Rosarium

Was feeling a bit stuffy today the whole day, so after dinner went for a walk in th Rose Garden nearby (click for pics!)

It's the end of summer, so some of the flowers were in full bloom.

Bericht publiceren

Night out

Just got home and stripped into a shirt to sleep in. My skin is red and warm from the drinks, from the two bottles of lovely red wine I had sitting next to a warm open fire at a beach cafe.

Dinner was lousy, the food was horrible and expensive, but the drinks afterwards in a warm quiet cafe made the evening just perfect. Just me, and two girlfriends, sitting there, chatting, sharing and bonding. The three of us became close a few months ago because of school work that brought us together. One of us is leaving soon for good, but tonight seemed to prove that we will still be together even though we're apart.

We've been close before, but tonight brought us even closer. I don't like saying directly "I'm gay", partly because I think it perpetuates labels and stereotypes, but there was a perfect occassion to tell my friends that I'm more than the 'average guy'. Wine brings out a lot of character and confidence. They started to share they love affairs and personal things, and I shared mine.

Basically, they have complicated and dramatic relationships... guys that don't seem to be able to show they're true emotions, but at the same time find it hard to let go... guys that are warm one moment, but cold suddenly... guys that are difficult to understand, made worse by this incomprehensible thing called love.

I listened closely, and nodded. I couldn't really share, I said, because I don't have any relationship going on at all! Whatever bits and pieces of my last close relationship was four years ago, I said.

One friend smiled and told me not to worry. One day I'll find a great woman to be with. To that I responded that I don't think I'll ever want to have a woman to be with. They looked at me, smiling and understanding. And realising.

It's funny. I always joke around and openly 'poke fun' at sexuality and sex, but nobody seems to pick up the subtle suggestions. So they were surprised, in a positive way, that I am gay. Both were equally surprised, and never suspected anything. They just see me as "David", someone who's sensitive and so gentle, someone who's unique and so different from other guys, but nothing more than that. Someone who's caring, compassionate, and so soft in his words and actions, and nothing more than that.

I blushed hearing that. And they were right. I'm no different from other people just because I like guys. I knew this already, but the experience was like an affirmation, and a boost of self-confidence as I start to like myself more. Sexuality is just a part of me, like the gentleness, the soft-spokeness and my weird sense of humour all are part of me. And that's what makes people attracted to me... to my smile, to my kindness and to my warmth.

It was emotional hearing them say all that, and felt like I'm really worth something, worth something more than I believe myself to be. So much more than I think I deserve. Because, as they said, I'm just one of a kind, a rare find, and just 'me' as real and true as people come. I deserve the very best, and they were saying that not just because they were my friends, but because it's true.

I blushed somemore and stared into the open fire that jumped and danced in front of us, and felt the warmth circle and embrace us.

Trial....

32.6 Orahovac (near Lazete): In the late evening hours of 13 July and during the day of 14 July 1995, personnel from the Military Police Company of the Bratunac Brigade working together with other individuals and units transported hundreds of Bosnian Muslim males from in and around Bratunac to the Grbavci School in the village of Orahovac. These Bosnian Muslim men had been captured from the column of men retreating from the Srebrenica enclave or separated in Potocari. On 14 July 1995, VRS personnel including members of the Military Police Company of the Zvornik Brigade guarded and blindfolded the Bosnian Muslim males detained at the Grbavci School. In the early afternoon of 14 July 1995, VRS personnel transported these Bosnian Muslim males from the school at Grbavci to a nearby field, where personnel including members of the 4^th Battalion of the Zvornik Brigade ordered the prisoners off the trucks and summarily executed them with automatic weapons. Approximately 1000 Bosnian Muslim males were killed. On 14 and 15 July 1995, members of the Zvornik Brigade Engineering Company used heavy equipment to bury the victims in mass graves at the execution site, while the executions continued. On the evening of 14 July, lights from the engineering machinery illuminated the execution and burial sites during the executions.

32.7 The Petkovci School: On 14 July 1995, VRS and/or MUP personnel transported approximately 1000 Bosnian Muslim males from detention sites in and around Bratunac to the school at Petkovci. These Bosnian Muslim men had been captured from the column of men retreating from the Srebrenica enclave or separated in Potocari. On 14 July and the early morning hours of 15 July 1995, VRS and/or MUP personnel struck, beat, assaulted and shot with automatic weapons Bosnian Muslim males being detained at the school.

32.8 The "Dam" near Petkovci: On or about the evening of 14 July 1995 and the early morning hours of 15 July 1995, VRS personnel from the Zvornik Brigade including drivers and trucks from the 6^th Infantry Battalion and the Zvornik Brigade transported the surviving members of the group of approximately 1000 Bosnian Muslim males from the school at Petkovci to an area below the Dam near Petkovci. They were assembled below the Dam and summarily executed by VRS or MUP soldiers with automatic weapons. In the morning of 15 July 1995, VRS personnel from the Engineering Company of the Zvornik Brigade, working together with other individuals and units, used excavators and other heavy equipment to bury the victims while the executions continued.

32.9 Pilica School: On or about 14 and 15 July 1995, VRS and/or MUP personnel transported approximately 1200 Bosnian Muslim males from detention sites in Bratunac to the school at Pilica. These Bosnian Muslim men had been captured from the column of men retreating from the Srebrenica enclave or separated in Potocari. On or about 14 and 15 July 1995, VRS military personnel with automatic weapons summarily executed many of the Bosnian Muslim males who had arrived, or were being detained, at the school. On 17 July 1995, VRS personnel from the "R" Battalion of the Zvornik Brigade retrieved the bodies of the victims from the Pilica School and transported them to the Branjevo Military Farm. On 17 July 1995, the Engineering Company of the Zvornik Brigade buried the victims of the Pilica School executions in a mass grave at the Branjevo Military Farm.

32.10 Branjevo Military Farm: On the morning of 16 July 1995, VRS personnel transported the remaining members of the group of approximately 1200 Bosnian Muslim males from the Pilica school by bus to the Branjevo Military Farm. These Bosnian Muslim men had been captured from the column of men retreating from the Srebrenica enclave or separated in Potocari. After the Bosnian Muslim males arrived at the Branjevo Military Farm, they were summarily executed by automatic weapon fire from members of the 10^th Sabotage Detachment and the Bratunac Brigade, working.........
(from Indictment against Vujadin Popovic, 26 March 2002)

...just doing some background reading for the latest job offer at the international criminal tribunal.

