Sleepless nights

Again I can’t sleep. I’ve been having sleepless nights, nights in which I lie in bed, close my eyes and try to make myself sleep, but cannot. I curl up, hug myself, hoping that would do the trick, but nothing seems to help. Though physically tired, my head seems to be racing, seems to be filled with thoughts, worries, fantasies and fears.

Since I can’t sleep, might as wake up and write. Maybe by the time I finish this, and maybe when I get my mind down in words, I’ll be more…relieved.

Ten more days, and I’ll be older. I guess that’s one of the many things ‘bothering’ me recently. It seems like ever since the beginning of this year I’ve been feeling really agitated and empty, more empty than before. At first I thought the feeling, like all the things in life that are impermanent, would go away, but falling ill, and the bouts of not so pleasant weather recently hasn’t helped to lift my mood. It’s like inside there’s a voice crying out, at what or at whom I don’t know. But there seems to be some being deep inside trying to tell me something. It’s a mixture of feelings… of loneliness, of fear, of fear of rejection, of fear of failure, of longing and, perhaps, most of all, of hopelessness. I’m not sure if there’s one thing that I can point to as the source of all these negative emotions that have been pulling me down and making me depressive.

Next week, both my parents will be coming over to visit. It’s for the celebration of the lunar new year, during which traditionally families come together. Despite having horrendous amounts of work and deadlines in the next few weeks, and despite the fact I might have to go away to attend a three-day seminar in Belgium, I do look forward to seeing mum and dad again.

I’ve not seen them for almost a year, and this visit will be the first time in over five that both my mum and dad will be here. The fact that it’ll soon be my 23^rd birthday just made me realise that it’s been almost ten years since I last permanently lived with my parents. All these years by myself, thousands of kilometers of oceans and lands apart, I’ve grown up without them. It was a choice they made, a sacrifice even, to live me here in Europe so that I could have a better education. No doubt they were wonderful in providing me with all I ever need and so, so much more. No doubt they have my interests and my future in mind. But it all came at the cost of time together. The teenage years passed like a distant and vague memory.

I still remember that day when they left, that moment at the airport, me a little kid in tears waving goodbye to his parents. I somehow knew deep inside that moment would be the beginning of the end of my family. And I was right. Throughout the years the bonds between us became more and more diluted. My brother simply gave up keeping in touch with my parents, while I still harboured hopes that “blood runs thicker than water” and that in the end distance and time would not make our love and care for one another even less. Naïve perhaps.

However much you try to keep in touch, the barriers are still there. There are things you won’t tell to each other because the other wouldn’t understand, or because you don’t want the other to worry. And with time, the gap and distance grows, until one day you can’t even picture their faces without looking at their photographs. It didn’t help that a couple of years ago my dad just disappeared out of our lives without an explanation, and now he wants to suddenly rejoin us and pretend like nothing ever happened. The hurt has been done, and the feelings have become numb over time.

Partly inside, I deeply look forward to seeing both my parents again. It’ll be the firs time to see them both after discovering that they are both permanently ill with cancer. It’ll be so wonderful to have this precious time together, to be next to each other, to eat together, to walk together, to talk to one another and see and touch one another right in front of you. Life is short, and the times together even shorter.

There’s so much to say, so much to talk about… the future, with them, with me (and with my brother). There are things to be decided, even things that now seem so surreal to be dealing with, but which nonetheless must be faced up to before…before it’s too late.

Yet, at the same time I dread to face the façade that we’re a ‘wonderful, loving family’ reunited again. I know it’s pointless to dwell on unpleasant thoughts and unpleasant memories… the past has gone by, and you should never pre-judge the future based the past… but when I imagine and remember those terrible confrontations, arguments, bickering, the cold wars I cannot but feel an urge to just get away. Get as far away as possible and pretend I don’t have anything to do with my family any more.

Partly I want to get close to them, to bring everyone together again and make us all connect like we need to, but partly I don’t want to be involved. For too long I’ve had to be the bridge holding everyone together, the peacemaker who passes little messages because one person is not talking to another. The person who has to smile and dance around like a jester because the mood is so sombre. And I’m tired already, tired of this family I simply cannot quit because I care too much. I want to care for them, to love them all and not have to choose between sides. I want to show and let them know that I don’t favour anyone more than another… yet time and again they seem to be testing me. My longing for a relationship, one based on trust, understand, respect, and most of all, love comes from the desire to prove to myself that such things are possible in the world, despite what I’ve heard and seen and experienced.

