Yes, it took me a while to get to this. But am I the only one who though the "RIP", "visionary", "genious", and a truck-load of emoteicons like this ":((((" were fake and posey?
May I preface this with the honest admission that he was a great businessman, and there's no dispute there.
However, what I am standing up against, is the unbelievable amount of posers who rose like an army or iKissAss when he passed away.
Firstly, how many of his fans gave a damn why he died? He died of pancreatic cancer but little to no attention was paid to that. Famous and loved as he was by the public, he could have raised awareness about what is one of the fastest growing killers of our time. Instead, he chose to cover it up,and throw "it's a common bug" and "Look, my blood pressure is OK, 110/70" in media's face. No, he didn't have to, raising awareness wasn't part of Jobs' job description and health is a personal matter but it's just my opinion that maybe it would have been better, braver and could have saved lives.
Hoards of teenagers, hipsters and general members of the public who had Facebook accounts and a lot of spare time, bombarded the media and their unfortunate friends on the social media platforms with "RIP, Steve Jobs, a visonary and genius". Please. Did this only feel fake to me? The pretentiousness and lack of criticism is astounding.Following and immitating someone's status is not "cool", it shows you have the average brain of a sheep. Sorry, sheep, it must be mean to be compared to a person with no opinion, who thinks having an iPod makes them better than the others. How much did most of these people know about Jobs, except that he created iPods and iPads, before they read the articles of thousands of newspapaers online, who reported his death and summed up his achievements? Reading their text-talk acronyms as their statuses was painful. The fact that anyone who was close enough was forced to listen to a hipster pretentiously gasp about their beloved iPod was intolerable. I woke up that morning, saw it in the news, shrugged, and then made the mistake to open my Facebook account. The flood of regurgitation of the same chewed three photos of Jobs, circulating the net with "RIP/genious/visionary/;((" buzzwords underneath would have made any bulimic envious, wishing they could regurgitate as much as the army of iFollowers.
They cried like it was their own grandfather. Never mind that the tears were fake. You didn't know him. Not only that, he was a businessman who was indirectly responsible for, yes, sweatshops, child labour, all that stuff you just tuned out and didn't hear me say to you, because you swiped yuor finger and turned the volume up on your iPad. Will you cry like this when the owner of Microsoft, Bill Gates, dies? Probably not. Because they didn't make you feel superior to others for having their overpriced monopolistic product. No, Microsoft is for the mass, everybody has it, it's uncool. Then again, some will cry their fake tears because they will adopt the sheep mentality once again and copy the statuses of their friends, when they hardly know what they are talking about.
Saturday, 17 December 2011
Friday, 28 October 2011
"If I got a beer for every time I crossed this road...", the chicken thought.
The only place I have ever been considered a "regular" is my hairdresser's. In fact, she once said that, due to my sometimes extravagant desires, she had been looking forward to me coming since thursday; my appointment was the following monday. I felt special, so it was no surprise to me to see Manny (Bill Bailey) in Black Books ask for "the usual". When his friends ask him what his usual was, he said he didn't know but he'd always wanted to have "a usual". And why not? You feel recognised, you feel at home, a part of an extended family.
This fantasy only became reality to me recently. Come tuesday evening, I get an increasing feeling of excitement in my tummy, as I prepare to go out to a bar nearby. "Bed" is just a few blocks away, it offers good music, cheap drinks, awesome staff but the atmosphere is what makes you come back, a few people have agreed with me. Since I've moved to the Netherlands, this is the place (except for the supermarket) which I have gone to the most, to the point where there's a running joke in my class about my tuesday night escapades in "Bed".
It makes me smile that I no longer need to tell the bartender what I want, he knows. Many times I've received one "on the house", and sometimes I return the gesture too. The DJ will sometimes waves, and recently there was a sticky situation with two older persistent gentlemen, who the bouncers helped us out with, knowing we were regulars.
There is something to be said about communities. Maybe it is strange that one can find a sense of belonging after only 2 months, when 4 years in the UK didn't give me the same feeling. Maybe it's even strange that I should feel like I belong, when I am a foreigner, and in a country which is known for its liberalism (which is often equated with the decline of community). But one thing is certain- until "Bed" makes me feel so warm and fuzzy, I will keep going there, asking for the usual, speaking to the people I saw there last tuesday (more and more of them I am becoming friends with) and enjoying the hell out of it.
This fantasy only became reality to me recently. Come tuesday evening, I get an increasing feeling of excitement in my tummy, as I prepare to go out to a bar nearby. "Bed" is just a few blocks away, it offers good music, cheap drinks, awesome staff but the atmosphere is what makes you come back, a few people have agreed with me. Since I've moved to the Netherlands, this is the place (except for the supermarket) which I have gone to the most, to the point where there's a running joke in my class about my tuesday night escapades in "Bed".
It makes me smile that I no longer need to tell the bartender what I want, he knows. Many times I've received one "on the house", and sometimes I return the gesture too. The DJ will sometimes waves, and recently there was a sticky situation with two older persistent gentlemen, who the bouncers helped us out with, knowing we were regulars.
There is something to be said about communities. Maybe it is strange that one can find a sense of belonging after only 2 months, when 4 years in the UK didn't give me the same feeling. Maybe it's even strange that I should feel like I belong, when I am a foreigner, and in a country which is known for its liberalism (which is often equated with the decline of community). But one thing is certain- until "Bed" makes me feel so warm and fuzzy, I will keep going there, asking for the usual, speaking to the people I saw there last tuesday (more and more of them I am becoming friends with) and enjoying the hell out of it.
Friday, 30 September 2011
Why did the chicken cross the road? It was an adrenaline junkie.