It's shocking... sickening, and makes your mind go numb from the attrocity and cruelty. It reads like a horror(ible) war novel, but the truth is it all happened. The truth is these are thousands of people who were tortured and exterminated because they were of one race or religion... The truth is there are many out there who are directly or indirectly responsible for giving the command for these deaths to happen...

...and am I to be involved in all of this?

Job x 2

I took a trip today! Not a day off to just relax, but it was a work-related trip. As a student-assistant you get all sorts of jobs that nobody wants to do, but must be done. So I was sent to go to a little town in the countryside to pick up somethings.

It took me one hour to get there by bus, and one hour to get back. Besides the bus driver, there was no one but me, so it was like a special service. I reached the town of Lisse and managed to find the accountant's office I was looking for. I was a little nervous, because I had come to bring the accountant bad news. He had been doing the book-keeping for a while, but because it was getting to be too expensive, we decided to do it ourselves.

I guess he was polite, but he looked at me and asked very directly who was going to do the accounting. Somehow I felt like he was thinking that I'm taking over his job, and he wasn't too happy about that. Oh well, I left his office five minutes later, with a big box and began my journey back.

Fields, tractors, flowers, farmers, and sunshine! What more could you expect from the countryside? I enjoyed the ride, read the newspaper a bit and before I knew it was back at the office again.

I managed to get the afternoon off, because my boss thought I did a great job. Carrying boxes and taking the bus does take a lot of time and effort, indeed. But I didn't go home straight away, but stayed at the office to work on my thesis.

After reading a few articles I felt my eyelids start to close. The sudden nice weather didn't help cure my sleepiness. So I yawned, rubbed my eyes and lay down on the floor of my office and took a sweet nap.

When I got up it was already past 4pm. I yawned and lazily got up and sat myself down in front of the computer. Unable to get rid of my habit of checking my email every five minutes, I checked my email.

And there was a surprise email.

About a week ago I applied for an internship at the ICTY (International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia). Just because I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, and was thinking "Why not? What do I have to loose?". It would be a great experience, working for a Defence Team, helping them defend some of the people (notoriously) accused of war crimes during the conflict in the early 1990s in the former Yugoslavia.

And suddenly I got an email saying they'd be happy to have me there! I sat in front of the computer, and read and re-read the email, in disbelief. No prospects it seemed for so many months, and suddenly two offers within two weeks?! Crazy! Unbelievable!

What's next, I wonder. The sweet, sensitive guy of my dreams to sweep me off my feet?

Loving Annabelle

Sweet but short was this movie I watched today. And so will be this review!

A rebellious teenage girl is sent to a Catholic all-girls school. She smokes, has a pierced nose, and wears this bracelet she refuses to take off. A frustrated teacher, who devotes more time to her students than her own love life with a wonderful man, begins to see through the girl... and see herself.

Great movie, with touching songs and quotes, like:

For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.
Rainer Maria Rilke

Accordion girl

I held up two bottles of juice in front of her and smiled, signaling her to pick one. She was hesitant, perhaps puzzled, as she sat cross-legged leaning against the entrance to the supermarket, lost.

"Which one do you want...?" I said softly, and gestured with the two bottles. A silent morning breeze blew. The headscarf on her head wavered.

She looked up at me, finally understanding. Perhaps not what I said, but what my intentions were. Under her soiled cheeks was a natural red rouge. Under her long lashes a pair of dark, but energetic eyes hid. "Danke... danke..." she said, in German strangely, and took the bottle of red raspberry juice from my hand.

The accordion which was crying sad soulful notes, and which attracted me as soon as I stepped out of the train station, dropped to the ground. She quickly opened the bottle of cold juice and drank. Temporarily she closed her eyes as if in bliss.

Realising I was still standing there, she looked up at me. Colour seemed to return to her previously pale face. "Danke... danke..." she said again, almost in a whisper.

I smiled back again, and said nothing. I walked on.

But for many moments I could still see the fallen accordion and trinkets of coins spread across a dirty cloth glisten under the dull gray sky.

Fireworks

I was at the beach last night to watch Germany and Brazil compete as part of a three day international fireworks competition. It was rainy and windy, like a storm was passing through just as the fireworks climaxed, but I stood bravely there on the beach and continued to watch. Alone.

Tonight was Spain and China's turn to compete, and of course being the inventor of fireworks, China seemed out-shine and out-bang the rest. I sat on the sand and felt the salty sea drench my pants. It didn't matter, as the big explosions of colourful flashes lit up the dark, dark sky. It was like watching flowers suddenly blossom above you, brightly red, green and yellow... big balls of bright flowers that suddenly wilted as the splinters and sparks drooped and fell to the sea.

I sat on the sand, and admired the fireworks, with my head turned up to the sky, taking in the spectacular sights and awing sounds that gunpowder can muster. But at times I looked to my side. And for a change, I wasn't alone tonight.

They say that beautiful things are even more beautiful when shared. Which is true. Despite having told many friends that there's amazing fireworks every week at the beach this month, this was the first time that I could enjoy it with someone special. And that made it even more special. Just sitting there with my close girl-friend on the sand, oooo-ing, and aaaaah-ing, and at times turning to one another and seeing the excitement in each others faces.


After the fireworks, we warmed up next to a warm fire at a beach cafe, sipping hot cups of tea.
Such a simple source of pleasure, to just sit there and talk to someone, and to listen, but it means so much more.



More pictures of the Fireworks Competition at Scheveningen CLICK HERE!!! : )

Slow take-over

[...] whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? It may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, is much safer to be feared than loved, when, of the two, either must be dispensed with. Because this is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life and children, as is said above, when the need is far distant; but when it approaches they turn against you. And that prince who, relying entirely on their promises, has neglected other precautions, is ruined; because friendships that are obtained by payments, and not by greatness or nobility of mind, may indeed be earned, but they are not secured, and in time of need cannot be relied upon; and men have less scruple in offending one who is beloved than one who is feared, for love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails.
'The Prince', Michiavelli

Shiveringly scary...! But imagine if I were somehow to become some kind of power-hungry and people-manipulating person who would do anything to get his hands on influence and respect!! It would go against everything I believe in, and everything I stand up to, and everything I promised myself a long time ago I would never become...