Torn… like so often in life, I’m torn. All these incoherent, random thoughts and rants seems so pointless when I read back what I just wrote down… but this is how my mind is at the moment.

Incoherent, random, and ranting. And sleepless.

'Specialist'

It started to heavily snow at the beginning of the week, and overnight the snow thawed and disappeared. It was winter, but now I’m not sure what season it is anymore.

Been spending the past few days getting used to the busy life of school again. And since there will be ‘visitors’ next week, and since I may be going abroad for a few days (I’ll write more later!!), I’m trying to get as much work and reading done as possible. To be honest, the two weeks of vacation I just had I was simply lazy, and now I’m sort of feeling the pressure building. But I can do it. I know I can, because I always have.

Just now there was yet another round of shouting. As usual, my brother started it, because he came upstairs and found the girlfriend sleeping, instead of studying (like she should be doing). Well, in my opinion, it was already past eleven, so if she wants to sleep, let her sleep! My goodness... where's the descency?!

I had felt something was wrong earlier today when she came home from school, but didn’t think too much of it. A few minutes later she came out and threw up over the toilet bow. As she threw up and choked, I went to talk to her and ask if she needs anything. She said it’ll be alright, and that she’s not been feeling too well for sometime, and that today’s gotten a lot worse. I suggested to call the family doctor, but she insisted it’ll be alright, and that she’s “been to see the specialist”.

She didn’t elaborate and just went back to her room and closed the door behind her. “Specialist”… that word echoed in my mind, and I immediately thought of that episode some months ago.

Could it be…? My brother was somewhere in his room.

It's snowing!

It started a little bit as I was getting ready for class. I thought it would stop, because no snow had been forecast today. Wearing white pants was something I'd later regret.

A fascinating class it was today, about the origins of international law, and how it expanded and became so-called 'universal' in the age of colonialisation. You see, law was a product of the 'civilised nations', and only applicable to 'civilised' people. And in the last scramble for colonies at the end of the nineteenth century, law was used to promote and project European influence to the (literally) 'darker' reaches of the world. Land was taken, because the 'savages' were not civilised enough to own land. Uttterly unequal and biased treaties were drafted and signed, which basically signed away the rights and sovereignties of rulers in Africa and Asia. 'Savages' needed 'enlightened' ideas and practices to be 'liberated', and this was done through force, as well as institutions of law. The 'white man's burden' it was called, to spread civilisation (and to some extent, religion) throughout the darkened continents. A history and policy of hypocrisy, blatant racism, self-proclaimed superiority under the guise of 'humanity' and the supposed benign. Some would say the history has continued to this day.

So far, I've had the feeling the degree I'm doing and the university where I study is pretty... 'tame', in the sense that it sort of goes along with (conservative) mainstream theories. As I was preparing the readings for today last night, I was smiling. The very things I had studied and became indoctrinated with at SOAS were alive and kicking. The world is not as black and white as it seems. Democracy and law aren't neutral ideas that can be imported and exported like everything else this neo-liberal capitalist world society seems to produce and market. The critiques of post-modernism on the current world order, the Foucauldian discourse on us vs them, the vices of seeing the world through Eurocentric and ethnocentric perspectives all came flooding back. The left didn't die after all.

And all of a sudden, in the middle of class, a girl gasped as she looked out the window. It began to pour with snow, softly and silently it was almost surreal. The girl had apperently never seen snow before, so was excited, and she excited the rest of us too.

Soon class was over, and we all rushed outside. I stood there, stuck my tongue out and tasted the falling flakes. I cycled home, as quickly as I could, but the roads were horrible and jammed with cars. Quickly I got my camera, and in the snowfall that was getting bigger and bigger, I headed for the forest.

Winter had finally come.

Watch out for these bands!!!!

For those people who fear the way “homosexuality invades family life through popular music”, fundamentalist gay-bashing bigot evangelical priest Donnie Davies has the solution. The proud founder of the CHOPS programme (CHANGING HOMOSEXUALS into ORDINARY PEOPLE) has kindly released a list of bands that are to be considered ‘dangerous’.

So, friends, for your own sake and for the sake of God, next time you hear Queen, Elton John, The Rolling Stones and Frankie goes to Hollywood, or Frank Sinatra, do remember to cover your ears and say your prayers. Or else you might just begin to have struggles “with undesired same-sex attractions”.

