Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you

I haven't written anything on this blog in a long time. I haven't felt comfortable blogging. I haven't been comfortable with writing publicly in the first person. Since trying to divide my thoughts, I've found I haven't had anywhere to put my thoughts. Everything is intertwined and the personal is political and other such cliches.

The other blog has been abandoned. I don't want to be defined by my mental health, and the moods are what they are. Thinking about them, and trying to analyse them only makes them worse. I have bad mood swings. I take medication which doesn't quite work, but makes things slightly better. I've always been wary of blogging because of the ease for self-indulgence, and I crossed the line with that blog.

But I've also been paranoid. And just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you. I think I should make it clear - the paranoia does not come from writing on a blog entitled "The Falmouth Terrorist", but from other areas of my life. However, I am living with the reality of Ken Norman from New Scotland Yard promising he was "going to go out of his way to get me and a friend locked up for a long time", and that can become a very strange kind of reality.

These thoughts cannot be investigated or explored. They have too many painful implications, and I have built up a tough armour. I am very guarded about my feelings. I've built up the barriers so I can deal with whatever happens. But I can't delve into anything below this. Below this is a deep, dangerous place, and survival is more important.

But "surviving"isn't a great way to lead my life. Earlier this month I spent five days in custody (four in prison) on remand for obstructing police, an extremely minor offence for which someone would normally only receive a fine for on conviction. However, the Magistrates' were told what a nasty person I was, and how, if allowed bail, even with bail conditions, I would return to the camp and "cause a situation" whereby there would be "mental or physical injury".

The few days I spent in prison were both devastating and really not that bad. In prison there is no point thinking about outside life because there is nothing you can do to control it. Accepting this is crucial to keeping your sanity. I also knew the likelihood was that I would be out in a few days, which obviously helped.

However, the whole experience has dented me, and I'm only just beginning to feel like I've found myself again. But I'm slightly changed, but haven't worked out the changes yet. I'm still confused, and I'm very scared.

But under-riding this is a sense of determination. I don't feel beaten by any of this. I do feel cautious, and vulnerable. And this vulnerability may lead to my not updating this blog very often.

...or I could just turn this blog into documenting Ken's attempts to get me locked up...hmm...or would that be self-indulgent?...

No War But The Class War

It's taken me over a week to calm down enough to write this post. I've spent a week ranting to myself, and ranting to friends and family. Probably, anyone who is likely to read this post has already heard the story. Never mind.

I've calmed down enough that this post isn't now entitled "burn Falmouth Marina". I've calmed down enough to realise I don't actually want to burn Falmouth Marina. I would, however, like to burn the idea of Falmouth Marina.

For those not living in Falmouth, the Marina is a rich ghetto at the east end of town - posh cars, posh boats, posh houses (although they look like lego), and lots of security gates. There is also a very attractive walkway which links near where I live to town.

Obviously, being the scum I am, I'm not allowed to use this walkway. Those wooden boards may only be trodden by the privileged few, and who knows what may come of the world, if me and my snotty nose kid were allowed access to such luxuries.

I wouldn't normally have bothered even trying to gain access to this exclusive part of town, if I had not heard on the local grapevine that the walkway was open when cruise ships were in. Cruise ship being in, I decided it would be a nice way to walk home with my son.

Unfortunately, all this coming and going by ordinary townsfolk had proved too much for the chosen few, and they had employed a security guard to keep out the riff raff.

Now, I don't get on with security at the best of times. But, I tried. I wasn't rude. I wasn't obnoxious. I simply asked, explained we lived just the other side, and said I'd heard you could walk through. He was adamant I wasn't going to be allowed access, and I could tell I was on to a loser. However, just as I was about to slope off gracefully, one of the rich bastards arrived, put in his access code, and declared, "I should hope not too. We pay thousands for this."

My blood boiled and I don't even remember what I said. My anger made any sense of argument an irrelevancy. I shouted a load of abuse and expletives, without one decent political point, and stormed off muttering to myself in a deranged manner.

So, yes, at first, the idea of burning, or at least doing a substantial amount of damage to the Marina, was a very attractive option. However, now I've realised that it is a very beautiful space, and it would be a shame to destroy it. Instead we should be reclaiming the Marina for everyone to use and enjoy. Anyone fancy a party?

No war but the class war!