At work today, my boss spoke to the bigger boss, and the proposal that I stay on for the coming year has been more (or less) OK-ed. There are just more details to be worked out, and more people to be informed (read: convinced). To put a long story short, it involves a lot of power politics, and complicated people politics. It exhausts me just to hear about all these things that go on, and to think I could be part of the 'system' makes me a little intitmidated.

It amazes me every single time to see the bureaucratic and long-winded decision-making process in action. As I found out, they had almost four months to look for someone to be the director in charge of the office I'm just temporarily staffing over the summer. But nothing was done. No initiative was taken. At all.

My boss was really pushing for the idea of me staying on, and again today said I would be really suitable for the position. Last night I lay in bed, until three-ish in the morning, thinking about the whole idea and just wondering a bit whether I could be in charge of a whole office with 'staff' underneath me. Imagine the responsibilities... but then also the powers and contacts that I could gain. I was just lying in bed, and thinking back at the year I was volunteering there... I was basically just doing what was necessary, and if I had questions or was unsure what to do, I could always turn to my boss, and who would make the decisions, and indirectly also bear the responsibility. Just thinking about me being in that position at this age just seems like a very strange picture! I guess I've never seen myself as a 'leader', as someone to be in charge of others and in giving directions. It takes a lot of courage and confidence, and faith in what I'm doing... which I don't really think I have.

But that close friend I have reassured me and kept on reassuring me: people are placed in a situation and they realise they have abilities they never knew existed. And besides, she said, there are different kinds of 'leaders', some stay in the background and may not seem to say much, but do a lot. And it'll be a wonderful opportunity to learn and to make contacts. And to think of it, what is in a title?

It's all still a bit daunting, and I really need to push myself to believing I can do it all. And again, things are still not set in stone, so it's really not the point to open the champagne just yet.
Of course, I was really grateful to my boss for believing in me, and putting all these proposals down and thinking also about my interests and about my future plans to move to another country and start life fresh next year... I kept on thanking her, and was a little embarrassed. But she turned around, and thanked me instead, saying something along the lines of she has just as much to thank me compared to what I have to thank her for.

That left a smile on my face.

"Am I competent enough?"

"Am I competent enough?" I asked, for the second time.
And my boss said yes. "Why not? You have a master's degree in law... well, almost!"

We were just talking, about work, and suddenly out of the blue she made an offer. I was totally surprised and of course excited. But being the very insecure person I am, the first question I asked (after thanking her of course...) was whether I'm competent enough. She quickly reassured me, and told me of all the good work I've been doing at the office. I just couldn't believe the whole suggestion and offer, because it seemed so surreal... but it certainly helps a lot to build my confidence to know that people see me in a positive way, and believe in what I am capable of...

Funny... just as I was worrying and wondering till my head hurt about what I want to do next (see last entry!!!), a sudden job offer came! It's to basically stay on working at the university, and be the manager to organise the big international law competition I've been helping out with for the past year for free. But of course, the job offer is paid! I was so excited and very happy, and smiling the whole way home that I almost got hit by a van (partly also that driver's fault for driving and turning so fast in a small lane).

At this point nothing is certain yet, and my boss has to have the suggestion approved by the big(ger) boss. Though, without being overly confident, I suspect the chances are good for me. They really need to find someone ASAP to take over the office I'm manning during the summer period, because I officially finish work at the end of the month. To get the whole organisation (and it's a LOT of work!!) of the competition going by September, they will need to look for people with experience and background within two, three weeks. Which is going to be very difficult. And I guess after having worked at the office for almost a year, I know many of the ins and outs of how to run everything... and plus I know the people there too. And I think they like me... and like the way I work and do things so quickly and efficiently...

Nothing is certain yet, and anything could change... But imagine the possibilities, and what that would do to cut my worries about finances and being unemployed....!

Lazy...

I’ve been sleeping most the day today. And not been doing much over the whole of last week. Again, another lazy episode in my life, even though I know that the deadline of my thesis is looming near. In the back of my mind I’m thinking to myself I’m lazy now, but when it comes to the day or night before the deadline I’ll be kicking myself and regretting how I spent all those days doing nothing. It’s always like this!

Just heard from my mum that she’s planning to visit next month. It’s all very sudden, and of course I’m happy to see her again. She told me how she really needs a break from her tiring job, and also partly (I’m guessing) to get away from living with my dad.

It’ll be good that she’s coming in September, because (hopefully!) I’ll be able to graduate then and be able to share the experience with her. Even though in this country we don’t have any official ceremony or celebration, it’s still a special day, and my parents have never been to any of my graduation yet.

To be honest, I’m a little ashamed. I’m about to graduate, but I don’t have anything waiting for me. Most of my friends are already planning to move on to the next study, or to do an internship somewhere, or starting to work… but I’m still here wondering what to do and how to support myself next year.

But my mum told me not to worry over the phone. She said whatever I decide to do, and wherever I decide to go, she’ll be there to support me.

I heard that, and felt like crying…

Why can’t I be independent yet? Why can’t I go out there and get a job to support myself yet? Why can’t I decide what I want to do in life and just settle somewhere and stop having to rely on my parents? Am I really that useless? Or just lazy?

She said I shouldn’t worry too much, and that she’d do anything because I’m her son. She kept on encouraging me, telling me not to give up, not to feel upset that I didn’t manage to get the dream job I wanted at the European Commission.

She told me to just try, and keep on trying. Get an internship somewhere for a few months… get some experience and prepare myself for the job market… even if the internship is not paid. None of them are paid, but they are like a full-time job, which means there’s no time to get another part-time paying job. But without experience, I’m nothing with just a degree from university! Frustrating…

Mum said she has planned it all, and it’ll be alright…

But it’s not alright… I feel so guilty!

Creepy....

I ran out of the cinema as quickly as I could. Fumbled for my keys, unlocked my bike and dashed home like crazy.

A quiet night alone at the movies turned out to be a complete creepy nightmare! I had been wanting to watch this Mexican movie called Broken Sky (El cielo dividido) for sometime, and finally had the chance tonight, since this local art-house movie theatre was showing it as part of a series of gay-themed movies they're showing over the summer.

