Whistling away

It is on evenings like this one when I feel my mind wandering off to various directions. I need to feel tired, fed up and not have anything really important to do for this to happen, but it does happen. I do not consider it to be a good or a bad thing, just a thing.
I kind of lose track of time. Time becomes fluid, undecided about the direction and speed it wishes to follow. I might be doing something (anything, as long as it’s not important) and can swear that it’s been hours on end of me doing that, and it’s only been ten minutes. Usually, this is caused - I’m speculating here, but I’m sure I’ve read/heard about it somewhere – by a very intense concentration on a particular task or job, but with me it seems to work the other way around, and I know exactly what’s causing it: my mind.
See, under these conditions, my mind starts thinking at a somewhat higher speed than usual, while at the same time seems to multitask quite effortlessly, in terms of thinking about a number of different subjects at the same time. These subjects range from remembering old friends and past events to speculating about the future and from trying to think what the best coffee I’ve ever drunk was (and where) to missing my old cat (tribute to Gino, respect). All these at once, plus a feeling of dizziness and disorientation, along with a myriad other trivial things; trivial, not everyday things, such as what to eat and stuff, never those, just trivial, such as “can plastic really be recycled in the long term”, “what if I had short hair” etc. At the same time, whenever I close my eyes I feel them rolling upwards under my closed eyelids, and my mind seems to follow; I feel it elevating to the top of my scalp, while it’s bottom parts seem to go vaguely numb.
Besides waiting for someone to post a comment with a link to a psychiatric ward and a free entrance ticket, I have to say I don’t necessarily mind this feeling. It is not overall unpleasant or discomforting; it’s really nothing “more than a feeling”. But there you have it, this is how I feel at the moment. I’m writing this and my mind is travelling to a hundred different directions at the same time, thinking about why I have sand in one of my camera lenses, how would it be like to live in Brazil, is it an option to sedate people before putting them on a plane in the interest of safety, will I ever see an iceberg, and a song by Nelly Furtado (“All good things (come to an end)”, beautiful, that whistling bit echoes in the whispering gallery modes of my head), as well as a random selection of (mental) hawk images, for whatever reasons.

*Whistles*

By the way, I’ve noticed that since I stopped including catchy keywords in my posts, the number of visits has slowed down. Just an observation.

That’s all for now.

Kind of well done...

So, this blog has gone over 600 visits. Not such a big deal in general, but it kind of feels good to know that the 6 of you that read it have gone into the trouble of visiting 100 times each. Or bad, cause it just shows that you (we) have a lot of time on your (our) hands. In any case, happy 600th visit, oh blog of personal expression! On the other hand, my photo site is nearing 5000 visits, and even if at least 1000 of them is myself seeing if anyone has visited (sad, I know), it’s still 4000 visits. Kewel!
Correct me if I’m wrong, but this can easily be compared to the excitement people used to feel when they got their own telephone line and also had their names registered. It was something new and exciting, knowing that people out there knew where and how to find you. People were waiting for someone to call them, and even if it was a wrong number or their local (to-be) elected representative, it still counted (or so I’m told, in any case). It is the same thing all over again, only at a different scale, since on the internet people are more often looking for people they don’t know. Or are they? Any way, I hope you got my point, I’m feeling good people are visiting my sites, even if this doesn’t make any (tangible) difference to me.
On the same note (but in a different tone), I also feel some sort of anxiety when I haven’t published anything for a while, blog-wise or photo-wise. It feels as if there’s people out there that are waiting to see what’s next from me, they’ve bookmarked my pages and come back to see if something new is there, and if not they’ll eventually get bored and never come back. Kind of like some sites along the lines of “Liberate bread from the plague of money” (in Greek only, don’t know where that link is, but basically bread-making recipes in an ideological context – and you think what I write about is weird!), which seem interesting (?) at first, but when nothing new is added, you never go back again. This is (wait for it) a glimpse for me (not quite yet) on how people can get addicted (…) to being famous (..giggle…), to being in the centre of attention (subdued laughter), to being stars (yes, you can finally roll on the floor laughing now). Interesting. I think.
In any case, my dear readers, this has been another post. 600 visits and all is well! :)

Interestingly enough...

...I am not dead. I have not been abducted, and I have not been recruited by terrorists or anti-terrorists. And, even if appearances suggest so, I am not James Bond.
I know it’s been quite a long time since I posted anything here (or given any signs of life to a lot of people). Sorry about that, lot of people, but a combination of facts and necessities have prevented me form doing so.
First of all, I’ve been ill. Twice. Nothing too serious, but enough to force me to stay indoors and not do much. Secondly, I’ve had to go through the strenuous process of applying for a new passport (British citizens are unlikely to fully comprehend what that means, and I sincerely wish to them that they never will). And thirdly, my natural laziness got the best of me.
Speaking of which, I still can’t think of anything interesting to write about. I promise that – Wait! Hold the press, the kid’s got a story to tell!
A little follow up on the bike-police incident. The local police force sent me a letter informing me that, having decided to handle this discretely, they will not give me a fine. Instead, I now have a criminal record in Scotland, available to all and any police officers, which will be deleted after six months, provided I don’t get pulled over again for a similar offense. I kid you not, ladies and gentlemen. I can now start writing lyrics for gangsta RnB, get tattoos, call myself “G” ( I always did, come to think of it), etc etc.