Instead, be humble and do tune into to songs that spread the wonderful message of God’s grace, love and tolerance, like “The Bible Says”:

“God hates a fag.
God hates a fag.
God hates a fag.
If you’re a fag he hates you too.

Read the Bible and you’ll be sure
to enter Heaven, there’s no back door.
Righteous man, get on your knees.
There lies no virtue in sodomy.”

Sitting on a bench

Sometimes songs can send shivers throughout your whole body, because the melody and words speak to you, speak to your lonely heart.

I sat cross-legged on a bench overlooking the calm, gray sea. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I stared far, far into the distance, wondering where the sea ended and where the sky began. It was cold, so I had my hands in my jacket pocket, earplugs in my ears. I sat, forgetting all about time, and just stared at the sea, as it silently waved and crashed in the distance.

At times I'd close my eyes, and feel the weak sun try to touch me. Down at the beach, people strolled by... some couples walked hand in hand, while others talked gently with their friends and family.

Now and then people would walk past the bench I sat on, and they'd at me. The expressions on their faces seemed to be one of pity... as if they could see the word 'loneliness' written all over me. Even the doggies that sniffed and skipped and peed around me seemed so very happy.

I tried to ignore them, and to pretend to look into the distance, look at the waving sea and the never-ending coastline so that I wouldn't have to face them... But uncontrollably my eyes would wander and dwell on the shadows of the people who had just passed me by. Perhaps, I envied how they had someone to talk to, someone to be with. The dirt path before me was deserted and seemed to lead to nowhere. And the songs playing in my ears seemed to mock my feelings.


I tried to shut out the nagging, irritating thoughts and words of those I live with... I tried to not think about the mess I wake up to face every single morning. But it's hard. I tried not to think about the things I still have to do for school... about the future that lies ahead of me after I graduate in a few months.

The seagulls flew and soared in the skies, and were free. It was a real shame that surrounded by all this beauty of nature and this day, my mind was muddled and miserable.

When I decided to head home... head back to that place and those people I'd rather not have to see, the skies had clouded, and the sun was starting to disappear.

Family day out

They held hands together and were laughing as they made their way to the park. A mother and her children, the children playing and running around excitedly. I watched them pass, and could not but feel envy at how happy they were, together, as a family on a family day out.

I was working at the time, and one of the bonus of working as a postman is you get to meet and see all sorts of people. And that scene with the mother and children made my mind go a little numb... I tried to remember a time when my family did that together, but I could remember nothing. What came to mind were the fights, arguments, the 'cold wars' and awkward silences in which I as a kid tried to play the 'bridge' between everyone because it seemed like the natural thing to do to ease the tension. No smiles, no holding hands, no play time and fooling around with the sibling.

I know it doesn't help to dwell on these thoughts and unpleasant memories. But then when I think about the situation with my family today, I cannot be feel upset and wonder why there is so little love and communication between us. A deep emptiness filled my insides as I thought about how in this big, wide world there seems to be no one close to me and who I'm close to.

It's been more than ten years since I last lived with my parents. Ten years since my family was last a 'family' under one roof. With my parents living elsewhere, my brother and I living together but living separate lives, we only get to see each other on and off, and for a month or two at most each time. We've become scattered, and our bond with one another diluted.

Umbrella anyone?

There are mornings you wake up thinking: "Oh... another day at work!" But it wasn't just another day.

I skipped last week because I was ill, so there really was no excuse not to go in. I got showered and dressed, put on my jeans and a sweater, and off I cycled to work.

I was actually the first one there, since my colleagues were all... fashionably late. And I mean 'fashionably', because they were either in a suit or a formal dress, while I sat there in my jeans and sweater.

I had completely forgotten today was the official opening of the new building, and that there was a whole programme lined up the whole afternoon. It didn't matter that we had been working at the new building for over two months, because some VIP has to 'officially' open the building with speeches and carpets, champaigns and little hors d'oeuvres, or else the building is not 'officially open'.

So during lunch break I cycled home and got changed. With suit, shirt and tie, veryday David soon became young city professional David. And I was ready to face the crowd, let alone fit in.

It just had to be. The 'new' building I work in is situated on what has been called the "most beautiful avenue in Europe", right next door to the Swiss and Spanish embassies, a few steps from the parliament buildings, and a only a few houses down from the chique hotel where many prominent foreign dignatories have stayed on state visits to the Netherlands. And as the mayor of The Hague joked in the opening speech, the neighbourhood will get even more exclusive as soon as the Dutch version of Guantanamo Bay a stone's throw away (the American embassy) moves away.

