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 :)