Nevertheless, I do maintain a rather positive perspective on life. Somehow, it’s still cool. It’s all good in da hood, me ‘n my crew ain’t got nothin’ to do, or to say, you don’t say, am I too bad for you? Yo. Peace on Earth, bros!

Bravery, Dedication, Honour

(Based on a true story)

It’s the Local Police Ball 2006. Hundreds of guests, important people, ministers, you name it. Even Sean Connery is there!
The band is playing a tune, and the Chief of Police comes on the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, it gives me great pleasure to announce the Policeman of the Year Royal Awards” (waits for clapping to calm down).
Bronze Award goes to Detective Blah DiBlah, for Cracking the drugs cartel that has destroyed so many thousands of lives so far (clapping and cheering).
Silver Award is given to Inspector Someone McSomebody, for tracking down and arresting 999 serial rapists (again, cheering and clapping).
The Golden Award represents the highest achievement of a police officer, comparable only to a Medal of Honour. This year, we have decided to give it to two police officers that, putting their lives on the line, risking every minute and with a high sense of duty and dignity, stopped George outside a chip shop and gave him a fine for not having lights on his bicycle. This country is forever indebted to you, stand up so we can see you!”
Standing ovation, cheering, rhythmically chanting the officers’ names…

And the band
Begins to play…

Thinking of the past

Do you ever do that? Just sit back in your chair/bed/sofa/bamboo mat and think about the past? Not just the immediate past (what did I have for dinner last Thursday?), but times gone a bit longer by. You do. Excellent.
How about people that are part of your past (not were, they are and will always be parto of your past)? I'm not talking about ex-whatevers; rather, I'm talking about old friends. Or people you considered to be your friends some time ago and have now drifted somewhere into the realm of acquaintances, usually resurrected in stories of old ("I remember, this one friend of mine once" etc). Do you ever wonder what these people are doing now?
That old best friend from primary school, with whom you used to share everything... Where is he/she now? Highschool buddies? Even uni friends... Obviously not the ones that you still hang out with, or get to see around Christmas, but the ones you haven't had any contact for in ages. What are they doing? Do you care? Do they care? What if you've completely put them aside, but they're still hanging in there, looking your name up in Google (don't give me a moral lecture on this, we all do this, even you *points a finger towards the back of an imaginary meeting hall*), just because they care for you and want to know what you're doing?
Is this the right thing to do? Imagine being on the receiving end of this, getting an invitation for the realm of acquaintances from one of your best friends (soon to become "of old"). How do you react? Do you just accept it? Do you get mad at them? Do you simply say "I don't care" and spend the small hours of the night quietly weeping?
Is acceptance one more the key to (a) salvation?

That's all for now, I'll pick this up again later.

Random thoughts

I've no idea where I left this blog (well, I could look, but where's the fun in that). I also have very little idea about what I'd want to write about. Therefore, all you'll get today is random thoughts.

Old people... I feel like my stomach ever so slightly clenches when I spend time with them. I still have a good time (can do, as with any other age group), it's just that I cannot helo but have this feeling of an imminent loss and sorrow. Perhaps because it is a clear view into the future, my future. It just feels a bit strange, that's all.

The human species will split into two, just as "predicted" in H.G.Wells' "Time Machine". I'm not saying that, the bbc is. Oh well, maybe, maybe not. I'm just a bit perplexed as to what an evolutionary theorist is doing in the London School of Economics.

I was reading on a website last night (ok, it's the Sinner) that, just in case any girl should be subjected to rape (or attempt of), she should carry with her a sharp object (knife or pen) with which - I kid you not - "it's sharp enough to cause some damage, and if stuck into a temple or an eye can be a lifesaver". For the love of God/Buddha/Brahma/Monolith/Zen! I could say a lot (oh, trust me, a lot), but I've grown so bored of feminists over the past years that I'll keep my mouth shut. I'll just say that the incident reported occured when a drunken girl let a stranger into her appartment at 3am. I SAID, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!

I think this is all for now. May the Monolith quietly overlook all of us again tonight.