Bought the ticket, and stood around in the hall waiting to get in. I immediately noticed people staring at me, mostly old(er) men, and I just looked away, pretending not to notice. I felt like I was some kind of exotic object, and people were just watching and watching... I was just dressed as I usually am, just being myself, but that somehow attracted a lot of attention. The unpleasant kind of attention... I'm not that good-looking... am I?

As the gates to the cinema opened I lined up to get in. And I noticed this old man looking at me, and watching my every move. He let people go first, and 'accidentally' stood next to me. I ignored him, and just go into the cinema quickly. I noticed him following me, so I made a big circle and went to the furtherest seats, and sat down next to a couple.

There were many seats, more than enough. But to my surprise that creepy old man sat down next to me. I smelt his body scent as soon as he sat down. I took out a pamphlet, and pretended to read and keep myself busy.

The movie started, and I was captured by the beauty and silent powerful emotions of the film. It was so artistically shot, the characters deep and touching, sceneries smooth and telling. Even though there wasn't much dialogue, their movements, kisses and love-making were able to tell a complicated love story more than words ever could. Love, and the way it consumes you, the way you long for it like a drug, and the way it leaves broken and ghost-like after it slips away....



I would have enjoyed it more, but throughout the two hours I was sitting literally on the edge of my seat very uncomfortably. Not because of the suspense in the movie, but so that that creepy man wouldn't touch me. I was trapped, sitting in the middle and couldn't get out at all. Every now and then, he'd just turn to look at me, and make me so uncomfortable and disgusted. He put his arm on the armrest of my seat, and had his elbow really out toward my body. So I basically was leaning to the other side so that we wouldn't touch. He had his legs wide open, and I swear a number of times he 'accidentally' brushed his leg against mine.... sending shivers up my spine.....

I felt pretty sick, and was hoping he'd just go away. In my mind I was thinking of things to say to him, and wondering what he wants from me. This isn't the first time people have done that to me, and it really frightens me. I thought if he touches me I'll scream and say something so that everyone would know he's a pervert trying to stalk me...

All the while, the movie was playing and there were all these homo-erotic scenes of the two main characters making hot, passionate love... It was beautiful to watch, but then next to me was this perverted old man who kept on watching me everytime I moved...

Normally when I finish watching a movie, I sit there a while, and watch the credits and let the responses that the film triggered flow over me. But this time I didn't have time. I just wanted to get out as quickly as I could.

The creepy man stood up, and looked at me again and had his eyes all over me. Quickly I grabbed my jacket, and pushed passed the other movie-goers, pushed out the door and ran to my bike. Shivering, creeped out, and feeling dirty from the whole experience....

"Dear son..."

An email forward that moved me so....

Dear son...

The day that you see me old and I am already not, have patience and try to understand me …

If I get dirty when eating… if I can not dress… have patience. Remember the hours I spent teaching it to you.

If, when I speak to you, I repeat the same things thousand and one times… do not interrupt me… listen to me.
When you were small, I had to read to you thousand and one times the same story until you get to sleep…

When I do not want to have a shower, neither shame me nor scold me…
Remember when I had to chase you with thousand excuses I invented, in order that you wanted to bath…

When you see my ignorance on new technologies… give me the necessary time and not look at me with your mocking smile…
I taught you how to do so many things… to eat good, to dress well… to confront life…

When at some moment I lose the memory or the thread of our conversation… let me have the necessary time to remember… and if I cannot do it, do not become nervous… as the most important thing is not my conversation but surely to be with you and to have you listening to me…

If ever I do not want to eat, do not force me. I know well when I need to and when not.

When my tired legs do not allow me walk...
… give me your hand… the same way I did when you gave your first steps.

And when someday I say to you that I do not want to live any more… that I want to die… do not get angry… some day you will understand…
Try to understand that my age is not lived but survived.

Some day you will discover that, despite my mistakes, I always wanted the best thing for you and that I tried to prepare the way for you..

You must not feel sad, angry or impotent for seeing me near you. You must be next to me, try to understand me and to help me as I did it when you started living.

Help me to walk… help me to end my way with love and patience. I will pay you by a smile and by the immense love I have had always for you.

I love you son…

Your father

Out for the night

Sometimes you come home after a day out with friends, and you feel a little empty inside.
Maybe it's because it's 3.49am...

I had a Baileys, one of my favourite drinks, and that was all for the night. It got me through three hours of clubbing. I guess in the beginning it was fun, since I really haven't gone out for a long time with friends.

We had agreed to go to the fireworks together... and finally after three weeks they showed up. It was pretty spectacular, as usual, but the weather was freezing cold! Afterwards, we decided the beach was too crowded (and expensive) so instead headed into a bar in the city centre, where two of our friends were.

It was pretty empty, and the whole place was full of international people... people doing their internships at the UN tribunal here in The Hague. I felt so left out, as they all had this 'I-work-for-the-UN' feel surrounding them, and weren't really all that approachable.

After that Baileys I did feel a bit loosened up, and so people suggested to go dancing. Oh well, might as well go I guess.

Getting into the club/bar was difficult because a girl from our group got barred from the bar (ironically) beacause she "looked drunk". How do you look drunk? And aren't you supposed to be a bit drunk when you drink? The bouncers were really rude and just wouldn't let her in. She ended up in tears, and said she'd been so hurt and had her self-esteem ruined. I didn't know the girl very well, but I stood there thinking why all this drama? Why did we spend ten minutes outside a bar which was making it so difficult to get into anyways? Why should we be treated like dirt?

Anyways... eventually that girl went home alone, and the rest of us ended up going in.

Loud music. Flashing lights. Deafening, and oh so crowded. Though some of the guys were somewhat cute.... I danced around, together with two girlfriends, and we were pretty much enjoying myself. I may not go out much, but I think I can dance pretty alright if I have to. And I guess it was nice to 'loose' yourself and just let your body move to the rhythm.... if anything, it's good exercise, I guess.

As I was dancing, I looked around.... all these people around my age, flirting, dancing, touching, kissing, hugging. Some probably don't even know each other, but just saw what they liked on the dancefloor, and bang are glued to each other's bodies. A bunch of guys were just dancing hideously close to girls, and giving them the flirtatious look and trying to pick on the prey...