Life, a bit like a cocktail, can be anything you make it to be. I choose the intensity of a Bloody Mary with Tabasco. Just like the one above these letters.
In the pursuit of happiness, also known as getting a Master's degree in Media and Journalism, yours truly has ended up in Rotterdam. My experience of Rotterdam is on the other end of the spectrum compared to my experience with the host of my Bachelor's studies- UK.
Rotterdam makes me work hard and play hard. The reason why this is such a winning attitude is because it introduces an intensity, an intensity which reminds you that you're alive, that you're here and that you're the oldest you've ever been but also that now is the youngest you'll be from now on. Until now, I've been avoiding buying a bowl for my kitchen or a nice hand towel, because I was constantly made aware that the house I lived in was temporary, that it was a house but not a home because at the end of the year, i'd have to move out. And indeed, I've been putting my life on hold, waiting for the moment I'd settle in for longer, craving this stability, even craving dulness, as long as I get to buy a nice item for my home and not have to think if it would fit in my suitcase when I move out.
Instead of worrying about the bowls, here in Rotterdam I use them on a daily basis, cooking with my housemate Andreea (also, she is born 4 days after me, to make the situation even more unique). I watch some TV, read some books. And, frankly, I thought I'd lost the enjoyment of reading for pleasure.
Not much has changed in my situation- I am in Rotterdam for a year. What has changed is my attitude. You know how people say that if you want something to change, you should change something? Yes, of course that is true. I moved from the UK to Holland. But this change of attitude was thrust upon me by the Erasmus University Rotterdam, who for a week give as so much homework, that it would have sufficed for a month back in the UK. The only way one gets alive out of that stress, you've guessed it, is by playing hard.
Come tuesday evening, when I have just submitted my homeworks for the week, all I want to do is dance, have a beer, flirt with the bartender, talk to some strangers, and squeeze every bit of juice out of this life.
This intensity is the best thing that has happened to me. It certainly keeps me sane but it also plays with my head- and I love it. I feel that I've deserved my play, after studying so hard. And another thing- my grades seem to have gotten better. I am guessing, that it because of the higehr motivation- if I want to play hard, I must study. There is no way out of it. And, as well, the playing hard gets exhausting, so I am happy to switch activities and work hard. It is a cycle which recharges you simply by switching activities, but you have to give it your fullest for it to work for you.
And, after just having relaxed a little, I am going back to that Interview evaluation due next wednesday. And at 5 o'clock today, I have a train to catch to Brussels. On the train, I will work. In Brussels, I will play.
In the pursuit of happiness, also known as getting a Master's degree in Media and Journalism, yours truly has ended up in Rotterdam. My experience of Rotterdam is on the other end of the spectrum compared to my experience with the host of my Bachelor's studies- UK.
Rotterdam makes me work hard and play hard. The reason why this is such a winning attitude is because it introduces an intensity, an intensity which reminds you that you're alive, that you're here and that you're the oldest you've ever been but also that now is the youngest you'll be from now on. Until now, I've been avoiding buying a bowl for my kitchen or a nice hand towel, because I was constantly made aware that the house I lived in was temporary, that it was a house but not a home because at the end of the year, i'd have to move out. And indeed, I've been putting my life on hold, waiting for the moment I'd settle in for longer, craving this stability, even craving dulness, as long as I get to buy a nice item for my home and not have to think if it would fit in my suitcase when I move out.
Instead of worrying about the bowls, here in Rotterdam I use them on a daily basis, cooking with my housemate Andreea (also, she is born 4 days after me, to make the situation even more unique). I watch some TV, read some books. And, frankly, I thought I'd lost the enjoyment of reading for pleasure.
Not much has changed in my situation- I am in Rotterdam for a year. What has changed is my attitude. You know how people say that if you want something to change, you should change something? Yes, of course that is true. I moved from the UK to Holland. But this change of attitude was thrust upon me by the Erasmus University Rotterdam, who for a week give as so much homework, that it would have sufficed for a month back in the UK. The only way one gets alive out of that stress, you've guessed it, is by playing hard.
Come tuesday evening, when I have just submitted my homeworks for the week, all I want to do is dance, have a beer, flirt with the bartender, talk to some strangers, and squeeze every bit of juice out of this life.
This intensity is the best thing that has happened to me. It certainly keeps me sane but it also plays with my head- and I love it. I feel that I've deserved my play, after studying so hard. And another thing- my grades seem to have gotten better. I am guessing, that it because of the higehr motivation- if I want to play hard, I must study. There is no way out of it. And, as well, the playing hard gets exhausting, so I am happy to switch activities and work hard. It is a cycle which recharges you simply by switching activities, but you have to give it your fullest for it to work for you.
And, after just having relaxed a little, I am going back to that Interview evaluation due next wednesday. And at 5 o'clock today, I have a train to catch to Brussels. On the train, I will work. In Brussels, I will play.
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
"A friend in need is a friend indeed", the chicken thought, as it crossed the road to help out a friend.
Here is something you don't see every day. Though it would be lovely if you did.
Inspiration is like girlfriends- it's easier to get some when you already have some in the first place. I have been inspired and spun around, 360 degrees, lately, by those among us who have that rare (or not as rare as I would have guessed) drive to prioritise others, or at least those who want to help. It is usually helping a stranger that makes the most difference and raises more surprised eyebrows, but of course, a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet.
