Thursday, 14 August 2014

Depression: My Thoughts and Experiences

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting. Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before." - Edgar Allan Poe

Depression is a silent and painful illness that, while being relatively common, is largely ignored or misunderstood by our society. I started writing this ramble partly due to the saddening news about Robin Williams’ death and partly due to my own problems that have reared their ugly head again in the last few months. My aim today is to dispel some myths regarding depression and talk a bit about my own struggles with it [Please Note: At this point, I initially attempted to give depression a nickname much like cancer is “The Big C”. It wasn’t until I had typed it, however, that I realised that a ramble about me struggling with “The Big D” would undoubtedly be misinterpreted]

            The main myth that I’ve found surrounding depression is that, if you’re suffering from it, you suddenly turn into Wednesday Addams which is obviously not the case. In my personal experience, I have found that it’s a case of good days and bad days except the “good” days are just okay and the “bad” days are soul crushingly horrible.

The actual feeling of depression itself is not what people assume. In my experience, I have found that it is not so much sadness that you feel but rather a vacuum-like emptiness or supreme apathy. It’s a feeling that is less “I’m too sad to do anything” and more “what’s the point of doing anything” and let me tell you, it’s a bloody horrible feeling. It’s like being caught in quicksand whilst drowning and you feel like there’s no way out. Even if your friends and loved ones are around you, you feel alone.

There are moments of positivity like seeing friends but this is fleeting and can ultimately leave you feeling drained; especially when you’re dealing with people who don’t understand what it’s like. They tell you to “look for the silver lining” and other such pointless platitudes that only serve to add more stress to someone already struggling to cope. “Now now, oh sultan of sadness” you sternly pipe up “those people are attempting to provide a support structure and shouldn’t be mocked for it” and, yes, I respect that their advice comes with the best of intentions but, like a toenail in a burger, it is unwelcome (unless toenail burgers are your particular “thing”, in which case, I’m not judging). If someone in your life is struggling, bombarding them with platitudes and forced social situations is not the answer; what I found I needed was someone letting me know that they’re here for me if I need them to be but if I don’t, they wouldn’t push for interaction. Personal wishes should, of course, be overridden if you feel that someone is going to harm themselves or others; in which case you show up at their door and convince them to get help.

Sometimes, no matter how strong someone is, the darkness can be overwhelming and taking your life can seem like the only way out. Speaking as someone who has got that low, it is a horrible place to be. You feel like there’s nothing left; nothing to fight for and you let yourself slip away in whatever fashion you have chosen. When I got that low, my head was swirling with all sorts of terrible thoughts; I felt isolated and abandoned but, perhaps worst of all, my deepest fear took a firmer root in my mind than ever before. My deepest fear, as many of you may know, is becoming the same sort of monster as my father and when you feel low enough to end it all, imagining growing into everything you hate makes it easier to give up.

Trust me on this.

Long story still kind of long; I didn’t die (I know; spoiler) and have since sought assistance in rebuilding myself stronger than ever. I realised that, for far too much time, I had been making choices because of everything that happened to me when I was younger but it’s about time I started making choices in spite of it. Rather than defining myself by my mistakes and my trials, I’ve started to define myself by my achievements and my victories. Don’t focus on the times you stumbled; learn from them and use that knowledge to help those around you.

If any of you ever feel like you’re alone and you need someone to talk to then please talk to me. I can’t promise miracles but I can promise offensive jokes, rum and pizza which is pretty much the same as miracles.

Thanks for reading this incredibly cheerful ramble today. I’ll leave you with a quote from John Keating in Dead Poets Society-


We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race and the human race is filled with passion… and medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life but poetry, beauty, romance, love; these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!...  of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”

Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Top 5 Comic Arcs of All Time (according to me)


“Hey Pete, you know a lot about comics! What are your favourites?”

Said nobody ever.

But I’m not the sort of man to let a little thing like “nobody caring” get in the way of my own fun.

So here it is; a spoiler-filled run down of my favourite comic arcs.

You should buy all of these.