I think to myself, as the music boomed, lights flashed and my body moved... what is all this? I felt I was there, but not really there. I was enjoying it, but then also dreading it. Why do people do this? Pick up meat just like you do on the market... and call it a love affair? How much can you really get to know a person from the moves and eye contact and flirts?

I breathed deeply as soon as I got out of that bar/club, and felt like my ears was ringing from the long exposure to the loud music. It was wonderful to breath fresh air again, and to feel the cold night air wake you, and shake you from the drowsiness that came from the alcohol, smoke, and crowdedness of all that sleazy people and atmosphere.

I guess I have a different definition of fun.

Horoscope 090807

Following that last post, this was my horoscope today:

Unexpected pleasures, new friends, or a more playful, adventurous attitude in your relationships make this time period stimulating and delightful. You want a break from your usual routine and, because you are willing to experiment and to be spontaneous, you are likely to experience a refreshing change of pace.

So suprisingly true.....!

Push and pull

Sometimes, people need to be pushed, or pulled. Or in my case, push and pulled.

It's tough having to grow up many years without family there to support you and encourage you in what you do, but then you learn to find substitutes for love and care in life in yourself, and others. Up till now, I've more or less been going my way on my own. It takes courage, and hard-work, and dedication I guess. But after a while you loose that and begin to slow down, like I seem to be in the last few months....

And out of nowhere a friend appears. To push and pull you, to confront you with your fears and anxieties, to look through you and see the real you, to criticise you when you're weak and not assertive enough, and then to praise you and tell you what an amazing person you are, and how much more you can do with life. It's rare, it's unique, but these friends do exist.

So imagine how surprised I am to have stumbled across one. I don't make friends easily, and I guess I choose them... or they choose me. But either way, my friends are more than people you say 'Hi... bye...' to, but people who you can really talk to and who can touch you.

We've been doing almost everything together for the past few weeks since she moved into my city... studying, working, cycling, going to the movies, cooking... it's really like a relationship, but without the sex! And I treasure it a lot, and the feeling is mutual. She and I just have much in common, and can really understand one another's problems and worries, and are there for one another when the need arises.

I like to compare friends (real friends) to mirrors... they are people who reflect you, who you are, and actually also who you want to be. She's really been like a really polished mirror that's been reflecting not just my present, but also my past and also giving me images of the possibilities of the future.

She can tell I'm confused, lost, and struggling to find who I am and what I want. Not many people (if at all any) see that. And I guess I've known it a while, but she told me straight and clearly: I need change.

We talked almost an entire evening about this, and I was so touched and emotional by what she's trying to do to help me help myself. At one point I asked her very bluntly: "Why are you being so nice?"

It's not that I think she has a motive or anything. It's just not many people have been so nice and encouraging to me, or at least not in a long, long while. And she answered simply:
"Because you're a good person".

I am....... ?

And because I deserve so much more than what I have. I deserve the happiness, the opportunities and the chances to really show the world what I am capable of. I need to change, and I need change to change! For that, I really need to just start life fresh somewhere, pursue my dreams and hopes, and take risks if I have to. Sometimes it's when you are really far, far away from your current life that you finally realise who you are, and where you want to go. Sometimes you're stuck in the same place with the same people for so long that you begin to loose who you are and what you want. And that's what's happening now.

There are things that I'm looking into now... plans and ideas that may or may not be realised. I've been browsing some websites, and looking at the possibilities, and I realise there is such a big big world out there waiting for me, and I really don't have to be in this place and stuck with these people who are limiting me and keeping me down when I want to go up.

I'll not reveal anything at the moment because things are still in that fragile stage and I myself don't really know what may or may not happen. But from my friend I got a lot of advice, and she's really willing to help and support me all the way.

Thanks to you, my friend.... thanks to you.
You know who you are, my dear friend.

And to you I am grateful.

"Enough is Enough!"

Six months ago, he said that those Muslims who want to stay in the country must “rip out and throw away half of the Quran ”. Today, in an opinion piece in a Dutch newspaper, he went further:

Enough is enough. Let us stop beating about the bush with political correctness. […] The core of the problem is fascistic Islam, the sick ideology of Allah and Mohammed as laid down in the Islamic Mein Kampf: the Quran. The texts from the Quran do not leave much to the imagination.

In different Suras, Muslims are called upon to suppress, persecute or kill Jews, Christians, believers of other faiths and non-believers, to hit women, and to rape, and to establish a worldwide Islamic state with violence. Suras call upon and instigate Muslims to death and destruction.

Ban that book like Mein Kampf is also banned. […]

How ashamed I am for the Dutch politicians. Their naivety and sickly strive towards the utopian moderate Islam, which will only bring our country hell and doom. How ashamed I am of those in and outside of the Cabinet and Parliament, who refuse to stop the Islamic invasion of the Netherlands. […]

The Hague is full of cowardly people. Scared people who are born cowardly and will die cowardly. Who believe and advocate that Dutch culture will be founded on a Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition. […] Who [ignore] the interests Dutch population and cooperate in the transformation of the Netherlands into a Netherarabia as a province of the Islamic superstate of Eurabia.

I have had enough of Islam in the Netherlands: no more Muslim immigrant. I have enough with the worship of Allah and Mohammed in the Netherlands: no more mosque. I have had enough of the Quaran in the Netherlands: ban that fascistic book.

Enough is enough.

Strong words. Provocative words. Insane words from a raving Parliamentarian with a great big shock of dyed blond hair called Geert Wilders. He and his Part for Freedom (Partij voor de Vrijheid) managed to gain 9 seats in the last elections with (most notably) calls for a complete stop to immigration and the rooting out of Islamic elements in the country. To him the cause of crime and nuisance is Moroccan and Turkish “street-terrorists” who behave and think in ways that are at odds with Western ideas of liberalism democracy. Whether on the issue of treatment of women, homosexuals or fundaments of democracy, his warned that “tsuanami of Islamisation” is beginning to swamp the Netherlands and before you know it this will be a country governed by oppressive Sharia law. We must firmly reassert “the dominant Dutch culture”, he says, and no more mosques should be build, because he claims he’s “going crazy with all those mosques”.

