Asus had the great idea of wanting to target 'cool' nerds - depicted in and fans of The Big Bang Theory -with their 'hilarious' The Eee Pad Story (insert fake Sheldon chuckle here). The results, needless to say, are beyond dismal. As Sheldon Cooper would say 'Ah! The horror!'. Judge for yourself.
You surely need to recover your energies after this so here it is one of my favourite bits from the show (by the way my favourite one):
I'll admit I've not been to many demonstrations or protests if not back in my school days or more recently at the Julian Assange court hearings and Bradley Manning London demo where the atmosphere was of political banter, guaranteed, but all in absolute peace and laughs (we even had tea and snacks, talk for violent protesting!). But the scenes I've just seen on my TV screen - and I'm still seeing as they don't seem to wither down - totally anger me. No, they piss me off big time.
I do understand having opinions, I do understand wanting to air them. After all this blog is all about my views on life and what surrounds us. What I don't understand though is violence like the frantic, blind, freak show-like, Red Bull-infused wrath that these 150 angry kids 'campaigning' for anti-cuts are offering for the whole world to see.UK Uncut, the activist group organising these activities, just being interviewed by Sky News states they've broken in and are occupying Fortnum & Mason as an act of civil disobedience. 'No, you're breaking the law', the newsreader kips back. Rightly so.
I also understand the impetus and ideals of youth; I appreciate they might have a certain notion of The Man being evil and something to destroy at all costs, but when this gets expressed through a 'method' of mere destruction, violence, rage and more, then it's where my empathy and support end and I dismiss these protesters as simply angry kids with no social skills and understanding of the world apart from their 'ideals'. Funny how many of these people end up ruining further the world and the environment they so want to change.
The organisers of these acts of violence are an organisation that is entirely focussed on attacking big tax-dodging corporations. To date they've put together weekly - even amusing and inventive - occupations of major shops and banks around the UK and have even spawned an American version, US Uncut. But they have never resorted to violence. So a part of me wants to believe these anarchists aren't from UK Uncut and are just deranged weirdo's with no better to do than venting their existential anger at inanimate objects.
I for one don't like many of the companies and corporations they target either and in my own way I show my hate by simply not buying their products or choosing more ethical alternatives - my bank, The Co-operative Bank, is one of the very few ethical banks, for example. I campaign as peacefully as possible, I share information with others for them to make their own decisions, I don't proselytise, mind you, and while some things might anger me very much, I would never get into sub-beast mode - as these people seem to do - to 'get my point across'. Because guess what? The people will not engage with you and then, the change you so wish to make, won't be made and only a stall - if not a change for the worse - will occur. And the cycle will repeat itself. These people need to understand that the Governments don't wait for anything else but for the dissidents to play the rage card. Be violent and you'll have given up the few rights you have. Simple. Why isn't using the brain seen as essential in many protesters? Why so taken by their own 'ideals' that they can't have bi-focal vision?
Wanting to be part of something big, something that is thought will change the world and society is a natural side of our psyche. Maslow wrote about the herarchy of needs at length. Wanting to change the world is hounourable - although I have my own reservations on the possibility of this ever happening - right now in the case of these protesters, all they're changing, apart from the broken and vandalised shops, is their criminal record. And for the worse.
Is it the sign that this society - and this country especially - have lost all parenting skills? Don't adults know how to teach their children how to get their point across without resorting to theatricality, outlandish actions and downright violence? Haven't these kids developed any social skills whatsoever? Haven't they grown out of their 'I want this and I want it NOW!'?
In this entire scenario the people I feel sorry for are the Police that seem the ones who bear the brunt of the situation. They are too suffering cuts but they still do their job to the best of their abilities. Without complaining and hitting at others. Obviously there are exceptions in the high standard of the Police but that is expected from any sector.
And as I speak the angry kids don't seem to stop. Should we send them to the Hard School of Life?
All of this while these more tragic things happen. Congratulations, angry kids, my sincere congratulations for getting your priorities right. I just hope on one of your next drunken nights when desperately trying to get money, for a cab back home to your mom and dad, off the several cash machines you have just destroyed you'll see the stupidity of your actions. Leicester Square is a good spot for the homeless, I hear. Good luck.
No, nothing Amelie-esque. Just another Julian Assange-themed daydream. If only this existed... To note like even the yellow note in his hand matches the yellow of the station fittings. If this isn't style...
I was trying to think what the best music ever produced in the history of mankind is. For some time I was debated between Mozart and Bach. I settled for Bach listening to this masterpiece:
But then a new doubt crept in. What if the best piece of music ever produced were this? Yes, I'm sure now. Relax is the best thing ever. Full stop.
And this is even the remixed extended banned version. Oh what a frisson of the prohibited!
I went to the demo today. It didn't have the highest attendance ever but considering the subject the turnout wasn't that bad either. Great atmosphere, nice people, many friends from the previous Julian Assange court hearing demo's, and some other new. Highlight of the day? Apart from the speeches and the saddening Manning's diary excerpts read out the best thing was with no doubt the wacky Imagine's rendition from one of the supporters. Up there with Friends Phoebe's Smelly Cat.
