The Daily Dott - Monday - What Is and What Isn't

It's sometime in early February and I am sitting with my trusty laptop, it had become like an extension of my knee because I was on it that often and maybe it was the latter that made one person decide to get in touch with me.

I was on MSN and this person knew it, he knew, and I was – no surprises there really! He asked what I was up to that evening, it was one of those questions that I really don't know why people bothered asking at the time because my days were as blank as a yet to be opened calendar.

Further into the conversation the guy was asking me about my driving license, did I have it for a year? Could I drive today? It all led up to the fact that he wanted me, a person he barely knew, to help him move and possibly drive a Transit van in the process – a fact that scared the living hungover out of me.

I agreed.

Before I met him I popped into TK Maxx to get a present for an old friend, okay an ex, but I just hate that term. So there I was in the queue, thinking about reversing a Transit and how uneasy it made me feel. I shivered. Only the teddy I bought for my friend was comforting me.

But this was me, this was Michael Dott, a generous person who would go out their way for someone they barely knew, even if it meant driving a Transit van knowing the last time I was behind a wheel was playing Mario Kart on the Wii! If I couldn't help them, I murmured to myself, what was the point? After all, I had received similar acts of kindness myself, so this was me now paying my dues.

When we left the hire place he was disappointed, I was quietly glad, I was just a week short of having my licence for a year and that meant I couldn't drive the dreaded Transit, thank God for that. But now we had a whole other situation on our hands, how was this guy going to move? Where could he get a van?

Questions we discussed on Edinburgh Road, it was getting nearer to five o'clock and he had to move...today. It was a Friday and hire places aren't open all night. And I thought my problems were bad..

Eventually, to the boys relief, the guy he was staying with decided to hire the van and drive, why he never did this in the first place was beyond me but the main thing was that we were now moving.It took a few hours to load the van and I will never tire of being amazed at how one can cram their whole life into the back of a white Transit!

Sitting uncomfortably between two guys holding a cardboard box with a cat inside it (don't ask) we made our way to his new house in Govan and unloaded the van. I was quite amused at how me and the other guy where doing most of the work but we both wanted to get out of their really quick.

My night ended around 11pm, in my living room watching Coach Carter with the guy I helped move, he needed a place to stay and I was happy to help. I never done any of it for Karma purposes but if I did, the scales on the good side would surely be weighed down by everything I had done that night.

***

It's April and the same friend I helped moved was talking to me again on MSN, I had been used to him asking me for favours but this was different, he claimed he was depressed, it was 9pm and he needed someone to talk too. Man, if he only knew I wasn't feeling too great myself and I hardly viewed myself as one for good advice. I wanted to go though, if things were as bad as he said the least I could do as a friend was to hear him out. Most of the time, in my life experience, people aren't looking for advice, sometimes it's just an ear, another human that will listen, so they can get things off their chest.

I never made the trip to his house that night, if I had bus fare I would have been there for him and I felt quite bad that I wasn't.

This is Michael Dott, a concerned friend who always has his door open, even when the sign says 'closed.'

If you don't believe that...try me.

***

It's late April and I lie exhausted on my bed, nursing a headache and a scratchy throat. It was a long day and I needed a long lie. I had cornered myself that day with bad feelings, anxiety, depression, angst, guilt - to the point that I spread them onto other people and infected them with my bullshit, the disease was spreading but I knew I was the one suffering the most.

Not in the sense of a martyr but in the sense that it started with me and it had to end with me. I was annoying other people no doubt, causing them pain, anxiety and anger but if only I knew when to stop.

Later on that night, it stopped, I stopped it. I had too. I could no longer cripple myself and others with my bullshit.

This wasn't Michael Dott. This wasn't the person who helped others, who was generous, who gave his time to help other people, at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Of course, and I am ashamed to admit, it was me. It was Michael Dott but it was someone who I had hoped I wouldn't be, someone who I never want to be again because I know deep, deep down that that person is seriously not who I am.

***

The real Michael Dott is the guy who helped that boy and who was also willing to be there to listen to his problems, that's who I can be, the friend, the person I know I am and will continue be, that other guy, that negative person, that person is gone. Forever. Banished, like Romeo to Mantua.

