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barnabytremayne · 25 days

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Britain's Boring Box: A Rant About Antiques and Houses

Oh, sweet Jesus. Is it just me or has Britain's TV schedule taken a sharp right turn into the land of the painfully dull? We're not talking about a quick detour here, folks – we're talking about an all-out U-turn into Boringville, population: You, me, and a whole lot of antiques.

Now, I get it. We're in Britain, the land of tea, crumpets, and charm. But come on, it's like every single channel has been hijacked by an antique-loving, property-obsessed lunatic whose idea of a good time involves nothing more than slowly combing through a dusty old shop with a flashlight. And don't even get me started on the house programs – they're like a never-ending loop of people offering to buy each other's houses while muttering about "needing more space" and "adding value."

I'm pretty sure the only thing that could make this situation worse is if someone decided to throw in some gardening shows for good measure. Because as we all know, the absolute pinnacle of entertainment is watching people painstakingly trim their hedges for hours on end.

Look, I'm not trying to knock Britain's TV history. In the past, you've given us some absolute gems like "Dr. Who," "Black Mirror," and even a little show called "The IT Crowd." But right now, it feels like we've entered a dark age of television, one where antiques and houses have taken the place of engaging storytelling and thought-provoking drama.

And don't get me started on the "antique experts" who somehow manage to make even the most mundane object sound like it's worth a king's ransom. It's like watching a roadside magician perform card tricks for the third time in a row, but instead of cards, it's a dusty old teapot.

But hey, maybe I'm just a bitter old man who can't appreciate the beauty of a well-kept house or the intricate craftsmanship of a 300-year-old candlestick. Maybe I'm just a misguided fool who can't see the value in these shows

.Or maybe, just maybe, it's time to shake things up, to bring in some fresh blood, some new ideas, some actual entertainment. Because right now, it feels like Britain's TV schedule is stuck in a tired, outdated rut, and I, for one, can't take it anymore.So where do we go from here? Do we wallow in this sea of antiques and houses, forever trapped in the cyclical loop of "who wants to buy my house?" and "look at this old thingamabob that's worth a fortune, folks!"? Or do we rise up as one, unified nation of TV watchers, demanding better, more engaging content?

The choice is yours, Britain. Will you continue to settle for a bland, antiquated existence filled with dusty knick-knacks and overpriced property deals? Or will you finally break free from this monotonous routine and demand the captivating television content you deserve?The power is in your hands, my fellow Britons. Will you choose to bask in the dull glory of antiques and houses, or will you actively seek out the vibrant, engaging television we all crave?Until then, I'll be over here, waiting for the day when Britain's TV schedule is filled with something more than a constant barrage of "look at this old chair" and "sell me your house." Because, let's face it, even the most fascinating piece of antique furniture can't hold a candle to a good story.

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barnabytremayne · 3 months

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Echoes of Absence: A Silent Yearning

In the dimly lit alcoves of reminiscence, where memories linger like whispers in the shadows, a phantom figure emerges—an enigma whose identity I guard as a sacred secret. She, nameless and elusive, once held the strings to my earliest compositions. The passage of years has not dulled the echoes of her influence, but rather intensified the yearning to see her once more.

The Muse's Enigma:

Her identity, veiled in the cloak of my guarded silence, was the elusive muse that guided the pen of my youth. Through the lyrical verses and poignant chords, she became the spectral force inspiring melodies that spoke of love, loss, and the intangible ties that once bound us. Her anonymity added a mystique to the creation, a hidden narrative beneath each musical note.

A Dissonant Symphony:

Life, capricious and unforgiving, composed a discordant symphony that severed our connection. The bitter notes of separation echoed through the corridors of time, casting me into an abyss of isolation. The music that once flowed freely stilled into a silent elegy, mourning not only the loss of connection but also the isolation that followed.

Years of Silence:

In the ensuing years, I enveloped myself in the solitude that followed, allowing the echoes of our separation to reverberate through the vacant spaces of my existence. The silent years, punctuated only by the melancholy strains of unsung songs, bore witness to the absence that marked an epoch of profound isolation.

The Unanticipated Return:

Yet, life, with its unpredictable cadence, weaves a strand that beckons me back to her spectre. Uninvited, her silhouette re-emerges in the quiet corridors of my thoughts. Where is she now? This question, whispered in the hush of the night, resonates with the unanswered refrain of her whereabouts, a refrain that echoes in my very soul.

Yearning for a Reunion:

The years have obscured her in the anonymity of time, and yet, in the solitude of my contemplation, her essence persists. The nameless muse, who once graced the melodies of my youth, becomes a haunting presence. The pain of separation, still tender, pulsates with the unexpected resurgence of her memory, fueling an insatiable yearning to see her again.

A Silent Overture:

In this overture of recollection, I find myself retracing the notes of our untold symphony. The guarded secret of her identity, the bitter separation, the isolating years, and the resurgence of her memory intertwine to compose a haunting melody. The desire to see her again, an unspoken wish, becomes the crescendo of this silent overture—a plea echoing through the corridors of time.

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barnabytremayne · 3 months

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The Art of Disappearing: A Symphony of Self-Loathing

My absence is a finely tuned instrument, a melody of discomfort played on the strings of my low self-esteem. It's a concerto composed in the key of self-loathing, a solo performance for the orchestra of empty chairs that line the stage of my life.