Today, 19th March, I realised it was Father's Day. I completely forgot about it. Strange how when I was a child Father's Day would be an important day where I would try and not anger my father by showing affection and gratitude (what for anyway?) and now I've completely forgotten about the day. Maybe I no longer feel the constriction of showing my affection. Or maybe I've long given up on the idea that if I did something right my father would love me back. The long distance might be one of the reasons also.
Anyway I tried taking decent pictures of the 'Super Moon' but it wasn't easy as: A. It was very cold on the patio and after 20 minutes outside I was starting losing use of my fingers (strangely enough the right hand loses sensitivity faster than the left one) B. I was playing up with my camera trying and find the right settings for the night shots. That reminded me I should go back and study photography. Another thing I beat myself up for.
Playing around with one of these wonderfully genius photo montage websites I was regaled with this sight. Unfortunately they don't seem to have Kick Ass as one of the possible templates. Very bad. I shall complain.
I'm sure at least one of my followers will be appalled at this. How dare I put Assange next to Green Lantern? What Sheldon Cooper would ever say?
The Wound. As K. calls it. This wound which is never sealed back, healed, forgotten. It's still open, raw and painful. Even more so that I am here alone with all these bloodied wounds, cuts and bruises on my face in this Berlin hotel room.
The pain... It is about you. My soul screams, about you, about what I would have done for you, given my soul for you, and what did I get back? Nothing, just few hours of 'affection' and after that, after my allocated slot, nothing. Silence. Neglect.
I loved you. And all I got back was pain. And got this wound even more sore and doleful to bear. This wound that I bring out on my flesh and soul, trying no one to see. But they can, they are not stupid the people. They can see my pain, in my eyes, in my words, in the way I go silent when they mention your name.
My Wound...
{Although this was originally written back in November 2008 I still 'cherish' this piece as one of my best ones}
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
A soldier clutches a four-month-old baby in Ishimaki, Japan
The events in Japan are affecting me deeply. I had bookmarked visiting Japan for my around the world trip in two years' time after qualifying but now the dream of visiting this wonderful country seems a bit far out of reach.
A newspaper was today relaying the words of one of the survivors. He was reported saying no looting or rioting has taken place in the affected areas because 'this is not in the Japanese mentality, where everyone helps out each other and carry themselves with a sense of dignity and respect'. After all it's the country that has artfully mastered those every day's life acts that other cultures, mostly Western, would simply see as utilitarian. An example that comes to mind is the tea ceremony.
This picture warms my heart and represents, to me, one of the few moments when humankind's grace and gentleness reveal themselves. What hurts me the most of this tragedy is the thought of the more fragile people like the elderly and the children left behind to fend for themselves.
A tragedy, which will change the life of all the affected ones. The Japanese do not tend to show their pain and despair outwardly. They do suffer in silence. But I wonder: for how long will they suffer in silence? When will the collective pain rush come? What will be of the next generation? Of all the orphaned children?
The fragility of a baby, lost and alone, rescued and sheltered.
I blame myself for this, for this desire that shows no sign of giving up... I hate myself for this. Caught in a loop I don't know how to get out of. I long for the day I will be free from this.
Better to clarify few things before going on to starting this blog. This blog has no presumption of revealing the Truth. No one possesses the truth as such. What this blog is about, apart from journalling my thoughts on several subjects, from my course studies to what I see in the world around us, is centred on what I define by journey through the truth. Brought on by my current counselling course, it’s the idea that we are journeying and exploring through our own personal truths with the ultimate scope of reaching our potential and becoming who we truly are and therefore being true to ourselves. ‘Shedding the mask’, if you like. I believe our current society, more visibly than previous ones, is losing track of what we are, burdened as we are with expectations of what we should be and how we should act and feel, that going back to the ‘core’ of our own self, seems more and more arduous and somewhat of a wild goose chase.
Things that interest me are current affairs, investigative journalism, human rights, freedom of press, information and speech, independent media and justice. Art, architecture, music, films, literature, psychology and psychotherapy, travelling, photography, cooking. I might post on any of these as things of interest pop up in my head and/or in the wider world.
Every time I listen to Bolero, as I'm doing right now, many thoughts cross my mind. But mostly it's feelings and emotions. And memories. Of my childhood, of the times when my father was working or tidying up in his studio with Bolero on and I was dreaming of one day playing violin .
Of someone I knew snoring in the night while I was so intently trying to listen to the radio.
Of the times when I've longed for more intensity in my life.
But all that remains is the love and fascination with such beauty, intensity and passion, with the almost hypnotic music. I feel like what drives me in life is intensity, although the type of intensity that at times can become burning and dangerous. Like at the present moment...
The fact that the new Combichrist video, Throat Full Of Glass, is exciting me is a worrying sign. Especially since the re-awakening of certain impulses within myself... Scared that it might be the return of the darkness. I need to resist the temptations...