The ‘official’ ceremony started in the old building, and then eventually the crowd made their way toward the new building. As all 'official' events, the heavy-weight VIPs gave speeches, praising what wonderful and gracious achievements have been made, and what bright wonderful future we all welcome with the opening of the new building. The Hague, despite being the 'City of Peace, Justice & Security' of the world, does not actually have an official university. Leiden University where I study and indirectly also work at, is the only institution with a presence right in the city centre, and in the past years has been offering high quality education to professionals and civil servants and the international community. And this has grown so much we need a second building to accommodate all the different academic institutes and courses that are now available. The people who were invited were people who's names you often read in the newspapers… former ministers, university rectors, professors, experts in this and that field… Of course, as lowly employees my colleagues and I could only stand at the sideline and gawk and awe at their influence and prestige, but it felt somehow proud to be standing in the same room as these prominents.

OK, enough bragging. As we expected, my colleagues and I weren’t there to just sip free champagne and nimble delicate biscuits. In the middle of a speech we were silently dragged away and put to work. Each of us were given an umbrella, and I thought we were to use them to escort the guests because it was raining. Even though the weather was gray, there was no rain. Then as we were given our ‘assignments’, I burst out laughing.

A bit too loud, perhaps. From the old to the new building is a walk of around 500 metres. To avoid our very important people wandering off and getting lost, groups of us need to stand at ‘key positions’ and point the way. How would they identify us? With the umbrellas.

Soon enough, my colleagues and I were spread out along the way, hoisting our proud blue umbrellas bearing the university logo, and pointing the way… cursing under our breaths. Well, I didn’t curse, I just found it all hilarious and ridiculous. I stood in front of fences and barriers of ‘Guantanamo Bay’, with an open umbrella even though it wasn’t raining, and wondered how long it would take before the security guards came to arrest me. Probably they have all noted our faces and names, since we’ve been conducting some ‘suspicious activities’ around the American embassy for the past few weeks. We looked like a row of lunatics, in smart suits and shoes, holding up umbrellas and showing people the way.

The kind of things that goes on behind official events…

Saddam and Osama

Has to be one of the greatest satires I’ve seen in a long time.

Grades!

Grades are not everything, I know. But they help!

Just took a look at my grades online, and I passed everything! The papers I wrote I got (amazingly) high marks for, the exam grades I personally thought were so-so, but still higher than the class average. Thankfully for all the courses they take the grades for the papers and the exam, and divide evenly to get the final grade.

I was really worried. In fact, crossing my fingers as I clicked the 'view grade' button and stopped breathing in that split second the webpage took to load. And pheeeew... I did pretty ok, especially since I haven't been in the best of moods emotionally in the past month or so.

Just what I need to get me feeling a little better about myself, and to get me motivated to get some more work I've been saying to myself I should do.

Not so Sunny

I just chatted to my mum-friend, who's been having some rough times lately. She told me how my god-son Sunny has been acting really unruly and needy lately, and how she's been having a tough time coping. Like last night for example, he cried and cried for two hours non-stop for some reason, and they rushed to the hospital only to be told by the doctor that nothing is wrong. My friend felt somewhat upset, felt like nobody is taking her seriously and that people think she's over-reacting.

I listened to her, and gave her what little advice I know about babies. Sunny's been not himself lately, and has been really difficult, wanting to be held constantly, throughout the day, and night as well. My friend studies during the day, and the nanny takes care of the baby. When my friend comes home at the end of the day, she takes Sunny home and takes care of him till the next morning, day in, day out. Problem is in the past few weeks Sunny's been not wanting to sleep at night, which means my friend is unable to get much sleep as well. It's hard enough to do a master level study, so just imagine how it is having to master taking care of a new-born all on your own.

I sympathise with her completely, but somehow I feel however much I feel for her and her predicaments, however much I care and say that I care, it's still too little to help. All I can be is a listening ear, and a soothing voice telling her that it's all going to be alright, and little more. And deep inside I feel guilty that I can't be there and do any more to take away the stresses and strains on her.

I really wish I could do more... more than just silently wish them peace and harmony.

Wild geese chase

You are nice to them, but they peck you. You give them what they want, but they want more, and they peck you, again and again.

It could be people I'm talking about, but today it's geese. Had a little walk in the forest today, and thought it would be nice to take some of the old bread to feed the cold and hungry birds near the lake.