5) Green Lantern: Sinestro Corps War (2007)

I found it somewhat difficult not to list Geoff Johns’ ENTIRE Green Lantern run from Rebirth (the return of Hal Jordan) right the way through to The End due to its high quality and brilliant character arcs.
I decided on the Sinestro Corps War as the high point because it was this specific story that allowed Johns to show off his heavily redesigned cast and setting whilst teasing lots of ominous foreshadowing of the Blackest Night to come.

Some characters remained the same; Hal Jordan was still a commitment phobic risk taking hotshot pilot (largely taking cues from Darwin Cooke’s New Frontier) and Kyle Rayner was still a skirt-chasing dildo who always takes the time to have a little cry mid-battle.

Other characters, however, received an overhaul. John Stewart had the “ex-sniper” part of his personality come to the forefront; they used the destruction of Xanshi (a planet that was destroyed on Stewart’s watch) to create a fractured veteran who devotes himself to protecting life because he can’t stand to see any more death. He was the only human Lantern not interested in showing off; he just wanted to get the job done and save as many lives as possible. This made him, in my opinion, far more sympathetic than in previous comic book incarnations.

Guy Gardner had his more lecherous and abhorrent character traits toned down and elements of his back story altered to include an abusive father which transformed him from a spoof of Reagan-era leather-clad “heroes” into a damaged abuse victim who was desperate to prove himself. When I was a kid, Hal Jordan had been my favourite Lantern but thanks to Geoff Johns, Gardner quickly took the top spot. He made inappropriate sex jokes, drank too much, acted without thinking of the consequences and had a deep-seated resentment for his father; how could I not empathise? During the Sinestro Corps War, Guy got to shine as a field-commander and readers, both new and old, got to see why the ring had chosen him in the first place.

Now to the full reason why “Sinestro Corps War” is my favourite; the man himself. Thaal Sinestro, former Green Lantern of Sector 1417 and future master of the universe. The Sinestro that Geoff Johns resurrected (after being killed by Hal Jordan in the nineties) was aristocratic, self-assured and calmly cruel. This new Sinestro made an enemy that could challenge the power of the Green Lantern Corps; in this arc, Sinestro had surrounded himself with sadists and murderers in the name of spreading fear throughout the universe.

Why? Because with fear comes order and that’s what Sinestro is all about; order.

The war that was waged set the stage for years to come and was chock-full of snappy one-liners, philosophical debates (backed up by physical violence of course, this IS a superhero comic, after all) and allowed the Green Lanterns to seem less all-powerful and easier to empathise with. Plus, we got to see more of Superboy-Prime and who DOESN’T love that snotty little prick?

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Absolute-Green-Lantern-Sinestro-Corps/dp/1401237355/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397579685&sr=1-3&keywords=sinestro+corps+war



4) Batman: Knightfall (1993 – 1994)

“I am Bane -- and I could kill you... but death would only end your agony and silence your shame. Instead, I will simply... BREAK YOU!”

Arkham Asylum cracked wide open.

Batman’s entire rogues’ gallery on the loose.

A shitty film version of this story yet to come.

Knightfall came at a time of change for Batman comics; desperate to pull away from the current “Bat-family”, the writers needed an arc that would shatter the status-quo and send readers plummeting into the depths of a darker Gotham and so Batman was put through his greatest challenge to date.

The first volume had Batman going up against everyone from the Joker to Amygdala (look it up, bitches). Each villain put Batman through a different trial; Zsasz made Batman question his no-killing rule, the Hatter made him question his own mental strength and so on until Batman was worn-down, sleep deprived and brimming with MAN-FLU... perhaps his greatest enemy to date. It was at that point that the South American steroid abuser and criminal genius known as Bane stepped out of the shadows dressed as a luchador (because DC comics has always relied on lazy stereotyping *cough* Black Lightning *cough*) and breaks Batman’s back.

While he recovers, Batman passes his mantle to his long-time partner, friend and confidant; Dick Grayson...
Oh no... wait... Batman DOESN’T do that. Instead, our dark knight detective passes the cape and cowl to Jean-Paul Valley, otherwise known as Azrael, a militant Christian who enjoys decapitating sinners with a flaming broadsword.

What the shit, Batman?