I don't grace people with my absence out of arrogance, like some aloof king bestowing his presence upon the unworthy. No, it's a desperate act of kindness, a sacrifice on the altar of their comfort. I'm a walking storm cloud, a human embodiment of awkward silences and forced smiles. My presence, I fear, is a contagious disease, my laughter a discordant note in the symphony of social harmony.

So, I vanish. I become a ghost, a whisper in the wind, a shadow flitting through the periphery of their vision. I cancel plans, feign illness, invent elaborate excuses to slip away into the comforting embrace of solitude. It's a lonely dance, this self-imposed exile, but it's a dance I've mastered with the grace of a seasoned ballerina of self-deprecation.

Why subject them to the spectacle of my self-inflicted misery? Why burden them with the awkwardness of interacting with a creature who sees only flaws in the mirror of self-reflection? My absence, I believe, is a gift, a silent plea for them to forget the rain cloud that lingers above my head and remember, for a fleeting moment, the sunshine that may once have peeked through.

It's not a noble act, this self-imposed exile. It's a symptom, a festering wound of self-doubt that festers in the recesses of my soul. I envy the ease with which others navigate the social landscape, their laughter echoing like wind chimes in a summer breeze. I yearn to join the dance, to shed the cloak of invisibility and step into the light.

But the fear, it's a paralyzing monster that claws at my ankles, whispering tales of rejection and disappointment. It's a voice that drowns out the timid counter-melody of hope that whispers of connection and acceptance.

So, I retreat, my absence a silent apology for the person I fear I am. I build walls of solitude, brick by painful brick, hoping that one day, the mortar of self-forgiveness will be strong enough to hold back the tide of self-loathing.

Perhaps one day, I'll find the courage to disarm the monster, to silence the chorus of self-doubt. Perhaps one day, I'll be able to join the dance, not as a ghost, but as a participant, flaws and all. But until then, my absence will remain, a melancholic symphony played on the strings of a heart that yearns to be heard.

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barnabytremayne · 3 months

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Kaleidoscope in a Symphony of Normalcy

The world hums a symphony of normalcy, a melody I can't quite grasp. My mind, a kaleidoscope of fractured patterns, spins a different tune, a dissonance that sets me apart. Autism, they call it, a label that hangs like a shroud, obscuring the kaleidoscope within. But lately, I've begun to see not a shadow, but a prism.

Vulnerability, a word that tastes like chalk on my tongue. Yet, it's in my very awkwardness, my stumbles over small talk, that the cracks appear, revealing the vibrant colours beneath. The words that tumble out in the wrong order, the jokes that land with a thud, they become brush strokes on a canvas, an invitation into a world where logic bends and emotions bloom like wildflowers in the cracks of the pavement.

Social interaction, a tightrope walk over a chasm of anxieties. But instead of a net, I've learned to spin my own, woven from honesty and self-acceptance. I explain, not in apology, but in explanation. "My brain works differently," I say, not as a shield, but as a bridge. And sometimes, to my surprise, the bridge is crossed. A shared quirk, a whispered secret, a connection forged in the language of the misunderstood.

My world, a tapestry of sensory overload. Crowds, roaring beasts with a thousand eyes, threaten to consume me. But within this chaos, I find a strange sanctuary. The hum of fluorescent lights becomes a lullaby, the clatter of coffee cups a rhythmic counterpoint to my own internal concerto. I lose myself in the patterns of raindrops on windows, the texture of weathered brick, the endless variations in the hues of the sky.

And then, there are moments of unexpected grace. A stranger smiles, a child's laughter echoes in the park, a barista remembers my order. These are not mere interactions; they are tiny epiphanies, moments where my difference becomes a bridge, not a barrier. A shared smile, a fleeting glance, a connection that transcends the boundaries of the neurotypical.

Autism, still a label, but one I'm beginning to wear not with shame, but with a defiant flourish. It's not a weakness, but a different way of being, a symphony played in a minor key, perhaps a Locrian mode, a language spoken in the dance of raindrops and the whisper of wind chimes. It's the raw honesty of my emotions, the unfiltered intensity of my perceptions, the cracks in my carefully constructed facade that let the light in.

So, I embrace my vulnerability, not as a flaw, but as a flag, a beacon in the storm of normalcy. I share my stories, not as confessions, but as invitations, a whisper in the wind, a hope that somewhere, in the symphony of the world, another kaleidoscope might find its melody in my dissonance. For in the cracks, in the stumbles, in the echoes of a different beat, lies a strength, a beauty, a connection that transcends the barriers of the mind. And perhaps, just perhaps, it's in these broken notes that the most powerful music is played.

And so, I dance to my own rhythm, a waltz with the world, a tango with the silence, a symphony of one, hoping that one day, the melody might find its harmony in the chorus of life.

#personal essay #essays #short essay #essay #substack #autism spectrum disorder #autism awareness #neurodivergent #autism things #audhd #neurodiversity #actually neurodivergent #autistic #essay writing #writing #therapy

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barnabytremayne · 3 months

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A Labyrinth of Senses: A Journey Through Autism and Sensory Overload

The world is a cacophony of stimuli, a symphony of colours, sounds, textures, and scents that assault my senses, creating a hyper-real tapestry of perception. Yet, this sensory kaleidoscope can also become a chaotic maelstrom, a whirlwind of overwhelming sensations that threaten to engulf me in a state of sensory overload.

