This Is Not Me

questions

2006-03-09T16:25:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I start the jourey that I've been on my whole life. The journey that will never end until the day we all die.

Who will I be? Where will I go? Who will say my name once I've gone?

What do we want of the world? Of our lives? Do we want to echo in history, or do we want to echo in the hearts of those we leave behind?

Who will we have to leave behind? What will we leave them?

When do we decide who we are? Who is it that decides?

Perhaps what we're looking for for so long is ourselves, and we don't have the slightest idea where to look. In the mirror, we can only see our front. Our outside. What about when we walk away? When we leave the room? Who is the 'me' that we left behind?

When the lights go out, when we fall asleep, who is it that says what about us while we dream?

What road do we choose? Which, really, is the road less travelled? Forget where we'll be in five or ten or thirtsy years, where are we now?

When you were younger, you knew what you wanted when you were the age that you're at now. Have you achieved that?

How do you betray your younger self? How do you give up your past futures? How long does your future last? How many futures die with every choice you make?

Do you have someone to share you darkness hours with? Do you have someone to share you greatest moments with? Who will never judge you? Who will always love you? If you have an answer to these questions, you're well set for the future. If the person you're thinking of is someone that you're terrified of losing, you're on the right track.

How can I ask these questions that I can't begin to answer? How can I make choices when there are so many, all equally good and similarily wrong?

How can I move forward when all I want is to freeze myself in the past?

When I was young and unafraid, the world was a place of possibilities.

Conversations with a national socialist

2006-03-02T02:38:00.000-08:00

I was surfing the art site that I'm a member of, and I came across some Nazi-related artwork. I sent the following message to the artist, purely out of curiousity. What follows is my discussion with him. I won't comment on it: take whatever you want from it.

Deviant: ~firework101 (#226704794)
Date: Feb 25, 2006, 4:08:09 PM

don't you think it might be easier to get a clear audience if you don't distance the majority of them by using the symbol that they associate with hate?

I know that the swastika is thousands of years old, and originally symbolised prosperity (etc), but a symbols meaning is only as good as how its perceived by the majority of people. These days, the peaceful meaning behind the swastika has been lost (to most people) and will probably never come back. The images of Kristallnacht (pardon my probably mis-spelling of the german) and the ghettos and the hate behind it all are what people see now. Stagnation leads to failure, Hitler knew that, and he was about change.

Just to be clear, I don't agree with your beliefs, but I think you have the right to speak them. Even if, as you say, the gassing of millions of people is a lie (as you say, which I don't agree with), the Nazis did a lot of horrible things. The photos and films of the liberations of the camps show what happened to those who survived, even if we ignore the deaths.

Although you may not be anti-semitic, there is some evidence of anti-semitism playing a large role in Nazism (to differentiate it from your new-world national socialism). The propaganda posters blasting jews, as well as the school books, are early examples of this. The laws limiting Jewish freedoms is more. The 'final solution', which was planned out and drafted on paper, is again further evidence. Or is all this a lie?

As for your analogy with christianity, the difference is that they burned heretics hundreds of years ago. The anti-semitic ideas (and memories) of nazism are only 60-odd years old. Unfortunately (for you) it's something that's closely associated with the swastika and what it stands for.

Also, since the swastika is originally from the far east (as a symbol for Hinduism and Buddhism, among others), don't you think the adoption of it for your cause is a form of multi-culturism?

Also, I'm curious, how did you come to believe in national socialism? Is it something you grew up with or ideals that you adopted later in life? Are you German or do you have German roots? How old are you, and how long have you held these beliefs?

Deviant: ~illusions667 (#226759805)
Date: Feb 25, 2006, 6:50:26 PM

don't you think it might be easier to get a clear audience if you don't distance the majority of them by using the symbol that they associate with hate?

Well.... by still using the old symbols, we have two advantages :
- we're noticed more easily.
- it seperates the narrowminded from the openminded. Only those openminded enough will approach us. Currently this may be more efficient, since the movement mostly needs intelligent and skillful leaders.

These days, the peaceful meaning behind the swastika has been lost (to most people) and will probably never come back.

You overestimate the memory of the masses. By means of proper education and the coming of new generations, it is possible to give the swastika its positive meaning throughout mankind again.

The images of Kristallnacht (pardon my probably mis-spelling of the german) and the ghettos and the hate behind it all are what people see now.

Once the understand how the influence of powerful zionists/jews had hurt German interests, they can understand the situation. They just need to look at Israel and zionist influence in the US to get an idea of how jewish influence had hurt that country.

I am not an anti-semite, because I do not generalise the behavior of elements within the jewish community and blame them on all jews. There definitely are many good and decent jews out there who do not harm anyone, but I am not blind to the fact that the overall jewish influence in most societies remains very negative. Do you really think that jews were persecuted that often by that many different peoples just, without any provocation?!

the Nazis did a lot of horrible things.

The allies and Sovjets were far worse than anything the Germans did during the war. It's just a fact that history is always told in the point of view of those who won the war, demonising the loser and glorifying the winner.

The photos and films of the liberations of the camps show what happened to those who survived

The only thing it shows, is that they suffered from disease and undernourishment. The same happened with German prisoners in American camps AFTER the war had already ended. Many tens of thousands of German soldiers lost their lived in these camps, with some sources claiming a death toll of around one million. Rarely are these casualties ever mentionned.

Although you may not be anti-semitic, there is some evidence of anti-semitism playing a large role in Nazism (to differentiate it from your new-world national socialism). The propaganda posters blasting jews, as well as the school books, are early examples of this. The laws limiting Jewish freedoms is more.

Like I said, national socialism is basically unrelated to anti-semitism. The anti-semitism of those days is merely a reaction of the negative jewish influence in the world, which cannot be denied. Many of the ideas national socialism promotes, are opposite to the ideas jews had promoted.

The 'final solution', which was planned out and drafted on paper, is again further evidence.

The final solution, as it has been written down in the so-called "Wannsee Protocols", deals with a forced migration plan for all jews. It doesn't mention killing jews AT ALL.

As for your analogy with christianity, the difference is that they burned heretics hundreds of years ago. The anti-semitic ideas (and memories) of nazism are only 60-odd years old.

It may take some time for national socialism to rise again, I agree to that. That doesn't mean it's hopeless for me to start aiding in that progress.

Also, since the swastika is originally from the far east (as a symbol for Hinduism and Buddhism, among others), don't you think the adoption of it for your cause is a form of multi-culturism?

The swastika is not orriginally from the far east. It has been used for thousands of years in many different cultures, of which Buddhist and Hindu culture are only two. Hitler was inspired by the swastika of the vikings and the Teutonic knights.

Some national socialists believe that the swastika orriginated as an Aryan symbol, by the way. They believe that it were ancient Aryans who cultivated India and China, as well as Egypt and certain other cultures. While this theory is highly contested, European (blonde & red-haired) mummies from thousands of years ago that were found in China seem to give this theory some credibility. Other elements that support it, are the fact that the upper castes in India have a lighter skin (and sometimes blue eyes), the fact that Indian languages and Europeans languages have a common origin and claims in ancient mythology of European-looking "gods" visiting non-European territories.

People in the NSDAP party believed so strongly in this theory, that they sent research teams to very remote locations (eg. Tibet) to find evidence that supports it.

I'm curious, how did you come to believe in national socialism? Is it something you grew up with or ideals that you adopted later in life? Are you German or do you have German roots? How old are you, and how long have you held these beliefs?

I've been living in Flanders for my entire life. Flanders is the Dutch-speaking half of Belgium. During WW2, there was a significant nationalist movement that supported the German occupiers, because they believed that the Germans would better serve the interests of the Flemish people than the Walloon (French-speaking Belgians) people. Walloons had oppressed my people since my country was created in 1830.

As soon I was able to understand anything about history or politics, I was told that the NS regime was evil and all the other crap we are taught to believe. At the age of 10, my grandmother told me a story about the war and the German occupation. She told me that she used to smuggle butter and that the house where she had been living in for her entire life was occupied by German troops during the occupation. She told me that her boyfriend (who later became my grandfather) had to hide from the Germans so he did not have to work for them. She told me that after the 'liberation' of my country, her house had housed Brittish troops, etc. She never was a sympathiser for the NS regime (on the contrary). But when I asked her about the soldiers who stayed at her home she told me that the German soldiers were very nice and polite young men, that the English soldiers were scary. I was shocked to hear that the soldiers who 'liberated' us were called pig and that she taught the German soldiers were very nice and polite young men. Her explanation was that they had nothing to do with the war but following orders and that they couldn't help what their leaders were doing. Still, it made me wonder. I remained however convinced that the German command was evil, that they wanted to murder all jews, etc...