A friend of mine, Stella Raycheva, has been a kind friend of animals ever since I met her 8 years ago. I suppose she was my first boss, when I worked for Radio NET one summer. She has been volunteering to make a better life for street dogs, and thus for all of us who live in Sophia (your help is just as welcome, if not more, if you're not from Sophia!) for about 2 years now. Establishing a dog shelter, which needs the difficult amount of around 20 000 lev (10 000 euro) per month! to pay the salaries of the few staff members and experienced vets, is a challenge. They survive mainly on donations and they don't know if they are going to make it until the next month. We were sipping tea and she told me of the 500 dogs there, which need care, neutering and shelter. Limited space means that almost every morning there is a dead dog in one of the cages where 20 dogs fight for 40 m2. And it is a shame because they are good dogs, they are no better or worse than any other dog yet they have had the "shit end of the stick". A pity, as dogs love to play with sticks! They are available for adoption- it is an easy way to get a pet, one that will appreciate your love and will love to love you back.Once again, here is the link for Animan Rescue Sofia. Tell your friends about it, link it, share it and support it. It's a good cause and simple to help to!
Kiva lends money to those in need for help with education, development ideas or life long dream of getting a cow! I literally learned about them tonight, and it is a cause worth knowing of. They work, as most such organisations do, for people or groups in underpriviledged countries, but the difference is, this is not a donation, no. You lend money (the link is for a free trial donation, though, they hope to get you hooked on the endorphine-high of helping a project) voluptuous, and all money is paid back in time. Crafty little idea. Check it out, I helped a family with no roof and my friend Ilina helped a man get the cow he had always wanted!
And now, the new BLOG CHALLENGE- can you spot the WORD? Or can you give me a word, quircky enough, which I will include at a random place in one of the next articles?
Inspiration is like girlfriends- it's easier to get some when you already have some in the first place. I have been inspired and spun around, 360 degrees, lately, by those among us who have that rare (or not as rare as I would have guessed) drive to prioritise others, or at least those who want to help. It is usually helping a stranger that makes the most difference and raises more surprised eyebrows, but of course, a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet.
A friend of mine, Stella Raycheva, has been a kind friend of animals ever since I met her 8 years ago. I suppose she was my first boss, when I worked for Radio NET one summer. She has been volunteering to make a better life for street dogs, and thus for all of us who live in Sophia (your help is just as welcome, if not more, if you're not from Sophia!) for about 2 years now. Establishing a dog shelter, which needs the difficult amount of around 20 000 lev (10 000 euro) per month! to pay the salaries of the few staff members and experienced vets, is a challenge. They survive mainly on donations and they don't know if they are going to make it until the next month. We were sipping tea and she told me of the 500 dogs there, which need care, neutering and shelter. Limited space means that almost every morning there is a dead dog in one of the cages where 20 dogs fight for 40 m2. And it is a shame because they are good dogs, they are no better or worse than any other dog yet they have had the "shit end of the stick". A pity, as dogs love to play with sticks! They are available for adoption- it is an easy way to get a pet, one that will appreciate your love and will love to love you back.Once again, here is the link for Animan Rescue Sofia. Tell your friends about it, link it, share it and support it. It's a good cause and simple to help to!
Kiva lends money to those in need for help with education, development ideas or life long dream of getting a cow! I literally learned about them tonight, and it is a cause worth knowing of. They work, as most such organisations do, for people or groups in underpriviledged countries, but the difference is, this is not a donation, no. You lend money (the link is for a free trial donation, though, they hope to get you hooked on the endorphine-high of helping a project) voluptuous, and all money is paid back in time. Crafty little idea. Check it out, I helped a family with no roof and my friend Ilina helped a man get the cow he had always wanted!
And now, the new BLOG CHALLENGE- can you spot the WORD? Or can you give me a word, quircky enough, which I will include at a random place in one of the next articles?
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Why did the news anchor chicken cross the road? In search for good news.
I've got some good news and some bad news....
How many media expert does it take to figure out what sort of news sells best? None. Say it with me: bad news sells. That's the bad news. Yet, after another car crash with innocent victims, may they rest in peace, which was the reason for another day of national mourning, I think many were left cynical. Of course, quietly so. This is less a testament to their character, in fact I will openly admit I felt skepticism rise in me as well- we mourn for a day, TV channels will change their broadcast schedule and content for a day, reasons will be thrown around the newspapers, the opposition will blame the current government for the fact that they haven't been doing their job. After the small changes in legislation, necessary to calm down the general public, it will all slowly go away, business as usual. Hypocrisy is ugly, I don't condone it regardless of the reasons behind it and this case is no different- we have become numb to the gross over-exposure to negatively slanted news reports. It is inevitable, given the psychology of our human nature.
Have I got news for you! Paradoxically, t is this desensitisation, though, that allows for some good news within tonight's report- more and more often lately I find myself impressed with the great kindness of humans. I see volunteers travelling the world to help out people they have never met. I see people setting up dog shelters, sparing from their time, energy and money, to heal homeless dogs and feed them. I see an old couple still holding hands after decades of marriage, as they pass through airport security. I see kindness to strangers at stations. It is all within us, and I don't believe that some are innately good and others- innately bad people. Hopefully, if you just allow yourself to, you will see such Acts of Random Kindness. And, as saturated as we've become with bad news, where good news are not a given, but the exception, we inevitably are more impressed with them. As the capitalist world some of us live in will have us know, scarcity means higher value. Ergo, the rules of economics and human nature make me believe that soon enough, news channels will start looking for the good news, and more importantly, we as viewers and co-habiting humans, will be looking for our own good news.
It was in search for evidence for these good news that I set up my other blog, and I am still looking, every day.
