly happily. It seems a reasonable length. Some people might even nod on hearing that figure and think to themselves, "yes, that sounds about right". To put this into perspective, however, a measurement can be made from the waist band of your trousers to your collar bone – on me this is 20 inches. So if I had a baby standing up inside me, it would in fact take up all the space in my stomach and chest. I would need to remove such things as my rib cage and my heart. Now I know its curled up, I am aware that its not standing up in the long suffering wife's stomach. I know it can't. Walking will take a while. It is however a little odd to think about, isn’t it? I mean.... If you had 20 inches of baby standing inside you it would have to kill you wouldn’t it? I know it can't. Look I'm not crazy. But seriously. If it could stand up….
In other news I have an essay due in on the 15th November. I have started it…just not done much on it. Now that I have started it I am realising that its not one I can just knock out in an afternoon. Hmm. If I don’t make it to the deadline – do you think they will accept an explanation of "I was busy thinking about babies standing up?"
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Some examination of baby sites reveals that at birth my baby (well, all babies) are expected to be around 19-21 inches long. It’s a sentance that trips off the tongue fairly happily. It seems a reasonable length. Some people might even nod on hearing that figure and think to themselves, "yes, that sounds about right". To put this into perspective, however, a measurement can be made from the waist band of your trousers to your collar bone – on me this is 20 inches. So if I had a baby standing up inside me, it would in fact take up all the space in my stomach and chest. I would need to remove such things as my rib cage and my heart. Now I know its curled up, I am aware that its not standing up in the long suffering wife's stomach. I know it can't. Walking will take a while. It is however a little odd to think about, isn’t it? I mean.... If you had 20 inches of baby standing inside you it would have to kill you wouldn’t it? I know it can't. Look I'm not crazy. But seriously. If it could stand up….
In other news I have an essay due in on the 15th November. I have started it…just not done much on it. Now that I have started it I am realising that its not one I can just knock out in an afternoon. Hmm. If I don’t make it to the deadline – do you think they will accept an explanation of "I was busy thinking about babies standing up?"
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Happy Birthday to Me
Birthdays are odd things, and I have been silent for a few days. Yesterday I went to the British Museum and spent my day looking at ancient artifacts – always a good way to feel younger – stand in front of something 3600 years old. It was all very nice -but - I am not sure it was magical. I was interested in the Museum, but I forget to put on a silly voice and do impressions of what the statues were saying to each other. I didn't take delight. I saw, I studied, I found things interesting. But I forget to be a child and just enjoy the magic.
The day got me thinking about the birthdays of my childhood and the birthdays of children I know today. Today, and in fact even when my younger brothers were “that age”, a move had been made towards bowling and films for parties. Now it seems not unusal for a whole gaggle of kids to head for the cinema or a fast food outlet to celebrate the passing of another year. The parties become increasingly competitive and who is and isn’t invited a cruel weapon in a war of friendships and who is “in” and who is “out”.
My family was not a rich one, and my mother wisely adopted what is now considered an old fashioned approach. We played musical chairs, and pass the parcel; we ate jelly and ice cream. Even at the age of 13-14. My mother carefully and cleverly spotted that retro held a lot of appeal,and as long as you knew it was a joke you allowed yourself to enjoy it.
I would far prefer to celebrate my child-to-be’s birthdays with childhood games than with tournaments on the wii or even the ever-popular bouncy castle. As ever, though, I wonder how much of what I wish for for my child is about what I wish for me. Maybe I will have a child who will want to spend their birthday staring at the stars, or ice skating, how much will I shape their desires and dreams, and how much will they change my views on the world?
In the next 6-9 weeks I am going to be a father, and as such I have resolved that it is important that I don’t grow up. It's important that I don’t become too responsible and let fun drain out of my life, because if I do, I might give the impression that being an adult means taking life seriously, that play is for young children, and that being an adult is about be respectable and dull. So for my next birthday, I will make sure I have time to skip, and I will have jelly and ice cream for tea.
Yours, older but no wiser,
The Broken Man
The day got me thinking about the birthdays of my childhood and the birthdays of children I know today. Today, and in fact even when my younger brothers were “that age”, a move had been made towards bowling and films for parties. Now it seems not unusal for a whole gaggle of kids to head for the cinema or a fast food outlet to celebrate the passing of another year. The parties become increasingly competitive and who is and isn’t invited a cruel weapon in a war of friendships and who is “in” and who is “out”.
My family was not a rich one, and my mother wisely adopted what is now considered an old fashioned approach. We played musical chairs, and pass the parcel; we ate jelly and ice cream. Even at the age of 13-14. My mother carefully and cleverly spotted that retro held a lot of appeal,and as long as you knew it was a joke you allowed yourself to enjoy it.
I would far prefer to celebrate my child-to-be’s birthdays with childhood games than with tournaments on the wii or even the ever-popular bouncy castle. As ever, though, I wonder how much of what I wish for for my child is about what I wish for me. Maybe I will have a child who will want to spend their birthday staring at the stars, or ice skating, how much will I shape their desires and dreams, and how much will they change my views on the world?
In the next 6-9 weeks I am going to be a father, and as such I have resolved that it is important that I don’t grow up. It's important that I don’t become too responsible and let fun drain out of my life, because if I do, I might give the impression that being an adult means taking life seriously, that play is for young children, and that being an adult is about be respectable and dull. So for my next birthday, I will make sure I have time to skip, and I will have jelly and ice cream for tea.
Yours, older but no wiser,
The Broken Man
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