I approached slowly, and saw a duck couple swimming together. As soon as I neared, they neared me too. As soon as I threw some bread pieces into the water, they dashed toward the bread and were no longer a couple. It was every duck for itself.

Then came the crows, hovering above, croaking. A gathering swarm, almost darkening the sunset sky with their shiny black wings. And their croaks alerted the cranes, four of which silently tocuhed down in around me and stood tall on their thin legs and hoisted their long beaks. They dared not near me, and were ever so cautious. Even when I threw bread in their direction, they stood silent and still. Crows were braver and dove for the free food on the grass, getting there before the gray doves did.

Then someone alerted the gang of geese. And the suddenly air filled with loud, ever-louder cackles and quacks. A dozen, or three, a whole mob of them, started to run, hurtle and wobble toward me. The noise was unbearable, and I felt embarassed that I had disturbed the peace and calm that hung in the lazy dusking afternoon. As the gang of geese got closer, they spread their wings and lenghthened their necks, opened their beaks and hissed. The geese actually hissed, and perhaps even spitting.

I was too slow spreading the bread around. Soon enough the gang of geese surrounded me, and I was trapped, in the midst of loud hissing and ear-annoying cackling. And I was getting afraid. I trembled as I tore the bread slices into small pieces so that it would be easier for them to swallow, but the geese were not pleased. And peck they did. And it hurt, even through the thick of lining of my jeans, the attack of the geese hurt.

My saviour came, and the geese dispersed. Gracefully, the king of the birds, two snow-white swans floated by, stretched their long necks to see what the mob and fuss was all about. When they approached, all other birds shunned aside, leaving the way and water free for the swans to majestically pass.


I tossed the remaining bread on the ground, and fled.

'Mijn Vrijheid'

Over the last week or so I've been reading a book I bought something ago but never had much time to continue. It's been lying on my bedside table and collecting dust.

Finally now that I have some free time, and have been in bed sick, I picked it up again and it's hard to put it down again. It's the autobiography of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, perhaps one of my personal modern-day heroines and inspirators. I've written about her somewhat on my other blog, especially how she was 'chased' out of her position as a parliamentarian and out of the country in a witch hunt.

The book itself called 'Mijn Vrijheid' in Dutch ('My Freedom', but published as The Infidel: The Story of My Enlightenment in English), narrates her life until recently, on how she grew up in war-torn Somalia, and fled with her family to various countries, until she sought asylum around fifteen years ago in the Netherlands in order to get out of an arranged (Muslim) marriage. She vividly describes her struggles, conflicts and the pains and laughs she's had to endure as a child. From it all you come to understand that behind every (influential) person (listed as one TIME's 100 most influential persons of the century) are those moments and memories that compell them to strive toward and for what they believe in. In her case, it's the injustices and inequalities, that especially women have to endure, spread and maintained in the name of Islam.

Which got me thinking... wishful thinking, of course. All the horrible things I've endured until now, and still have to put up with, especially coming from my brother, will perhaps one day make me more sensitive to the world and its hypocrisies and injustices.

Of course, I'm not comparing the pains and suffferings of my life to Ayaan's, or any other person. I know my pains and miseries are perhaps trivial compared to what so many more around the world have to endure every single waking moment. And of course I don't dare to claim or dream that I'll one day be some great inspiration to the world,

but maybe,

just maybe I will one day be able to look back at my life now, my life then and think that these are the very reasons why I do what I do, and why I believe in what I believe in.

Market

Finally managed to get some (school) work I had been planning to do done today. Already one week of the vacation down, and most of it I've spent in bed, still trying to recover from this cough and cold that doesn't want to go away. And not that the temperature has dropped to below zero, it seems like they're here to stay.

Also managed to go to the market to pick up 'some' (ok, a LOT) of groceries. Seems like I'm the only one at home who cares about having a balanced diet of veggies and fruits, so whenever I go I buy a lot. And I enjoy it at the market, not because it's a lot cheaper, but also it's much more 'human', in terms of the direct personal experience when you shop. Haven't been a few weeks, and a few of the vendors friendily asked where and how I've been. You don't get that at the supermarket.

The Haagse Markt happens to be (or claims to be) the biggest open air market in Europe, and is in a very diverse neighbourhood, where a lot of people with different cultural and ethnic backgrounds. It's one of these places I go and can see and feel how the much aclaimed multicultural society is in full progress right before me. People of all religions and cultures come together, to shop and talk, to mingle and exchange and sample different foods and goods from all parts of the world. And everyone is the same, regardless of our visible and invisible differences, regardless of where we came from, or what we grow up believing. Nothing like the negative stigma and smir campaigns against so-called 'allochthons' you read in the news.