Something a bit different

Going over the past couple of posts, which seemed to please only myself, and given that I am alone in the flat (therefore feeling lonely and a bit sad, meaning that a post is in order), here's what's going through my mind right now.
I've been watching TV, following a number of movies/documentaries revolving around international policy. As you know, I refuse to comment on that, about who's wrong/right/sane/crazy/benign/evil. However, a thought has sprung into my mind watching both sides (there's usually two sides, itelli can correct me on this, but I feel like you can always define two sides, and a bunch of pars that go one way or another, choosing one of the two sides in their doing so) develop their arguments. Both sides believe in something, both sides have faith/confidence in something higher; not necessarily a divine being, but in things such as "these people are wrong", or "we are doing the right thing", or "we're confident this/that is happening and we will react in such and such way". People/countries/groups around the world believe in some things and choose to act upon their beliefs.
To explain, I will not look into what beliefs are better/more righteous/more cool than others. Some things are right, some things are wrong, and I'm not the judge of that for anyone except myself. I have my opinions and everyone else have their own. I just find it really hard to allow myself to do this, or in any case to get into that way of thinking.
Could it be God? A lot of people find hope/consolation/guidance/advice in God, one way or the other. Could it be dedication to an ideal? A country? A financial or political system? A simple sport, even?
Nope. Blessed are the ignorant, for they shall inherit the earth. Damned are the knowing, for they shall only make their lives harder. But what side am I on?
Since I chose not to strongly believe in anything, am I part of the knowing, using my critical ability to examine, weigh and accept or reject anything based on hard facts (well, hard for me anyway). Or am I the ignorant one, not being able to see the truth that believing in something provides you with, the strength that you can get from shear force of will?
Brief example: Fear of death (I'm reading a relevant book, by the way, "A spot of bother" by Mark Haddon - highly recommended once you go below its surface). The knowing person understands that, lacking any evidence for an afterlife/reincarnation/ext from the Matrix, when you die your consciousness seizes to exist, leading to a complete and utter end to everything as far as the deceased are concerned. The believing person believes in something happening when you die, be it being reunited with one's beloved dead or finally turning into a billion trillion gazillion molecules and becoming a part of the universe. Again, without looking into where this leads, the knowing person is the one more prone to despair. Who is the blessed?
I'm sure I had a point to make, but it seems to elude me for the time being. I assume it has to do with the slight sadness that I feel whenever I see people truly and wholeheartedly believing in something. Something big, life-defining and life-changing.
Not sure I'd like to be one of them. I just believe (ha!) that it would make life a lot more certain, comforting and easy (believe in this to be right, act upon it, it's all good). It pushes people forward, it motivates people. Tom Cruise.

Doing a very amateur self-analysis, the above text is a testimony to me lacking motivation about my work and my future. Oh well.

Blogs of Boredom (BoBs)

Right, let me pick up where I left things… Given also the interesting comments I received, let’s try and make this a bit clearer by using an example.
Imagine you have a guy (or a girl, doesn’t really make much difference). You give them a ticket for a trip somewhere. You also give them a camera that they’re fairly comfortable using. You set them free. My personal experience has shown me that:

“The amount of photos taken on any journey is almost* directly proportional to how bored that person was during the journey”

Following so far? Feel like disagreeing? Just a second then.
I’ve observed this on others, and I’ve observed this on myself. I like taking pictures. I really, really like taking pictures. It would take something of biblical proportions to stop me from doing so (first rider of Apocalypse shaking his head…). And still, fact remains. I will take a lot of photos when I’m having a good time, but if I’m bored I’ll even take photographs of my toothpaste. The same thing goes for my writing, be it in a blog, a notepad, a book (ha! I'd wish!) or a wall.
So, where am I going with this? Itelli is right, even if I was in Antartica / paradise / Fidji / padded cell, I would still find something to write about, because I find a lot of things interesting (especially in my head – hence sfranky’s comment is kind of relevant), and somehow I’m always looking for things to write about. However, when I feel really happy, I will not put a single damn entry into my blog. That explains why you very rarely see any mention of happy events in my blog (something which caused my girlfriend to wonder as to why exactly am I writing a blog, since I usually moan to her all the time anyway). And if I’m in a state of bliss, I might even only take a couple of photos per week :)

In any case, when my posts take a long time to be renewed, I’m probably having a good time. Or I’m in Guantanamo. Or both.

Elvis.

*The “almost” part accounts for two parameters, namely a) people doing a journey in order to take pictures and b) going to a place with really interesting things to take pictures of - not the same!

BoDs (Blogs of Depression)