While Batman recovers, Valley kits himself out in a new Bat-Suit that looks like a Rob Liefeld designed Transformer; big, metal and FULL of unnecessary pouches and proceeds to deal with every criminal with the mission statement “You can’t commit another crime if you’re in a coma!”

Eventually Batman returns and defeats Mecha-Bat by tricking him into getting naked (no, really). The tale ends with Batman being sure of his mission once more and the overall tone of book embracing the “dark” of the Dark Knight.





 3) League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999 – ongoing)

Another contender in the list of awesome comic series’ that have been botched by their film adaptation. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen film managed to change and wreck every character in the book; it is an aberration that will hopefully, one day, be erased from the timeline like Rory was that one time in Doctor Who.

WE WILL SPEAK OF IT NO LONGER!

The comic book series, on the other hand, is fantastic. It collects some of the British Empire’s finest fictional creations and bands them together into a clandestine team of super-spies, working behind the scenes to ensure the survival of Queen and country.

The prim and proper Mina Murray (Dracula) is recruited by the mysterious “M” (Casino Royale) to assemble a team. Their mission? Track down some missing cavorite (The First Men in the Moon). She soon recruits Captain Nemo (Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea); a violent, death-worshipping pirate and Allan Quatermain (King Soloman’s Mines); an opium addled ex-soldier. Along the way they meet Hawley Griffin (The Invisible Man) and Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde (The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde); the former hiding in a girl’s sixth form, visiting the girls as the “Holy Spirit”, getting several of them pregnant and the latter murdering prostitutes in France.

Their next outing is set to the backdrop of the Martian Invasion (War of the Worlds). Once more called upon, this band of scrappy literary creations acts as the front line of defence for the world but are betrayed by the Invisible Man who is then raped to death by Mr. Hyde (Alan Moore has never shied away from just being plain DARK). Volume Two ends with half the team dead and the other half disbanded over the use of a biological weapon provided by Dr. Moreau (The Island of Doctor Moreau) against the Martian horde (the “killed by the common cold” explanation in the original book is given as the “official” statement).

The team reassemble at different points to deal with threats like Jimmy Bond (Casino Royale), Big Brother (1984), Oliver Haddo (The Magician) and his Moonchild (Moonchild) who ends up being VERY Harry Potter-esque in the end and they recruit allies like Orlando (Orlando: A Biography) and A.J. Raffles (A Thief in the Night).

If you’re a fan of classic literature, good writing and interesting character development, then LoEG is the series for you. Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill have crafted a world that blurs the line between fact and fiction; did these characters really only exist on the page or has the truth been classified? If you do read it, take the time to spot any other characters or references written or drawn into the background... for... y’know... FUN... or something... but it is cool when you spot the First and Eleventh Doctor having a chat and then identify a reference to The Beggar’s Opera on the next page. “Haha” you can say “I know what that is referring to because I’m amazing”

http://www.amazon.co.uk/League-Extraordinary-Gentlemen-Omnibus-ONeill/dp/1401240836/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397579791&sr=1-1&keywords=league+of+extraordinary+gentlemen+omnibus

http://www.amazon.co.uk/League-Extraordinary-Gentlemen-Dossier-Gentmn/dp/0861661761/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397579812&sr=1-1&keywords=league+of+extraordinary+gentlemen+black+dossier

http://www.amazon.co.uk/League-Extraordinary-Gentlemen-Vol-Century/dp/0861662326/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397579827&sr=1-2&keywords=league+of+extraordinary+gentlemen+century




 2) Nick Fury: Agent of Nothing (2009 – 2010)

Please note that the Nick Fury featured in this storyline is the Infinity Formula powered, grumpy, stubbly 616 Fury and NOT the Nick Fury that has had enough of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane.

Intrigue? Check.

Norman Osborn getting punched in the face? Check.

Renaissance-era alien technology because reasons? Double check.

Agent of Nothing came at a time after the disbanding of S.H.I.E.L.D, in the comics due to incompetence during an alien invasion, and the installation of H.A.M.M.E.R; its replacement helmed by Norman “Captain Crazypants” Osborn. The villains were posing as heroes and the heroes were on the run. Dark times, true believers.