At about the age of 17, I started to reject dogmatic thinking. The first thing I did was rejecting Christianity. Today, I consider my beliefs to be the largest common divider of the traditional Western and Eastern beliefs : Wotanism (or Asatru), Druidism, Buddhism and Shintoism. My beliefs are also related to the teachings of Crowley and LaVey, but they lack the antropocentrism and are somewhat more peaceful. It has been quite an evolution to come this far though, into finding my own idea of spirituality.

My political convictions also knew an evolution. At first I called myself an anarchist. I however started to realize after quite a while that anarchism was very unrealistic. So I turned to anarcho-capitalism.

Also at the age of 17, I started doing reasearch on the ultra-right and racism. I had read in a paper that there were so many racist websites and I wanted to find out whether or not this was true. I stumbled on a few marginal KKK sites and later onto the Stormfront site. From that moment on, I spent many hours in doing research on the beliefs of racist and the ultra-right. I did not understand their motives, their ideals, etc. After many discussions with this kind of people and many hours reading their material, I started to realize that they made more sense than I'd ever imagined. Still, I was not tempted to follow them and call myself a ultra-right.

Years passed. My interest on the ultra-right was deminished, but my belief in anarchism was slowly fading away and I grew more and more right wing, without realizing it. Then I watched the entire 'Band of Brothers' series with a friend of mine. The last episode featured a speech of a German general to his troops, and that made a huge impression on me. That same question I asked when I was a kid came into my mind. How can a person like that be such an evil monster. Again I started doing some research on the ultra-right and more specifically on pre-1945 National Socialism. And in time, I realized that I had been fooled all the time. And in time I also realized that their ideology made much more sense than my own at that time. It was quite a tough decision to make, but at a certain moment I made the shift. From that moment, I was no longer an anarchist or anarcho-capitalist but a national socialist. That was about two years ago. I'm 24 now.

Deviant: ~firework101 (#226774338)
Date: Feb 25, 2006, 7:31:16 PM

My research isn't nearly as complete as yours, so I'm going to withdraw from the discussion after this message, but thank you for your frank and interesting information. I'm from Holland, so my grandparents told me similar stories to yours. The 'Nazis' weren't evil, I know that. The soldiers were for the most part young men, like you and I. I also saw Band of Brothers, and I found that final scene very moving. It seemed so out of character for an American show to show the Germans as people, but they did it and I respect that.

Despite your arguments, I cannot agree with your anti-multiculturalism stance. I grew up in Portugal, and went to an international school, and I value everything that I've gained from growing up around such a variety of peoples.

I believe the Holocaust happened. Even if there was no specific gassing (although I believe there was), I think the attitude behind discriminating against people simple because of their roots is inexcusable. Even if, as you say, the programmed killing of millions of people (jews as well as other 'undesirables'), the discrimination in itself is horrible enough to earn the term 'holocaust'. I know that the Americans and Soviets did also have camps during the war, where they imprisoned Germans and their allies and subjected them to horrifying environments and experiences. This was, however, in a time of war, and the people they imprisoned were enemies. The imprisonment of Germans who lived in America and Britain (and other countries) is inexcusable as well. However, you argue that the treatment of Jews is nearly justified because the Allies treated their enemies in similar ways. I don't think that that makes it right. That sort of inhumane treatment is wrong, whoever practices it. I know that the Allies were not the 'good guys' that history makes them out to be.

I do, however have one final question. I accept that there might be very little documented historical evidence supporting the machinised slaughter of 12 million people, and that may be cause for doubt that it happened at all. But what do you say to the many witnesses who speak of seeing these 'alleged' events taking place? To the people who went home after the war without any of the family that they had at the beginning? Do you, like some others, really believe in a massive conspiracy? If you do, what is the evidence is there to support it?

Where there any Nazis who confessed to crimes againts humanity afterwards? I don't know, please let me know if that is the case, and if they did, why would they lie?

I'm not attacking you or pushing an agenda: I'm genuinely interested in your beleifs, because I've never really understood them.

Deviant: ~illusions667 (#226903424)
Date: Feb 26, 2006, 2:07:50 AM

I grew up in Portugal, and went to an international school, and I value everything that I've gained from growing up around such a variety of peoples.

I don't have anything against learning from other peoples. In fact, I myself will be staying for 3 months in Poland in a few months, by means of an internship program. I'm also fashinated by certain cultures such as Japanese and Indian culture.

The reason why I'm against multi-culturalism, is because uni-culturalism provides much greater unity in a community due to a shared cultural and genetic heritage and because cultures that are different from one another on important moral issues are incompatible, inherently leading to conflict when both are prominent in one specific area.

I believe the Holocaust happened. Even if there was no specific gassing (although I believe there was), I think the attitude behind discriminating against people simple because of their roots is inexcusable. Even if, as you say, the programmed killing of millions of people (jews as well as other 'undesirables'), the discrimination in itself is horrible enough to earn the term 'holocaust'.

It has been proven beyond reasonable doubt that none of the so-called homocidal gas chambers were used to kill people. This is all truely propaganda.

The reason why jews were discriminated prior to 1939 (they were NOT put into concentration camps before the war) was the result of the fact that jewish influence in Germany had become that harmful and great, that there seemed no other option than completely freeing the German people of it. After all, the reason for this problem, is the fact that German and jewish culture are incompatible.

I do believe it was wrong to teach the German people to hate all jews. I do believe it's wrong to teach the German people that jews are born as degenerate an immoral beings. I do, however, agree that ridding Germany of jewish influence was necessary.

Jews were put into concentration camps since 1939 because Hitler feared that the jewish population would not be loyal to Germany in a time of war (Hitler was convinced that the jewish community was responsible for the English declaration of war against Germany, which is not entirely untrue). Roosevelt did the exact same thing with Japanese-Americans in the US. The reason for these camps has nothing to do with killing people, but only with providing security for the state.

The treatment of the jews back then was not nearly bad enough to be referred to as a "holocaust". In fact, German prisoners in certain Russian prison camps were treated far worse.

The term "holocaust" refers to "a massive slaughter by fire", by the way. The real "holocausts" that took place at that time were not caused by the Germans or the Russians, but by the English and the Americans. I speak of the bombing of Dresden, Tokyo, Nagasaki and Hirohima. Hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives in the most horrifying ways, due to those bombings. Most of these people were civilians. None of the targets were military targets.

I know that the Americans and Soviets did also have camps during the war, where they imprisoned Germans and their allies and subjected them to horrifying environments and experiences.

Actually, more Germans were imprisoned by the Americans and Russians AFTER the war, than during the war. Some were imprisoned only because of their beliefs or their nationallity, especially in the East.

This was, however, in a time of war, and the people they imprisoned were enemies.

That's also what the German concentration camps were for : to imprison enemies during wartime. It is true that some political prisoners were also sent to concentration camps before the war in Germany, but this is due to the fact that German had just come out of a revolution. Such conditions are comparable with those of war, in certain aspects.

However, you argue that the treatment of Jews is nearly justified because the Allies treated their enemies in similar ways. I don't think that that makes it right. That sort of inhumane treatment is wrong, whoever practices it.

My point was that prison camps are normal in wartime, because a nation needs extra protection. If I have to choose between locking up potential threats to the state and losing a war, I'd definitely pick the first.

The German prison camps were far from inhumane, by the way. Unfortunately, near the end of the war, the allies had destroyed many supply lines that went to the concentration camps, causing lack of food and medicine. Before that, however, the conditions were pretty good for a prison camp.

I accept that there might be very little documented historical evidence supporting the machinised slaughter of 12 million people, and that may be cause for doubt that it happened at all.

The documented historical evidence clearly proves that the machinised slaughter of 12 million people did not occur. There really is not doubt at all. That's why historians are not allowed to question the official story in some countries. The promoters of the official "holocaust" theory know that they evidence is not on their side.