Sensory overload, the term used to describe the state of being overwhelmed by sensory information, is an all-too-common experience for autistic individuals. It is a condition that strikes without warning, transforming the world from a vibrant, stimulating landscape into a disorienting, overwhelming maze.

When sensory overload strikes, it feels like my brain is under siege, a relentless barrage of stimuli bombarding my synapses until they become overloaded. I am drowning in a sea of noise, my thoughts jumbled and incoherent, my emotions heightened, my body tensed and on edge. The world becomes a blur of colors, a cacophony of sounds, a whirlwind of textures and scents, all colliding and merging into a disorienting void.

The physical manifestations of sensory overload are as varied and unpredictable as the experiences that trigger it. Dizziness, nausea, and flushed skin may accompany the onslaught, while muscle tension, headaches, and even difficulty breathing can leave me feeling physically and emotionally drained. My sensory sensitivities can also exacerbate existing conditions, such as anxiety or migraines, creating a compounding cycle of sensory distress.

Over time, I have developed a repertoire of strategies to navigate the labyrinth of sensory overload. Avoidance is my first line of defense, identifying and avoiding potential triggers such as crowded environments, jarring noises, and strong smells. Noise-canceling headphones become my protective shield against the cacophony of the world, while sunglasses shield my eyes from the glare that can trigger discomfort.

Sensory regulation is another crucial tool in my arsenal, seeking out activities that soothe and balance my senses. Calming music becomes an auditory balm, while a warm bath provides a sensory haven. Weighted blankets and fidget toys offer tactile anchors, grounding me amidst the whirling chaos of sensations.

Self-advocacy is essential, communicating my needs to others when I am feeling overwhelmed. I have learned to assertively request breaks, seek out quiet spaces, and employ sensory tools to regain equilibrium.

Self-awareness is my guiding light, understanding my sensory sensitivities and anticipating potential triggers. This vigilance allows me to proactively manage my environment and reduce the likelihood of sensory overload in the first place.

Managing sensory overload is an ongoing journey, a delicate dance of adaptation and resilience. There will be days when the labyrinth of sensations feels insurmountable, when the world becomes a cacophony of overwhelming stimuli. But with understanding, self-awareness, and a repertoire of coping mechanisms, I navigate the labyrinth with a newfound confidence, my path illuminated by the unwavering flame of resilience.

#writing #therapy #essay writing #personal thoughts #personal essay #autism spectrum disorder #autism things #autism awareness #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #short essay #food for thought #sensory overload #sensory processing disorder

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barnabytremayne · 5 months

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The Smiths in Living Colour

The Smiths, with their melancholic melodies, poetic lyrics, and iconic frontman Morrissey, have left an indelible mark on the landscape of British music. Their music, often infused with themes of alienation, love, and social commentary, continues to resonate with fans worldwide.

A significant aspect of The Smiths' allure lies in their aesthetic, characterised by an idiosyncratic palette, on their album and singles covers. This chromatic strategy became a defining element of their brand, adding to their enigmatic and timeless appeal.

As an ardent fan of The Smiths, I've always felt a deep connection with their music and their aesthetic. Their songs have been a soundtrack to my life, capturing emotions and experiences I couldn't quite put into words myself. So I've embarked on a fascinating project to colourise the album covers and singles covers of The Smiths, exploring the possibilities that lay beyond their colourful confines.

As I delved into the process, I was struck by the subtle nuances that colour could bring to these iconic images. The stark contrast of light and shadow, the expressive gestures, and the subtle emotions captured in these photographs revealed a new dimension when infused with colour.

Colourising The Smiths' album covers and singles covers was not merely an exercise in adding colour; it was a journey into the heart of their music and aesthetic. It was about exploring the hidden layers of meaning and emotion that lay embedded within their world.

The results of my colourisation project are not definitive interpretations; rather, they are invitations to reconsider these iconic images in a new light. They offer a glimpse into an alternate reality, where The Smiths' world is not cloaked in black and white or bold filtered colours but bathed in a spectrum of natural colours, reflecting the complexities and nuances of their music and message.

I encourage you to join me on this journey of rediscovery, to explore the colourised versions of The Smiths' album covers and singles covers, and to find your own unique interpretations. And if you have your own creative takes on these iconic images, I'd love to see them!

P.S. I can't help but think of songs like "How Soon is Now?" and "This Charming Man" when I look at these colourised covers. The colours add a new layer of depth and emotion to these already iconic images.

#the smiths #morrissey #johnny marr #andy rourke #mike joyce #Craig Gannon #colorisation #colorized #artwork #album cover #music #album art #photoshop #photo edit #artist on tumblr #photograph #Discography

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barnabytremayne · 5 months

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Bearing Witness: The Canvas of Nursing and the Visible Scars of Resilience

In the tableau of my life, the visible scars that crisscross my body are not merely blemishes; they are markers of a journey—sometimes tumultuous, often challenging, but always resilient. From my head to my hands, each scar tells a story, and in the diverse reactions of those who see them, I find a reflection of humanity's complex response to imperfection.