In this time of general silliness, Nick “politeness is for pussies” Fury assembled a team of new characters that Marvel were keen to push to the front, and Daisy, the girl from Secret War with the earthquake powers. Fury set about fighting the remnants of Hydra and the all-powerful H.A.M.M.E.R because Fury hates injustice and also probably other reasons but DAMN does that man hate injustice.

The Gorgon comes back to life and teams up with Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker (Hydra’s leader and Fury’s nemesis since 1964) in order to unleash the full power of Hydra on the world. Enter Russian terrorist Orion and his gaggle of generic cretins to fight Hydra AND Fury in order to unleash THEIR brand of rampant twattery on the world as well.

See what I mean? Silliness.

Cue flashbacks to one time in the 1960’s when Leonardo Da Vinci (bear with me here) brought Fury, Strucker, Orion and many others together to capture alien super-science that could be used to create an army of monsters. Which Orion now has.

After destroying the machine, Fury and Strucker are captured and the latter gleefully reveals that *gasp* S.H.I.E.L.D had been infested with, and taking their orders from, Hydra! (yes, I know, you’ve all seen Winter Soldier by now)

BUT

CINEMA GOING PEOPLE

IN THE COMIC

NICK FURY

NICK “THE KING OF SPIES” FURY

THIS SMOOTH, ONE-EYED STUD REVEALS THAT HE’S KNOWN ABOUT HYDRA’S INFLUENCE IN S.H.I.E.L.D FOR DECADES AND THE REASON WHY EVERY HYDRA PLOT ALWAYS FAILS IS BECAUSE, WHILE HYDRA HAVE BEEN GIVING ORDERS TO S.H.I.E.L.D, FURY HAS BEEN GIVING ORDERS TO HYDRA!

DOES IT MAKE SENSE? NO!

WHO CARES, MAN?

IT’S NICK FURY!


1) Superior Spider-Man (2013 – 2014)

In 2013, Marvel announced their intention to dump the mind of Otto Octavius (who was dying) into the body of everyone’s favourite wall-crawling underachiever; Peter Parker. I, like many others, decried what seemed like an obvious stunt (and sure enough, they’ve restored Parker in time for the new film) but what we got in between were 31 issues of, in my opinion, the single greatest character in comic book history (sorry bats).

I loved Spidey when I was younger; the wise-cracks, the nerdiness, the spandex but as I got older, I found it harder to relate to Parker. He was a nerd, sure, but dated a slew of aesthetically perfect supermodels and was always socially competent enough to charm his way out of any situation.

Enter Otto in Peter’s body. The self-proclaimed “Superior” Spider-Man was a wonderful mix of arrogant, kind-hearted, socially incompetent and endlessly wonderful as he swang round New York making crime-fighting more “efficient” while, out of the spider suit, he developed a charming and entirely pure love for Anna-Maria Marconi, a genius scientist who happens to be a dwarf (something that Otto doesn’t even see because he has no interest in traditional “beauty”)

It was a very limited run that revealed a lot about Otto as a child, his morals and his ideals as he grew from a selfish man afraid of death to a self-sacrificing hero, proving once and for all that he is, and ever shall be, the Superior Spider-Man.

Unlike the other entries on the list, I have kept this entry pretty spoiler-free because I urge you to go out and buy the first volume and lose yourself in this wonderful character that Dan Slott built.

I cannot over-state how much I loved reading this run and, while many will cheer at the return of Peter Parker, I’m left feeling upset that Superior didn’t run for longer.


Tuesday, 4 March 2014

Rape-Culture and Victim-Blaming: A Rant



“For some offences, there is only retribution” – Nora Hawks



There are many abhorrent opinions that you encounter in life that stand against equality, scientific reason and logic (The UKIP manifesto covers all of these). Today, however, I’m here to rant and ramble about one specific and singularly disgusting trend that I see all too often both on the internet and in real life; the “culture” of victim-blaming.

I’m sure you’ll all encountered some twat or another at a pub or on an online message board who implies, infers or outright states that if someone (usually a woman) gets drunk, dresses up or in any way acknowledges the presence of a man, then she’s practically begging for sex and whether she’s held down or too out of it to resist, it’s the right of that man to take whatever he pleases. Now, I’m not going to go into what I deem to be the appropriate punishment for such scumbags but I will say it involves sulphuric acid, a blunt cleaver and a blowtorch.