How many media expert does it take to figure out what sort of news sells best? None. Say it with me: bad news sells. That's the bad news. Yet, after another car crash with innocent victims, may they rest in peace, which was the reason for another day of national mourning, I think many were left cynical. Of course, quietly so. This is less a testament to their character, in fact I will openly admit I felt skepticism rise in me as well- we mourn for a day, TV channels will change their broadcast schedule and content for a day, reasons will be thrown around the newspapers, the opposition will blame the current government for the fact that they haven't been doing their job. After the small changes in legislation, necessary to calm down the general public, it will all slowly go away, business as usual. Hypocrisy is ugly, I don't condone it regardless of the reasons behind it and this case is no different- we have become numb to the gross over-exposure to negatively slanted news reports. It is inevitable, given the psychology of our human nature.
Have I got news for you! Paradoxically, t is this desensitisation, though, that allows for some good news within tonight's report- more and more often lately I find myself impressed with the great kindness of humans. I see volunteers travelling the world to help out people they have never met. I see people setting up dog shelters, sparing from their time, energy and money, to heal homeless dogs and feed them. I see an old couple still holding hands after decades of marriage, as they pass through airport security. I see kindness to strangers at stations. It is all within us, and I don't believe that some are innately good and others- innately bad people. Hopefully, if you just allow yourself to, you will see such Acts of Random Kindness. And, as saturated as we've become with bad news, where good news are not a given, but the exception, we inevitably are more impressed with them. As the capitalist world some of us live in will have us know, scarcity means higher value. Ergo, the rules of economics and human nature make me believe that soon enough, news channels will start looking for the good news, and more importantly, we as viewers and co-habiting humans, will be looking for our own good news.
It was in search for evidence for these good news that I set up my other blog, and I am still looking, every day.
Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the horizon.
I think that universities and clubs have much in common. They both involve the human condition of wanting what you can't have. It is said that people need a constant aim, and if our primal urges for food and shelter are satisfied, then we will invent a new aim. I will be talking about the never-ending chase of the horizon.
I've applied to a few universities in Holland, where I'd like to do a Master's degree in Media and Journalism. While I had no clear favourites, two of them seemed more appealing. Groningen only accepts 15 people to do the course, and oddly enough, they very much liked my interview,so I got an offer from them. Secondly, Erasmus University Rotterdam offered a very appealing degree and just yesterday they told me they have accepted me too, on the condition that I pass all my modules and exams. Awesome.
Yet, the funny little female mind of mine indulged in some subsequent mind-games. What the bleeding hell must be wrong with them, accepting me to do a course there?!
Silly me. I would like to get into a good master's course. Challenge accepted. I have been offered place at the best universities for my speciality. Challenge completed. So...i am confused and suddenly thinking that what I wanted must be of less value, if I've achieved it.
Should you make the mistake of going into a club, there's the usual meat market: when it is a straight club, some girls are hot, some girls are not. Some guys hit on the former, and the later you go in the night, the fewer the good looking guys are, they are somehow taken by 10:30p.m. So, if you're a girl, and you're hit on by an attractive man (and let's face it, it almost never the good-looking ones!), then I personally get flabbergasted. That's nice of you to approach me... but if you're not taken by now, then something must be wrong with you. It may not be looks, but there's always something wrong.
That is at least the case with many women. They bitch that it is never the hot men who hit on them.However, when the inadequacy is not physical, they will immediately start looking for it until they can pin it down. There must be some other horrible shortcoming. Indeed, sometimes, may it be short? Is the coming short?
Of course, the entire reason for this disbelief is our own female shortcomings. In Theatre Arts, they talk about suspension of disbelief.And to chase happiness is an absurd concept- if you chase it, it will run away. It would do all of us well if we believed in our capabilities, knew our strengths and accepted our flaws.
I've applied to a few universities in Holland, where I'd like to do a Master's degree in Media and Journalism. While I had no clear favourites, two of them seemed more appealing. Groningen only accepts 15 people to do the course, and oddly enough, they very much liked my interview,so I got an offer from them. Secondly, Erasmus University Rotterdam offered a very appealing degree and just yesterday they told me they have accepted me too, on the condition that I pass all my modules and exams. Awesome.
Yet, the funny little female mind of mine indulged in some subsequent mind-games. What the bleeding hell must be wrong with them, accepting me to do a course there?!
Silly me. I would like to get into a good master's course. Challenge accepted. I have been offered place at the best universities for my speciality. Challenge completed. So...i am confused and suddenly thinking that what I wanted must be of less value, if I've achieved it.
Should you make the mistake of going into a club, there's the usual meat market: when it is a straight club, some girls are hot, some girls are not. Some guys hit on the former, and the later you go in the night, the fewer the good looking guys are, they are somehow taken by 10:30p.m. So, if you're a girl, and you're hit on by an attractive man (and let's face it, it almost never the good-looking ones!), then I personally get flabbergasted. That's nice of you to approach me... but if you're not taken by now, then something must be wrong with you. It may not be looks, but there's always something wrong.
That is at least the case with many women. They bitch that it is never the hot men who hit on them.However, when the inadequacy is not physical, they will immediately start looking for it until they can pin it down. There must be some other horrible shortcoming. Indeed, sometimes, may it be short? Is the coming short?
Of course, the entire reason for this disbelief is our own female shortcomings. In Theatre Arts, they talk about suspension of disbelief.And to chase happiness is an absurd concept- if you chase it, it will run away. It would do all of us well if we believed in our capabilities, knew our strengths and accepted our flaws.
Saturday, 14 May 2011
Why did the female chicken cross the road, whilst chirping “We can do it!”? Because it wasn’t the 1950’s anymore.