As the keenest observers amongst you have noted by now, it has been a long time since I posted anything here. My previous message must have given some warning (I know a few people started shaking their heads when they saw it), but still it’s been quite some time. Did I hear you ask “why”? No? I’ll explain anyway.
A couple of months ago I was having a discussion with my girlfriend, and we got carried away discussing the possible implications of writing a blog. We got round to the point that I could become famous (and rich, nothing wrong with being rich), and that’s when my vision came to me. I kid you not; this is it, word by word:
“I imagine myself dressed in a light white costume, wearing a panama hat, barefoot, walking on a seemingly endless beach that follows the inside of a quiet bay. The sand is white, and my mind drifts away for a second, thinking of all the trillions of shells throughout the billions of years that lived, died and then were crushed and ground so that one day I can walk on them barefoot and cherish the feeling. The palm trees create playful shadows around the beach as they move in the gentle breeze, and the distant sound of parrots in them only slightly distracts me from the sound of the waves slowly coming and going. I am not alone, as I have a whole entourage of people following me, carrying my stuff from my beach hut (ok, it’s a fully equipped beach bungalow). I chose a spot; it could easily be any other spot, but this one seems just about right, so I stop walking.
They first put my desk on the sand, in such a way that I am at an angle to the sea line, looking mostly towards the sea. My chair follows, and after that a typewriter or a Macbook (haven’t made up my mind yet about this. Having never used either, but being closer to a computer than to something designed to punch letters into innocent sheets of paper, I might chose the laptop. But then you punch the letters into innocent sheets of paper, how cool is that! Ehm, back to the story). A fruit cocktail of some sort follows, alcohol included, and finally a cigar with a lighter, just in case I feel like it. They bow, turn around and leave my field of view unobstructed. I take a deep breath and relax in my chair, letting my eyes wonder over the varying colours of the sea out to the clear horizon, where the waves roar as they break on the coral barrier, listening to the sea birds going about their daily business. I sink my toes in the sand, take a sip from my drink, and I start writing *sound of needle being dragged off a vinyl record*”
That’s when it hit me. Under those circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to write a damn thing. Nothing. Nada. Honestly, I don’t think I would be able to get my eyes off the horizon, stop being soothed by the sound of the waves gently coming and going, blah blah blah. Absolutely not. I’m in the freakin’ Caribbean (or wherever the Hell I am at), and I’ll be writing blog posts?
I shall pick this up again in the next post, but keep this in mind:

People that are sane and happy with themselves and their lives, simply do not blog.

Nothing to write home about...

Not really. I mean, this is kind of a transitional period for me, blah blah blah, settling into my new flat, blah blah blah, work, blah, boredom, blah blah...
The point is, I think I've reached that stage that I always reach in my life with mostly anything that I decide to keep myself busy with that the urge to do something is starting to be even with my natural tendency to do nothing. A very tense moment, ladies and gentlemen! Will this blog go down the drain like my previous websites did after a while? Will I find the strength and inspiration I need to go on? Will you be bored after reading yet another non-entry? Will an Angel for Heaven make a miraculous intervention that will change this blog for ever?
Stay tuned. No key word today.

Not a proper entry...

... but it'll have to do for now.
Some pictures from Leuchars Air Show 2006 (now now, don't cry just because you didn't get to go) can be found here. As I said, I had the need to take photos, and when this was combined with the thought of extreme noise, nice weather and fighter planes, the "uber-mann" (Tom Cruise) within me fell the adrenaline pumping and the boredom screaming, so I decided to go; living 10' away also helped.
For a proper entry, later.

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A picture tells a tale better than 1000 words can ever do

Keep on swimming

Sometimes I feel like writing in my blog is a bit of an obligation. Towards myself, towards you, towards whatever (need, perhaps?) drives me to do this. And this is not necessarily a bad thing.
I think that sometimes everyone needs a (gentle or not) kick in the, ahem, back to get going. It's all very nice being self-motivated etc to do stuff, but sometimes our natural momentum (or lack thereof any) gets the best of us. You could like something as much as you like, but sometimes you just can't deal with it. Kind of like the photography thing with me.
Looking back to what I've just written, it becomes rather obvious that I'm lazy. That's ok, I am. That's not the point though. The point is that sometimes we need someone (or something) holding a whip over our heads, telling us what to do. We need an initial kick; we need something not to motivate us, but to get us to do things. There is a distinction there, though it can be quite subtle.
To give a historical example, let's look at nuclear energy (uh oh). Just before the Second World War, scientists were keen to develop it. They were highly motivated, they were set on doing that, it would happen. Eventually. And then there was a fear that the Nazis might get it first, and within a few years, tadah! Now, it would be wrong to say that the Nazis motivated the rest of the world (or the Americans, whichever you prefer); rather, they forced them to do something. Was that a good or a bad thing? I will not go into the ethics and morals behind what happened (a needle can either save lives or take them), but fact of the matter is that it got things rolling.
In the same (well, less historically important) context, I feel that it is a good thing if sometimes we are made to do things, if we force ourselves to get off our ass and start working/blogging/painting/jogging. Otherwise, despite all our good intentions, efforts and motivation, we'd end up watching Victorian house restoration 24/7.
This post has been a wonderful example of what to write about when there is nothing you want to write about. The trick is to write and write and write. It takes a lot of doodling to produce a work of art, it takes (as Confucius I think has said) a lot of shit shoveling to reap a field of wheat, it takes a million photos to capture a single moment. At the end though, it's the final outcome that makes it all worth it. Christina Aguillera.