It's the Daily....Just don't ask me to drive a Transit


-Bookmarks
-The Treveller
-My Wi-Fi


-Bookmarks

I don't think I have ever used a proper bookmark when reading a book, I tend to use obscure items such as bus tickets, coasters and sometimes chewing gum. Okay, so I made the last one up but at least you could say you where 'sticking' with the book and not giving up on it if you did use gum. My latest strange object is actually a black comb.

I have found this rather cool because it means that I will always know where the comb is as opposed to constantly finding it lying on my floor and it is sturdy enough to not fall out of the book whenever it is in my bag.

I guess you could say I am 'combing' through the pages :D Tell me your odd bookmark objects, I'd love to hear them.


- The Traveller

It flew all the way from the East, propelled by the aroma of coffee at the Waverly station, dodging deathly swipes of newspapers by those pesky commuters, it followed the train line as it fluttered through the warm air. However it was not free from danger as it was almost annihilated further on by the turning of the Falkirk Wheel, then it gently passed the canal, through the fields, stopping only to drink some water by the Clyde. With not too much time to rest it took to the air again, soaring over Gartnavel hospital, weaving in and out of the tees, just brushing over a fisherman's head as it made it's way into the quiet fields of Easterhouse. And there it landied smoothly on the hairy arms of a certain God's Favourite... it then sank it's teeth into me.

I was bitten by the travel bug.

A sudden shot of adrenalin hit me, coupled with the hypnotic rays of the sun I decided I just had to go to Edinburgh. Not just because the basketball All Star Game was there but I really wanted to do something with this glorious day the sun had given us.

With not too much of a clue of where exactly I was going I found myself walking the cultured City of Edinburgh, a place I view as one big version of Glasgow's West End – both just have that remarkable vibe and awe about them.

Soon I found myself at my destination, Portobello high school, thanks to an Edinburgh student, a hot dog vendor and a chirpy Policewoman. And all the time I maintained I never listen to directions.

My adventure found me not trusting my own instincts but those of the people who knew the City, when in Rome....ask the Romans for directions!

The next day the travel bug bit me and again I was walking the streets of Edinburgh, this time with my Brother and we both had a good wander around the cobbled streets, pubs, parks and other places of interest that the city had to offer.

When we arrived at the castle we where a bit dismayed to see that the entrance fee was £12, my Brother said that since we where Scottish we shouldn't have to pay, that got me thinking...even though we are from Scotland, where we tourists? I would say yes because a tourist is just another name for a visitor, I don't think you need to come from foreign territory and even then, if you have ever been to Edinburgh you would agree that Glasgow practically is foreign territory – it is that different.

So that was me on back to back trips to Edinburgh. One day I will return with a notepad to jot down my observations of the place and hopefully do an article on that and it's differences to Glasgow.

I hope that the constant visiting will not make me so accustomed to the place that I lose my awe of it but maybe that is what has happened with me and Glasgow. Who knows! At least the hot dogs are nicer and you can never tire of hot dogs!

Edinburgh is a place that is not steeped in history...it is deep fat fried in history.


- My Wi Fi

My vision for Wi-Fi for every home in the World is probably one that has been discussed and may very well be in the planning stages amongst the worlds leading telecommunications companies. Still, it was an entrepreneur type thought which was brought upon by the fact the City Link bus has Wi Fi on it.

If a bus and Mcdonalds restaurants can have it, why can't our homes? And I don't mean purchasing a wireless reuter, my vision means that every home is simply equipped with Wi fi as standard.

I need to get to the Dragons Den.


:D

Only Mohammed Knows

The Daily Dott - Tuesday - Pessimistically Optimistic

The authors name is Laurence Shorter...but has he short changed me?

The doldrums of the self help section in Borders is surely a place that all worried, anxious, concerned and partly depressed people find themselves...something, anything, a glimmer of hope within the pages, just to change their lives, even it only lasts until the book is finished.

Last night I found myself in that section.

Yet, I have always been quietly sceptical about self help books, call it my inner cynicism, because it's not really self help if your taking in the words of someone else. Is it?

I scanned the books, smirking at some of the titles and how the authors claimed to be able to change ones outlook on life. But one particular book caught my eye, 'The Optimist,' so I picked it up for a thorough examination.

On the front cover it has a cartoon drawing of a man walking up a hill, with a blue cloud over his head and the words 'One Man's Search For The Brighter Side Of Life' written in the inside of the cloud.