Women’s sexuality seems to be threatening to men and this, I think, is the primary reason why pornography is also frowned upon. A man watches porn, that’s expected. A woman watches porn and suddenly she’s a whore. Fine, so be it, we’re all whores. If a whore means a woman who has many sexual encounters. It is the connotation of the word that gives it power, and the only way we can change the connotation is by owning the word. I think it is a fear that, if there was a word which, like “stud”, glorified women’s conquests, women’s sexuality would have massive effects on the male ego. The reason for it is the sexualisation of the western society. Sex equals power, thus words like “slut” or “whore” and the negative meaning ascribed to them is what keeps women in place, ensuring that they don’t openly enjoy sex as much as men do. Until there is not judgment passed on a sexually liberated woman, we cannot talk about equality of the sexes. Here is an interesting discussion of "sluts", rape, feminism in the Guardian,
Pornography should not be frowned upon, as there are women, many women, who enjoy such a career, they have made money from it and it shouldn’t be up to society to judge them for it. Instead of banning strip clubs with the excuse that women could be exploited, keep them legal and stimulate male strip clubs as well. As far as my liberal mind is concerned, prostitution should be legal. The reasons include security, social and economical factors. Firstly, in places where prostitution is legal, such as The Netherlands, it can be regulated, which means that there is no reason for human trafficking, thus ensuring for healthy and safe work conditions. Secondly, I struggle to find the moral problem. When we are not talking about forced sexual labour, there are women who enjoy working in the sex industry; to make it illegal on the misogynist grounds that they are exploited (in the cases when they are not!) is counter-feminist. It is a misconception that women cannot and do not enjoy sex. We do, just as much as anyone else. Thus, to take away the option of “getting laid and getting paid” appears to me to be in fact an oppressive practice, where women are made to feel victims. I am not saying that every woman should aspire to be a prostitute, not at all. All I am saying is, if she wants to be, she should be allowed to, and should do so in safe conditions because prostitution is happening whether you like it or not, and until it is legalized, millions of women are under the threat of being trafficked for a sleazy man’s pleasure in some smoky dingy flat.
And as far as the Prime Minister of Iceland, who is the first openly lesbian prime minister, she should have known better than to make strip clubs illegal! :)
Pornography should not be frowned upon, as there are women, many women, who enjoy such a career, they have made money from it and it shouldn’t be up to society to judge them for it. Instead of banning strip clubs with the excuse that women could be exploited, keep them legal and stimulate male strip clubs as well. As far as my liberal mind is concerned, prostitution should be legal. The reasons include security, social and economical factors. Firstly, in places where prostitution is legal, such as The Netherlands, it can be regulated, which means that there is no reason for human trafficking, thus ensuring for healthy and safe work conditions. Secondly, I struggle to find the moral problem. When we are not talking about forced sexual labour, there are women who enjoy working in the sex industry; to make it illegal on the misogynist grounds that they are exploited (in the cases when they are not!) is counter-feminist. It is a misconception that women cannot and do not enjoy sex. We do, just as much as anyone else. Thus, to take away the option of “getting laid and getting paid” appears to me to be in fact an oppressive practice, where women are made to feel victims. I am not saying that every woman should aspire to be a prostitute, not at all. All I am saying is, if she wants to be, she should be allowed to, and should do so in safe conditions because prostitution is happening whether you like it or not, and until it is legalized, millions of women are under the threat of being trafficked for a sleazy man’s pleasure in some smoky dingy flat.
And as far as the Prime Minister of Iceland, who is the first openly lesbian prime minister, she should have known better than to make strip clubs illegal! :)
Monday, 11 April 2011
Why did the chicken cross the road? To get over the ex-chick.
I think it's time to openly admit that I am still not over my ex. At the end of the day, I seemed to play a game I didn't know the rules of but I was getting just enough to feed my imagination and make me want to play more...I played against myself, with no option but to lose.
Some of you know that I have a permanent partner, we're still together and we're still able to make you vomit with our cuteness, very much so. Just before I met him, I was still with an ex. Incidentally, not just an ex but my first ever girlfriend. We were together in our mid teens, we then split up, and after about 7 years (i.e. last spring) we decided to give it another go, as we both realised that we'd left things unfinished and we wanted to know whether "us" was a relationship worth pursuing. Our dates were wonderful, we took walks, talked and claimed places to be "ours" or called places we'd like to go to. We did all that people do on dates, and it was sweet because it was the second time around, we had grown up and you probably know, there's nothing sweeter than getting back with an ex-partner.
I had to go back to England, we wrote little, I wrote her a letter. She loved it, thanked me and adored me for it, she loves letters. She never got to writing one back. I felt like I put in more effort and yet she would still spontaneously write to me saying "I love you". Fair enough. I got back to Sophia, and we took the same walks, it was all lovely. We just never progressed from there, and soon she failed to come to Pride with me because she'd been out the previous night, being fucked by some guy until the morning, to the point of bruises. I didn't know whether to kill her or help her on the next day, when she called to explain. I wasn't bothered much about the guy, we'd been in an open relationship, but I was pissed off as hell that she chose to go out when I was purposefully giving her space to study, with exams coming up for her, so I called the whole thing off.
She had long beautiful hair, going down to her waist. Such a charming smile. What I will always remember, though, no contest, is the scent of her body, natural sweet smell. That's what makes her unique.
I am happy that I know now what I didn't know when I was 14 and when I cried my eyes over her: we cannot ever work, we're so compatible yet so different in our approaches toward relationships. It's all the closure that I'll ever get, just knowing that it cannot work, it's no-one's fault. It should be enough.
Yet I am stil bitter, not because I miss her, but because I miss what she represented. I hate that the person who is so responsible for who I am now, the person who made me a bit more of a woman, is also the only ex that I am not speaking to and I am not on friendly terms with. I hate that she hurt my ego, that I still don't know what she did to me to get under my skin like this. I know she meant it when she said she loved me. I hate that I will never really know why we couldn't work, why I wasn't worth the effort for her to fight for me.