For this country is our home, and we speak the same language. We respect and understand each other, we let others dress and believe in what they want. It is the world in one small place, one little moment, united as one.

Nightmare

Had one of the worst nightmares in a long, long time this morning.

I remember being woken up by the noise they make in the morning, and the next moment I was in the dream. I don't remember much, but I do remember there were arguments
and lots of shouting in the dream. Perhaps not surprising, since that's what happened two days ago. I didn't realise real life had ingrained itself so deeply on my self-conciousness.


And then there was a very unpleasant part of the dream, which was very sexual, and I remember not enjoying any of it, because it was more like abuse and harassment than (consensual) sex. I woke up a number of times, really trembling, frightened and feeling very upset, only to fall into sleep again, and continue dreaming, continue being harassed and abused. I remember vividly curling up into a small ball and holding onto myself in bed, as if to protect myself. And there was this longing, this intense longing for someone to come rescue me from the dream, from the abusers. Horrible...

I woke exhausted. And all too late.

Snow shower

(view from my balcony this morning)

Despite what happened, it's not all doom and gloom. There's still plenty of beauty to be admired all around.

• First snow shower IV
• First snow shower 2007 III
• First snow shower 2007 II
• First snow shower 2007

Freezing

I was supposed to be at work today. And I did actually wake up early enough to go to work. But I had a(nother) rough night, and still felt pretty miserable, and couldn’t stop coughing, so I called in sick.

There was snow on the balcony, a thin layer of white on the branches and a puddle of water which overnight had turned into a thin sheet of ice. The temperature had plummeted to below freezing in the last two days, and so has relations at home.

Had the most stupidest argument over the most trivial thing two nights ago. This time it was about curtains. The curtains in his room had been washed, and I hung them up again after they were dry.

Later that night I was condemned because the curtains were not hang up properly and were not ironed. Apparently, some of the hooks came loose, even though I made very sure that every single hook was in place earlier in the afternoon. It was half past twelve, past midnight, and I said I’ll iron the curtain and hang them up again tomorrow. I thought that was the end.

But no. No, no. Like always when someone else does something wrong, however trivial and however small, it’s a great sin. A tirade went on for the next ten minutes about how lazy and sloppy I am, about the terrible things I’ve done and about how again I’m neglecting my duties at home.

I repeatedly said I’ll do it again, and that this really is nothing to be so worked up about. He just didn’t stop, and went on and on. I walked out the room, and apologised. I admitted how wrong I was, how wrong I always am and always will be, and how right and perfect he is and always will be. I went to bed, and tried to sleep, but could still hear the murmur of complaints behind closed doors.

I lay in bed, wondering what I ever did to deserve this… this horrible person of a brother. It’s not enough that he made my childhood a living horror, not enough that I had to go to therapy because of the things he did. And until this day continues to torment me with his explosive temperament and bossy attitude, his hypocrisy and tyranny.

It’s not really hatred I feel toward him, more disappointment and sadness…And I pity him… pity how he doesn’t know how to talk without raising his voice… pity how he doesn’t see the good side of others and instead believes he can do no wrong… pity him because he doesn’t understand all these terrible things he says and does to people will one day come back to him. How miserable he must be.

I lay in bed, wondering how he could sleep at night.

But I couldn’t sleep myself.

The f-word

I don't like using it, in fact I don't think I ever use it.

But (still) resting in bed today, I heard the word numerous times on the radio. Yes, that word is not taboo here in this liberal low-lying country, and is not bleeped out. The reason why it was repeated so many times is because a man was just acquited for saying 'fuck you' to a police officer. The public prosecutor had demanded fine of €300, and insulting a public officer carries a maximum jail sentence of 16 months, but even though the judge thought the word "is not nice" ("is niet aardig"), it is not an insult.

Maybe I'll start using it more.

Selfish

Just because he wants to buy a car, everyone else has to cut down on costs.

This is so ridiculous it's hilarious. Was just in the kitchen right now, and he asked me whether I eat a lot of pizza when I'm at home. Yeah, I eat pizza. It's easy, and quick, and healthy too.

"The oven uses a lot of electricity."
"So what should I do? Stop eating?" I asked, surprised he even said that.
"That's not what I mean."

