New meds! Or: Why do I feel like a Guinea pig?

Great news folks! /inject sarcasm here/

For those who know me and care, and for those that do and don’t, and for any random visitor, who is unlikely to return after reading this rubbish, I’m on a new medication regime. Woo-hoo!

No point in fudging the facts here; I am a 40 something ex-alcoholic (still clutching for the rim of the glass) with a “depressive disorder.” This all happened after I hit my late thirties. Coincidence, huh. (OK, there are other factors I won’t bore you with here, some of you who do know me know some of them). Yet despite being married to a wonderful woman, not being in any debt, no major health issues, own my own home, living in a country that has improved my quality of life and physical health, I still suffer the “Black Dog” on occasions, and some days have to fight to look around me and see how indescribably lucky I am, how fortunate with my “lot” and how much worse it could have been. And some days struggle just to see if it is worthwhile. Selfish, huh?

They say it’s chemical. OK, I have used a few of those in my time, but that’s not what the specialists meant. And there is no underlining sequela to the alleged abuses that my brain and corporal being have been subjected to in the past. So they tell me it’s not my fault. Genetic? Perhaps.

Over the years that my Doctor has treated me, and treated me very well - I have no complaints - I have gone from Seroxat, to Prozac, to Lexapro, to Zoloft, back to something I forget, Zoloft again, and now today, hurray, hurrah, back to a new stronger version of Seroxat, “new and improved ” Seroxat CR. That time released stuff that ensures that I feel bouncy, happy, confident with large social groups, and my brain fizzes all day long with the release of chemicals designed to make my brain soak up more of the calming Serotonin. Sigh - it isn’t that easy.

Stopped taking one of the previous meds once. Vegetable matter for days ;( The brain fizzed and popped, synapses imploded into Dark Matter, and I decided before it was too late to return to the meds that have undoubtedly saved me, yet cursed me at the same time.

The point of this post? Well, if anyone read my post of the 17th (and I know lots of people did, for which I am grateful) and juxtaposes it with this, then it would appear that one can’t escape one’s genes. Or that some people are congenitally unhappy (which is NOT the same as unsatisfied or willfully selfish) and suffer more than those who seem to breeze through life as if it were a game.

I wish I could. My head won’t let me. That shames me, yet I am told “You are not to blame, you have a disorder.” Doesn’t make it any easier, I can assure you. So I persevere with the medications, until one of them provides longer term efficacy or I just have accept that I was meant to be a miserable bastard!!

Let me tell you now, friends and strangers alike, that it beats downing a bottle of Whiskey a day for a temporary relief. I used to think it didn’t! But if at least one lesson has been learned on this journey, and it is that modern medicine and it’s products, however it gets derided by the anti-Pharma lobby or the New Age bullshit artists, beats alcoholism or street drug use and dependency a hundred times over. It’s a hard, vicious, heart-breaking lesson to learn at times, but finally this year I think I’m learning it.

Otherwise I wouldn’t be typing this now.

Thanks.

Pentax - an acquired taste, now with the Holy Trio!

27 years ago I got my first SLR, a Zenit Moscow Olympics special edition!

My father was always using Pentax gear, which I borrowed sometimes. Pentax was one of the biggest names in photography in the 60’s, but have faded to the point of extinction. In Asia, for example Canon and Nikon hold 90% of the market! And Pentax was recently absorbed into the Hoya Corporation, a huge concern making everything from precision imaging equipment to basic filters for DSLR cameras. It is a great blow for Pentax fans but hopefully Hoya will reignite the brand without losing it’s quirky nature which appealed to contrarian, individualistic photographers. As Mike Johnston, a well respected photographer, remarked, “Pentax is something of a sleeper (if not a secret) among makers of SLRs, and perhaps an acquired taste.”

Then in 1989 I bought a Nikon Compact Zoom which I used until 2002, and still have - terrific camera.

Went digital in 2002 with a Fuji 2MP Compact, followed by Panasonic FZ30 which I used for about a year before deciding to get a DSLR. Fond memories of Pentax, and my father’s excellent pictures, made me consider Pentax first, and then the technical aspects and the lenses made me buy the K100D.

I started off with the kit lens, and then added a better short telephoto, then a long telephoto, and finally today the Holy Grail for a certain type of photographer and Pentax nut!

So here they are - The Trinity of Pancake lenses. All metal construction (even the lens caps - lined with velvet!), precision engineered, superb image quality and small enough to carry all 3 in one’s pockets for stealthy street photography. I bought the 40mm some time ago, and finally had the chance to complete the set Pictures taken with the 50/1.4, possibly the finest 50mm lens ever made

Here they are:

 

Sitting pretty in their pouches.

 

     The 40mm - thinnest lens in the world.    The 70mm - sharper than a razor’s edge. And finally the 21mm, perfect for street photography or landscapes.  I always intended this blog to be more photography orientated, hence the name “shoot,” but got a bit sidetracked along the way. Maybe these will help me refocus on taking good pictures, and using the camera for food photography for my cafe. And to sum it all up, “They are just so sexy” - quote from Mrs S.  

For my late brother. 17-17-17.

