Gary's 365 - Feelings & Emotions (ended early)
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another great photo gary, you should get a book published, seems like you have a lot of stories to tell and even more photographs to illustrate them.
keep it up gary.
keep it up gary.
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Hope these comments are helping boost your emotional income.
<broad scots accent>
"Am pure minted noo man! Bank accont is toatully like ovurflowing"
</enough>
I woke up and HAD to rant this morning, and since I had already wasted my 365, and since Michael popped in for a cup of tea, I spotted my perfect oppertunity - remind Michael how much of a mate he is, and get my fingers excercised for the day!
^^^Erm, fingers excercised by erm typing.
Why did I write that.
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great stuff gary. #23 looks like its come straight out of a movie to me. After reading the current page of comments im looking forward to reading your 365 from the beginning when im a bit more alert
Cheers Romper
Will be doing todays once I get in to work.Gary.
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You want to know something? I love Fridays! Fridays are better than all other days combined. To me, Friday is the chequered flag at the end of a long and brutal race, the final bell in a round against Mike Tyson, it signals time to put down your weapons and take a breather for a few days. Do we all feel this? If so, why?
What if you were able to pinpoint a few individuals in your life, individuals who handed you the joy of Fridays on a plate? What would you say to them? Me? I would simply say Thanks.
But, a simple ‘thanks’ would be an injustice to those who granted me these fine feelings. Can you imagine if Osama Bin Laden suddenly sat up one day, and said ‘Oh, 9/11 you ask? Yeah – Sorry about that’. Or, if Captain Edward J Smith had survived the sinking of the Titanic, can you imagine him saying ‘Oops – my bad! Won’t happen again though!!!’. The fact is, a few simple words are not enough – you need to explain yourself at times. You owe it to the people who have helped you, and the people you may have hurt. You owe it to yourself to say more, than simply ‘thanks’.
I would like to say Thanks to my teacher, Mrs Symmons of Broomhouse Primary. Back in 1984, I was just starting in Primary One. I was the youngest in class if I remember correctly, an early start – 4 years old at the time. I remember being late as Mum had slept in again. As I was ushered out the door, I started the 5 minute walk towards school and on route, I met my friend James. We arrived at the school perimeter gate to find it locked shut, so boys being boys, we decided to climb over. If you can imagine the gate for a second, large & heavy, covered in wet rust and cracked black paint. Tall flat headed spikes climbed skywards above me, and a diagonal metal strip ran top right to bottom left. I slowly climbed using the diagonal strip and vertical bars as foot wedges. As I attempted to manoeuvre myself up and over the gate, disaster struck. I managed to catch my trouser leg in one of the gate spikes, and lost my balance. I crashed towards the ground, and hit hard with a thump. My trousers ripped and a bloodied knee, I fought back tears but wanted to cry so badly. James managed it over safely, and we headed across the large concrete playground in the direction of our classroom door.
We entered the packed classroom and Mrs Symmons gave me a cold hard stare. ‘Back outside, and knock this time’. Silly old bitch. I closed the door and knocked. It felt like an eternity, and eventually she shouted COME IN. Two seats had been placed in front of the blackboard, which was in the classic “cinema screen” position. On my right was her creaky old desk, and in front of us, the entire class sat and looked at us, as if we were animals in a circus act. We were instructed to sit down on a chair each, which we immediately did with nervous looks on our faces.
Mrs Symmons was a lady of few words, she meant business and did not need to raise her voice to force good behaviour. One look from her and you knew to pull your socks up. A thin red headed lady, she often wore a long green skirt and cream coloured blouse with a huge brass coloured broach. She had a pointy nose, pointed and sharp glasses and looking back, I suspect a black cat, cauldron and broomstick hidden in the classroom cupboard.