But what do you say to the many witnesses who speak of seeing these 'alleged' events taking place?

Name me one credible witness whoes claims are in contradiction of revisionist history.

Do you, like some others, really believe in a massive conspiracy?

There is a top level conspiracy, run by very powerful people. Have you ever heard of the so-called "New World Order"?!

Most of the so-called survivors just don't know any better, though. They saw people being devided into different groups when they arrived in the concentration camps, and they just assumed the others were killed because they never saw them again and they've been told the Germans killed them. What they never even considered, was the fact that these people were just sent to another camp or another part of the camp. The graphic novel "Maus" (by a son of a former jewish Auschwitz inmate) clearly illustrates how a man got seperated from his wife in one of those selections, with his wife ending up in Birkenau and he in Auschwitz. During their stay in these camps, there were never allowed to see each other. This is just one of the many aspects where many people just assume that systematic murder was involved because that's what they've been told, while they ignore other plausible explanations.

If you do, what is the evidence is there to support it?

I suggest you start googling with the term "New World Order".

Where there any Nazis who confessed to crimes againts humanity afterwards? I don't know, please let me know if that is the case, and if they did, why would they lie?

There are some who "confessed", after being tortured or threatened. Not everyone can withstand such treatment. Most people who could have known about what happened in the concentration camps stayed with their claims that there never was such an extermination plan, though.

I'm not attacking you or pushing an agenda: I'm genuinely interested in your beleifs, because I've never really understood them.

I encourage you to read [link] . This is the one of the few modern organisations that I know of to stick very close to Hitler's orriginal ideas. Of course, you could also try to find a copy of Mein Kampf or Der Mythus Den 20. Jahrhunderts. Those are books you should have read to be able to fully understand national socialist theory.

Muse

2006-02-25T09:35:00.000-08:00

There are times when I feel utterly nothing. People ask me how I am, and as I mutter some vague reply my mind turns on itself and points, laughing at my lie. It's very strange to be neither happy nor sad, neither excited nor dissapointed, and I think the only word that can sum up that lack of feeling is loneliness. I believe that people have energies that are invisible and immeasurable, that they carry around them. The energy itself changes, and sometimes fades, but it is always there. It's something that I can sense the moment I meet someone or walk into a room. The thing about these energies, however, is that they depend on each other, they interact. Good energy begets good energy, and one person with bad energy can bring down everyone else in the room.

Recently, I've been alone for a lot longer than I'm used to. Now, I enjoy being alone, it's something I require as part of my day, but now it's being imposed on me. I'm alone simply because there's nobody around. I recognise this feeling from when I started the IB. I'd moved to a new school, and although I still had good friends close by, the change of environment meant that I didn't see them.

The answer of course, is always the same. Relationships aren't easy in the real world. School is a preamble to the real world, its a place where everything is easy. Out of that situation, friendships are something that need to be maintained.

When I was lonely those years ago, all it took was some effort, and the best years of my relationship with my friends began. Now, again, it took some effort, but everything is getting better. Truth is, things change. It's all about how you deal with it.

the utter randomness of it all

2006-01-29T07:29:00.000-08:00

i love the utter randomness of it all. So much of our lives is determined by moments and occassions that you could never have predicted. The people you meet, the things you see, it all so nearly could never have happened. Your life, all your memories are pure chance. And while you try to calculate the possibility of everything turning out like it did, you find yourself in awe of the scale. The chance of everything you've ever known of never happening is immense: our lives are as much in our control as a marble that falls through the cracks in the earth. Then, as you pause to consider that, you begin to ponder on the thought that everything, not just your life, but everyone's life could so nearly have never happened. Chance encounters, different choices - these define us. And as that begins to sink in, the global view appears: It all so nearly never happened. Not just your life as you know it, but everything alltogether. The planet, the universe, all a result of nothingness changing. Because change is what happens. Everything that happens is just a result of the uncountable changes that take place, every day. And we're still falling. But if we look back, us lucky few, the randomness is what has made life fun. If we knew what was around the corner, we wouldn't enjoy it. If we look back, we think of all the people we met at the beach, sitting in a bus-stop, at a random party, and the good things that happened and the good people we met. It was so close to never happening, we wonder how easy it might be to stop encountering the happy endings. But I'm an optimist and a romantic: I beleive in happy endings. It's never easy, because chance only throws events at us: its us who handle them. We're on a ride, but we still have control. And it can be pretty fun.

meeting people

2006-01-18T15:12:00.000-08:00

There are so many people you meet that you never give a second thought to. It's not that you dislike them, although that can sometimes be the case, it's just that they don't really leave an impression. However, every once in a while, you meet someone different. And you can usually tell right away when that has happened. Time doesn't slow down, however: it speeds up. Minutes pass as your brain tries to come up with something to say, some way to connect. Mumbling ensues, and you become super aware of your entire body. How am I standing? Am I slouching? Am I standing too straight? Your mind is only capable of introspective questions, all aimed at yourself. Of course, each question is painted with a tinge of paranoia. You can't be yourself because your mind is totally focused on them and your impressions on them. While your mind tortures you by deeply analysing your every move, sound and thought, it rubs salt on the wounds with a stream of consciousness barrage of studious examination of the other person's every move, trying to tap previously unkown psychic skills, trying to catch a glimpse of what they're thinking. Every single motion, every breath, has significance. The problem therein lies in trying to decipher the complex code of body language and subtleties of the spoken word. All your energy is focused on avoiding the obvious question: "Does she feel the same?"

The great part is when, despite all that, everything works out alright. It may be a day, or a year, until you see that person again. But it makes meeting people worthwhile.

startling realisation

2005-12-29T11:14:00.000-08:00

This is something very odd, but I've come to realise something recently. Now, what I've come to realise is not, in itself, very odd, but the fact that I waited until I was 18 to realise it... well, I just found it a bit strange. It's something that I've known to be true for years, but it's only really struck me recently. I tried to relate this to people the other day, but I didn't really find my audience. Perhaps here, where I talk to myself, is the only audience I can be sure will listen.

The things I do have consequences, and some of those consequences are irreperable. You see? It's so obvious, so damn obvious and it's common knowledge, but it didn't really hit me until now.

When I was in year 8 or 9, I was a real brat in school. Now, I was a real brat during the IB, too, but that was nothing in comparison to how bratty I was when I was younger. It got to the point where I would be kicked out of lessons before they even began, before I had a chance to be annoying. Anyway, the point here is that my school life was going to shit, but I never stressed, because of my undying optimism: everything will turn out all right. When my Personal Project was due in year 11, I was doing nothing on it dangerously close to the due date, yet I still didn't stress. Everything will turn out all right. And it did. I got a 6. Then, in the IB, I spent most of the summer sitting in my room, pretending to be trying to write my Extended Essay. First day back at school, I had nothing done. Yet I didn't stress. Everything will turn out all right. And it did. I got a B. Again, with my exams, the days passed by, and I didn't study. I didn't stress either. Everything will turn out all right. And it did. I got 33 points. I'm looking back now, and not seeing optimism, but instead stupid naivity. I've given a few examples, but that doesn't even compare with how stupid I was. Every class, every bit of coursework was treated the same way. Luckily, everything did turn out all right, but it could just as easily have gone the other way.

It's been the same with so much: I've never gotten stressed. I knew this before, of course, but I always related it to optimism. Unfortunately, it was always blind optimism, which is more often than not simple plain naivety. It hasn't just been with work, but with plays, friends, girls, pretty much my whole life.

Shit, I've lost my flow. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. It's just that recently events have transpired in a way that I know that things can't go back to how they were, and it's come as a real splash of cold water to the face. And it's made me look back on so much and see how easily it could've all fucked up. I'm thankful that it didn't, but now whenever I look forward, I can't help but see how easily I can fuck that all up, too.

I've come to beleive fully in Karma. Bad things only happen if you act or think negatively. and this applies on all kinds of scales. Every time I've injured myself physically, it's because I've been doing stupid things. Trying a jump when I was skiing, climbing a cliff shortly after it rained, smoking up, that sort of thing. Of course, there are the things that just happen, events that can't be avoided, but so much of your life can be seen as a reaction to your actions. It's not even as simple as 'I've done wrong, now wrong will happen to me'. I found myself in a situation where wrong was done to me, so I did wrong, and more wrong bounced back to me. It's very unnerving.