There is a common myth perpetuated by the far right that rape is just consensual sex that a woman regrets later. For example, Todd Akin, an American politician, went as far as to say that women can’t get pregnant from rape because “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to shut that whole thing down.” First of all, let’s just take a second to let the stupidity of that comment sink in. This is the issue; a startling lack of proper education. Rape is often typified as a hooded stranger grabbing a girl off the street, dragging her into an alley and assaulting her as she begs him to stop. However, in the last five years, just 22% of sexual assaults reported in the UK were perpetrated by a stranger. The majority occur by either a partner or “friend” manipulating someone or waiting until they’re too drunk to function before taking advantage. Many rapists try to argue semantics in these cases; that it didn't really count as rape because she didn't struggle which is, of course, utter bullshit.

There are thousands of sexual assault crimes that go unreported every year because the victim is terrified of being judged or made to feel ashamed. In what other crime is that an issue? If someone sets you on fire, nobody would stand there and say “Well, what were you doing wearing such flammable clothing anyway? I think you really wanted to get set on fire.” Our society demands that the victim prove their own innocence rather than the rapist prove theirs and the really sad thing? This idea is in no way a new one. Gather round for story time:

Medusa was a beautiful woman who caught the eye of the Greek God Poseidon. He attempted to woo her but she rebuffed him, leading him to decide that he’d take what he wanted regardless of her wishes. She fled to the Temple of Athena and begged for protection. Athena did nothing and Poseidon raped Medusa on the floor of the temple (modern, more child friendly adaptations gloss over this part). Athena was so disgusted with Medusa being raped that she transformed her into a hideous creature that destroys the lives of men.

Think what this tale says about the victim. From then on, Medusa was known to the world as a freak and men should avoid her, all for the “crime” of being raped. The fact that the media and a depressingly large chunk of society still portray victims this way is something we should be ashamed of.

“Ah but Pete, you Samurai of Wisdom” I hear you cry “There are many examples of times when sexual assault IS invented and the man HAS had his life destroyed for nothing”. Well, imaginary reader who I created for the purposes of narrative, you've been misled (both about the sexual assault statistics and me being wise... or a samurai). There are a minute number of cases in which the assault is invented (just 2% of reported cases). The reason you've heard about ALL of those loudly and clearly is because it is in the interest of right-wing sensationalist journalism to mislead you into thinking that the victim is wrong. In all cases when reporting on sexual assault, the Daily Mail only refers to victims as “accusers” whilst the rapist gets their positive traits “football star” “dedicated athlete” mentioned repeatedly which leads the woefully stupid to conclude that the “accuser” MUST be trying to destroy this poor man.

The rise of internet pornography has also given rapists something new to blame in order to escape just punishment. For example, a case I read about today where a 12 year old boy raped his 7 year old sister and rather than the judge doing anything about it, it was decreed that it was probably the fault of porn and the boy was sent back to live with his family and sister. Giving these sick fucks another way of weaselling out of trouble should NOT be our focus; our sole focus should be to provide support to their victims who have just had their lives shattered.

Many universities have made the positive step to include, in their legislation, specific guidelines explaining to douchebag fratboy morons that, if the girl can barely stand, it’s just as much rape as if you’d put the roofies in her drink yourself. A common counter-argument to this tends to be “so, if I get drunk and hook up, it’s rape?” and to that I say “no” and also “stop being a twat”. Everyone knows the difference between two people getting drunk and going home together and a girl passed out being rutted on by some disgusting rapist cunt.

Personally, I feel a way that we all can help is by showing a bit more compassion when we’re out and about. If you see someone alone and completely gonzoed, maybe go over and see if they need a glass of water or a taxi home because it’s better that we do it than Douchey McRaperton, who you can bet has spotted this vulnerable girl and is planning on making his “move”. Equally, if Douchey gets there first and you see this girl being essentially dragged out the club, mention it to the bouncers. I know we’re all overly polite and don’t want to be a pain or accuse someone who could be legitimately trying to get the girl home safely but, surely, it’s better to be a minor inconvenience than potentially allow a scumbag to walk off with his chosen victim.