As we sat in our chairs, Mrs Symmons paid no attention to us as she finished taking the classroom register. Afterwards she opened her top right drawer, and pulled out a wooden ruler. She approached James first, and simply said ‘your hand’. James knew what to do, and lifted his arm. I didn’t dare look, and besides, I was too busy fighting the urge to bubble. Everyone was watching, and crying was for wimps – time for me to be a big boy. After she had finished with James, she turned to me. ‘Hand please’. I lifted my arm, and before she did anything I could feel myself letting go and giving up. As the first of my tears rolled down my cheeks, and into my mouth, the ruler snapped hard on my knuckles. Perfect timing it would appear. 3 or 4 ruler slaps later, and the tears have been mixed with wet snot. I am gasping and panting as you do after a good cry, as I struggle to keep a lid on myself. Sitting balling your eyes out in front of all your peers was stupid, I just didn’t appreciate how stupid.
After she had finished ‘teaching us a lesson’, we were sent straight to the head masters room. Terrified, we hurried along the corridor with Mrs Symmons ranting and raving behind us, her high pitched and whining voice reminding us we were bad boys and deserved punishment. We arrived and are made to sit outside whilst the cow presumably discussed our disgusting behaviour and attitude with the top dog. After a minute or so, we were asked in, and Mrs Symmons went back to class.
‘Gary why were you late today? And what happened to your clothes?’ I don’t know why, but I panicked. Perhaps I was scared of another ruler being pulled out, or perhaps, and most likely, I was scared of going home and being blamed for ruining my clothes. ‘Sorry sir I was chased by bad boys and I had to climb the fence to get away and I fell’. You know, when you tell one lie, and if pushed, the only way to keep that lie safe, is to tell another? Vicious and nasty circle, I guess designed to stop us lying in the first place. The questions didn’t stop. ‘Who are the bad boys? Names? Where do they live? Do they go to this school?’ I explained how 7 of them chased me, into the playground –told me I was going to get battered I said. As for my escape? ‘I got inside the classroom, and they went inside another classroom sir’. That, was probably the biggest mistake I had ever made.
As the Head teacher marched me to the classroom my attackers had fled to, he opened the door and asked for silence. ‘Gary, point them out’. Standing in a room full of innocent children, most of whom I hadn’t seen before, I swallowed hard and started picking out 7 random faces, all boys. At that point, the seven were directed to the headmaster room, and I, back to class.
The next day, I got up on time, and headed to school well before the bell was due to signal the start of class. I found James in the playground as I did most mornings, but he had a new group of friends. He did not want to speak, told me to get lost – told me how he hated me and wasn’t my friend. What had I done? I wondered off on my own, no one to talk to, not sure what to do. As I walked aimlessly towards the Janitors hut, I was completely unaware that in 30 seconds time, school was about to become my own personal hell.
Grabbed from behind, one of the boys whom I had previously pointed out dragged me towards the hut, the rest of his class following, I am pinned against the wooden hut wall and he screams and shouts in my face, no idea what he is saying. It turns out I had singled out half of the Primary 7 boys, and a group of ****ed off 11 year olds was all I needed.
As I was pinned against the wall, helpless to even try and defend myself, the other lads started to take turns dishing out the punishment. I remember the spits, the punches, the hair pulling, and I remember as if it were yesterday. I remember the screams of laughter, the pointing and shouting, I remember the feeling of terror as I lay on the ground thinking it would never stop. I remember the kicks to the groin and the feeling of sick induced each and every time one of their legs made contact with my body. I remember the warning I was given as they turned and walked away, and it terrified me.
I somehow managed to last a year before being shipped half a mile up the road to St Josephs in time for Primary 2. One thing is certain though, wherever I go, and whomever I meet, Broomhouse is never far away.
Mrs Symmons, the Innocent Seven, and James. Thank you for giving me the gift of joy on a Friday. Most importantly though, I should thank myself. We all make choices, and some of them you will live with for an eternity.
Today, I feel joy.
Gary.
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Interesting read Gary, so basically you was bullied? Boys can be right **** once they get with their mates eh?
Tony
Tony
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Thats life, big deal
Thing is, I brought on myself by blaming 7 innocent young guys on beating the **** out of me, and ironically, thats what happened as a result!For all I know, one of them could have gone downhill from that day? He might have discovered a need to be violent, whatever, and his life could be ruined. The Butterfly Effect is an awesome, and I bet brutal force at times.
