Monthly Archives: April 2012

The Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, Awesome? Great memories? …Terrible?!

Now i understand, what I find entertaining is strange and alienating to my elders, and one day I may have children of my own with interests that scare and confuse me. Until recently I could accept that as the way life goes, but after spending twenty minutes watching the very first episode of the first series of Power Rangers with my younger brother, showing him the beginning, where some of his favourite shows all started, I have to draw the line. The only word he said, as we watched the five Rangers kicking ass,  as we watched The Zords joining together, creating The MegaZord to save the day, the only word my brat of a brother said was: Terrible. That’s right dear reader, the show I remember from my childhood as being amazing, the show that led to the modern day Power Rangers (which my brother enjoys) is terrible.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who still looks on that time in my childhood with joy, that other people still recognise the titan of children’s entertainment that is the very first series:

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers

GO GO POWER RANGERS!

I even remember dressing up as the green one (Tommy – My favourite) for a birthday when I was around the same age my brother is now. Tommy, the green ranger is the reason I started thinking about the whole show, as I recently found out that not only was he the green ranger and later the white ranger, he has also been in later series’ as the black ranger, the red ranger and a mentor to the whole group. To top all this off, as if this man wasn’t already a hero in my inner-kid’s eyes he went on to use the skills learnt as a Power Ranger and implement them into being an MMA fighter, he should be proud!

To end with, I thought I’d share some real nostalgia with you all, just click play, enjoy and smile!

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Family, Chocolate and Growing up.

My Nan is one of the greatest people ever, incredibly kind and loving, you’d be lucky to meet her. Bear in mind that if you offended her, she would waste little time in kicking you in the arse, but that’s all part and parcel of my brilliant Nan.

Northern Irish and proud, she enjoys a little whiskey on an evening and always has time for me. If you forget the whiskey and birthplace, and add a partiality to bonbons and a fiercely-protective-of-family trait,  this sums up my Mum (…Daughter to my Nan…). I remember many things from my childhood, such as she always had a mars bar in her handbag for me, an entire draw was saved, just for me, and filled to the brim with every sweet imaginable. I was throwing up rainbows quite often as a child, I was also carrying around a slight bit of chub due to my seven or eight sweet teeth. I realise I am speaking in past tense but all of these things are still true now, the sweet drawer is going strong, my Nans bag is weighed down with chocolate ( she can take it though, don’t worry, do NOT mess with my Nan, she is lovely, sweet and awesome, but she will destroy you. On a related side note about 7 years ago I had a pretend scuffle with my Mum, joking and wrestling, all fun and games you might think. Wrong. I ended up locking myself in the bathroom out of sheer terror. I knew she would never actually hurt me, but my young mind knew enough not to test my chances in a one-on one. Women in my family are tough. ANYWAY! )and I’m not ashamed to say I still probably have that slight bit of chub. That’s just me ( It doesn’t matter if you carry a few extra pounds with a face like mine anyway ….( How I wish this were true ) ).

One very clear memory I have, which actually happened a few times is of a very young me, having a nightmare. I remember two that showed up often, one I can look back on and realise how silly a kid I was being. The other… terrifies me still to this day, and the worst part is I’m sure i got it from a film i shouldn’t have watched at such an innocent age, and if I could just find that film, then I would be free. From the torment, the agony of knowing the hold these horrors have over me and the simple annoyance that finding the film would prove that I happened upon a horror flick sometime as a child, at the same time as disproving that i was so messed up my young should-be-nothing-but-happy-thoughts mind created this horrible image to simply mess with itself. (breathe.)

The nightmare was of maybe fifteen, give or take a few, little me’s running, to a house, whilst these creatures I can barely describe ( so I won’t ) swoop in to eat me. All of the little Toms enter the house and melt, coming together into one life-sized me. I walk up to a stand where there are three books, I open the first and a face of paper and text screams at me , so I shut it quickly, moving on whilst the muffled screeches continue. I open the second and words come out, whirling around me, creating a thick fog that closes in. Keeps closing in, until I can’t see, can’t breathe. That’s when I wake up, terrified. Now, I can agree with you that this isn’t the scariest imagery in the world, it isn’t. However, to the young Thomas it was. So I awoke scared out of my wits, many times, and the clear memories I have are of my Mum and my Nan, on separate occasions, coming to my room, calming me down, giving me a glass of water and saying the following:

“It’s okay Thomas, don’t worry, it was just a dream and it’s over now. When you go back to sleep just think about Tom and Jerry ( every kids favourite cartoon at the time ) and you’ll have a nice dream” There was more but that is the gist, so i would do as instructed and BANG! no more nightmares. This is easily the best advice I have ever received, if you have children of you’re own then I implore you to use this tactic, it is a godsend. Use whoever you want, i think The Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers also worked for me, but seriously this WILL HELP. I have had the nightmare since, for some reason it doesn’t want to be out of my subconscious just yet. However it no longer has quite the same effect, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know.