On the back, however, it didn't seem too appealing, the blurb only said...Conflict in the Middle East...genocide in Africa...collapsing stock markets...today we face a greater range of potential disasters than ever before.

Sure, I thought. But I don't stay in Africa, or the middle East and I have no shares in any stocks. How is this going to help me?

But one should never judge a book by it's cover, right?

So I opened up the book and started to read the first few pages, it was then that I found myself agreeing with everything the author said. And maybe that was a trap I was falling into because the first few pages should be inviting...here is some excerpts from those pages;

***

A car revved up outside. I pictured the BMWs and Mercs along the street, beaded with dew, ready to be driven to their places of work by people who leapt out of bed every morning. How did they do it? I stared hopelessly at the ceiling. What was wrong with me?

This air of gloom, this lack of motivation : it was nothing to do with me. It was the news! The BBC – which we invited into our house every morning like an honoured guest – was piping depression and anxiety straight into my bedroom.

And if you claimed that it wasn't so bad they would always ask you why? As if we need reasons to be OK. And then they would give you that sardonic look that only pessimists can – as if to say, do you know how uncool it is to be cheerful.

***

I was sold because I shared his views on the news being depressing, the way they 'channel' negativity and I was also excited about how he was going to go about becoming more optimistic.

But one cannot be sold until he knows the price...and therein lies another trap of self help books.

Being in that section, I was already aware of the sympathetic glances I was getting from the worker stacking shelves next to me and as the book cleverly displayed no price on the back, I had no other option but to ask. When she returned from scanning the bar code she revealed the price...a whopping £10.99! For a book!

The expression on my face already told the woman that I was clearly thrown by this absurd cost but I opened my mouth anyway, “Awww, that's quite dear and I was reading the first few pages as well and enjoying it, books are quite costly what's the average price of a book in here anyway? She replied, “about, £6.99”

Wow! I thought to myself, books really are expensive.

I hummed and hawed with this book in my hand, should I pay that amount for a book?

Fuck it, I went to the checkout with the book in my hand and decided to share a joke with the cashier, a pre mediated one of course, “I can't believe I'm paying £10.99 for a book, I'm being the pessimist buying the optimist!” He laughed, “well if it makes things any better I don't have any £5 notes either."

I wasn't too bothered about the lack of notes though, and there I was, walking out of the book shop, not exactly short changed - because I had more smash in my pockets than a homeless man's coffee cup!

But still feeling as though something wasn't quite right about this book.

When I got home I continued to read from the place I left at the bookshop and I still couldn't falter it, and I was still agreeing with the authors views.

It wasn't long before I finally grasped what the book was about because as I mentioned earlier the blurb didn't give too much away.

This guy is on a quest to visit the worlds most famous optimists ( Bill Clinton, being one) and discover what it is that makes them view the world positively. In this quest he is also hoping to answer the worlds problems so that no one around him feels negative or bad about what's going on.

The authors name is Laurence Shorter...no, he hasn't short changed me instead he might just actually change me.

It's The Daily...that was one hell of an intro...

• Last Big Issue
• Headstrong
• Seagulls

• Last Big Issue

The call for the last big issue is the one that everybody hears because the homeless person will often make a song and a dance about this one being their last - even though they will return the next day with another stack to sell!

However, one does feel obliged when it's the last one because it may mean that the poor chap gets to go home after his long arduous day on the streets. But still, it's no excuse for the seller to physically force the issue (no pun intended) upon other people.

I was quite startled and annoyed to see one seller push the issue upon people who walked past him, he really must have wanted to get rid of it that bad as he was pushing it onto the chests of people who walked past him.

Well, if he continues like that and crosses the wrong person, it may very well be, his last Big Issue!

• Headstrong
  

My brother takes ages to make a decision about buying things, that coffee machine he always talks about, he has been meaning to buy for other a year now so I wish he would just buy the bloody thing and stop talking about it!

His latest non purchase is some hair growth gel or pills, I know I am being vague, but I stopped listening a few months back.

The funny thing is, he isn't even going bald so there is no real reason for him to buy this crap.

I fully expect him to be talking about this in a years time too, just like the coffee machine, but hopefully it's not something he's going to, ahem, lose hair over!

• Seagulls

When was the last time you seen a seagull at the sea side? A sensible reply would be the last time you were at the sea side.

But then, the last time I seen a seagull, I was actually just walking down the street.