Despite my new found lack of interest in optimism, I'm going to try and refrain from becoming a pessimist. Some days I wake up, and all I can see is the endless possibilities that exist for me and my peers. It's refreshing. Sometimes I just fall from grace and see nothing but negativity. It happens from time to time, and I'm usually very aware of it. I know that I'm not hopeless.

But shit happens. Things don't always turn out alright. So many of us have been raised in a protected world, but if you look around, just beyond our borders, there are millions of people who have to face hopelessness every day, for their whole lives. Here I am, worrying about where I'll be in 10 years time, but really, I could be anywhere. Imagine being born in a refugee camp, the same place where your parents and their parents were born, knowing that you're within walking distance of where you will die. We have freedoms that some people will never know, never imagine, yet I don't know anyone who's completely happy. Why is that?

I once heard about a theory of hierarchical happiness. Unfortunately, I can't remember enough of the details to research it, but the general gist of it was that everybody always wants more. He who has nothing, will want for food and water. He who has that, will want for a house. He who has that, will want for a home. The list goes on and on. Should we, the more fortunate 1% of the world, feel guilty every time we feel unhappy? I think not. Despite how good we have it, we as individuals have the right to feel uncontent, unhappy, unjustified. I think that's the basis of human rights. We all have an inalienable right to be human, and being human comes with the ups and downs. So long as a thought is spared for those whose ups are so much lower than our lows.

Happy Birthday Noelle

2005-12-24T09:44:00.000-08:00

I woke up this afternoon and it hit me. Boom, it's Christmas eve.

I liked getting that vibe. It reminded me of when I was ickle. It only lasted a second, but it was great. Like a line of coke, I would imagine.

Once I'd gotten out of bed and some water to sip (the only way to avoid a hangover) I had to start wrapping all the shit I bought and I got back into my 'Christ Almighty, there's a lot of annoying shit you have to do to get to Christmas' mood. First of all, I don't think paper was ever intended to be bent, folded or sello-taped. When the Chinese (or whoever) made it, I think it was really supposed to be left flat. And, of course, rolled into cigarettes and other smoking paraphernalia.

I was going to go on, but that's the end of my Christmas ranting. It's my favourite holiday, my favourite day, even above my birthday (which gets crapper every year). Unfortunately, some people I know have their birthdays on Christmas day, which no doubt completely overshadows their special day. Not only do you only get presents once a year, but nobody ever seems to think of you and it's very doubtful that you'll be going out for drinks with them. I had to deal with a dying grandfather on my birthday, but that was only once. Some people have to deal with Christmas all their lives.

And so, I would like to let everyone know that tomorrow is Noelle's birthday. She is turning 17. Happy Birthday, my dear. The whole country has decorated itself for you. Ignore the stupid Christians and their pagan holidays. They know not why I am merry. I am merry for you.

For the first time, I looked at the all presents I had bought for people and I thought, wow, this is pretty nice. My jewish and dutch blood, of course, also had me thinking 'jesus I spent a lot of money', but I drowned that out with Radiohead (a must for the Christmas season). I think I've done well this year, and I hope people like what they're getting. Even when I spent tiny amounts of money (and I do mean tiny) I think I really hit the 'thought that counts' nail on the head, and not in the cynical way.

Because Christmas really isn't about the presents you get. Sure, it's very nice to know that I'm going to be getting a lot of very nice stuff completely free (made extra nice by the fact that now I have to pay for everything myself), but the best part is having a great excuse to do nothing all day, apart from eat and drink.

Merry Christmas. Happy Birthday, Noelle.

the nightmare before christmas

2005-12-22T12:35:00.000-08:00

As we count down the days to Christmas, the amount of chocolate in our advent calendars goes down and the numbers on the bathroom scale shoot up. Most people I know are looking forward to Christmas; for the gifts, the food, and of course, my Christmas blog.

But first, I have to address the issue of the pre-Christmas season. I think it's the months preceding Christmas that turn a lot of people off the holiday mood. The main reason is that there are literally months of pre-Christmas. I think the moment you look out your window and see Christmas decorations being put up in early November, it's a step closer to turning into the Grinch. Every time you hear a pre-emptive Christmas pop-song, an elf dies in the north pole.

To me, I start every Christmas season (ie, the day after Hallowe'en) slightly excited, and since this was the first year where I had money to spend on people, I was looking forward to getting nice things for everyone.

But then I started working at freeport, where the soundtrack, day in, day out, since November, is nothing but international Christmas songs. It was slightly annoying at first, but by the 4th day of it, the annoyance had escalated to the point where I wanted to sneak into the winter-wonderland diorama that they had set up wearing a ski mast and plant some sort of explosive device that activates to the sound of reindeer-hooves.

Then there's the walking, the endless walking, in shopping areas to try and find something for everyone. Then there's the walking back to the car. Then there's the walking back to get stuff for the people you forgot. Then there's the other days that you spend in exactly that way. Worse of all, one of those 'shopping areas' that I spent time in was CascaiShopping. Now, let me be clear on this point: I fucking hate fucking Cascais-fucking-Shopping. Fuck, I hate it so much. I worked there one summer, and I truly came to understand what a concrete tomb it was. I hate it, I hate it above all else.

But with all this negative, horrible, painful imagery and deed, there are in fact a couple up-sides to this time of year. First of all, as banal as it is, the weather is pretty fantastic for this time of year. I can go out without having to wear a sweater, which is great because I don't really own any good ones. Second, as my refrain, family and friends start coming home from their far corners, and it's nice to have them around. And best of all, the anticipation of all the cool shit you're about to get for free.

I think that for a lot of people, the hardest thing is coming to terms about how much Christmas has changed since we were all little kids. The celebration and decoration might be exactly the same, but the excitement that we felt years ago has significantly diminished, and I think I know why.

We know that nobody is going to buy us Lego, this year.

i took a walk today

2005-12-20T10:29:00.000-08:00

This afternoon, my grandmother decided to go for a walk, and I decided to tag along.

She asked me, "How long have you lived here?"

nearly 10 years. 10 years in Areia, my hood, my ghetto, my home.

It was a real pleasure taking her around, showing her my favourite places nearby.

My favourite spot in the area happens to be pretty much right behind my house. Living on the edge of the town, I have a near-unobstructed view of the Sintra Mountains and Atlantic Ocean. Behind our house is a field, and at the end of that field is a small clearing, covered by an overhanging tree. It's like something out of a book.

I've lived here for ten years, so I've become very accustomed to the area and the view, and I begin to forget what an amazingly beautiful country I live in. All it takes to remind me is a second set of eyes. A new perspective.

I remember when I was in Morocco, the people around me were marvelling at the brilliant coastline. I, on the other hand, felt very comfortable with it. "You know," I told them, "this is just like the coastline down the road from my house."

That was a moment where I remembered why I love living here.

Today, showing my grandmother around, I was again reminded. In the country club across the street, we walked past the tennis courts, where Lennard used to play. Further down are the stables, where Tim used to ride. To the side are the dunes, where we would walk the dogs, and where they're currently buried. Sometimes zack and I go to the dunes, find the largest one, and sit on it just to soak up our surroundings. The whole town is steeped in our family history. There are a thousand stories, just a few steps away.

Tomorrow is the shortest day of the year, and the beginning of winter. Today was sunny, and warm enough so that I could be out in just a jacket and t-shirt. I can hear the ocean from my room.

It's a terrific home.

being an only child

2005-12-19T14:15:00.000-08:00

From the moment I was born, I was the youngest of four children. That meant that, throughout my growing up, I was subject to all manner of child abuse at their hands. If that wasn't fun enough, I was often beaten (though, cleverly on their part, never to the extent that there was physical evidence). I never really got along with them that well; that is, until they started leaving.

In most sibling relationships, I'm sure, there is a lot of tension and (frankly) child abuse. However, these childish antics end with (tadaa) childhood. As we (by which I mean 'I') aged, we spent less time trying to piss each other off, and started to get along. Because I was (and remain) the youngest, I was the last to reach the age where I could actually be friends with my brothers and appreciate their company.

I never really got the chance with Tim, the eldest, since he left when I was 13. Thankfully, he's been coming home a lot (to help me with my love life. status: i'm very single and very lonely. thanks tim) and we've been able to meet each other as quasi-adults (I more than he) and we now get along very well.