To end with, I would like to initiate stage one of my pocket-watch campaign. For any new readers, this campaign started when my Mum bought me a silver pocket watch for my birthday. I now love it. I’m trying to bring it back, but I need your help. I can’t do this alone and that is why stage one is awareness. Tell your family, your friends, everyone, about this campaign. We need everyone to remember this classic piece of kit.

Thanks for reading and as always, smile!

P.S. If anyone recognises the scene I described, from any film they have seen, please tell me, I don’t need to know to save my sanity, just to aid my curiosity! Then smile!

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Me? A blogger? Never.

I never planned on being a blogger – one who blogs. If i’m being honest i always thought of it as a geeky little hobby. This probably just shows how small minded i may have been at times. The reason i started was because my tutor at university mentioned them as making one was a small part of an assignment. After this, he said that carrying one on would be a great way to hopefully improve my writing, my ability to take criticism and use it, and more importantly make me think in different ways on different subjects.

I’d like to think i’m accomplishing these goals. My skill in writing may not have increased massively, but i think small improvements have occurred. Alas, despite numerous attempts and long periods of waiting, i have yet to receive any criticism, constructive or not. Nevertheless, i will keep waiting for that one brave soul who will step forward and point out my weaknesses, rip me to shreds and break me down to blubbering little pieces, so i can improve.

The one area i am rather proud of is when it comes to thinking of things to write on, yes, some of them are very weak and have little to no sustenance, but i do have around 15 drafts written at any one time, each being worked on, ideas coming to me at random times, so often that i save them in draft texts on my phone, to be typed up later. I think just sitting and thinking of something which you can impart your opinion from the vast vortex of everything-ness is quite difficult, but once you find a small splinter of an idea the rest comes rolling in. It may not always make perfect sense to others, or be appealing reading material to anyone but myself just yet. I’m hoping that once i gain a certain amount of skill in thinking of ideas i can put the interesting slant on my posts that will hopefully bring the readers in, and keep you around, dear reader.

On a possibly more interesting note, my campaign to bring back the pocket watch is nearing the end of its planning stages and i plan on releasing the details of how i plan to do this soon. I’m sure you are simple riveted by this so subscribe, keep reading and smile!

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What makes a Man, a Man?

What actually makes a man, a man? Is it as simple as having an X and Y chromosome or does that just make you male, with the term “Man” being reserved for those that physically earn it.

Is it one or all of the many things we associate with being manly, is it facial hair? Being “massive”? Sleeping around and being a stereotypical “LAD”?  Or maybe it’s throwing your weight around to secure yourself the position of Alpha-male?

Some people say that a real man is innately strong, that he doesn’t cry – even whilst cutting onions, he doesn’t get tired from physical exertion and most important of all doesn’t ask for directions despite how lost and far from home he may be.

Or are  the guidelines to being a real man very similar to those for being a woman, or human being in general? Such as being considerate to those around you and being a generally well rounded person. I think that whilst this last one is correct the stereotypical man has changed quite recently, as he has done a few times throughout history.

Cave Man. Though we do not know of everything about cave man, we do know it was a society where the hierarchy was dependent on strength. Basically, you were strong or you were nothing. This ideal carried on for a long time, through all of the stone age, into the times of knights where still the strong prevailed. Even in the fairy-like tales of “king Arthur”, it is mainly the strong who prevail. However at this point, man Knight-Man, knew things were not simply made to be, by the one with the huge biceps carrying the bricks. It was also the one with a medieval style clipboard and planning permission who used his superior brain to plan the whole operation. Further on we go, to Renaissance-Man. He was a diverse fellow, strength and intelligence still being big points in his life, as shown by the great inventors, scientists and architects of the time. However, now we see the entrance of the artist. Great men, who used creativity to make their mark and were still as highly regarded as the great fighters and thinkers of the period. This carried on in much the same way for a long long time.

This is where i personally get confused. When i look at my fathers generation, and his before him. I see a lot of MEN-men. Men who are still judged on how much they can drink, who they can beat up and how much he swears. This when compared to my generation is quite different. A few generations back, men were MEN, they were hard, they had short -military buzz cut- hair, drank lager or bitter, swore profusely, spent most nights at the pub and worked mainly with menial labor.

Now me, i’m not often, if ever, referred  to as “hard”, i have long hair, i’m quite partial to a Malibu and orange juice, rarely swear or go to the pub and am hopefully going into a successful white collar job.  Not that i’m judging them, i just don’t see how i’m so different, what happened, is man going into another renaissance? If so, great!

Obviously the main question is, is this all a valid vein of thought or is it just pompous, over-thought-out idiocies? Unfortunately i believe it to be the latter! I apologise for wasting your time, if you were under the impression that this was all going somewhere, i’m just wondering how the apple can fall so far from the tree! Thank you and smile.

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