The Head, A Helm of Stories:

Upon my head rests a cluster of scars, each with its own tale to tell. The scar on my forehead, a result of a childhood accident, is more than just a physical mark; it's a testament to the resilience that comes from facing life's unexpected tumbles. This scar is a silent storyteller, narrating not just a moment of impact but the subsequent rise, the defiance against gravity that defines the human spirit.

The Chest, A Chronicle of Battles Within:

Across my chest lie scars, each a visible remnant of battles waged within. They speak of illnesses fought, of moments when my body and spirit engaged in a silent but powerful struggle. These scars are not signs of weakness; they are imprints of resilience, a visual record of the internal wars won.

Arms and Hands, the Tapestry of Healing:

On my arms and hands, a different narrative unfolds—a tapestry woven from the threads of my time as a nurse. Scars here are not merely marks; they are the result of a profession dedicated to healing.

- A scalpel's trajectory changed by a sudden movement left a distinctive scar on my arm. It's a reminder of the unpredictable nature of the operating room, where split-second decisions can etch their mark.

- On a knuckle rests a scar, a memento of an unexpected encounter with a patient's bite. It speaks not only of the physical risks nurses face but also of the human complexities embedded in caregiving.

- A chemical burn on my forearm narrates a tale of the substances that, in the pursuit of sanitation, left their mark. It's a scar borne not out of negligence but of the hazards that come with the profession.

- The autoclave's accidental touch left a burn on my left hand, a reminder that even in the sterile environment of a medical facility, unexpected hazards persist.

- Across my wrist stretches a large scar, a visible testament to the unpredictable turns of a nursing career. It's a mark of resilience forged through challenges, a narrative of wounds tended and battles survived.

Reactions, a Mosaic of Humanity:

The reactions to these visible scars form a mosaic of humanity. Some faces register surprise, a momentary fear perhaps, as if the visible reminders of my experiences are an intrusion into their comfort zone. For them, scars become unintentional dividers, prompting a hesitance to engage with the untold stories beneath.

Conversely, curiosity becomes an ally. Eyes light up with questions, an invitation to unravel the narratives etched onto my skin. Their curiosity is not born of judgement but of a genuine interest in the stories behind the scars. It's an acknowledgment that beneath these visible marks lies a tapestry of experiences waiting to be shared.

Living Resilience:

Living with these visible scars is to embrace vulnerability openly. It's a willingness to navigate through discomfort and curiosity, to engage in conversations that may be uncomfortable but also revelatory. The scars, in their visibility, stand as a testament to the resilience forged through life's trials.

Each scar is not just a mark on the surface; it's a living memory, a reminder of battles fought and won, of lessons learned, and of the beauty that emerges from imperfections. As I navigate the world, these visible scars are not badges of shame; they are badges of resilience, stories written on my skin, inviting others to read, question, and understand.

Conclusion:

In the tapestry of my life, visible scars are not blemishes to be hidden but stories waiting to be told. They are the imprints of a life lived fully, etched onto my body as a testament to resilience, healing, and the complexities of the human experience. And so, with visible scars as my storytellers, I traverse the world, unapologetically embracing the chapters written on my skin.

#essays #personal stuff #writing #therapy #artists on tumblr #neurodiversity #autistic adult #nursing #healthcare #public health #medicine #injuries cw #medical tw #my story #my writing

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barnabytremayne · 5 months

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Beyond Bodies: Exploring Celibacy in a Sexualised World

In the symphony of a society dancing to the rhythms of intimacy, my existence is a quiet note, a pause in the melody. I stand on the periphery, observing the ebb and flow of connections that seem to define the human experience. Celibacy, a deliberate choice, has shaped my life into a canvas painted with the hues of solitude in a world increasingly adorned with the vibrant colors of shared intimacies.

Celibacy, for me, is not a lack but a choice—an intentional decision to walk a different path. It's a choice woven from the threads of understanding that emotional closeness carries a weight far greater than the transient pleasures of physical proximity. In a society where connections are often measured in the closeness of bodies, I've found a profound intimacy in the space I've carved for myself. It's not a rejection of love or companionship but a celebration of a different kind of connection—one with the self, with the universe, and with the rich tapestry of solitude.

The mainstream narrative is one of intertwining bodies and shared warmth, a narrative that, at times, feels like a current too swift for my pace. In an age where the value of relationships is often equated with physical proximity, my celibacy becomes a divergence from the expected script. It's a script that I've chosen not to follow, a decision to remain on the sidelines as others engage in a dance that doesn't resonate with my spirit.

The world around me is increasingly sexualized, a landscape where desire is both a currency and a compass. In this terrain, my lack of interest in partaking in the chase might seem like a rebellion—an act of defiance against societal norms that whisper, "You should want this." Yet, it's not rebellion but a gentle assertion of autonomy. I navigate this sexualized society with a quiet confidence, knowing that my worth is not defined by my participation in a narrative that doesn't align with my truth.