Needs etc

I was thinking today about not having updated my photo web page at pbase. In addition, I realised that I haven't spent any time going through my photos, choosing the ones I like, processing them, taking new ones and so on. On its own, that doesn't mean anything, people forget, have other priorities etc, why should I be any different?
The next thought though was a bit more important. I feel like I need to be doing that, taking photos and all that follows. The key word here is "need". Why do I need to do this? It's just a hobby, it won't change anything in my life (assuming always that the International Organisation for Very Talented Individuals - InOVeTI - is not looking for the next Extremely Talented Individual - ExTI), if anything, it will take up my time, my energy, my precious free time. And ok, having a hobby can act as a form of self-therapy, of releasing pent-up creativity, it can help you get in touch with a side of you that's under-represented in your everyday life and therefore you can get extra benefits from spending time on it, but a need?
I'm just curious: If I was a photographer by proffesion, would I turn to other areas of life for my hobbie, feeling that I need to do so? Would I take up accounting, maths, physics or marketing as a pass-time? Would I feel the "Need to Account"?

Probably not.

Therefore a) I'm lucky I'm not an accountant by proffesion (no offense, it's just a matter of personal preference) and b) I should just do what pleases me without going into too much detail about what's the inner motive that drives me.
However, and in response to (b), I am curious by nature. I want to know (but hey, at least I don't need to know).

Tha last thing I want to say is "Madonna".

Thought of the day

First of all, thank you all for your comments and for checking my blog every now and then.
To start with, I have to say that writing in this blog works as a toilet flush for my brain. Some things get clogged up in there, and I feel like I have to let them out. Writing this blog for me is primarily a way of cleaning and refreshing my mind (come on, the story of the man that always turned left? But it was going around in my head, so I wrote it down and got it out of the way), but that is not all.
Obviously, by choosing to do this online (in public, if you will) instead of just filling a diary with my thoughts whenever I felt like it implies that I am expecting some sort of feedback from people.
I was aiming to see who would eventually comment, who would get in touch to let me know they read this; an experiment on both sides, me writing something about what's on my mind and seeing if people are attracted to it, be it by chance or by, well, chance. This is the reason for not advertising it (I think up to yesterday there were 4 people that I'd informed about my blog). In the past I have made numerous attempts at maintaining a website, writing etc, and I wanted this to be different.
I did not, however, do things much differently. I kept it completely esoteric, almost private, and I think that the fact that some people were actually there to read it was a miracle (or a great success) on its own. And although my original idea about who and why should read my blog has not changed (see one of my first posts), I have discovered that the need to reach out to other people through this blog has been growing inside me. I feel like I now want to get comments, I want people to read this, I eagerly await for their opinion and judgement.
Perhaps I am moving on from cleansing to purging, from getting everything out to putting more in, from speaking my mind to hearing what other people have to say about me.
So a big thank you to everyone that's been reading this so far, it really does make a difference to me knowing that you're there What mmatters is that you are there. Also, a welcome to all newcomers (anyone?). I do not promise you an easy ride, I will not hold your hand as we go through this.
Open the door and come out into the garden. I'll be waiting for you over the fence at the very end, I'll take you into the woods and we'll walk through the forrest together. What I'm getting out of this is some company along the way, maybe even the occasional chat. And if you're lucky, you might find something useful along the way. Don't be afraid, just pick it up and keep it and make it yours. It will be your memory of this journey.

PS: Angelina Jolie :)

A story of a man who always turned left

This is the story of a man who always turned left.

A boy was born some years ago, and he always turned left. Always. This fact puzzled, annoyed and worried (in that order) his parents, who took him to the doctors. The doctors could find nothing wrong with him, so they sent him to the psychiatrists. The psychiatrists could find nothing wrong with him, so they sent him back to the doctors, and so on, until the boy was 12 years of age. At that point, he had a brain scan, and they discovered that an uneven blood clot within his brain was putting pressure on the right part of the surrounding brain area, making him moody to start with and, if the pressure continued to rise, it could cause irreversible brain damage. Whenever he was turning left, the clot was pushed towards the right because of centrifuge, and the pressure was lessened. The doctors decided that this man actually needed to turn left in his life to preserve his sanity. His parents decided that they should not let him know what's happening to preserve his freedom of choice.
The boy grew up and became a man with a strong liking for cars. He loved driving. And he still only turned left. His greatest joy was speeding through left turns, tires screaming, the man screaming of joy and relief. He would never turn right, even if that meant carefully (and crazilu) choosing his route to only include left turns. As we all know, three left turns equal one right turn, so he was able to navigate anywhere, even if that took more time. Always speeding, always turning left.
At the age of 23, he went to the United Kingdom for a Masters in car engineering. His parents were so happy, he was doing well for himself, becoming a free and strong man as they had wanted him to be, despite his little quirk of always truning left.
During his first day in the UK, he hired a car, a nice BMW, and took it for a ride. And when he came across the first roundabout, he had to turn right vey fast and the clot in his brain punctured the soft tissue of the brain and he died.

Today's keyword is "Britney Spears".

To bother, or not to bother...