As we grow older, we become the parents, the politicians and the decision makers. Some day hopefully soon, the Daily Mail readers and UKIP voters will all die out but until then it’s our responsibility to stand up for what is right. We need to be the voices of reason, of tolerance and of justice; we need to ensure that those we vote into power have firm views on protecting the victims, not the perpetrators. This is why we need to encourage everyone to vote despite what people like Russell Brand say because you can be assured that the far-right, rapist defending dickwads will be casting their vote and there needs to be a unified voice against them.


I don’t know about you but I’m tired of my country being a place where a rapist can avoid conviction based on semantics or technicalities.


I’m tired of it being place where, if they manage to get convicted, a rapist can get out early on “good behaviour”.


Most of all, I’m tired of hearing this idea that somehow, a victim is at fault. That they should feel ashamed for what was done to them and that they get treated with scorn and suspicion when all they deserve is our compassion and our understanding. I’m sick of this alpha-male bullshit mentality that should have died out centuries ago.



I fucking hate rapists, I fucking hate people who make excuses for them and if that includes you, then I fucking hate you too.


Thanks for reading.

Wednesday, 27 November 2013

Ian Watkins

I saw that new picture (http://static.nme.com/images/article/2013IanWatkinsArrestSouthWalesPolicePR261113.jpg) of Ian Watkins doing the rounds and I was wondering... is there a paedophile "uniform" or something? Does a man from the Paedophile Union visit you?



"Hi Mr. Watkins, welcome to the Consolidated Union for Nonces and Twats. Now that you've joined us and are an official card carrying C.U.N.T, we need to talk about your look"


 "What about it?"


"It's not really... paedophile enough..."


"Not even with the sweepy teenybopper hair DESPITE the fact that I'm almost 40?"


"No, it still looks a bit -sad aging rocker- and not really -despicable filth that deserves a slow and painful death-"


"Ah, I see... any ideas?"


"Maybe if you cut it short and slicked it back?"


"Won't that make me look like Draco Malfoy?"


"Maybe if you grew a super rapey beard as well?"


"Yeah... yeah I can see that. You're totally right. That would make me look more like the baby raping scumbag that I am"


"Indeed... indeed. Plus, it would make those rock and roll neck tattoos look like shifty pervert neck tattoos"


"It would! Ah, brilliant! Thanks for helping become a proper C.U.N.T!


"Not a problem sir. Before I go, can I check my emails on your laptop?"


"Of course. The password is -Ifuckkids-"

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

What's In A Name?


“The name you choose... it’s like... it’s like a promise you make”
 – The Doctor


            A name is possibly one of the most important aspects of something. I mean, sure, you can take the time saying “three pronged eating utensil” but why would you when “fork” is faster and easier? The same is, of course, true for people. Think about how much of your identity is defined by your name; it contains clues to your nationality, the sort of people your parents were (looking at you, people with emotions for names) and so much more.

            As many of you know, I changed my entire name at eighteen. When I was born I was named after my father, I didn't hate the name “Michael James O'Neill"  but, as the years of bullying wore on, I came to hate what it represented. For me, “Michael O'Neill"  was both a twisted old bully and a scared, twelve year old victim and so, over time, I came to realise that I needed to make a change.

            The name I chose was by no means random; Peter Marshall was my Mum’s dad. I never got to meet my Grandad Peter but, by all varied accounts, he was a good man and that was something I was (and still am) trying to be in my own way; a good man.

I asked my Mum to speak with her siblings beforehand in order to make sure no-one would think it presumptuous that I had chosen to use their dad’s name but none of them did; they seemed pleased that I had chosen to honour him in this way. My middle name, Wallace, is my uncle’s name. Uncle Wallace, for those of you who haven’t met him, is a large Scotsman who enjoys fishing, drinking whiskey and inventing creative and insulting pet names for his nieces, nephews, sisters-in-laws and just about anybody else that he comes across; he’s awesome and I love him and he’s probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual dad so his name was the right choice for me.

            I had to put up with a lot of grief, however, from people who either didn't know the extent of what Mick had done and one or two who knew but just didn't care.