Lennard and I, being closer in age and the fact that he stayed a year longer than tim, got along quite well during his gap year, but I haven't seen him nearly as often, because he's broke (acting) while tim is raking in the pounds (mostly in his thighs).

Thomas is only a year and a bit older than me, and in the last two years (and very much so during my gap year) we'd been getting on very well. And then he left. At last, I was finally an only child.

No more being peed on, right? No more getting the smallest portions at dinner, right? No more being lifted by my underwear until it rips, right?

Well, right. Unfortunately, it also means having nobody in the house. It means no more sharing illegal copies of movies. It means no more laughing about arm-length gloves and Tim's expertise in pleasuring mares (and men).

It sucks being an only child. I feel sorry for anyone who was born that way. Tim tells me there are benefits, but he's full of fudge. Packed, really.

Now with the Christmas season around the corner, I get some of my family back, and I'm very happy to have them. We get along better than ever, and now both Tim and Thomas can drive, I no longer need to worry about taxis. But I'm still so lonely, thanks to the wonders of alcohol-based-judgement. Merry Nearly Christmas.

a new me

2005-12-18T08:20:00.000-08:00

For the past several months (before and after I started writing) I've been working as a servente on construction sites. As servente, it is my job to do whatever isn't part of somebody else's job. That involves sweeping, painting pipes, unloading and carrying materials, and, my favourites, chipping glue off the floor with a hammer and spatula and then cleaning glue off floor-tiles with acid. My gloves have literally disintegrated.

However, thanks to this 'experience', as it shall hereafter be referred to, I have been able to discover things about myself that I had previously never suspected or never confirmed. I found out that I like to sweep, especially when the alternative is carrying 25kg bags of cement up stairs. I found that a soup and sandwich lunch can quickly become tedious. I found out that my portuguese is, in fact, terrible.

Most of all, I have discovered that I have a split personality. Fortunately, this isn't a random thing and you can be pretty sure which of me you'll meet. The most common and well known (and respected and loved and admired and cherished and fantastic) is normal-geert. Do not let this misnomer confuse you; there is very little normal about normal-geert. The prefix is just to differentiate him from the other: portuguese-geert. Unlike normal-geert, portuguese-geert is rather reserved, due to the aformentioned fact that he can barely string together a sentence. He is also pretty stupid, because most of the sentences that do get out are simple or confusing. Whereas normal-geert likes to talk to people and (hopefully) be interesting, portuguese-geert would much rather be left alone.

I don't like portuguese-geert.

But the job was good. The pay was decent, coupled with 50+ hour weeks, so I was making decent money, and it meant I could afford to enjoy myself on the weekends. It gives shape to my day, but results in me spending a total of zero daylight hours at home during the week. Best part is how macho it has made me, deep down inside.

there was no snow in my youth

2005-11-26T09:22:00.000-08:00

All week I've been hearing about snow and ice, the frigid onslaught of winter. Growing up in Portugal, however, winters are just cold and wet, without any of the winter magic you see on Christmas card covers.

Back when I was reading Calvin and Hobbes on a daily basis, I would grind my teeth in envy at the winter frolicking of the demented protagonist and his imaginary friend. Sledding? Snowball fights? Snowmen? Ice-skating? I had none of that in my youth. My winters consisted (and continue to consist) of trying to figure out what clothing I own that would provide comfort during the cold rainy periods of the day, while not boiling me to a pulp the moment the sun pops through a cloud.

Of course, it's not technically winter yet. Officially, it is autumn, or fall. Unfortunately, that is a season that is not recognised (or recognisable) in my home country. Let me lay out the seasons as I was taught how they ought to exist:

Spring: Chirping birds, blooming flowers, warming days. Children collecting flowers.
Summer: Warm, sun is out. Children collecting sea-shells.
Fall: Everything begins to die, but its gorgeous. Children jumping into piles of leaves.
Winter: It snows. Everyone loves it. Children throwing snowballs.

Here, we don't have the two 'middle' seasons. Summer and Winter we do have (the former being very nice and the latter being very dissapointing), but Spring and Autumn are things of Easter and Thanksgiving cards, respectively. Hallmark is my educator as far as seasons are concerned, and based on that, our Spring and Autumn fall rather short. Instead of these two rather interesting seasons, we simply go through a period where days will alternate between being summery (ie, warm) and wintery (ie, cold and wet). Sometimes the alteration comes on an hourly basis. It will rain for an hour, then be so nicely warm you head out in a tshirt, only to die of hypothermia two hours later. The death will be a mystery to the doctors, since by the time you're found (an hour later) the sun will be shining, the birds will be chirping, your body will have thawed and nobody will understand how you managed to develop hypothermia when it's 25ºC outside. It fucks with your mind.

The only thing I like about the colder times of year, is the fact that I can get all warm and cosy. It's another Hallmark image: people sitting around a roaring fire, roasting chestnuts, smiled beaming and eye-lashes singeing. We do get that once we reach real winter, and its starting now, but unfortunately, again, this is Portugal. The only warm place in the house is directly in front of the fire. Nobody I know (outside of the Quinta da Marinha) has central heating, plus most of the houses around here are built with the summer in mind, which results in pretty near freezing temperatures indoors during the winter. Even in front of the beloved fire, only the half of you that is facing the furnace is being warmed. The one side shivers as the other side sweats.

In the winter, the decadence and evil of the past year is covered in a blanket of snow.
Fade to white.
Snow is white is innocence.
There was no snow in my youth.

fat day

2005-11-24T18:26:00.000-08:00

Tonight is thanksgiving. What are we giving thanks for this year?

I'm thankful for pretty much my whole life up to this point. I'm thankful for my future prospects. I'm thankful for my family. I'm thankful for my friends. I'm thankful for turkey.

I'm very thankful for the turkey.

To the best of my recollection (and its been a decade since I was in an american education system), thanksgiving represents a huge dinner that the injuns had with the pilgrims, and the pilgrims were real thankful because, well, they were kinda dumb and didn't know how to kill a turkey (and turkeys ain't real bright creatures themselves).

I think its a glorious holiday. I love eating, I love my friends, I love eating with my friends and I especially love not having to lift a finger to help make it happen!

But I think back to my american school days, I remember the stories being told. We, us merry few, with gleaming eyes and sparkling teeth, we sat and listened and history played out before us.

Scene 1: Pilgrims land. Happy Happy.

Scene 2: Pilgrims meet Injuns. Happy Happy.

Scene 3: Injuns cook, Pilgrims watch football on tv. Happy Happy.

Scene 4: Big dinner. Happy Happy.

It was a somewhat merry story. However it is just a story. I hate to play 'X-gen cynic', but that's a story playing as history. I don't really think its healthy for the kids. I mean... that's not how it happened. Didn't you see Pocahontas? It quickly erases all the bad vibes history there. Now, I know the real story is not so happy happy and not as well suited to a festivity, but perhaps it should be presented as what it is, a story.

Now I feel bad. I mean, to kids, thanksgiving is the time when they collect leaves to glue to sparkly paper that they've traced their hand and drawn a turkey on. Try saying that really fast. I don't want thanksgiving to turn into a memorial day, where we mourn as we watch documentaries telling the tale of the injun's plight (narrated by the cheif from one flew over the coockoo's nest). I like it as a fiesta, but lets make it more like Christmas (the Coca-Cola holiday). Turn the story into a story, and put pilgrim faces on Pepsi cans.

Goddam it, I feel like the Grinch again.

There is no conclusion here. If you don't celebrate Thanksgiving - and some of you don't - you should start tonight. There are no presents, but there's turkey to share!

it could be worse

2005-11-21T15:15:00.000-08:00

When you have nothing going on in your life, its hard to come up with things to say. A Gap year is something that I didn't so much choose as fall in to. My parents said it best: the more interests you have, the harder it is to choose something to do. This is a problem that afflicts most of our generation. School may seem like a pain in the ass, but at least it masks the real pain in the ass: getting on with life.

Although it seems like my year is falling into place, with my travelling and new job prospect, I'm still at a loss as what to do, not to mention what to write. My problem is that I have yet to find a job that I really enjoy. Isn't it like that for everyone? Making money is a burden that we have to deal with for the rest of our lives, and odds are, it'll be a job you hate. It's a depressing thought, but thats what I'm thinking right now. My dream is to be able to raise my family in much the same way I've been raised, but I look at how hard my parents work (especially in the earlier days of the company) and I just don't know if I'm up to it. Life is a pretty expensive ordeal.