I was just looking at the stats for my blog visits. 68 in total, one evry day. Given that I suspect that, on a day-to-day basis, it's either itelli checking if I've come up with anything slightly non-boring or me checking if anyone finds what I write slightly non-boring, I think that no one except me and italli ever look at this blog.
No one.
Not even by accident does anyone ever end up reading my blog. Statistically, that is an impossibility. There are billions of internet users, most of them spend a good part of their day looking around webpages and blogs, so by the Power of Maths, I cannot be the only one to read my blog! I refuse to accept this! It's the same as dancing around in a blossomed field in May and not stepping on a single flower! Im-freaking-possible! Therefore, I have no choice but to declare the space-time continuum to be void and the end of the world to be near.

Repent! The end is nigh!

One of my friends (who, by the way, verified my theory about who it is that reads my blog) sugested that my blog does not have enough keywords, it's not "in" enough, it cannot attract enough attention. It should be more market-friendly, more shiny and sparkly, more trendy. Maybe so. I though about changing the title to "TrendyBlog", but I think that's lame. But then again, people might actually read it. So what I'll do is to include a trendy snappy keyword in every one of my future posts, just to trick someone else except me and itelli to read my blog. Today's word is "Paris Hilton".

In other news, I found a house. And I'm thinking of taking up writing again, maybe there is something in my head except random thoughts that I can for into a coherent text. I even bought a notebook to keep track of my thoughts throughout the day, chances are it'll be left with the two pages of (pompous, witty-looking and ridiculously mysterious) introduction in it. But what the heck. I'll keep you (or should I say itelli) informed.

Should I even bother? I wonder...

August

I΄d really like to be writing something profound and meaningful in this post, but there are three things that prevent me from doing so:
a) I΄m on holiday, so why bother?
b) I΄m homeless (again, yes, I know..)
c) There΄s a series of books on the bookcase behind me entitled "The History of Mankind". Honestly, I could never top that one up.

See yall later...

I read the news today, oh boy...

Nothing here. Just a reminder of how trivial our life can be in comparison to everything else in the world.

Something here though. A good friend of mine has given me the opportunity, freedom and responsibility to express myself freely on whatever I want in his excellent (and quite esoteric) blog. This allows me to go over the restrictions I've placed on myself in terms of what goes into my blog.

See, think and judge for yourself. Always.


A Day in Life

I read the news today oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph
He blew his mind out in a car
He didn't notice that the lights had changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
They'd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure
If he was from the House of Lords.

I saw a film today oh boy
The English Army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
but I just had to look
Having read the book.
I'd love to turn you on

Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late.
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream

I read the news today oh boy
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
I'd love to turn you on

Maybe

"Fresh place for the evening to gather your thoughts"...
Is this what I really need? Quite possibly. You see, things occurring around us cn have a dramatic effect on the processes of thought and feeling. I'm not referring to the obvious ones (i.e. "I'm stressed, I can't think"), but for something quite a bit more longlasting. Intellectual pollution.
It's kind of like your mind (or soul, or whatever, will not go into details now) is a house on the side of a road. It starts being all nice and clean and empty, and then you move in and start filling it up with stuff, memories, people, emotions, chairs (I often feel as I have the need to go into my mind's living room, light up the fireplace and sit on a nice leather armchair I keep close by and either have my eyes wander around there, reflecting on souvenirs from places and people long gone, or just looking out the window into the surrounding world, feeling safe and calm). However, no mind can be unaffected by their surroundings. Some environments can be nice and calm, kind of like having a house in the country, where the passing of time brings with it other creatures to nest in the cracks of the walls and on the roof, and ivy that wraps the house around and transforms it into a mystical place. Other houses seem to be built on busy streets, where the pollution of passers-by dulls the colour of the house, etches away the plaster and, eventually, finds its way inside, into your sanctuary and makes you feel uncomfortable in your own mind.
I shall not say which of the two different environments is the best, as they are just different. And we all know that, living on a busy street may be stressfull and tiring and harmful, but it is also an exciting and self-renewing experience. Also, the ivy might look nice, but it will eventually eat its way through the walls, plus there's no one around you in your little quiet place to interact with. Both places have pros and cons and, luckily, some people's minds best resemble motorhomes, which can be moved around at will (though not always at their owner's will).
The thing is, sometimes you just need to stop working for a while, and deal with your house a bit. You need to. You go out on a morning or an afternoon, and you inspect your house on all sides. You look for cracks, dirt, plaster peeling off, damp patches, and then go about refreshing your house, in which you can then feel more content living. You refresh your house, you refresh yourself, You refresh your mind, you refresh your life.

A fresh place for the evening to gather your thoughts...
I wonder.