I bet there is more 'sea' gulls in the city.

Someone at the BBC ( I don't know why the BBC) or the RSPCA even, needs to re-name these birds – citygulls because that's where they seem to be these days.

Why don't they just flock off?

Only Mohammed Knows

:D

The Daily Dott - Monday - Unhappy Easter

As far back as I can remember I have always...(word to Goodfellas) not enjoyed Easter. I don't really know what it is but there was always something on my mind or I was always getting into trouble during the Easter holidays.

This uneasy feeling has carried over into adulthood and not surprisingly this Easter was no different.

It's the Daily......no, it's not because I didn't get any eggs.

• Busk Off
• Family Fortunes

• Busk Off

On Saturday I wondered aimlessly through town cursing anyone who was getting in my way and all the annoying buskers, street preachers, dancers and, believe it or not, a group of people dragging a 15 foot wooden cross up and down Buchanan St.

Why are these people not arrested?

I don't mind the odd busker quietly strumming on his guitar (as long as it's not an Oasis song) or even a small band with an amplifier making a reasonable amount of noise but see this group of people who bang uncontrollably and unromantically on drums it's just fucking terrible.

Yet crowds of people gather around and watch this madness. Can't these people hire a fucking hall and do a show indoors? Seriously?

If they are really that good then surely that wouldn't be a problem as they've already proved in the high st they can draw crowds.

And because this huge circle of people have decided to stand there and be part of this mind numbing music nobody can get moving in the street.

Isn't that breach of the peace?

Because the way I see it, their causing a disruption to my ear drums and a disruption to my walking.

And bagpipes are the worst musical invention in the world and yet it's only us daft Scot's who supposedly enjoy the sound coming from it.

If a violin sounds like a cat then bagpipes sound like a fox calling out at night time.

Some of these performers need to bag it up and get the hell out of the high st because some parts of the town are just turning into a circus or a zoo, we don't need to put a show on for foreigners and it's making shopping a tad less enjoyable.

• Family Fortunes

It was one of those Les Dennis moments I had when I was looking for a pump to blow up my Basketball, the one I had was missing a needle and my Brother 'pointed' out that besides sugar a pump is one of the top things you ask to borrow from a neighbour.

So what do you think?.........Our suvey says!

Only Mohammed Knows

:D

The Daily Dott - Thursday

A mid-afternoon tiredness consumed me as I waited patiently in the Job centre for £3, yes, £3! Apparently they can give you up to £300 for going to a job interview but unfortunately for me the bus fare into town isn't that costly. Trying my best to look enthused about receiving this money I could only manage the occasional yawn and shuffle of my seat position, as you can imagine, there's not many things one can do when waiting in that sort of establishment.

I eventually got my money which was tediously counted out before my eyes as to verify it was the correct amount and as I watched the lady do this I couldn't help but think that robbing a bank would be a helluva lot more easier than this – I had waited for about an hour for this money!

However as the woman worked for the DWP she did fill me in on some helpful tips about the literacy and numeracy test that awaits me on Saturday...It's The Daily...hope y'all watched that Billy Joel video on the previous entry!

• The Great Depression
• Decadence
• My first tune

• The Great Depression

Oh how fun it is to be depressed! Excuse my sarcastic comment but I can't help to think that some people actually enjoy being depressed, talking about how depressed they are and going through it's motions.

Yet having witnessed clinical depression with these green eyes of mine I know who is truly depressed and who isn't.

Of course I am not medically qualified to make such judgements however I do feel that people can get confused and say they are depressed when it is mostly down to boredom.

This is quite an easy thing to do because when boredom kicks in, a mire of feeling sorry for one's self usually follows.

But before you claim to be depressed think about what you're actually saying and if you are truly truly depressed, please, stop telling people and go seek medical advice!

Other than that here is some ways to beat boredom:

-If you have a dog, take it out for a walk. This will get you some fresh air and the happiness of your dog roaming free may rub off on you.

-Kick back on your couch or in your bedroom or even by your stereo and enjoy your favourite album.

-Look out old photo albums,past achievements and old memory boxes. This helps to show you how far you've come and hopefully it will provide you with some nostalgic escapism. But if your school reports are as bad as mine I would leave them out.

-Have a warm cup of tea,coffee or hot chocolate.

-Watch a comedy!