Despite all these dark ponderings, at moments I feel a real excitement for what's to come. Although I don't feel it now, from time to time I'll have a great day, or a great night, and I won't be able to contain my mirth. It's all a crazy adventure, isn't it? I can't help bu think of all the great stuff that could happen, how happy I could be. I forget to be afraid of the foggy future. I don't think it's very common for someone to look back on their life and see that it turned out exactly as they had expected when they were eighteen. For me, I just hope it turns out better than I expect.

Ever get in that mood where everything has a negative tint to it? No matter what you divert your attention to, everything seems to remind you that you're a horrible person and you're going to fail at everything you ever try? I'm sure you have. That's the exact opposite of the excitement that I mentioned earlier. That's what happens to me whenever I try to think more than a year ahead. For years now I've been tormented by my future. I'm not a depressing guy usually, I just sometimes get into a state of mind that I can't get out of.

So lets forget the years to come. Live in the moment and plan just far enough ahead. I've been offered a very nice job, I'm going to travel and I've got most of my friends around me every day. It could be worse, eh?

a short story

2005-11-19T09:21:00.000-08:00

The cobblestones glistened at first, from an earlier shower that we had missed. The air was fresh in that way that only comes around after heavy rainfall. Perhaps it was the cleanliness of the air, or the possibility of thunder, but there was definite electricity in the air. A buzz, a sense of things to come. Walking on the streets, we saw everyone had somewhere to be. Wrapped up like freshly roasted chestnuts, scurrying on the slippery slopes of the city. Faces hidden beneath scarves and hats, eyes glancing momentarily at everyone that passes, before resuming their neutral position, staring down at the stones at their feet. Cars rushed by us, busy as the city, until we reached the street where no cars pass. This street, surrounded by a bustling city full of the sounds of insatiable movement, was the calm centre that we were seeking. Here, nobody rushed anywhere. Here, everyone was right where they wanted to be. The soundtrack of the night changed with every other step. Although we were still walking, our pace had changed. We had reached where we wanted to be, and now, instead of travelling, we were exploring. It is a rare sight when a man standing in the street is exactly where he wants to be, yet here we saw not one, but dozens of people, at peace in the zen centre of the world. Troubles washed away like stray raindrops down the hill back to the city. The high walls of brick and window surrounded us, yet we felt freer than we had in a long while. The walls were not to keep us in, but to keep the rest of the world out, the world of pain, suffering and anguish. Without warning, rain began to fall again, as if God himself had decided that he needed the streets clear in order to perform his miracles. The cobblestones that glistened only moments earlier began to sparkle, sparks flying every which way as the heavenly fairy dust fell. There were people in every doorway, under every awning, staring out and up at the countless drops that fell from the darkness. All was silent except for the constant sound of a waterfall. Slowly, the rain lessened and the magical grip that held everyone was slowly lifted. Slowly, with tentaive steps, people began to venture back into the street. Slowly, we walked away from our doorway and the moment that had passed.

My lisbon friends often tell me what a lazy cascais person I am, that I never go out to their neck of the woods. To be honest, they're pretty much completely right. I went out last night to Bairro Alto because it was a special occasion: Hugh is leaving tomorrow. I have to say, I had a great time. My main reason for not going there much before was that I don't know anyone there. What I enjoy about Cascais that I know at least one person in every place. It's cozy, or gezellik. Last night was impressive though. We spent most of the night in the same place, and I have to say they played some great music. At the peak, there were 9 of us around that one table, drinking and smoking and talking. We talked to everyone at once and one at a time. It was the most evolutionary conversation I've had in a great time. When everyone left us, Hugh pretended he was thirsty so as to have an excuse to go into one of the many gay bars in the area. My word, they are an aggressive bunch, but he and I managed to get out of there in the end, but not before both of us had received assorted criticisms on our style. It was like a portable Queer Eye episode. It was great fun.

I'm glad to say that the last conversation I ever had with Hugh was a really nice one. I'm going to miss the guy. All the sad soppy goodbye stuff has already been written, and he'll read it, so I'm not going to repeat it here. Lets just say he made the IB better.

Bon Voyage.

an essay

2005-11-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

As per usual, I was reading a book on the bus today, and I started thinking about the Nazi trials in post-war Germany. If it helps explain why I started thinking about that, the book happens to visit the issue. Then I started thinking about punishment in general.

I turned to my old friend, Wikipedia, for help. This is what it had to say on the issue:

In operant conditioning, punishment is the presentation of a stimulus contingent on a response which results in a decrease in response strength (as evidenced by a decrease in the frequency of response). The effectiveness of punishment in suppressing the response depends on many factors, including the intensity of the stimulus and the consistency with which the stimulus is presented when the response occurs. In parenting, additional factors that increase the effectiveness of punishment include a verbal explanation of the reason for the punishment and a good relationship between the parent and the child. Punishment can be divided into Positive punishment (the application of an aversive stimulus, such as pain) and Negative punishment (the removal or denial of a desired object or condition).

Now, by my translation, that means that punishment is designed to have a reaction, with the main goal being behaviour modification. The outcome relies on several factors, such as how often and how intensly the subject is punished. There is Positive Punishment, which means giving something to the subject that discourages repetition of their behaviour, like a slap. I don't think a slap is really a positive thing, but that's just me. Negative Punishment is when something valuable is taken away from the subject, like food or freedom. What I find interesting reading this is the exact parallel drawn here (and seen in real life) between punishing a dog to stop it crapping on the floor, punishing a child for crapping on the TV and punishing a man for popping a cap in someone's ass.

When it comes to the punishing of criminals, which will be my main focus for at least the rest of the paragraph, I see 5 main forms of punishment. There's appropriation of personal property (be it money, as in a fine, or goods, as in confiscation), limiting of freedoms (restraining orders, loss of the right to vote and so on), physical retribution (community service), incarceration (prison) and death ( ... ). I know that there are technically more (I can still see the wikipedia article), but I think they can be reduced to that. Of course, I'm only talking about the western, legal ones. These can be subdivided further into two groups, Socio-Economic punishment and Physical punishment.

As far as I figure, there are 4 reasons for punishment. The main, most obvious and most common is to discourage repeat activity and can be linked to all forms of punishment (save maybe 2, but I'll let you decide). Related, but independent in its own right, is setting an example, to discourage others from partaking in said activity, which again can be applied to all forms of punishment (including the 2 which I discounted from the last reason). In more severe cases, punishment is put in place to protect society (in whole or in part) from the individual, which applies mainly to restriction of movements and prison sentences. The last is the most severe, to prevent repeat activity, which applies only to life sentences and (gulp) the death penalty, the only two which I discount from the first reason. Of course, there are those who would claim that teaching the fuckers a lesson should be on the list, but for some reason I haven't included it. Maybe it falls under discouraging repeat activity. Who knows?

I'm currently listening to music from Les Miserables (songs are coming on randomly, so don't wag your fingers at me) and it makes me think about poor Jean Valjean. Long-term punishment (ie, life sentencing and the death penalty) are based on the idea that people do not change, and that decisions made perhaps decades before still define the person. Jean Valjean was a theif, but events conspired to turn him into a new man. Mr Javert, the cop, thought different. 'Once a theif, always a theif' were his words, I beleive. To digress from fictional characters, there are many examples of people who evolved over time, to a point where their punishment has, perhaps, expired its purpose. I'm thinking of Stanley 'Tookie' Williams, founder of the infamous Crips gang. He went to jail for murder, but during his time there, he has seen the folly of his youthful ways, and has since written a number of books for children about the dangers of gang-life. He has also been nominated for two Nobel Prizes, and was made the focus of a movie where Jamie Foxx played him. Plus, he negotiated a (at least until now) successful peace plan between the Crips and the Bloods. I don't know which accomplishment is bigger, but there you have it.

Despite what I see to be complete contrition for earlier ways, he has been sentenced to death, and will die on 13 December 2005. Of course, I don't know all the ins and outs, but it seems a little exreme. Then, to go back and mention fictional characters, I think Morgan Freeman deserved to be let out of Shawshank ages before Andy left.