I hate that I will probably never be able to hate her.
Some of you know that I have a permanent partner, we're still together and we're still able to make you vomit with our cuteness, very much so. Just before I met him, I was still with an ex. Incidentally, not just an ex but my first ever girlfriend. We were together in our mid teens, we then split up, and after about 7 years (i.e. last spring) we decided to give it another go, as we both realised that we'd left things unfinished and we wanted to know whether "us" was a relationship worth pursuing. Our dates were wonderful, we took walks, talked and claimed places to be "ours" or called places we'd like to go to. We did all that people do on dates, and it was sweet because it was the second time around, we had grown up and you probably know, there's nothing sweeter than getting back with an ex-partner.
I had to go back to England, we wrote little, I wrote her a letter. She loved it, thanked me and adored me for it, she loves letters. She never got to writing one back. I felt like I put in more effort and yet she would still spontaneously write to me saying "I love you". Fair enough. I got back to Sophia, and we took the same walks, it was all lovely. We just never progressed from there, and soon she failed to come to Pride with me because she'd been out the previous night, being fucked by some guy until the morning, to the point of bruises. I didn't know whether to kill her or help her on the next day, when she called to explain. I wasn't bothered much about the guy, we'd been in an open relationship, but I was pissed off as hell that she chose to go out when I was purposefully giving her space to study, with exams coming up for her, so I called the whole thing off.
She had long beautiful hair, going down to her waist. Such a charming smile. What I will always remember, though, no contest, is the scent of her body, natural sweet smell. That's what makes her unique.
I am happy that I know now what I didn't know when I was 14 and when I cried my eyes over her: we cannot ever work, we're so compatible yet so different in our approaches toward relationships. It's all the closure that I'll ever get, just knowing that it cannot work, it's no-one's fault. It should be enough.
Yet I am stil bitter, not because I miss her, but because I miss what she represented. I hate that the person who is so responsible for who I am now, the person who made me a bit more of a woman, is also the only ex that I am not speaking to and I am not on friendly terms with. I hate that she hurt my ego, that I still don't know what she did to me to get under my skin like this. I know she meant it when she said she loved me. I hate that I will never really know why we couldn't work, why I wasn't worth the effort for her to fight for me.
I hate that I will probably never be able to hate her.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Why did the chicken cross the road? It was a matter of principle.
Is it always right to uphold your convictions?
What initially got me thinking was a discussion on The Big Questions, a BnB had refused to host a married gay couple in a double room because it was agains their convictions. It was an interesting enough case, with courts giving preference to law against discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, and thus overruling the law supporting the right for religious expression. Awesome.
Little did I know I'd be having a much more personal encounter with the same issue.
My partner recently asked me to delete a photo I had taken of him, that he wasn't too proud of. As far as I was concerned, I was in the right: he was aware at the time, thus his lack of objection indicated consent to me, that I was about to take a photo. I had also agreed not to share the contents of it to others. So why was he asking me to delete it? It made him uncomfortable, he said. He felt that simply asking me to delete it should be enough, we play for the same team, not against each other. I knew I was technically right but of course, when you are a team, you can't get away on a technicality. I deleted the bloody picture.
What upset me was the certain emotional manipulation: surely, if you love someone, you don't use their trust and love against them, and this is a point that should speak to both of us in this case, I get it.
I still struggle to make up my mind: did I make a compromise and take one for the team, or did I simply bend over and take it? When does compromise end and when does manipulation begin? There are cases when being right is not all and upholding your convictions will ultimately be destructive.
Going back to the original case, the BnB was held by a religious family who wouldn't allow any unmarried couples to stay in a double room, gay or straight. However, the gay couple were married, but were still denied the double room, as marriage was only for men and women, the owners felt. Yet, you relinquish your rights to judge, when you open up a business in the public sector. It shouldn't be right to uphold your religious views when that harms others and when it is against the law. We have placed the law above religion, which pleases me immensely.
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned!...." -Cross the road six times, chicken, say ten Hail Marys and you shall be forgiven.
It's time to talk about religion.
Religious matters are personal and often very complex. However when it comes to child molestation, the issue becomes as simple as any "truly American" movie- the bad guys should get punished.
The media have given publicity to enough stories in the recent years, involving Catholic personas high in the hierarchy, who have been charged with child molestation.It seems to me that it is the strict prohibitions and supression of what is one of the most natural human needs- sex and companionship, which has led to stories like Billy's. This is yet another example to me of where organised religion has gone wrong. To deny people what is natural, ask them to supress it and constantly reinforce a feeling of guilt for being human cannot end well, and anyone who thinks otherwise has got another thing comming.
Here's generally what happened:
Father Engelhardt plied Billy, a fifth grader,with sacramental wine and pulled pornographic magazines out of a bag in the sacristy and told the child it was time “to become a man,”.“After that, Billy was in effect passed around to Engelhardt’s colleagues,” the report says. “Father Edward Avery undressed with the boy, told him that God loved him,” and then had him perform sex.“Next was the turn of Bernard Shero, a teacher in the school, with whom the parents of the boy had shared about the molestations . Shero offered Billy a ride home but instead stopped at a park, told Billy they were ‘going to have some fun,’ took off the boy’s clothes, orally and anally raped him and then made him walk the rest of the way home.”Billy fell apart and turned to heroin. (NY Times, 2011, "Avenging Altar Boy")
In any profession, once a person has been convicted for child molestation, they are never allowed to work with children again. Aparently, the Church are under no such obligation.