On the 17th of November, 1972, the youngest of three brothers, E.J.S, was born.
Just over 17 years later, seemingly with a new life ahead of him, having achieved a major ambition of his - to join the elite Grenadier Guards of the British Army, passing all tests with flying colours - and after completing the first part of his training, he walked behind his barracks, placed his rifle into his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
I mention the manner of his death not to shock, but to highlight the finality of what he had decided to do. There was no sympathy seeking “attempt” at suicide, he left no note explaining his actions, but in the depths of his tortured soul and the peak of his depression, he left no room for error. He, of course, died instantly. It was no impulse suicide, that we know from various factors that I won’t divulge, but meticulously planned, like everything he did.

The early morning phone call from my father with the news wrenched the very guts from me, and I have never felt that icy, tearing, howling pain since. Nor ever wish to.

The picture above was taken by me, on 26th December 1989, a couple of weeks before his death in January 1990, and is the final memory of his brief visit to our apartment in London, before returning to his barracks for the next part of his training. I remember the great bear hug we gave each other at the railway station as if it were yesterday. And neither of us wanting to watch the other walk away, until he finally waved and made his way to the platform.

17 years later, the wound is still deep, and his initials are tattooed above my heart as a constant reminder of what we, as a family, lost that day, and of my abiding love and respect for him. But I have broadly come to terms with it, in a way that my parents have not, perhaps due to my personal philosophy, as opposed to theirs. I am an atheist, they are religious. My other brother still has yet to find a way to fully deal with it, except by blocking it out, which has enabled him to survive intact and maybe stronger than before.
You cannot find meaning where none exists.

Despite the circumstances, the Guards requested a full military funeral - “once one of us - always one of us” - and it was heart-stopping as the funeral procession made it’s way down the streets of the tiny, 16th Century village to the ancient church, because the entire route, on both sides, was lined with soldiers from his regiment standing to attention as the hearse passed. His coffin, bearing the Union flag, his cap and belt, was carried into the church by the regiment’s ceremonial bearers. After the service, as the coffin was lowered into the ground, a lone bugler played the Last Post, sending shivers down the spine as we stood, weeping, in the cold and rain and the heavy clouds rolled overhead.
I remember little afterwards. I could not attend the wake because the distress was too much, and I had to go and be together with my wife (without whose support I could never had coped) for a long while. And because he finally was gone.
_________________________________________________________________________________

Many children, sometimes even adults, see the photo above, and are convinced that it is a picture of me when I was younger. Alas, he was both better looking, fitter, and, in some ways, more mature than I was at that age.
He lived with my family in the US, whilst I had moved to London when I was 19, and so we saw each other rarely, and kept in touch infrequently. By all accounts, he respected my independence, and looked up to me, as his 8 years older, and extremely rebellious, senior. Nothing can describe how much I miss those lost years together.
So today is a very special day for me. I ignore the date of his death every year, but always remember this much more significant, to me, date of his coming into life. I will try not to wallow too long in grief, but will shed a tear or two (or many) for opportunities lost, pain unresolved, and the plight of all those who come to grief through depression, misunderstanding, and the trials and tribulations of the teenage years.
If you know someone who suffers, through teenage trauma, depression, psychological problems, or just the vicissitudes of day to day living, please try to be a helper, a friend, a good listener, or try to help them to somewhere where their troubles can be better understood.

My Brother - I miss you. Every day.

Please note: The name of this blog seems rather tasteless in view of what I have written. It was, however, intended as a photo blog - hence the name - so it is an unfortunate coincidence. Thanks for reading. Comments on this post are warmly encouraged, and much appreciated.

How to make Malaysia look stupid to the rest of the World in 2 minutes.

There’s nothing like a calm, rational response to criticism to enhance a nation’s credibility, is there?

Joy Division - New Dawn Fades

Why I am posting this may become clearer on the 17th, when I plan to post a long piece. Please be there to read it.

A change of speed, a change of style.
A change of scene, with no regrets,
A chance to watch, admire the distance,
Still occupied, though you forget.
Different colours, different shades,
Over each mistakes were made.
I took the blame.
Directionless so plain to see,
A loaded gun won’t set you free.
So you say.

We’ll share a drink and step outside,
An angry voice and one who cried,
We’ll give you everything and more,
The strains too much, can’t take much more.
Oh, I’ve walked on water, run through fire,
Can’t seem to feel it anymore.
It was me, waiting for me,
Hoping for something more,
Me, seeing me this time, hoping for something else.

Hmm, more tattoos. :)

I remember reading Terence Goh’s blog way back when, and the post subject was tattooing. I commented, and asked for recommendations for artists in KL.
He told me the place to go was Borneo Ink in Sri Hartamas.

Last week, feeling itchy for some new ink I decided to go there and get a small piece done. Had to book a week in advance, as they are a very busy crew!
I recall Terence saying that if I go there be sure to mention his name. As I was getting ready to be inked, I did so, and it turned out that Terence was sitting right behind me! LOL! Well met, Terence, well met.
So having chosen a design last week, I left it to Simon, the tattoo artist to choose the colouring. Make it bold, I said, with purple in the tail, everything else I’ll leave to you.

Still wrapped for protection.

The final result. I am very happy with it, and I think Simon and I will be seeing more of each other as I have plans to do some integration of existing work, and he has the skills to do it.