I published the above text as it now is, before I had to go off to dinner. I thought I might add something to it now, though I've lost my thread.

Even if we do include teach those fuckers a lesson as a reason for punishment, there are many cases where the rationale behind the prescribed punishment falls short. The idea of parole, by which a 'reformed' criminal will be let out on probation earlier than expected, seems to try and tackle the idea that lessons can be learned. However, there are some aspects of punishment which do not end with release. The real punishment is that prison will follow you around. Ex-cons have trouble readjusting, not just because they have been institutionalised, but because they are looked down on by society. Even those who haven't gone to prison will feel repurcussions. I know people whose futures are limited simply because they've been caught with a eensy weensy bit of controlled substances. I don't want to get into my whole pro-legalization tirade, but I think it's ridiculous that Marijuana and hashish are restricted. And that's not just because I happen to be a fan of the stuff.

On the other hand (and we've been taught to look at the other hand all the time), can we really be expected to forgive some heinous crimes? Stanley 'Tookie' Williams killed people, yet I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but what about those nasty Nazis? Who can really feel comfortable knowing that people involved with the systematic assasination of 12 million people have served time, yet were released? I don't even know my own opinion on it. Also, in the case of the murder of Jamie Bulger (where two 10ish year olds murdered an infant), can the two murderers be forgiven? Can their crime be forgotten? They were very young when it happened, and if there's any time when a person will go through change, it's before they reach adulthood. The case was a huge deal back in '93, and again in 2001 when they were finally released.

As some people know, I'm currently working hard on my own version of Plato's Republic (which I should really read before I start) and perhaps crime and punishment will have to be seriously looked at in my new view for you and your few. Perhaps, if ever my ideas stop floating around (probably due to the aforementioned restricted substances) I'll jot down some of my ideas for a democratic dictatorship. Not now though.

For now, I'll end this post in the same state of confusion in which I started it. I don't know what the deal is with punishment. These were my ideas. I don't know the perfect answers, and I don't even know any answers. But that's ToK, which is pretty much what this was.

strike a chord

2005-11-16T09:46:00.000-08:00

My hobby of choice is Theatre. I say 'choice', but what choice do we have when it comes to our interests? What is it that makes one person a stamp collector and other a graffiti artist? I mean, this stuff has no real link to genetics. Perhaps its our differences that prove we have souls. Who knows?

In any case, I enjoy theatre. I really do. It's not my only interest, but its the most persistent. There are many times I've deviated, focusing on other interests that turned out to be fads (ie, violin, computer programming, lego mindstorms, girlfriends and homework) and therefore never lasted very long. That's not to say I didn't make some kickass computer games. But to get back to my point (again) theatre is the only interest that I've had for as long as I can remember. As much fun as I have with it, I don't think it's the best hobby to have.

Now now, you may wonder, who are you to say which hobbies are good and which are useless? I'm nobody, it's not my place, but this site is not a place of facts (like an encyclopedia)

rather it is a collection of biased opinions and judgments (like a bible). So, in my opinion, what is the best hobby?

Music. I think musicians have it best. Look at the simplicity of it: take a guitar (for example). To me, it's a few pieces of wood stuck together with 5 strings (give or take) running from on end to the other. To Zack (for example) it's a tool with which he can make all kinds of sounds. Just the other week a bunch of us were all at someone's house, and a guitar was brought out. Suddenly, everyone was singing at the top of their lungs, ancient classics and asinine freestyles. We had a blast. Can anyone draw a parallel where drama is the hobby at hand instead of music? If you can thnk of anything, please, leave a comment and let me know. I have all kinds of memories of me and my friends just chilling, having a great time, where there was a guitar involved.

This includes any number of concerts (obviously) but also a lot of really random stuff that really made the respective day. For example, when my mates and I were in Porto a few years ago, waiting for a bus to galicia, zack just started playing on the street. Ruben accompanied on his djambe and so on and so forth. In no time, we'd amassed a fortune of 50 cents. Sure it's no money, but I never expect to make anything when I'm having fun, so there you go. The guitar continued to make an appearance on that trip, making us quite the celebrities at the campsite. Even without the Guitar, we were renowned for our portable CD player which we blasted at full volume whenever we did the dishes (hence the CD inlay you can find in the photos section). Music bring people together at all times, and the best part is you don't have to be a musician to take part. Two of my closest friends are musicians, and to be honest, I feel kinda left out from their music world. Despite the openness of the music world, there's another side to it which is open only to those who play instruments, which is a shame for the rest of us who don't, since it looks like a real fun world.

But drama is great too. It's not generally as interactive as music, but I've had fun with it. Not just in the theatre, but also out on the street. Street performances are very fun to do, as James and I found out one night in the summer of 2004. We didn't make any money, but we were drunk, so I think there's a good balance.

Zack turned 18 back in June, but he couldn't really think of a good '18th birthday present' to ask for. In my opinion (which was an influence, since I turned 18 a few months earlier) on your 18th birthday you should get something which'll last. Something which counts. Something that you can show off many years hence and say 'I got this for my 18th'. I don't know why, but it seemed important to me. I got a nice watch (which I rarely wear) and I was very happy with it. Zack's big day came and went, with no 'special present' and a bit of extra money left on the budget. When he came back from england last week, he showed me what he'd gotten, and it was the perfect gift for him. I couldn't understand why he didn't think of it back in June, but I'm glad he got it and I know for a fact that he is, too. Because Zack is a musician, he needed a real instrument, and instruments don't get much more real than a Gibson Les Paul. I know that to him, its more than a guitar. It's a promise of great times to come. All I see is a bunch of wood and 5 strings.

Happy belated birthday, brother.

womenfolk

2005-11-14T10:11:00.000-08:00

now i'm going to try enjoy myself as I try to describe my views on women in anything less than a body of work that would rival the Complete Oxford's Dictionary. I've never seen the Complete version, but considering the length of the Short version, it should be rather long.

Everywhere I go, I seem to meet females. on the whole, I enjoy the experience. Women, in general, are better looking than men. They claim to mature faster than men, but I think its less maturing and more losing out on the fun in life.

In my life, I've had (pause for counting) 9 official girlfriends. Of course, there were others who got close to the status of official (I can think of 2 off the top of my head), and anyway, I think 9 is enough for now. Most of my friends have maxed at 4 (or less). Now, I don't want to come across as bragging. In my thinking, it's better to have one good relationship which lasts than 9 awkward ones which crumble within weeks (or days). Why do I move so quickly from female to female (by thought, if not by deed)?

It's hard to know. I think it's mostly because of the criteria I use to select the woman of my attraction. I don't know if this is a bad thing, but I tend to go into relationships based on 'potential'. By that I mean that I will ask a girl out even if I'm not really into her, simply because they fit the vague description of someone that I might fall for. (Just in case there are any of my exes reading this, let me tell you that this wasn't the case in your case. You I liked.)

Here is a brand new edit: Let me clarify why these relationships failed: me. It was my fault, each and every time. Sorry for any insult I may have caused due to misunderstanding.

"But Geert," I hear you ask, "Surely you've felt the quiver of Cupid's bow before? Surely you're not made of stone?"
To which I reply, of course I'm not made of stone (except where it counts) . This is where our good friend irony rears its ironic head. The girls that I have trouble with are the ones who I really like. Every time I've felt the "quiver of Cupid's bow", as you so eloquently put it, I've been too chicken to do anything. And here is where the irony is even more irony-y. In the majority of cases of this type, I later find out that the girl I liked was just waiting for me to show interest. Hm. If irony was made of strawberries, we'd all be drinking a lot of smoothies right now.

But enough of my personal woman woes. What of the gender in general? Although I only have brothers, I actually have two sisters (think about it). Girls who I've known since I was but oh so ickle, and its them, acting as ambassadors for the female gender, that saved my image of that half of the population. Thanks to them (you know who you are) I know that women can be as fun and creative and intelligent as men (well, most men) and it's because of them that I'm not sexist about the weaker sex.

When I was working in Porto, one of the other workers told me a really great way to sort your mind out about women. It was the smartest thing I'd heard on the topic, but unfortunately (for you) I can't remember the phrasing.