Solitude, often misunderstood as loneliness, wears many layers. It's a deliberate withdrawal from the noise, a conscious choice to find meaning in the spaces between heartbeats. My celibacy becomes a lantern in this solitude, illuminating the beauty that exists beyond the conventional definitions of connection. It's a celebration of self-discovery, a journey inward where the complexities of my soul unfold.

In a world where movement is constant and noise is unyielding, the allure of stillness becomes my refuge. The silence within me is not an absence but a presence, a canvas on which I paint the portraits of my thoughts and aspirations. The stillness is not a void waiting to be filled; it's a space pregnant with the potential for self-growth and understanding.

While my choice of celibacy remains steadfast, I stand open to the possibilities that tomorrow might unfold. The pages of my narrative are not sealed shut; they flutter in the winds of time, leaving room for chapters that are yet to be written. There exists a recognition that desires are fluid, and what is true today might evolve into something different tomorrow.

As of now, the physicality of relationships doesn't stir a longing within me. My contentment resides in the realm of emotional closeness, a connection that transcends the boundaries of the corporeal. Yet, I remain receptive to the notion that the winds of change might blow me into uncharted territories, and should that happen, I'll approach it with the same contemplative spirit that guides my celibate journey.

As a celibate soul in a society of intimacies, my narrative is not one of lack but of abundance. Abundant in the richness of self-awareness, in the depth of solitude, and in the quiet symphony that plays when bodies cease to entwine. My choice to stand apart is not an act of defiance but a journey into the sacred realms of selfhood, an exploration of the landscapes that unfold when one chooses the path less traveled. In the midst of a world pulsating with desire, I find my own rhythm—a cadence that sings the song of a soul content in its solitude.

#writing #essay online #therapy #essay writing #celibacy #no thank you #neurodivergence #personal stuff #personal post #personal #autism acceptence month #autism spectrum disorder #asd #neurodivergent #audhd #neurodiversity #autistic #autism things #sexuality

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barnabytremayne · 5 months

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From Nursing to Creative Expression: Embracing My Autistic Identity

I have often contemplated the rituals of the corporate world, the intricacies of a system built on unwritten codes and societal expectations. I am the observer, the one who dissects patterns with a singular perspective. In a career as an autistic nurse, I found myself immersed in a realm that demanded empathy, precision, and a profound comprehension of the human condition.

It began with an unwavering curiosity about the human body, its inner workings, and the labyrinth of illnesses and treatments. Medicine beckoned, and I answered the call. But the domain of healthcare swiftly revealed itself as a perplexing maze, laden with its hierarchies, protocols, and the unspoken subtleties of human interaction.

For an autistic individual, these corridors were often shrouded in opacity. The fluidity of social engagements, the discreet dance of office politics, and the sensory cacophony of a bustling hospital were challenges uniquely poised for those like me. In the corporate healthcare sphere, I treaded through enigmatic territories without a compass, guided solely by a compass of my own creation.

Nonetheless, my determination to leave an indelible imprint remained unswerving. I discerned that my ardent interest in dentistry held the power to mold my career in unforeseen ways. Dentistry ceased to be a profession; it metamorphosed into an impassioned journey, a vessel for the meticulous focus and the attention to minute details inherent to my autistic disposition.

The path led me to a role as a dental nurse, a departure from the standard clinical terrain. The dental practice, with its subdued ambience and more intimate teams, suited my sensory predilections. Here, I reveled in the minutiae of dental procedures, meticulously sterilising instruments, and lending vital support to the dental practitioners.

Yet, the clinical veneer of dentistry carried its own share of tribulations. My devotion to precision, my capacity to discern patterns, and my unique perspective often set me apart, not always to my advantage. My colleagues respected my commitment to detail, but the intricate realm of workplace social dynamics continued to be an intricate puzzle, a terrain I negotiated with caution.

Autism, I realized, was not a chink in my armour but the source of my fortitude. My singular focus, my undivided dedication to accuracy, and my unwavering commitment to patient well-being were attributes that transcended the boundaries of convention. Over time, I assumed a more confident stance in my role, as my colleagues recognised the intrinsic value I contributed to the team.

The challenges, however, escalated. The relentless pace and the perpetual demand for excellence gradually eroded my mental well-being. Incessant hours, the emotional toll, and the pressures of maintaining unswerving standards within a rapidly evolving field, exacerbated the internal struggle. The dire need for self-care could no longer be sidestepped.

Thus, I found myself on the brink of an abrupt departure from the vocation I had devoted my heart and soul to. It was not a decision made lightly but one dictated by the compelling necessity to safeguard my mental health.

The trials were not confined to the professional front alone. The interpersonal intricacies of the corporate milieu, the unspoken protocols, and the demanding aspects of human relationships were arduous terrain. The sensory maelstrom of the bustling healthcare landscape was an added complication.

And then, amid this transformative chapter, emerged a new path—an unforeseen creative trajectory. Music and art became my sanctuaries, avenues where I could articulate my distinct perspective and engage with a community that shared similar experiences. Here, I found a platform for advocacy and connection, a channel to communicate my journey and discover others who understood.

In the end, the exit from the healthcare profession, while abrupt, became a necessary course. The relentless demands of nursing had unearthed profound revelations about my inner strengths and vulnerabilities, prompting a newfound chapter of self-care and creative expression.