Crazy indeed, but was he ever sane? All this preaching and threatening tones about Islamic radicalisation and creeping fundamentalism doesn’t help at all to the growing misunderstanding and divide between large segments of Dutch society. Instead, Wilders’ cheap rhetoric echoes those tried and failed populist insinuations and stereotyping that stirred the entire country when Fortuyn-fever swept through the country a few years ago. Two high profile politically motivated murders, a heightened state of alert, and a continuing wave of Islam-phobia later, and Wilders still wants to provoke and beat the already battered corpse of xenophobia and feelings of them-against-us.

Funny thing is, within the last six months the contents of the Quaran has not changed at all. If anything changed, it’s Mr. Wilders, who has become the very hardened extremist and militant raving village lunatic that he has been warning people will ‘invade’ this country and lead us all to ‘death and destruction’.

The Quran is but a book, a holy book with special meaning to over one million Muslims in the Netherlands. Admittedly, it does contain passages and words that are incongruent with this age and place, but it is not the book that kills and radicalizes. People kill and radicalise, people commit murders and rapes and incite hatred and others towards violence and revenge. It is people who hijack the Quaran, just as people have hijacked the holy Bible or Tora or any other religious text, to justify actions that defy all the teachings of love and compassion contained in the same books all in the name of ‘religion’.

Wilders’ allusion to Mein Kampf is telling. Some sixty odd years, millions of deaths and untold suffering caused by that infamous book penned by Hitler later, Wilders wants to ban a book in a free and democratic society where the freedom of press and belief are fundamental rights of every citizen regardless of race or creed. Who is the fascist now?

Thank goodness no else one in Parliament supports Wilders and his rants, and already a civil suit has been filed against Wilders for inciting hatred between racial groups.

Wilders was right about one thing though…

“Enough is enough”!

One World, Different Dreams

Six foreign activists unfurled a banner on the Great Wall of China today. Scribbled on it was the official slogan of the 2008 Beijing Olympics: “One world, one dream”. Celebrating the one year countdown to the greatest sporting event in the world perhaps? Underneath, the words “Free Tibet” on the same banner was less cause for celebration. The group of six has been detained, and their fates are unknown.

In 2001, there was much commotion when the Olympic Games were awarded to Beijing by the slimmest of votes by the International Olympic Committee (IOC). This self-proclaimed “non-profit organisation” decides who gets the Olympic honour in secret ballots, and has been trying hard to salvage its tainted reputation of being a corrupt club of self-serving internationalists. The Beijing decision did not help improve its image.

Critics cried foul and disbelief, when the Chinese capital triumphed over Toronto, Paris, and even Osaka—which was deemed one of the most hospitable cities in Asia. But rest assured, the IOC said. It will be a clean game, and it will bring great changes to China. To placate those critics who point to China’s poor human rights record, the IOC was adamant that the Games would bring the world to China, and China to the world, and in doing so put pressure on the regime to liberalise. Deals were struck with the regime to allow unprecedented press freedom to foreign journalists in this infamously repressive state, where news is known to be government propaganda and strictly censored.

Thus the Olympic dream began. In the past few years magnificent architecture and landscapes have been erected from the ground up. There is no doubt preparations is right on target to deliver what has been promised the most spectacular Games in history. To borrow those wise words of Chairman Mao, the opportunity to host the Olympics is perhaps the ultimate symbolism showing the rest of the world that China has finally “stood up”. The slogan “One world, one dream” is supposed to capture the spirit of “a great nation, with a long history of 5,000 years and on its way towards modernization, that is committed to peaceful development, harmonious society and people's happiness”. Applaud here.

But the nightmares of human rights and other abuses are far from having ended. A former UNICEF spokesperson and Hollywood began a campaign to dub the 2008 Games “Genocide Olympics”, in the face of China’s continuing financial and armaments support of Sudanese government:

That nightmare is Darfur, where more than 400,000 people have been killed and more than two-and-a-half million driven from flaming villages by the Chinese-backed government of Sudan.

That so many corporate sponsors want the world to look away from that atrocity during the games is bad enough. But equally disappointing is the decision of artists like director Steven Spielberg — who quietly visited China this month as he prepares to help stage the Olympic ceremonies — to sanitize Beijing's image. Is Mr. Spielberg, who in 1994 founded the Shoah Foundation to record the testimony of survivors of the holocaust, aware that China is bankrolling Darfur's genocide?

[…] Whether that opportunity goes unexploited lies in the hands of the high-profile supporters of these Olympic Games. Corporate sponsors like Johnson & Johnson, Coca-Cola, General Electric and McDonalds, and key collaborators like Mr. Spielberg, should be put on notice. For there is another slogan afoot, one that is fast becoming viral amongst advocacy groups; rather than "One World, One Dream," people are beginning to speak of the coming "Genocide Olympics."

Does Mr. Spielberg really want to go down in history as the Leni Riefenstahl of the Beijing Games? Do the various television sponsors around the world want to share in that shame? Because they will. Unless, of course, all of them add their singularly well-positioned voices to the growing calls for Chinese action to end the slaughter in Darfur.

Despite assertions by the Beijing Organizing Committee that the foreign press is being
“treated kindly”, Reporters without Borders begs to differ:

The Chinese authorities promised the IOC and international community concrete improvements in human rights in order to win the 2008 Olympics for Beijing. But they changed their tone after getting what they wanted. For example, then deputy Prime Minister Li Lanqing said, four days after the IOC vote in 2001, that “China’s Olympic victory” should encourage the country to maintain its “healthy life” by combatting such problems as the Falungong spiritual movement, which had “stirred up violent crime.” Several thousands of Falungong followers have been jailed since the movement was banned and at least 100 have died in detention.

A short while later, it was the turn of then Vice-President Hu Jintao (now president) to argue that after the Beijing “triumph,” it was “crucial to fight without equivocation against the separatist forces orchestrated by the Dalai Lama and the world’s anti-China forces.” In the west of the country, where there is a sizeable Muslim minority, the authorities in Xinjiang province executed Uyghurs for “separatism.” Finally, the police and judicial authorities were given orders to pursue the “Hit Hard” campaign against crime. Every year, several thousand Chinese are executed in public, often in stadiums, by means of a bullet in the back of the neck or lethal injection.