Gary.
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That sucks.
I can see it now, as if I were there!
Little boy panics, doesn't think straight, immediately regrets decision.
Fantastic image, love the bokeh, and the depth of field is perfect.
Is that, by any chance, a can of that rockstar stuff?
I can see it now, as if I were there!
Little boy panics, doesn't think straight, immediately regrets decision.
Fantastic image, love the bokeh, and the depth of field is perfect.
Is that, by any chance, a can of that rockstar stuff?
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It is indeed, I chose it as I guess I want to feel like a rockstar at times, and I am VERY hyper mostly, full of Energy. I took a few shots emphasising the energy bit, but that wasnt the point of the shoot I guess.
Thanks for reading, I was just stupid and should not have blamed anyone. I remember the panic though, and I had no choice in my head just to rat on anyone after the headmaster took me to the class.
Silly boy, I reckon they would have eventually wasted me anyhow
Gary.
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Great picture Gary - and an interesting read.
However, Friday for me is just another day. Another day closer to 2 more days of workSo cannot share your enthusiasm sadly!!
Very much enjoying your images on this thread - a lot of effort put in
Sucks, I think I would have a breakdown if I could hit "OFF" come Friday afternoon...
A year or two ago, I would work 24/7. Getting the camera and becoming hooked on this milarky has had a serious effect on my will to do anything else!
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I can understand the mentality of the other boys!
When I was little, I was best friends with a boy. We used to do everything together, and were constantly competing to be better than one another.
One day, he took a dislike towards me. I don't know why. He just stopped liking me.
He accused me and a few other boys of bullying him - a completely unjust accusation. I would never do that sort of thing. But nevertheless, if you're a bully, there is no arguing your case. You're a bully and that's that.
His mum came up to me in the playground when I was waiting for my dad to come and get me. I remember it as if it was yesterday (like you said yourself). I was sat on the bench, and my feet couldn't reach the floor. I was looking down the playground seeing if I could see my dad. Next thing I know, his mum is in my face. She is blocking out the sun, causing a backlit silhouette of what was once a lovely lady, turned monster. She is telling me I'm a nasty spiteful little boy, and that the way I was treating her son was not acceptable, and that I should be expelled from the school because I'm a horrible person - not a nice thing for a fairly innocent 8 year old boy to have to go through.
Several weeks later, I was called into the headteacher's office, along with 6 other boys.
I knew I was in trouble, because no one ever gets called to see Mr Whitby unless they're in trouble. I knew what it was about, too. Mr Whitby announced, "Right." and that was it. I burst into tears.
Condescendingly, he says, "What are you crying for?! I haven't even said anything yet!"
There we were, standing in a line, 7 completely innocent boys that this one boy had taken a disliking to, getting well and truly told off and threatened (thankfully this was in '97 so the cane didn't exist) by a very daunting headmaster, for something we didn't do!
I was distraught, and my mum (who worked at the school) went and complained that he was so vicious without actually having any evidence against us.
I remember my hatred for that boy from then on. I wanted to punch him and scratch him and shout at him for getting me in trouble.
I wasn't like that, so I just ignored him.
It now turns out we're good friends again, now that everyone has grown up a little and matured
When I was little, I was best friends with a boy. We used to do everything together, and were constantly competing to be better than one another.
One day, he took a dislike towards me. I don't know why. He just stopped liking me.
He accused me and a few other boys of bullying him - a completely unjust accusation. I would never do that sort of thing. But nevertheless, if you're a bully, there is no arguing your case. You're a bully and that's that.
His mum came up to me in the playground when I was waiting for my dad to come and get me. I remember it as if it was yesterday (like you said yourself). I was sat on the bench, and my feet couldn't reach the floor. I was looking down the playground seeing if I could see my dad. Next thing I know, his mum is in my face. She is blocking out the sun, causing a backlit silhouette of what was once a lovely lady, turned monster. She is telling me I'm a nasty spiteful little boy, and that the way I was treating her son was not acceptable, and that I should be expelled from the school because I'm a horrible person - not a nice thing for a fairly innocent 8 year old boy to have to go through.