My tenure as a nurse had left an indelible mark on my soul, akin to the traces on an ECG - a testament to the highs and lows, the heartbeats of life's chronicle. While the world of healthcare had its labyrinthine passageways and hidden passages, it also concealed the treasures of understanding, adaptation, and eventual self-discovery.

My journey, as an autistic nurse, revealed that our distinctions were not hindrances but powerful assets. The acute focus on tasks, the unwavering commitment to precision, and the absolute dedication to patient care were traits that transcended the borders of convention. In the corporate world, the unexpected was often the realm of the exceptional.

Thus, the path ahead remains enigmatic, with a desire to shape and navigate the landscapes of self-discovery, creative expression, and well-being. The echoes of my journey resonate in the corridors I've walked, and the lessons learned become the guiding stars in the uncharted night sky of possibilities.

Barnaby J Tremayne

#writing #therapy #autism awareness #autism #actually autistic #actually neurodiverse #neurodivergent #essay #essay writing #nursing #nurses #health care #public health #mental health recovery #create #independent artist #art

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barnabytremayne · 6 months

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Heritage in the Shadows: The Day of the Dead in the UK

There is a curious, almost eerie serendipity in the turning of the seasons, particularly in the gentle embrace of autumn, when the days grow shorter, and the world around us seems to slip into hues of crimson and gold. For most, this is the season of Halloween, a time for whimsical costumes and pumpkin-adorned doorsteps. Yet, for me, the depths of my soul resonate with anticipation for something else entirely — the Mexican Day of the Dead. A hauntingly beautiful tradition unknown to many in the United Kingdom, this celebration has evolved from an annual rite into a deeply personal connection with my heritage.

Unveiling the Heritage:

The juxtaposition of my predominantly British appearance with my Mexican ancestry is a perplexing paradox that has frequently left those I encounter with a quizzical pause. The revelation of my Mexican roots, shrouded in unexpectedness, often births a comment framed in disbelief: "You don't look Mexican." It is a reminder of the broader truth that heritage, unlike the superficial aesthetics, is a nuanced tapestry of stories, traditions, and experiences. It need not be worn visibly; its essence resides within, threading through the very core of one's identity.

A Tale of Two Celebrations:

Within the fabric of British culture, Halloween has long been a celebrated spectacle. Yet, for me, it is the Mexican Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, that casts its enchantment. This is not merely a matter of choice but one of deep-seated, perhaps surprising, heritage. My Mexican lineage, though imperceptible upon first glance, exists as a profound part of my identity, a part that has breathed life into this enchanting tradition.

Of Hidden Gems and Obscurities:

In the UK, the Day of the Dead is more an enigma than a commonplace occurrence. In a landscape painted with Halloween's vibrant brush strokes, the subtle and intricate tapestry of the Day of the Dead often goes unnoticed. Marigold petals, fragrant incense, and solemn candlelight do not commonly adorn British streets. The celebration, deeply woven into the Mexican cultural fabric, remains virtually unknown in Britain. It is within this obscurity that my mission unfolds, one of spreading awareness about a celebration that has been an integral part of my heritage.

Awakening the Unknown:

Yet, this obscurity conceals a world of extraordinary beauty and cultural depth. The Day of the Dead is not solely a commemoration of the departed; it is a celebration of life itself, an acknowledgement of the eternal cycle of existence. With marigold petals, incense, and photographs, I construct altars that reflect this rich heritage, connecting me to a part of my identity I treasure.

Heritage, Observed:

Halloween, despite its vivid allure, pales in comparison to the depth of meaning found in the Day of the Dead. It is a bridge to my heritage, an homage to the vibrant Mexican culture that resides within me, even if its roots aren't immediately evident. As autumn winds rustle marigold petals and the candlelight flickers upon my altar, I, a bearer of Mexican lineage in unexpected form, celebrate the Day of the Dead. In doing so, I have found a deeper connection with the rhythms of life and death, and in its obscurity, I have unearthed a heritage worth preserving and sharing.

My cousin joined me in celebration a few years ago. She's better at makeup than I am.

#my essays #essays #writing #mexico #ancestry #family history #dia de los muertos #day of the dead #sugar skull #united kingdom #artist on tumblr #photography #celebration

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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Forgotten Musicians, Lost Music: A Plea for Preservation

I used to be a musician. A pretty good one, too. I had a record deal, I toured all over the country, and I had a few songs that made it onto the radio. But then, things changed. My record label dropped me, my band broke up, and I faded into obscurity.

It's been a few years now since I've released any new music, and I'm starting to feel like a forgotten musician. No one knows my name. No one cares about my music. It's like I never existed.

But I did exist. And I made music. And that music is still out there somewhere.

The problem is, most of my back catalogue is unavailable. My record label went bankrupt a few years ago, and all of my masters were lost. So, if you want to hear my music, you have to track down old physical copies of my albums or singles. And even those are hard to find.

Which is why I consider myself to be borderline lost media. My music is still out there, but it's buried deep in the obscurity. And if no one seeks it out, it will eventually disappear forever.

I know that I'm not the only forgotten musician out there. There are countless other artists whose music has been lost or forgotten. And that's a tragedy.

Because music is important. It's a part of our culture. It's a way to express ourselves and to connect with others. And it's something that should be preserved for future generations.