-Youtube

• Decadence
  

Let's take it back to the 90's!!!! Doesn't have the same ring to it as the 80's does it? I guess not but that doesn't mean we should entirely forget about the 90's!

In fact, it's time we started to recognise that decade a little more and get our heads out of our “I am a child of the 80's” arse.
If you're like me and you where born in the 80's you have every right to say you where a child of the 80's, obviously you where but it's not all entirely a correct statement.

For example, I was born in 1984 and by time the decade had finished I was only 6 years old. When does childhood end? When you turn 13? If it does, that means I spent the same amount of years being a child of the 80's as I did the 90's.

Something that really bugs me is how a lot of people love to say they love the 80's and everything that is 80's but I think that if you where born in the mid 70's then only then could you have truly appreciated what the 80's had to offer.

Queen, Michael Jackson, George Michael, Michael J Fox, bad American sitcoms etc.I can't really say that I watched or listened to any of them growing up in the 80's because let's face it I was barely 6 years old by time the decade ended and when your that age your too busy eating grass and snotters!

But by time the 90's came I was a bit older and able to enjoy and appreciate music and films. Not to say I didn't in the 80's but you know what I mean.

So why are we always blabbing on about the 80's? I think the 90's had more to offer and hers some examples :
During the 90's Disney released; The Lion King, Aladdin, Toy Story and The Beauty and The Beast which remains the only animated film to be nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture.

During the 80's Disney released, The Little Mermaid, Who Framed Roger Rabbit and The Great Mouse Detective.

The Great Mouse what? Exactly.

Honestly ask yourself which of those titles do you remember more?

I could go on and on but I don't really want to start on music or any more films because I'd hate to sound repetitive. Just have a think before you say you are a child of the 80's and don't forget the 90's.

• My first tune

Four months into owning a keyboard I can now happily say that I have learned my first full composition. Although it's not Beethoven, Pachabel or Bach it's still a lovely tune and one I learned with thorough enjoyment.It's none other than a piece by Koji Kondo whose work is propably on an equal par with Beethovens as far as how well known his work is, don't believe me? Well, everyone knows the mario theme tune don't they?

The piece I learned is called Dire Dire Docks or Jolly Rodger Bay, it's from the water level of Super Mario 64. I hopefully aim to post it on youtube once I get an SD card for my camera so look out for the manic pianist coming your way soon I do know little bits of other songs but not full songs so that's why I'm making a note of posting this.

Only Mohammed Knows

:D

The Daily Dott - Thursday - A Prelude

Apparently I had heard this song before so I can't claim to have just discovered it last night, but Mr. Big, who I was told sang the version I heard, is no Billy Joel, in fact, Billy is literally the opposite as he is only 5'5.”

It's 1978 at the BBC studios, long before the smoking ban and Billy sits behind his piano on a moodily lit stage with his band dotted around him. He pulls out a cigarette and jokes with the crowd that the smoke will give the place a “sleazy atmosphere,” no special effects here folks, the music will provide that. Continuing to play with the crowd he puts on a pair of Horatio Canes, which never look good on anyone indoors unless they are a musician – so of course Billy pulls this off.

Billy then strolls into the opening bars of 'New York State Of Mind' still with the cigarette in his mouth and it's only when he starts to sing that you wonder where this little guy got THAT voice from, it's almost as if it doesn't belong to him yet he does carry a certain unassuming charm.

Electrifying is a word often used to describe musical performances but if being electrocuted involved having a chill sent down your spine followed by a tingling of hair raising goosebumps I would quite happily go to a pylon and electrocute myself every day!

The goosebumps come six minutes into this performance. Billy stops playing the piano, the lights dim, and the neon tetra blue spotlight shifts to the man playing the saxophone, who for almost two minutes, does a mind blowing solo that could lift the hairs off Michael Phelps. Phelps is a swimmer by way for anyone who doesn't get that :P

Billy casually walks over to the centre of the stage, cigarette in hand, points at the saxophone player and nods his head while muttering something along the lines off “how fucking good was that” (or was that just me) and the crowd erupt in approval.

But the performance isn't finished yet. Billy gets back into his seat “New York state of....” looks in the direction of the band, inhales a deep breath of air into the microphone.....”MIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNND, YEAAAAAAAAAH.”

Sorry Big but clearly, I had never heard anything like that before!

Here is the performance :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZh8YjbDiVk

Only Mohammed Knows

:D