Interesting

I find it very interesting that Life has its own little way of producing practical problems to obstruct the deep processes of thought and contemplation. It always seems to happen that way, and you find that the path of creativity, imagination and intellectual quest is suddenly missing a bridge somewhere along the way, and you plunge bak into the depths of triviality, where you have to wait for an unknown length of time in order to build back your strength and your motivation to ascend again where you know you belong. And all this journey you have done, all this struggle to reach halfway between the stars and the gutter, suddenly seems like a pointless and futile attempt, doomed to fail from the very beggining, like Daedalus trying to fly with clipped wings. It's like, in a metaphysical way, we are always bound by intellectual gravity, a force that constantly pulls us down into the lowest levels of a human state of mind. It is a torment, a pre-determined battle between everyday life and higher states of mind, with an outcome determined by the shear strength, persistence and repetition of common events which detract our attention, which stop our ascend and inhibit our climb towards something higher.

I was evicted from my flat yesterday.

Interlude

Quiet. In my head. Music is on, but there is silence in my head. There is calmness in my soul.
I am pleased with my evening. Wishing you the same.

Salvation, Part I

Today, I shall be discussing salvation. Not in the religious context, mind you, but rather in the spiritual, day-to-day-soul-anxiety way. And if this sounds a bit ambituous, and you are filled with doubt and repulsion by my attempt, keep in mind that I don't really care what you think, and we'll all be ok.
So what am I talking about? What, according to my own definitions, is salvation?
I think that, by and large, we are all discontent with certain aspects of our life. Things don't always go our way, people around us affect us with their emotions and actions, and we find ourselves responding to that with mixed feelings. It rarely seems clear what will come out of anything, and if it does, it's usually just wishful thinking. I think it's plain to understand that, if everything turned out to be how we wanted, everyone would be happy and I wouldn't even be talking about salvation. In reality, there's always a multitude of things happening around us that will cause us discomfort, concern, grief, anger etc. Wondering where this is going?
So far, there are two (and a half) approaches to releasing ourselves from this. The first one is to try and change some things around us (to whatever extent we can), and try hard to create a better world for us. The second approach is to try and change ourselves in order not to mind the negative things, or at least so that we are able to let the positive aspects of life dominate our souls, thus feeling bliss. The half approach is, quite simply, not to give a damn about anything. That's all very nice, but does it work? Does any of these theories actually work? Have people really ever achieved happiness through any single (or any combinations) of these approaches.
You guessed it. The answer is "We don't know".
There's a good reason for that, and that is that people really want to achieve happiness, they want to be liberated from their problems, they really, really do. With all their hearts, and all their souls, they do. And this means that they are willing to believe that someone has actually achieved happiness, that someone, somewhere has really been happy, content, care-free, you name it. To accept that no one has done it is to accept defeat and a life of (potential) misery, where the lack of satisfaction will be an ever reoccurring theme comin g back to haunt and hunt them. Us. Whatever.
Is there no answer then? Is there no hope? Is there no end to this?
To put it simply, no. It is hard to compress such a huge issue into one sentence (let alone one word), but not as hard as you think. See, from my point of view, there is a fundamental flaw in this thought process. There is a very basic aspect of nature, mind, spirit, religion, anything, that has been left out. It's like trying to feed your hunger without knowing that it is the lack of food that's causing it.
I think "hunger" is a very good word for what I am trying to describe here. Hunger, yes, but in a spiritual way. It is the need to feel complete, to finally have what makes you happy, to achieve what you want, but...
Since I'm running out of time here, I'll wrap this up by saying this. To me, salvation is not happiness, it's not something that you eventually reach. Salvation is the realisation that we are ever changing beings, with ever changing souls, always moving, evolving, changing, progressing, growing, learning and forgetting, loving and hating, suffering and being happy. It is the ability to experience all this, it is the experience itself that fullfills our souls and gets us going. It is the journey to Ithaki that counts.
But if you think that there is a hole in the column of the truth I am presenting, you are absolutely right.

This is not over yet.

Summer thoughts

There are some beaches where the waves are very infrequent, but when they do come, they are huge and overwhelming, and the only thing you can do is just look at them in awe and get swept away.
There are other beaches, however, that have waves breaking onto them all the time, only these waves are smaller, constant, and when they go they are replaced byt he next ones. These beaches are quieter, nicer, more relaxing, and you can have a really good time on them.
All my life, I've been walking on beaches of the first kind, where the waves would just leave me breathless, where the sights were amazing, where the roar of the sea was too deafening to notice anything else. And I loved it. But you cannot swim in such sea, it's too overpowering. And you cannot pay attention to what's happening around you, because everything else is too small by comparison.
I am on a different beach now. I can swim in the sea. I can enjoy the sunshine. I can pay attention to my surroundings. It's calmer. It's relaxing.

But God, I so miss the roar of the waves!
Please forgive me.

Funny. But not "ha, ha" funny.