I am not preaching against organised religion, this is a personal choice. I don't claim that all catholics are bad people.
What I am saying is that it is not acceptable to forgive religion, to tip-toe around it or allow for more. It is not acceptable for the the Pope to cover up a child molestor, and having done so, I don't know what he is doing still being the head of the Catholic church. The reason why he still is on his post is, i am guessing, money and power. And it upsets me that, just like anything else that is too complicated and takes more effort than The X Factor, we seem to lack the attention span to even remember it ever happened.
When Michael Jackson was accused for child molestation, it destroyed his career. Sadly so, as his accusors later admitted they had been forced by their parents, for money, to accuse him of such terrible acts, even though all they had received from him was company, attention and a great time in Neverland. He was cleared of all alegations, yet still the seed of doubt remains.
Why can't we be more socially just, socially responsible and socially interested to give a damn about the thousands of children who have been and still are molested by priests, whom these children trust and who are supposed to give them guidance in life? Why is it so appealing to deny an innocent pop-start forgiveness but grant it to those who don't practice what they preach?
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Why did the artsy-fartsy chicken cross the road? Because no-one else was doing it.
So.... art. Yeah.
I don't care for art much. Or more specifically, I don't like the artsy-fartsy, pseudo-intellectual, self-indulgent pretentious cretins who are obsessed with finding the meaning of life in a black dot on a white canvas. You know the kind?
Recently I read that the most expensive painting in the world, "Nude, Green Leaves and Bust" by Picasso, was to be shown in the UK. How much did the painting cost then, you might ask? 106 million dollars. A hundred and six million dollars. To put this into perspective, Angelina Jolie was widely publicised and praised for donating 3 million dollars to charity. If every person in the UK gave 3 pounds, they would be able to buy the painting. I must not have been there when they announced that the world's problems were solved....
If you want to see the original article, here is the link. You can also see the painting in question there: World's most expensive painting - BBC
Please, don't misunderstand me: there is nothing inherently bad or morally wrong about art. In fact, entertainment and creativity are essential for the progress of the human race. (Of course, one can sarcastically make the remark that while art may be cricial to the survival of humans, the very survival of humans is not crucial at all!) We are social creatures aware of our own existence and we need intellectual food. All I am saying is, our priorities are completely displaced if we don't mind that someone paid a 100 million dollars for a painting my 10 year old sister could have drawn but we then don't want to switch all electricity off for the World Earth Hour because it is too inconvenient.
And here is a link, if you don't know what the World Earth hour is or want more info on it. It's coming soon: Earth Hour - 26th of March
Yet, every story has at least two sides. Here's the flipside.
I was finishing up an essay the other night at 3 am, like you do, and I stumbled upon an artist's work. His name is Leonid Afremov, he is from Belarus, and his work moved me. His work is very expressive and I feel that it captures the spirit, the atmosphere, the emotion even, of the moment. While looking at some of his paintings, I had the very distinct feeling that I'd seen this image, it spoke to me and spiked a memory. To my surprise, and as it is becoming clear to you at this moment, I later found out that it was indeed Copenhagen and Paris that he had painted, and it was exactly the two paintings I was wondering about. His work surprised me because not only did it provoke a memory but it built up on it, creating a certain magic, the colours are magnificent.
Should you be curious, here is some of his work, I hope you enjoy it: Leonid Afremov - Gallery on DeviantArt.
So there you go. Within a day, I had two very conflicting experiences with art and I wonder, is it just me who sees it this way?
Réah
I don't care for art much. Or more specifically, I don't like the artsy-fartsy, pseudo-intellectual, self-indulgent pretentious cretins who are obsessed with finding the meaning of life in a black dot on a white canvas. You know the kind?
Recently I read that the most expensive painting in the world, "Nude, Green Leaves and Bust" by Picasso, was to be shown in the UK. How much did the painting cost then, you might ask? 106 million dollars. A hundred and six million dollars. To put this into perspective, Angelina Jolie was widely publicised and praised for donating 3 million dollars to charity. If every person in the UK gave 3 pounds, they would be able to buy the painting. I must not have been there when they announced that the world's problems were solved....
If you want to see the original article, here is the link. You can also see the painting in question there: World's most expensive painting - BBC
Please, don't misunderstand me: there is nothing inherently bad or morally wrong about art. In fact, entertainment and creativity are essential for the progress of the human race. (Of course, one can sarcastically make the remark that while art may be cricial to the survival of humans, the very survival of humans is not crucial at all!) We are social creatures aware of our own existence and we need intellectual food. All I am saying is, our priorities are completely displaced if we don't mind that someone paid a 100 million dollars for a painting my 10 year old sister could have drawn but we then don't want to switch all electricity off for the World Earth Hour because it is too inconvenient.
And here is a link, if you don't know what the World Earth hour is or want more info on it. It's coming soon: Earth Hour - 26th of March
Yet, every story has at least two sides. Here's the flipside.
I was finishing up an essay the other night at 3 am, like you do, and I stumbled upon an artist's work. His name is Leonid Afremov, he is from Belarus, and his work moved me. His work is very expressive and I feel that it captures the spirit, the atmosphere, the emotion even, of the moment. While looking at some of his paintings, I had the very distinct feeling that I'd seen this image, it spoke to me and spiked a memory. To my surprise, and as it is becoming clear to you at this moment, I later found out that it was indeed Copenhagen and Paris that he had painted, and it was exactly the two paintings I was wondering about. His work surprised me because not only did it provoke a memory but it built up on it, creating a certain magic, the colours are magnificent.
Should you be curious, here is some of his work, I hope you enjoy it: Leonid Afremov - Gallery on DeviantArt.