So, if you're a fan of lost media, or if you're just curious to hear some music from a forgotten musician, I encourage you to seek out my music. You may be surprised at what you find.

And if you do find my music, please share it with others. Help to keep it alive. Help to prevent it from disappearing forever.

Thank you.

Barnaby J. Tremayne.

#artists on tumblr #lost music #lost media #music #writing #unsigned music #independent artist #indie music #songwriter #indie rock #my essays #essay writing

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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What Became of the Likely Lad? Colourised photos of Pete Doherty

Hey there, Tumblr! Gather 'round because today, I'm diving deep into a project that's not only musically magical but also a bit nostalgic. Some years back, I had the incredible chance to collaborate with the legendary Pete Doherty. Fast forward to now, and I'm splashing a dose of vibrant colour onto his iconic moments.

Now, here's the twist - Pete's poetic spirit and raw talent have always been a massive inspiration to me. But let's be real, it's been quite a while, and I'm pretty sure he's forgotten all about me and that brief collaboration!

So, here's the scoop on the colourising process: It's like taking a trip through time with every brushstroke. First, I carefully select the photos that capture the essence of Pete's music journey. Then, with a palette of colors at my disposal, I infuse these timeless snapshots with new life.

It's not just about adding color; it's about reawakening the emotions, the vibes, and the memories that Pete's music brings.

As we venture into the world of Pete's timeless tunes and undeniable style, I'm reminded of the power of music to connect us across time and space. Got a favourite Pete Doherty jam or a memorable moment? Share it in the comments! Let's keep the music alive and kicking.

#colorisation #colorized #music #photoshop edit #adobe photoshop #Photography #photograph #photograhy #beautiful photos #artist on tumblr #art #artists on tumblr #Nostalgia #00s nostalgia #pete doherty #the libertines

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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Hello Spaceboy: colourising photos of David Bowie

Hey there, Tumblrverse! Today, I'm diving into a breathtaking project that's been close to my heart: Colourising photos of the one and only David Bowie. ⚡🌈

From the Ziggy Stardust era to the Thin White Duke, Bowie's kaleidoscopic artistry has inspired generations. Now, I'm taking these black-and-white classics and turning them into vibrant masterpieces.

The transformation is nothing short of magical. Each image captures a different facet of Bowie's boundless creativity and impact on music, fashion, and culture. 🎶👨‍🎤

Join me on this journey through time and colour as we celebrate a true icon. If you're a Bowie fan, share your favorite Bowie memories and personas in the comments! ⚡🌟

#art #music #artwork #illustration #artist on tumblr #artists on tumblr #david bowie #ziggy stardust #colorisation #colorized #black and white photography #portrait photography #photoshop #adobe photoshop #bowieposting

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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The Cure's Time Machine: Colourising iconic photos of Robert Smith

Hey Tumblr, gather 'round! Today, I'm sharing something truly magical that's close to my heart. 🖤

I've adored The Cure since I was knee-high, and Robert Smith, with his iconic voice and enigmatic style, has been one of my personal idols since then. 🌟

Imagine my delight when I was working on these colourised photos of Robert—my musical hero—in all his vivid, kaleidoscopic glory. It's like seeing a cherished childhood dream brought to life!

From "Boys Don't Cry" to "Friday I'm in Love," The Cure's music has been the soundtrack of my life. And now, these images breathe new life into the memories. Each hue adds a layer of emotion and depth, just like their music always has.

I can't help but feel a deeper connection to the band and the man who's been my musical guidepost for so long. It's incredible how something as simple as colour can evoke a whirlwind of emotions.

So, fellow Cure fans, join me in celebrating this breathtaking journey through time and color. If you've loved The Cure since you were a kid, too, share your stories! 🖤🎵

#the cure #goth aesthetic #goth #Goth music #robert smith #80s music #music #art #artists on tumblr #photograhy #photoshop #photoart #illustration #colorized #colorisation #coloring #photo edit #tribute art

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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Creativity: A Path to Wellness and Self-Discovery

In the tapestry of human existence, creativity is a vibrant thread that weaves together the colours of imagination, passion, and self-expression. It is a force that transcends boundaries, defies limitations, and has the power to heal the mind and body.

This journey into the world of creativity is a path worth exploring, and for individuals on the autism spectrum, it can be a particularly transformative and liberating experience.

The Creative Connection: A Universal Language:

Creativity is not bound by language, age, or circumstance. It is a universal language that speaks to the very core of our being. Whether it's painting, writing, music, dance, or any other form of artistic expression, creativity offers a sanctuary where individuals can escape the confines of daily life and find solace in their unique perspectives.

Unlocking the Benefits of Creativity:

The benefits of embracing creativity are manifold, impacting not only mental well-being but also physical health. Here's how creativity can be a source of healing and transformation:

1. Stress Reduction: Engaging in creative activities has been shown to reduce stress levels. Whether it's the rhythmic strokes of a paintbrush, the flow of words on a page, or the harmony of music, these creative outlets can act as powerful stress relievers.

2. Enhanced Self-Expression: For individuals on the autism spectrum, who, like me, may sometimes find it challenging to convey their thoughts and emotions verbally, creativity provides an alternative means of self-expression. Art, in its myriad forms, allows individuals to communicate their inner worlds with depth and clarity.