Life's a funny thing, isn't it?
It seems to go on regardless of what you want, need, care for, dislike, ignore etc. It's just life, and it controls itself, not bothering to pause for explanations, breaks, time off or anything. And all we ever do is try hard to catch up with it.
I'm not talking about life in general (the usual "oh, life is so complicated, why can't people just get along" etc). I'm talking about our own personal life. My life your life. Their life. Our own little Master and Commander, holding the controls of what we do and what we can have. It's like we're just passengers, enjoying a ride with the driver called "My Life".
Now, before you start saying about how finally, I have been revealed before you for the pseudo-romantic that I am, please keep this in mind: I'm right.
Ha! You never saw that one coming, did you?
Here's the thing. You can try doing a lot of things in your life, and they might or might not work out how you expected. You want one thing, you need another, and you end up getting something else. And then you keep on complaining how your life is out of control, you wish you could change it, blah, blah...
I am providing an alternative to that. Your Life is not out of control. Your Life is in control. You also cannot change Your Life. Your Life has a mind of its own. You can try to influence its decisions and actions, but at the end of the day, it makes its own decisions.
So, instead of trying to inforce things onto Your Life, struggle to make it work the way you want it to, try a different approach. Consider yourself to be in a relationship with Your Life. This means that a) you cannot always get what you want and b) you can get some things, but only if you put your thoughts through in such a way that will make you both happy.
Try to learn what Your Life wants, needs, and is happy with. Then, try to find a compromise that suits you both. In that way, perhaps things can be a bit easier on both of you. And maybe, just maybe, you can learn to enjoy living with it.

Good luck!

Night time

"Briiiing the booooys back hooooome!"

Pink Floyd blasting through my speakers, as I'm all alone in my (soon to be ex) flat. There are some obvious advantages at having a place of your own...
Anyway, have just been sorting through my photos. Having gone digital a couple of years ago, I must have... around 10 gigs of photos on my hard drive.
To those of you who will start saying how, with digital, photographs stop being special, I have this to say: No.
See, the ease (?) by which you can recall old pictures, review them and create new ones out of them is unsurpassable. It has been some time since I took some of the pictures I'm looking at tonight, and I was surprised to see how different I feel like making them look, based on my current mood. And yes, messing about with photos on your computer IS part of the art of photography (my definition is not to simply capture what you see, but also to depict the emotions underlying the photograph or the photographer - it's the difference between strict realism and everything else in painting). So, with effectively the same raw materials (initial picture), one can produce an almost endless range of different images, each addressing different aspects of a theme/mood.
That's all for tonight, nothing too profound.

You got off easy this time

Here I go again

Well, I'm moving. Yet again.
I'm really getting tired of this, it's really not something I'm looking forward to. Even though my current place isn't exactly the best (well, far from it, but could be a hell of a lot better too), it's been the flat that I've stayed at the longest ever since I started living on my own. That must be... 10 months now. Wow.
I feel like I should've bought myself a caravan (or trailer house, for the Americans out there) and lived in it, and every few months just relocate. Alas, I have chosen the painful way of moving in and out and in and out and so on, so on..
I mean, come on, in the past two years I've stayed in (counting in my head) 5 different places. Statistically, that means I move out of a place after less than 5 months. I've known (heard of, at least) people that have stayed in hotels for longer, and I've definitely known someone who's spend more time in a youth hostel than I have in a proper flat.
Every single time, put my whole life in boxes and move somewhere else. Once I'm there, I don't even unpack most of my stuff, as I know I'll be moving out again shortly.
Speaking of which, my new flat is only going to be for the summer.

Great.

Do you know?

Do you know how happy I get when you post a comment on my blog?
No?
Well, neither do I, as I'm the only person posting on my blog.
Which brings me to the point... Chances are, nobody is ever going to read my blog, unless they're my friends and I tell them about it. Interestingly enough, my friends already know how I feel or what I'm thinking of, and would therefore have no reason to read my blog.
The only chance that anyone is ever going to read my blog then is (except by accident, but that doesn't really count - not to offend the random viewer, but you know) for me to tell my friends and then fall out with them, or not make contact anymore.
To summarise, the only chance that other people will read my blog is if I'm lonely.
I bet you didn't know that...

Just thinking

Well, it's kind of late to still be at work, but here I am. It's raining outside (Scottish summer on its way, right?), and I'm feeling quite moody and tired. Been working all day, will be working later on tonight as well.
I'm just thinking...
Is it really worth it? All of this? I mean, being in some country other than your own, having to put up with crappy quality of life, away from friends and family. You know what I mean. And if you don't, good for you. Honestly.
Byt yes, I'm just thinking. How would my life have been had I stayed home? Would it have been as bad as I had imagined it to be before I left? Is leaving everything behind to chase something really woth it?
Granted, I did what I wanted leaving. That's all really fine, but it's been two years now (almost), and I'm starting to lose my drive towards... what I thought I wanted? What I wanted not knowing how things would turn out?
I've never liked regreting things in my life, and (perhaps for that reason) I'm not going to say that I regret ending up where I am now. It's just that when it's the end of May, it's raining and it's cold outside, and most of the things and people you care about are out of your reach, you can't help it.
That's all for now. Just thinking...

Intro

Well, this is NOT a post to describe the reason for this blog. It is NOT a justification of my actions. It is NOT an explanation on what drove me to do this.
It is simply my first entry