And so does the Committee to Protect Journalists, which warned of a

[…] yawning gap between China’s poor press freedom record and the promises made in 2001 when Beijing was awarded the Olympic Games. The International Olympic Committee awarded the 2008 Games to the Chinese capital based on assurances that authorities would allow the media “complete freedom,” and that they would apply “no restrictions” to coverage. While the government has eased some travel and interview rules that apply to foreign journalists, it continues to impose severe constraints on the domestic press. Chinese journalists are in jail. Vast censorship rules are in place. Harassment, attacks, and threats occur with impunity. China has fallen short thus far in its pledge to the international community.

To echo this, Amnesty International reports:

growing crackdown on Chinese human rights activists and journalists as well as the continued use of ‘Re-education through Labour’ (RTL) and other forms of detention without trial. Official statements suggest that the Olympics are being used to justify such repression in the name of ‘harmony’ or ‘social stability’ rather than acting as a catalyst for reform. […] the image of the Olympics continues to be being tarnished by ongoing reports of the ‘house arrest’, torture or unfair trial of Chinese activists and the extension of systems for detention without trial in Beijing as part of the city’s ‘clean-up’ ahead of August 2008. If the authorities fail to take significant action to reform such practices, reports of abuses are likely to increase as the Olympics approach with adverse publicity potentially affecting not only China, but other stakeholders in the Olympic movement, including the International Olympic Committee (IOC) and the corporate sponsors of the Games.

And so does Human Rights Watch, which wrote:

On paper, the temporary regulations appear to free foreign correspondents from a decades-old regulatory handcuff of time-consuming and rarely granted foreign ministry approval for interviews and reporting trips o[…]. However, the new latitude granted by the temporary regulations is conditioned on being “in conformity with Chinese laws and regulations.” This is problematic, as many Chinese laws and regulations limit free expression. The continuing applicability of these other laws and regulations and the lack of independence of the judiciary limit the chances that the temporary regulations will be enforced, or enforceable.

[…]In addition, foreign journalists must still apply for rarely-granted official permits for reporting visits to Tibet. Worse, many say that they are often harassed, detained, and intimidated by government and state security officials in the course of their reporting activities. More disturbingly, such treatment is increasingly being meted out by threatening and occasionally violent groups whom journalists often suspect to be plainclothes police personnel […]

Human Rights in China wrote that the Chinese regime is (ab)using the Olympics to package and advertise its strengths and overshadow its failings. Stories are being revealed of small children driven to the brink all in the name of “Honour for the Nation”. Further, news reports that have leaked out of the country report that Olympic merchandise are being produced by child labour. Whereas big multinationals stand to reap billions in profits from selling their shoes, clothes, puppets and pens at exuberant prices, workers are being forced to work long hours in poor conditions:

Yet the Olympics movement, particularly the International Olympics Committee, has refused to acknowledge that labour violations in their supply chain exist, and that they need to take responsibility to create an ethical marketing and licensing program in the face of these contraventions. […] Even though the IOC Code of Ethics stating clearly that “The Olympic parties must not be involved with firms or persons whose activity is inconsistent with the principles set out in the Olympic Charter”, the IOC refuses to accept responsibility for even the most minimum adherence to basic labour standards in the production and sportswear bearing the Olympic Games logo. […] The IOC has consistently favoured an approach of denial and rebuttal of claims that it address the need for oversight and responsibility in the production of Olympic logo goods.

And yet, despite all these well-founded criticisms and misgivings, the IOC President just yesterday praised Beijing for its “excellent work”. “One world, one dream”, indeed.

Ironic. The UK (and others) can proudly announce their intention to boycott sports competitions in Zimbabwe, yet when it comes to China, a regime perhaps just as, if not more, oppressive and obnoxious, they welcome it with open arms. What kind of signal did the IOC want to send to similarly brutal governments out there when it gave China the gift of the Olympics? That it’s alright to torture your own people, and send them into gulags where they slave away manufacturing cheap goods? That it’s alright to stifle dissent and arbitrarily detain opposition, and to censor the internet and all negative news about the country? And that’s it’s perfectly alright to invade Tibet and destroy the last vestiges of that country’s cultural and religious heritage? Or perhaps the IOC wanted to condone China with its continuous war-mongering and warnings of invading Taiwan?

Whatever the message, whatever the motivation or incentive, in a year’s time fanfare and fireworks will fly over Beijing, as the city, and the country, proudly invites the world to see. See the proud achievements and progress it has made in recent years, see the beauty and magnificence of this up-and-coming economic and political dragon that has now reawakened, and see how civilised people have become through the ‘no spitting’ campaigns.

But there are things that the regime does not want you to see… people who have been forcibly rounded up and sent away to make room for the Olympic dream, the people who spoke out too loudly and are now being persecuted in prison… and those resisting in silence of one day seeing their own country freed from occupation and intimidation.

Look.

And you will see.

More cartoons here.

Plans!

Haven't really been doing much work 'work' lately. I guess it's the fact that I'm postponing my graduation by one month that sort of psychologically triggered the "I-can-relax-a-little" mode in me. And frankly, reading stuffy old law journals and books, and typing thousands and thousands of words can be very, very exhausting...

But still, I've been doing so other useful things too. For one, I was shocked to find out just last week that my university doesn't have the budget or any plans to hold a graduation event. Not even a little get together before we all part different ways. I mean what's the point of working so hard throughout the year and not having a proper event to finish it off officially? So I started to email my course coordinator, and suggested to him that we really should do something.

And immediately (almost) he agreed! I have some 'influence' at the place I work, and I think I can easily get a great room for my class to get together... even if it's just for drinks and snacks. So I've been sending out emails and planning this, something I really, really enjoy doing!

It's funny because I dread planning my own life and my future, even if it's just what I want to do the very same day... but when it comes to planning something for other people, then I jump at the opportunity and get very organised. I really love planning, organising things, and seeing everything fall into place and knowing that people are enjoying themselves. I don't do it for the credit or the praise, but just seeing people happy and making something memorable is already a great joy.

And this morning there was another thing that really got my excitement going. A good friend of mine and I were just talking and discussing... and suddenly she mentioned she'd really like to go to Auschwitz someday. Immediately in my mind I was thinking: "That's one of the must-go places on my list of must-go places!"

So we ending up planning and thinking about the trip the whole morning. It's still in the fragile planning stage, and we're not even sure if it'll go through because of our time constraints... but maybe, just maybe we could be travelling across Europe next week or so, and be standing at the gates of perhaps the most gruelsome concentration camp in human history.