3. Emotional Resilience: The creative process often involves navigating challenges and setbacks. This builds emotional resilience and the ability to persevere in the face of adversity, which can be especially valuable for individuals with autism.

4. Increased Self-Confidence: As one hones their creative skills and witnesses the tangible results of their efforts, self-confidence naturally grows. This newfound confidence can extend beyond the creative realm into other aspects of life.

5. A Gateway to Mindfulness: Engaging in creative activities often leads to a state of mindfulness, where individuals are fully present in the moment. This practice can be calming and grounding, offering respite from anxiety or sensory overload.

6. Sense of Achievement: Completing a creative project, whether it's a painting, a poem, or a musical composition, provides a profound sense of achievement. This feeling of accomplishment can boost self-esteem and foster a sense of purpose.

Creativity Knows No Labels:

One of the remarkable aspects of creativity is its inclusivity. It knows no labels or preconceived notions. It is a sanctuary where everyone, regardless of neurodiversity, can find refuge, meaning, and a sense of belonging. For individuals on the autism spectrum, creativity offers not only an outlet for self-expression but also a bridge to connect with others who appreciate their unique perspectives.

Embrace Your Creative Journey:

In embracing creativity, we embark on a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance. It is a journey that allows us to celebrate our differences, harness our strengths, and find beauty in the tapestry of our lives. So, whether you're painting a canvas, composing a symphony, writing a story, or engaging in any form of creative expression, remember that you are not alone on this journey. Your creativity has the power to transform not only your own life but also the lives of those fortunate enough to witness your artistic journey. In creativity, we find healing, connection, and a profound sense of well-being.

Barnaby J. Tremayne.

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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by the way if youre ever scared to go to a cafe and you dont know what the drinks are

a hot latte is espresso shots, steamed milk, foam top

an iced latte is shots, cold milk and ice. no foam

a cappuccino is shots, steamed milk, a lotta foam

cappuccinos usually arent iced, but they could make it iced by using cold foam in some places (not most)

americano hot is shots and hot water

americano iced is shots, ice and cold water

a mocha is just a latte with mocha syrup and usually whip cream

and a white mocha is the same, just with white mocha

for all the espresso drinks, you can usually ask them to add syrups to make it sweeter - or they will even have pre built drinks on their menu, like a vanilla latte. some places are less flexible than others - but it never hurts to ask!

if you want regular coffee with cold milk just say that

but if you want the milk steamed, its a cafe au lait

if you want something frozen and blended, most places have some version of this - they could be frappes, frozen ______, or ive even seen “chillers” - these are great if you want something like the texture of a milkshake :-)

chai and matcha are built similar to an espresso latte, its the tea with milk (can usually be done hot or iced). chai is spicy and sometimes sweet and matcha is a more refreshing herbal flavor

ummm this is so long sorryyy. i just know people can get anxious to try new things so. i can explain more drinks if anyone wants to know ^_^

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barnabytremayne · 7 months

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Things to do when you're bored

Boredom is a universal human experience. We all feel it from time to time, regardless of our age, interests, or lifestyle. But while boredom can be unpleasant, it can also be an opportunity to try new things, learn new skills, and expand our horizons.

Here is a list of ideas for things to do when you're bored:

Have a tea party with your stuffed animals. Invite them to a formal tea party and serve them tiny cups of tea and biscuits. You can even dress up in your fanciest clothes for the occasion.

Go for a walk in the park while wearing a blindfold. This is a great way to experience your surroundings in a new and different way. Just be careful not to trip over anything!

Try to write a poem using only words that start with the letter "E." This is a challenging but fun activity that will get your creative juices flowing.

Build a fort out of blankets and pillows in your living room. Then, crawl inside and have a picnic lunch.

Give yourself a makeover using only makeup that you find in your trash can. This is a great way to test your creativity and see what kind of look you can come up with.

Have a dance party with your pets. Put on some music and dance around like nobody's watching. Your pets will probably enjoy it too!

Try to balance a spoon on your nose for as long as possible. This is a surprisingly difficult task, but it's also a lot of fun.

Write a letter to your future self. Tell them all about your life today and what you hope to achieve in the future. Then, seal the letter and put it away somewhere safe. You can open it up in a few years and see how your life has changed.

Try to eat a bowl of cereal without using your hands. This is a messy but fun challenge that will test your coordination.

Have a conversation with your reflection in the mirror. Ask them questions about their life and see what they say. You might be surprised at what you learn!

Try to juggle three oranges. This is a classic circus skill that is surprisingly difficult to master. But with enough practice, you'll be able to do it!

Have a staring contest with your pet. See who can last the longest without blinking.

Have a karaoke night.

Learn a new dance.

Take a nap.

The possibilities are endless! So next time you're bored, don't despair. Use it as an opportunity to explore your interests and discover new things.

No matter what you choose to do, make sure it's something that you enjoy and that makes you feel good. Boredom is a temporary state, so make the most of it!

Have fun.

#bored #challenge accepted #learning #therapy #decisions #focus #learn #writing #artist on tumblr #art #experimenting #comedy #jokes #actually neurodiverse #ideas #creating #advice

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