As you can see, and as I predicted at the start of this entry, it's utterly impossible for me to speak any sense concerning the sensitive sex. To be honest, I'm completely baffled by them. Actually, now that I think of it, I have similar views about women as I do about the ocean. Despite their beauty, mystery and intruige (not to mention sex appeal), I'm utterly terrified of them. The compliment hidden in all this sexist drivel is that it's a fear based on respect. However, the respect is based solely on fear. That's because I know, first-hand, what lengths women will go to to get what they want, especially if what they want is to make someone else suffer. Unlike men, who are crude and obvious in their efforst, women can engineer the world to conspire against a person. I'm glad I'm gay.

Just kidding, Hugh.

aperatif

2005-11-13T10:58:00.000-08:00

this will most likely be a very short post, since it's now 7pm, and 7pm is when I'm going for dinner to a family friends. I don't know why we haven't left yet, but I'm sure the leaving will be sudden and soon.

This last couple of weeks I haven't been working much. That means plenty of time for me to hang out with my friends and plenty of time to sit in the bath, soaking in my filth, reading my books and stoned out of my mind. What I like when I'm stoned by myself is that my mind goes on a sort of over-drive, and I start thinking things a mile a minute. Odds are, this post will be somewhat random (a nod to my old haunting ground) since, being stoned, I can no longer keep my mind on one thing for longer than it takes to write a paragraph about it.

As you most probably don't know, I'm a terrific human being and I like to do things to help the world. Well, so far it's been more thinking about saving the world than actually doing much (except for my CAS stuff and my political trip to Morocco). This will soon change, if things go according to plan. I've been looking at a volunteer post teaching in Limpopo, South Africa. It looks like a really diverse adventure, allowing me to teach people who want to learn, and possibly helping in many different local projects. I'm hoping, after roughly 3 months of teaching there, to travel a bit in the country, hopefully hit the coast and fulfill my lifelong dream of swimming in an ocean teeming with big, hungry sharks.

Not really. I'm so terrified of the ocean, it's weird. I mean, I love the ocean. I live less than a kilometer from it and during the summer I spent a lot of time there. It allows for some of the most beautiful moments you can imagine. Even now, when we're nearing winter, it's wonderful to be around. Just a few weeks ago, when notTony came to visit, we went to the beach, where we climbed over rocks and through old walls to find the ultimate smoke-up spot. Guess what we did then. It was gorgeous. The sun was setting and we were sitting over a little inlet where emerald green waves were crashing. I love waves. Ever since I was a little kid (yeah, that long) I've loved going to the beach and playing chicken with the ocean. I love body-surfing, which I do whenever I'm close enough to the water and I'm known to do it till I bleed from sand-burns. Despite all this, I'm terrified of the big blue wet thing. Whenever I go far from the coast, I tend to start freaking out. I don't often head that far out, but its usually the moment that I realise that I can no longer stand that breaks the camels back for me. Truth be told, I'm not a very strong swimmer, plus being a strong smoker means I'm soon tired from my maritime exploits. I have a feral fear of drowning. I think it must be the most horrible way to go. Plus, the ocen is cold, and I'm not a huge fan of the cold.

The one good thing about the cold is that it means there are no sharks in our waters. I hope. However, the moment I step into the warmer sea in South Africa, I'm going to start having horrid images taken straight from scenes from Jaws. My fear of the ocean doesn't link to my first veiwing of the movie, but watching it just sends goosebumps down my spine, and urine down my leg.

As I said, my departure to dinner would be soon and sudden, and here it is.

the underdog

2005-11-12T21:55:00.000-08:00

Those of you that know me know that I love reading. Those that don't know me will just have to figure it out for themselves. I'm currently going through a very good reading spree, starting with Paul Auster's Book of Illusions, then a quick read of Holes by Louis Sachar, which I actually read before many years ago, then the surprisingly amazing Self, by Yann Martel (who later wrote The Life of Pi) and now I've started on another Auster book, Oracle Night, which is showing serious promise. Book of Illusions, Self, and Oracle Night are all books about writers, and for some reason I find that really interesting. Another 'writing book' that I liked was Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk.

I mention these books because recently I've started to realise my fondness for writing. I don't trust myself to write a book or a play (at least not now) so this little black page on the web will have to do. I guess my fondness for writing stems from my appreciation of the written word. I think the creativity behind a novel is staggering, and I have great respect for anyone who manages to do it (unless they're writing something like the bridges over madison county).

What I love about books is their portability. A book is usually rather small, welcome in backpacks and free to go anywhere. What really amazes me is that this small pile of glued paper is actually an enormous world to which I've been invited, should I turn the cover. People tell me that they think reading is boring, but to me, reading is what I do to keep from getting bored. What's truly boring is a 20-minute bus ride (or worse, a 40-minute train ride) without anything to do. Of course, with the PSP breaking sales records around the world, soon portable cinema will be a reality (though I can't imagine anyone who would spend €25 on a movie that can only be watched on a 4.3inch screen) but cinema can't compete with literature. Sure, it competes in profit, popularity and status, but in my opinion, films lack the subtlety of the written word. When I was reading Book of Illusions, I started picturing it as a movie (which was appropriate since the book is about a film-maker), trying to think about how sequences would be done, but there's so much on each page that can't make it to the screen. Every meander of the narrators mind would be impossible to show on film (at least not in an interesting way) and each vague description would have to be transformed into something tangible. Reading is a very personal activity, since everything imagined exists only in the mind of the reader, and I think that movies take that soul out of the story.

However, despite these anti-film ramblings, I love movies. A short visit to my house would be enough to prove that (piles of DVDs everywhere that counts) and a short conversation with me would imprint it on your mind. Movies are a very different medium than books, and so are used with different intents. There are things that movies can do that books can't, and they too are very subtle. My favorite one to look out for is the soundtrack. Some people don't acknowledge the impact that a good soundtrack has on a movie. The right song, with the right images to go with it, are usually what get the viewers reaching for the Kleenex.

I don't know. I began this post talking about how books are better than films, but now I find myself going back on what I said and promoting movies. Truth be told, I love books and I love movies, and each have different ways of reaching people (or simply entertaining them) but I have a special thing for reading. I guess I kinda like the underdog.

mission statement

2005-11-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

i have found that i have rather an unfortunate habit. no, i'm not talking about the smoking, or the drugs, or the drinking, or my blatant disregard for other human beings. the habit of which i speak is my habit to suddenly abandon blogs of mine. with these lines, i'm inaugurating my third blog. I start each in a burst of motivation and energy, because i truly like writing, despite the endless dead counters and commentless posts. Each ends when i feel like moving on. The ends mark significant shifts in my life, be it small and personal, or obvious enough to be labeled as shifts of paradigms.

This one begins at the beginning of the winter of my discontent. I graduated nearly 6 months ago, and since have been facing the real world of the unplanned gap year. Unplanned not because I didn't expect it (I didn't know what else to do) but because I didn't really think about what I would do with the next 15 months. That's why it hasn't really amounted to anything yet. The summer was fantastic, I spent the entire time surrounded by people, in a number of different countries, and it made me very optimistic about the future. Then I had to get a job. Apart from the occasional random job, I've been working for a construction company owned by my parents, and I've worked in Porto, Covilha and right here in Cascais, doing random buildy-type stuff. It's been an experience. I do have the rare privelidge to be able to say that I helped build my home (my new home, as yet unfinished), and that I managed to drill my thumb in the process.

Big Deal of the Month so far was when I got my multibanco card. Actually, its a Super Cartao Jovem, which means that, alongside the multibanco features, I can cash in on all kinds of discounts (though I'll probably only use it at the cinema). Within an hour of getting the card, I managed to take €100 off the account... which sort of alarmed me. I'm very good at spending, you see. I feel sorry for my future wife and kids. Despite my reckless spending (as in to spend without reck) I saw that it hadn't really hit the account yet, so I feel alright. Also, I'm due to pick up a check (with my name on it) which should feel nice to spend.

What can you expect from this new site? I don't rightly know. Some of the old stuff, I'm sure, as well as, I hope, an older and wiser me. I'm not sure how much of the rough and raunchy stuff I get up to will make it to these pages, since my parents have been showing increased interest in my affairs (and the fact that so much of my affairs are rough and raunchy). I'm sure a bunch will leak in, anyway. My last blog ended with the end of highschool, and this one, I hope, begins with the start of my life.