The former was largely made up of O'Neill family members who do not live in the UK, they had not been around to see what Mick had done and reacted... strongly... to my decision. I got called every name under the sun, I got told that I hated my grandparents (who had already passed by the time I changed my name), I had people trying to guilt me into changing it back, it was entirely ridiculous and very distressing for me at the time. I ended up having to talk to them about what Mick had done to me; something I was nowhere near ready to do at the time. One of my cousins couldn't apologise enough for what he had said, we went out drinking together and are now much closer than we were before. Others, however, were never heard from again


...as in they didn't talk to me again...


...I didn't kill them. Honest...


Anyway...


As I said, the latter group was made up of people who knew the depths of cruelty Mick had sunk to and didn't care. These people were also “family” but felt that while the child abuse was completely okay, my name change let people know that we weren't a perfect family, full of Christian unity, and that was the real sin. Remember folks; Child abuse= okay, Telling people= Not okay. These people have run an interesting campaign which involved disowning me (not really a punishment), sending family cards with my old name on (for five years) and leaving me off the Christmas list while still sending money to my sisters.

My little sister, in elegant retaliation, made sure that she informed these relatives that the money had been split with me when thanking them for sending it. I can only imagine the glorious rancour that this tactic must have inspired and life is too short to make amends with people who support an abuser's right to abuse. True family is made with bonds of love and empathy and doesn't need something as coincidental as matching DNA to be true.

A name doesn't make a man but it can tell you who he is and who he’s trying to be. The line from “The Name of the Doctor” at the top of this ramble really rang true with me; a name is more than just words. It’s your promise, your vow, your personal way of standing up to the darkness in your past and in your heart and saying “No. You don’t control me. You don’t define me”.

wouldn't say I've always lived up to the name I chose but all I can do is sincerely try, every day, to be that better man. I've been told that this daily struggle is what separates us from the killers, the rapists and the abusers of the world and I hope that this is true because as long as I keep working on myself, I will never be like him.



Thanks for reading.

Friday, 27 September 2013

Manipulative People: My Experience Growing Up With A Bully



"After a while, you simply are what you are" - Nick Fury


I was the victim of abuse growing up, both physical and psychological. I was raised by a man who was a bully and a coward. He was also, unfortunately, my father.

There was a substantial quantity of physical abuse which I will talk about another time but today, I’d like to discuss his controlling nature and the psychological bullying that went on while I was a child as that did more damage me than a punch or a kick ever could.

If you’d spoken to 5 year old me about my family, I probably would have said that it was all pretty normal. I knew my parents argued a lot and that my father, Mick, wasn't the sort of person you crossed or argued with but what 5 year old me didn't know is that for years, Mick had been bullying my Mum in order to make her feel worthless. He did this with a mixture of put-downs and punches; he constantly questioned her mental health whilst simultaneously endangering her physical health.

As we got older, the control he exerted over me and my sisters increased. We were not allowed to watch any TV that came from America (seriously) which led to a wonderful game that my big sister and I used to play called “Find the proof that this was made in Canada”. Once we saw the maple leaf with “Made in Quebec” written under it (thank you Mona the Vampire), we were okay to keep watching that programme. It was just pointless and pathetic; a way of controlling his children with no real goal or aim.

When visiting relatives or at events, we were there as display pieces; his children standing still looking pleasant. He would present us to someone with a list of things that we had accomplished since they last saw us and then, like good automatons, we were silent unless asked something directly. If we failed to follow these rules we’d catch hell for it later.

The most common time that this happened was when we went to visit Mick’s parents (who were wonderful people). There were many thousands of reasons why I loved my Nanny Mary but the fact that she told Mick off without any reprisal was hilarious and a little bit amazing to me as a child. If my mum would ever stand against Mick, it would always result in Mick shouting or throwing something at my mum (including, but not limited to, a punch). However, when HIS mum told him off, he went as quiet and sheepish as an 8 year old caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. For someone who had grown up in fear of this man, it was really cool to see him taken down a peg or two in such a way.

Janus is the Roman god of beginnings and transitions and is presented as a two faced man (not to be confused with Two-Face, who was substantially better dressed). Much like Janus, Mick was also a two faced man.