Well, what else could anyone mean by that?! The oven uses electricity. The oven is therefore expensive, so the only conclusion can be: cut down the use of the oven, or better yet, stop using it altogether.

Last night he said we need to cut down on costs. He claims that I'm home "all the time", so I use a lot of electricity.... But didn't he just recently accuse me of treating this place as a hotel and accuse me of not being home at all? Am I now supposed to calculate the exact amount of time when I'm at home and when I'm not so as not to be accused of being completely absent or accused of being always at home?

I told him straight away if he wants to cut down costs he can turn off the computer at night instead of letting it run 24/7! If he wants to cut down costs, stop smoking!

Nothing is ever right... except for what he says and does.

Loving you, loving me: Chapter 16

The new chapter is online : )

Here's the song in the chapter: "You're still you", by Josh Groban

Through the darkness
I can see your light
And you will always shine
And I can feel your heart in mine
Your face I've memorized
I idolize just you

I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
I've loved you for so long
And after all is said and done
You're still you
After all
You're still you

You walk past me
I can feel your pain
Time changes everything
One truth always stays the same
You're still you
After all
You're still you

I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
And I believe in you
Although you never asked me to
I will remember you
And what life put you through

And in this cruel and lonely world
I found one love
You're still you
After all
You're still you

Still ill

Me no feel so good...

Been five days, and still pretty much ill. Haven't really been doing much, besides resting, but the cough doesn't seem to want to go away. And now everytime I cough, my head aches... I don't like taking medicine, especially the chemical stuff, so ginger and honey tea and some homeopathic herbal poitions is really what I've been taking. I know it'll go away, but as is often in life, whenever you're suffering, it seems like it's forever.

It probably didn't help having to work today, in the rain and wind. Tried to call in sick, but they really had to have me work because the storm in the past few days meant that a lot of mail couldn't be delivered. So had to just bear it and work, though surprisingly despite the amount of mail I finished everything in four hours.

Had a long talk with my brother last night. Well, as usual it's because he wants something, and this time it's a car. It doesn't matter what he wants to do with the money he makes, but I reminded him if he buys a car he won't be able to pay all the bills and mortgage. He still insists on buying, and I know when he wants something he won't rest until he gets it. Together we talked about how much expenses we have every month, and how much money is coming in.

Well, it's been decided. For him to buy a car, I'll need to contribute three hundred euros every month to the living expenses, on top of the grocery shopping I occassionally do.

To be honest, I'm not sure what to think about all this. On the one hand, I guess it's fair I pay something, since I'm living at home for free, so the money I pay can be seen as 'rent' (ironically, to stay at home). And I guess I can just about manage to scrape three hundred from my student loan and (meagre) salary. And I don't want to ask my parents for anything any more, since they've been paying too much for too long.

But then... I've been wanting to move out for sometime already, and if I have to pay that three hundred every month so that he can afford a car, I can't afford to move out any more. Why should I have to continue staying in this place so that he can have the pleasure of having a car??!! My first reaction last night was to just let this pass. Perhaps... it's just another sacrifice I have to make to keep someone else happy... And besides, I really dread having to look for a place and move again. It seems like I've been moving every single year in the past five years, and it's not fun. Not at all.

But when I think about having to stay here probably for the foreseeable future, or until at least I finish my studies or have a steady income, I shudder. The fights, the non-talking... the lack of that feeling of home, even though this is supposed to be home.

I really don't know what to do...

Do I gala?

Coughing and nauseous I still went to work yesterday. It's unpaid, but I like it, and my colleagues/classmates are pretty fun to be around with. Less than three months till the big moot event, things are beginning to get busier. Tonnes of emails to write, sponsors to solicit, hotel rooms to arrange, over a thousand copies of memorials to be worked through and reviewed... plenty of work left.

Well, even though it's unpaid there are side benefits... like lunch with a (former) minister, corresponding with judges of the international courts and tribunals and other VIPs. And apparently my colleagues and I have been invited to an gala dinner at the Peace Palace.

To be honest, I'm not really keen on the whole idea. The invitation came from the (obnoxious) head of the society, I was supposed to meet last week, himself. Only €70 to enter, and it'll be filled with movers and shakers of (high) society. Going in a suit ad tie would be considered 'underdressed', we were told. Wear a tuxedo, 'avec decoration' (French for whatever badges or emblems of honour you can pin on your chest).