Several weeks later, I was called into the headteacher's office, along with 6 other boys.
I knew I was in trouble, because no one ever gets called to see Mr Whitby unless they're in trouble. I knew what it was about, too. Mr Whitby announced, "Right." and that was it. I burst into tears.
Condescendingly, he says, "What are you crying for?! I haven't even said anything yet!"
There we were, standing in a line, 7 completely innocent boys that this one boy had taken a disliking to, getting well and truly told off and threatened (thankfully this was in '97 so the cane didn't exist
) by a very daunting headmaster, for something we didn't do!I was distraught, and my mum (who worked at the school) went and complained that he was so vicious without actually having any evidence against us.
I remember my hatred for that boy from then on. I wanted to punch him and scratch him and shout at him for getting me in trouble.
I wasn't like that, so I just ignored him.
It now turns out we're good friends again, now that everyone has grown up a little and matured
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I can understand the mentality of the other boys!
When I was little, I was best friends with a boy. We used to do everything together, and were constantly competing to be better than one another.
One day, he took a dislike towards me. I don't know why. He just stopped liking me.
He accused me and a few other boys of bullying him - a completely unjust accusation. I would never do that sort of thing. But nevertheless, if you're a bully, there is no arguing your case. You're a bully and that's that.
His mum came up to me in the playground when I was waiting for my dad to come and get me. I remember it as if it was yesterday (like you said yourself). I was sat on the bench, and my feet couldn't reach the floor. I was looking down the playground seeing if I could see my dad. Next thing I know, his mum is in my face. She is blocking out the sun, causing a backlit silhouette of what was once a lovely lady, turned monster. She is telling me I'm a nasty spiteful little boy, and that the way I was treating her son was not acceptable, and that I should be expelled from the school because I'm a horrible person - not a nice thing for a fairly innocent 8 year old boy to have to go through.
Several weeks later, I was called into the headteacher's office, along with 6 other boys.
I knew I was in trouble, because no one ever gets called to see Mr Whitby unless they're in trouble. I knew what it was about, too. Mr Whitby announced, "Right." and that was it. I burst into tears.
Condescendingly, he says, "What are you crying for?! I haven't even said anything yet!"
There we were, standing in a line, 7 completely innocent boys that this one boy had taken a disliking to, getting well and truly told off and threatened (thankfully this was in '97 so the cane didn't exist
I was distraught, and my mum (who worked at the school) went and complained that he was so vicious without actually having any evidence against us.
I remember my hatred for that boy from then on. I wanted to punch him and scratch him and shout at him for getting me in trouble.
I wasn't like that, so I just ignored him.
It now turns out we're good friends again, now that everyone has grown up a little and matured
Thats awesome, it's almost like the exact opposite of my story, with you on the receiving end of a kid like me telling tall tales!!!
Strange world we live in
Gary.
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Its exactly what I was thinking when I read your passage
Small world
Small world
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Nice picture Gary, but I just can't work out how you did that picture. DOF yes, but how did you get that movement effect in the background?
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No motion blur, just used an extreme aperture - f1.4, there was about 1ft between the crushed can and the collection of cans in the background. The lens was 50mm.
Thanks for reading guys
Gary.
Thanks for reading guys
Gary.
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f/1.4?
Thats super sharp!
I'm assuming it was the nikon 50mm f/1.4?
I still want the canon SUPER nifty
Thats super sharp!
I'm assuming it was the nikon 50mm f/1.4?
I still want the canon SUPER nifty
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f/1.4?
Thats super sharp!
I'm assuming it was the nikon 50mm f/1.4?
I still want the canon SUPER nifty
Thats the one
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Another Gift you have is turning negative into positive..seemingly far more easily than a lot of us.
Even though i like my job i start getting the friday feeling on Thursday.
I was in the brew room last week at work making a mid morning cupper and a colleague said "well....nearly the weekend" "Yup" I replied absent mindedly, and then "Huh it's Wednesday morning??"