Amsterdam Gay Pride 2007

To be very honest, I'm not at all into the whole gay scene... and even less into pride events.
I guess it maybe just me, being very shy and quiet by nature, which is the complete opposite of what a gay pride is all about.

What is it all about? Being out, loud, and proud! Dancing, jiggling, screaming from the roof tops that "We're queer, we're here, and we're here to stay!"

There's nothing wrong with that, and I would never want to undermine the need to make ourselves known in a world built and dominated by heteros. There is still a lot of discrimination, misunderstanding and bigotry, even in this country, which is supposed to be the most liberal and open-minded in the whole world. But why does it all have to be so 'in-your-face' and create such a stir?

I was at the famous annual Amsterdam (A'dam) Gay Pride yesterday, where I walked around and took a lot of pictures. Every year, on the first Saturday in August, hundreds of thousands flock to A'dam to catch a glimpse of the unique pride which takes place on one of the many canals. Instead of traditional floats, here it's with boats, but no less exotic and extravagant.

It was really busy and crowded everywhere. I walked literally all around town, following the procession as it slowly circled the city. It's supposed to be the biggest event since it started in the late 70s, with over 70 boats taking part. Some were sponsored by clubs, others by companies which wanted to show that they take pride in the pride of their workers. A few boats belonged to gay-interest associations and organisations, and had a political message to them. For the first time, there was a boat with minors on it, and also one with straight people who wanted to show their solidarity with the gays. There was also one with elder people, the over 65s, but they too were enjoying the music and the wonderful weather as the crowd on either side cheered them on. Everywhere, pink sashes, rainbow flags, and colourful confetti flying all over the place.

Then... of course, and as expected at a gay pride, there were the drags in exotic Brazilian carnival-style colourful customes, alongside Moulin-Rouge-style drags in high fishnets and oversized feathered headgear. There were also hairy 'Bears' dressed in leather hot-pants, equipped with whips, their greased-up skin shimmering in the summer sun. And how could you miss the construction workers, dancing around almost completely naked in thongs, flagrantly dangling their 'tools' for everyone to see. Exotic. Erotic. Shocking. Anything goes...

I guess seeing those things were what made it a bit of a turn-off... No problem with people dressing up (or down) as they want, but why perpetuate the 'gay stereotypes' of sex, sex, sex, and screaming fags and drags? Can pride be shown in more subtle ways, instead of being so provocative and outrageously aggressive?

I mean, what makes gays different from other people is NOT the fact that we love pink and worship the rainbow flag, and love to go topless and put on make-up or weather feminine clothes.

What makes us different is that there is no difference at all! We just like and love people of the same-sex, what is 'different' about that? People are just people, with feelings and fears, emotions and desires. Man, woman, woman, man... what does it matter? Love is just love, and is blind towards who you portray it to, who you receive it from, or who you make it with. Why place so much emphasis on sex and gender, when what it all comes down to is just people engaged in the most human and basic instincts?

I don't like telling people "I'm gay". It's not because I don't want them to know, or I'm ashamed. If people ask, I answer honestly. There's nothing to hide, I've not done anything wrong. It's just that if there's one thing I dislike, it's labels. Why do I have to be 'gay', or 'Asian', 'a boy' or 'allochtone' (coloured foreigner), or anything at all? It simply makes people associate with certain ideas and stereotypes, and makes them ignorant and short-sighted by preventing them from seeing beyond the label. Why do I have to tell people I'm gay, when other people don't need to say "I'm straight"? The craziness of it all, and how confused this world is by placing so much emphasis on labels and identity, but forgetting and missing the individual and everyone's uniqueness as a human being.

Anyways, after walking around for a good few hours I felt a bit sick and wanted to get away from it all, to get away from the loud noise and excitement. Only when I managed to find a place to sit down quietly did I realise how exhausted I was from it all.


For more pictures of the gay pride, see here.

Interesting signs at A'dam Gay Pride 2007 II

On the front page of the local Amsterdam newspaper.

First time, a 'straight float' sailing together with the Gay Pride. Caption says: "Different together, one together"


"Straights also proud!"



Amnesty International Campaign against Discrimination


"Against intolerance, only love"

Interesting signs at A'dam Gay Pride 2007

"How did your mother react when you said that you were straight?"

"You don't look gay at all?"

Tolerance United is a campaign during the Gay Pride to bring together football and gays.
This year's pride event happens to coincide with football matches (Amsterdam Tournament) and the city government openly admitted that it couldn't guarantee safety of gays in the city. Mores specifically, a huge number of English football fans, who are often associated with hooliganism, will be in Amsterdam together with a large number of gay tourists.
A number of licenses of gay bars and restaurants to sell liquor and food were not given, because the police said they didn't have enough people to keep the peace.

The campaign aims to raise awareness and spread tolerance and respect.

"Slogan of the A'dam Gay Pride 2007: We Are"

It's a play on the slogan of the Amsterdam Tourist Office which uses 'IAMsterdam' as a slogan.

16- float at A'dam Gay Pide 2007

For the first time in the history of the A'dam Gay Pride, there was a special boat with minors (youngters under the age of 18). There was some commotion a few months ago when a 14 year old boy (Danny) wanted to go on the gay pride, but couldn't He campaigned for his own boat. With the support of COC (the largest gay-interest organisation), he successfully managed ti get some 40 other youngsters to have they own float.

But there were some strict rules: no nakedness, no alcohol or drugs. And the participants need the permission of the parents!

As COC head Frank van Dalen put it in an interview (below in Dutch),

“The youngsters came up with the idea themselves, and you can do two things: say ‘You’re not allow, you won’t, and you can’t, and in the meantime stay secretly homosexual.’ Or say ‘You’re self-conscious in live, let yourselves be seen, give out the message. To a 14 year old boy who is straight we ask: ‘Do you already have a girlfriend?’ And to a gay boy we ask: ‘Are you sure about it?’ And that’s precisely what [the problem] is about. […] The funny thing is if you talk these youngsters, to them it’s not about sexuality, but about identity. Homosexuality is about who you are, what you are, what you enjoy, and these youngsters develop themselves in those years. Personality is given shape. Sexuality is not per se the theme they’re engaged with. It’s about who they are, and what they want to be.”