To the world he was good old Mick or Uncle Mick or, somewhat puzzlingly, Badger. He was a friendly guy who called everyone “mate” and always had his well behaved family around him; he’d raised his children in the Catholic faith and worked hard all his days. This image he presented to extended family and friends was, as you can guess, a complete facade. He liked being in control of those around him; if he could control you through intimidation then he would but, if he felt that you couldn't be intimidated or manipulated due to your size, age or the fact that he didn't have the authority to govern your every move THEN you were his “mate”.

A prime example of this is my good friend and fellow twitchy nutcase, Max. Max’s mum and my mum are best friends who lived close to one another and, therefore, Max and I spent a lot of time together as young children. Mick was NOT a fan of Max, how could he be? Here was someone who his children liked who wasn't under Mick’s direct control! Oh no! He spent many years making his utter disdain of Max and anything Max would mention quite clear (remember, Max was a small child at this point). However, after Max shot up to about 6 ft, he was suddenly Mick’s “mate” and Mick couldn't hear enough about Max and what he was up to and interested in. Coincidental timing, eh?

Mick was the sort of Catholic who was only really Catholic because he liked feeling superior to others without all that pesky self-improvement stuff. We were marched to church each week where we had to be perfect (yawning in church, for instance, put you on the receiving end of a beating). He enjoyed the fear he could make me feel and would often start something to see if I flinched or cried, if I did, he would sneer and call me “idiot boy” or “imbecile”. I was about 12 at this point.

From a psychologist’s point of view, Mick’s need for control probably stemmed from something bad that happened when he was a child. Quite frankly, I find myself not giving a toss. If you can’t control your pain then you shouldn't have children; I don’t plan to have children until I've worked through the issues that I have. Mick, however, was far too arrogant to think like this. He loved the idea of having his own “mini-me” so much but was then unable to deal with any signs of independence; lashing out in order to maintain his perceived crown.

I have found that this controlling, manipulative personality type is common with abusers; there have been guys that friends of mine have dated that reminded me of Mick to a quite startling degree. These pathetic little children have a need to command respect but lack the ability or personality to earn respect so they create a facade and once people get close, they wear them down through various types of bullying. These people rely on your fear; they rely on the fact that you believe them when they tell you that nobody cares about you or that nobody would believe you if you told the world.

Despite talking about what happened to me, I have still lived with fear. I still have nightmares about the physical violence and issues around the emotional bullying because at the time, I bottled it all up and ran away into being a man-child; it’s not a particularly healthy coping mechanism, I admit. I’m trying to work through it now by writing about it but I’d be lying if I said I wasn't worried it was too little, too late. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” right? I hope so...

Thanks for taking the time to read this ramble (if indeed you did) and if you have had a similar experience with a controlling person and want to ramble back at me, feel free to leave a comment or message me on Facebook.



Have an awesome day  (:

Thursday, 26 September 2013

My name is Peter Marshall and I’m a little bit... odd.



“Changing is always harder than staying the same.” – Dick Grayson



I've begun this voyage into the blogosphere with a number of goals in mind=

1)   To talk about the way I was raised and the hilarious cocktail of issues that it has left me with. I hope that doing this will help me move beyond it all and should also make for some interesting reading (or not, one can never tell with these things).

2)   To offer my flawed and bitter opinion on various topics in the hope that it makes you laugh, cry or even just think about general stuff.

3)   Drunk Film and TV Reviews. I watch a lot of crap and feel I can drunkenly review ANYTHING and will valiantly attempt to do so.

4)   Share random facts and bits of trivia with you.

5)   I will post my terrible short stories. Be afraid.


“But Peter, you charismatic stallion” I hear you cry.

 “This blog is completely disjointed with no proper theme. What’s up with that?”


Well, that’s kind of the point; it’s a mixture of bad jokes, awful puns, drunkenness, Film and TV, poorly thought-out opinions, useless trivia, clichéd fiction and light-hearted anecdotes about child abuse.

It’s essentially my brain as a computer. Imagine Skynet except weirder and infinitely more pedantic.


I’m in the process of writing my first “proper” post so stay tuned for that...



...of course nobody might actually be reading this which is which I named my blog “Screaming into Space” because that is, essentially, what it feels like.