Talk about wishing your life away!!
have a great weekend
Jo
Even though i like my job i start getting the friday feeling on Thursday.
I was in the brew room last week at work making a mid morning cupper and a colleague said "well....nearly the weekend" "Yup" I replied absent mindedly, and then "Huh it's Wednesday morning??"
Talk about wishing your life away!!
have a great weekend
Jo
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Another Gift you have is turning negative into positive..seemingly far more easily than a lot of us.
Even though i like my job i start getting the friday feeling on Thursday.
I was in the brew room last week at work making a mid morning cupper and a colleague said "well....nearly the weekend" "Yup" I replied absent mindedly, and then "Huh it's Wednesday morning??"
Talk about wishing your life away!!
have a great weekend
Jo
Thanks for reading, I will end up saying this a million times but everything happens for a reason, and ultimately, the reason is always good in the end...
Not for everyone I appreciate, but for me, it seems to be true.
Gary.
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Knackered?
Me too, need bed soon. Snowball chuffed you are enjoying this, the support is ace. It's a can of Rockstar high energy drink.
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Excellent, loved it... I luckily was neither bullied at school or did any bullying, hate all that stuff.
Another example or excellent writing skills, Im truly enjoying this Gary... Keep it up!
ps - I'm addicted to energy drinks, redbull, relentless, jolt, you name it I have a stash at work and home
Another example or excellent writing skills, Im truly enjoying this Gary... Keep it up!
ps - I'm addicted to energy drinks, redbull, relentless, jolt, you name it I have a stash at work and home
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Excellent, loved it... I luckily was neither bullied at school or did any bullying, hate all that stuff.
Another example or excellent writing skills, Im truly enjoying this Gary... Keep it up!
ps - I'm addicted to energy drinks, redbull, relentless, jolt, you name it I have a stash at work and home
I wonder if this shpuld be classed as bullying, or revenge though? It got no better until I left in secondary, however, Broomhouse was fine for the first few weeks, and then I did that!!!
Silly boy
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Hurry up and get today's shot up Gary! I'm itching!
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Hurry up and get today's shot up Gary! I'm itching!
Haha
Going to be a late one I think, got my son for the weekend and he is running me into the ground Will be on it this evening!! Gary.
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Perfect photo op if I don't say so myself
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Perfect photo op if I don't say so myself
My god, this is taking ages....argh :bang:
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H Gary
What I felt reading your 'Joy' post was deepest shame. I'm an ex-teacher and the real bully here is Mrs Symmonds. How dare she treat any kids like that - let alone 4 year olds. She, and those like her, brings real shame on the teaching profession. I hope you found some teachers with a proper vocation later in your schooling.
Jean
What I felt reading your 'Joy' post was deepest shame. I'm an ex-teacher and the real bully here is Mrs Symmonds. How dare she treat any kids like that - let alone 4 year olds. She, and those like her, brings real shame on the teaching profession. I hope you found some teachers with a proper vocation later in your schooling.
Jean
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Erm.....
Of the 40 or 50 I met throughout my schooling life, I remember maybe 3 treating me with even a little respect
Teachers and I very rarely seen eye to eye I am afraid to report!!!To be honest, I don't blame them, I was always a little sh*t.
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Erm.....
Of the 40 or 50 I met throughout my schooling life, I remember maybe 3 treating me with even a little respect
To be honest, I don't blame them, I was always a little sh*t.
Gary.
Gary - as a kid you're entitled to be anywhich way you choose. You're a kid learning about life, people, social skills, etc, etc. It's the teacher's job to help you through - not to bully you, misuse their power, be sarcastic (my pet hate in teachers) or do anything other than encourage you. Discipline can be done with a light touch and a bit of humour if the teacher starts off on the right foot with a class. Sorry you met such lousy teachers. Imagine the education system if they were all like the 3 good ones you remember. Wouldn't it be great.
I taught 16-18 year olds and I've seen kids who've really suffered at the hands of the education sytem being totally turned round by being treated as the young adults they are. Most of the teaching staff at college actually liked the students. It's never too late to like a teacher.