So there you go. Within a day, I had two very conflicting experiences with art and I wonder, is it just me who sees it this way?
Réah
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Why did the rooster cross the road? So to not offend the chicken.
I don't udnerstand what is so wrong with offending people?
Remember, it's just words. If you feel that you were judged unfairly by someone you barely know, then their words don't matter because they have no way of knowing what you really are like. If these words hurt and you have a problem with someone, have the self-respect to deal with it and talk to them. Or have the selfconfidence to let it go.
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I have two stories to tell today and I will ask for your opinion in the end.
Story 1:
First week of university. Two students meet- one is religious, the other one is an atheist. They get along and create a lovely friendship, despite their differences. One day the religious student, let's call him Joe, says:
-I think you're a great guy, Sam, but I think that you are going to Hell because you don't believe in God.
I am not being funny when I say I don't see how that could be offensive. When you become friends with someone, you know a few things about them and discover more on a daily basis. If it suits you, you stay; if it doesn't, you leave. To be offended by someone's beliefs of which you knew right from the start, is hypocrisy. To ask them not to say what you know is their opinion is hypocrisy and also being a bad friend. Equally, i imagine, for a religious person it is difficult to be friends with someone who they strongly believe will go to Hell. I am sure it also poses some moral questions- ""OK, this person is my friend, and I have seen them to be a good, morally right person who cares for others and attempts to do the right thing just as much as I do although they sleep in on sunday, and I don't."
But the point is not even a religious one anymore, merely it was a religious debate that made me think about it. Why are people so affraid of being offended? It's quite simple really- you hear something that offends you, and you are offered with two choices: it is insignificant, so you move on, or it is significant so you tackle it. How? You talk to the person who offended you, and depending on variety of factors like "did they intend to hurt me", "are they close to me", "what are the consequences?", you choose how to tackle the offence- talking, shouting, revenge, bitch slap, set them on fire, call them names, shoot their dog, or tell them they will rot in Hell. Whatever, your business. But why on earth do offenses matter so much?
Story 2:
I was recently in a club where, how shall I put this diplomatically, I saw some girls who looked below the average intelligence & seemed to be happy to perform services of sexual nature in exchange for material benefits. For the thicker ones, that was "skanky hos". I shared this opinion with a friend, and unfortunately I was later told they heard me. Trust me, this is a low moment for me to share this, as I did feel very badly about it, especially after I was told they were friends of friends. I learned my lesson- next time talk quieter and do not assume that just because it's a club, people don't hear anything. My point being, the ladies (i still don't know anything on the question of their integrity but that's beside the point) felt offended. 100% fair enough. They then complained to their friend, who complained to my friend, who asked me if that was true. This is in no way excuse for my mean behaviour, but if they felt so strongly about it, they should have come to me and said "Why are you being mean to people you don't know?" That would have leveled me with the ground and I would have felt even worse about being mean as they would have a point. Instead they chickened out.
Am I right or were they wrong? Or were they right and I was wrong?
Remember, it's just words. If you feel that you were judged unfairly by someone you barely know, then their words don't matter because they have no way of knowing what you really are like. If these words hurt and you have a problem with someone, have the self-respect to deal with it and talk to them. Or have the selfconfidence to let it go.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have two stories to tell today and I will ask for your opinion in the end.
Story 1:
First week of university. Two students meet- one is religious, the other one is an atheist. They get along and create a lovely friendship, despite their differences. One day the religious student, let's call him Joe, says:
-I think you're a great guy, Sam, but I think that you are going to Hell because you don't believe in God.
I am not being funny when I say I don't see how that could be offensive. When you become friends with someone, you know a few things about them and discover more on a daily basis. If it suits you, you stay; if it doesn't, you leave. To be offended by someone's beliefs of which you knew right from the start, is hypocrisy. To ask them not to say what you know is their opinion is hypocrisy and also being a bad friend. Equally, i imagine, for a religious person it is difficult to be friends with someone who they strongly believe will go to Hell. I am sure it also poses some moral questions- ""OK, this person is my friend, and I have seen them to be a good, morally right person who cares for others and attempts to do the right thing just as much as I do although they sleep in on sunday, and I don't."
But the point is not even a religious one anymore, merely it was a religious debate that made me think about it. Why are people so affraid of being offended? It's quite simple really- you hear something that offends you, and you are offered with two choices: it is insignificant, so you move on, or it is significant so you tackle it. How? You talk to the person who offended you, and depending on variety of factors like "did they intend to hurt me", "are they close to me", "what are the consequences?", you choose how to tackle the offence- talking, shouting, revenge, bitch slap, set them on fire, call them names, shoot their dog, or tell them they will rot in Hell. Whatever, your business. But why on earth do offenses matter so much?
Story 2:
I was recently in a club where, how shall I put this diplomatically, I saw some girls who looked below the average intelligence & seemed to be happy to perform services of sexual nature in exchange for material benefits. For the thicker ones, that was "skanky hos". I shared this opinion with a friend, and unfortunately I was later told they heard me. Trust me, this is a low moment for me to share this, as I did feel very badly about it, especially after I was told they were friends of friends. I learned my lesson- next time talk quieter and do not assume that just because it's a club, people don't hear anything. My point being, the ladies (i still don't know anything on the question of their integrity but that's beside the point) felt offended. 100% fair enough. They then complained to their friend, who complained to my friend, who asked me if that was true. This is in no way excuse for my mean behaviour, but if they felt so strongly about it, they should have come to me and said "Why are you being mean to people you don't know?" That would have leveled me with the ground and I would have felt even worse about being mean as they would have a point. Instead they chickened out.
Am I right or were they wrong? Or were they right and I was wrong?
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