The idea just makes me shudder. To me it just stinks of snobbishness. I imagine it to be a gathering of gentlemen with tophats and ladies evening gowns and funny hats, one more outrageous than the next, caviar, whisky and cigars. The very essence and decadence of the bourgeosie, the very thing my left-leaning SOASian years repelled against.

Besides, I don't even have a tuxedo. Though I do have a "Stop the War!" and smiley badge.

Storm II

Hundreds of kilometers of traffic jams at 4pm. Hours of delays and cacellations on the trains. Buildings being evacuated due to dangers of falling objects. Overflowing dikes. It's a storm, the second one in two weeks.

Been in bed most of the day, still recovering from the cold and nasty dry cough. It's the kind of cough when you cough it hurts, but however many times you cough there still seems to be phlegm stuck uncomfortably in your throat. It's really been a long time since I was so sick. Thanks to another argument in the morning, I managed to wake up early and go to the supermarket to get some groceries and the 'essential ingredients' for my cure against colds and coughs. Not sure where I learned this, but orange juice, fresh ginger slices and honey, simmered for around half an hour till that fruity, gingery, honey-y smell is fills the air, can do wonders. Not just the fragrance, but the drink too.

Listening to the radio you'd think it's the end of the world. Constant updates of the latest incident from all over the country, and people calling in to share what dramatic experiences they've just gone through. It's a force 10 storm, and the most violent in five years, and already causing plenty of damage. A construction crane fell on a school building earlier today, and for the first time ever the meteological the Ministry of Transport issued a 'weather warning', calling people to stay home.

Maybe where I am it's not that bad (yet), and for some reason the sky is clearing up, or at least for now. I've been through worse storms than this (even worse than Katrina), but still hearing and seeing what the forces of nature can do and damage is always awing.

Free!

Crack open Champagne! Burn those books!

Forget all about crimes against humanity and the intricacies of prosecuting an international criminal. Three hour exam, many more hours of studying. Done. Finished. No more. For now.

I may have a cold, may have nott slept much in the past day or so, but the moment I walked out that exam hall it was a real sigh of freedom. Over wine, vodka, martini, cigarillos and 'something else you can smoke' we poor overworked students celebrated the night away. Sure, due to the ingrained traumas of our studies, we could not escape from thoughts and words related to international law every other sentence, but at least we don't need to wake up tomorrow wondering whether it's one less day till some terrifying deadline. Yes, for the coming two weeks we can (temporarily) put away our books and brains, forget about the ten thousand plus word thesis looming ahead, and just do....

Well, not sure what to do actually.

I do know though... in five hours I'll need to get up to go to work with a terrible headache.

Sick

Woke up with a runny nose and spinning headache. Somehow between last night and this morning I managed to catch a cold. I remembered saying to someone the other day I've not been ill for a long, long time. What you say comes back with a vengence.

Been trying to do more revising for the whole day, but keep on dozing off. At one point I sat at my desk and was drooling... over my war crimes and genocide study notes. Feel so cold, and sore all over. Just took another fifteen minute 'power break', and not really feeling better.

Dreading tomorrow... and whether I'll be able to make it to the exam hall. And even more, whether my mind'll be clear enough to do an exam.

Winter?

Took a walk this afternoon, partly to get away from the depressing studying of war crimes and genocide, partly to get away from the arguing at home, and partly to bury Mr Mousovic.

It's always nice to go into the forest, and walk under the shade of barren trees. It was late afternoon, so the sun was setting, and the sky was beautiful. It's not been like that for days, since the stormy weather for the most of last week. The only thing was there were lots of people in the forest... lots of young children running around and lots of people walking around. And I don't like it when there are lots of people.

So I avoided the crowd and walked my own path. I came across something that made me stop. Normally, crocusses and wild flowers bud in early Spring, meaning around March, or even April. But they're beginning to bud, now already, in mid January!


So, the world is getting warmer, and the weather stranger and more extreme. Something else I noticed too... the streets were really really dirty! Usually the ground is speckless, and you're lucky to spot a piece of rubbish (dog poo doesn't count). But today there were beer cans and paper, plastic bags and household garbage everywhere... reminded me of the streets of Jakarta.


I guess it may be because of the stormy weather, or the fact that it was new years and so (drunken) kids were out and about. Sort of gave me the urge to just get a big bag and start cleaning up the streets...

but, I have an exam to study for.

(....the dirty streets were not helped by the attack of seagulls)

Mr Mousovic found dead

Pursuant to the Indictment issued on 8 Janurary 2007 against Musco Mousovic, the Tribunal issues the following statement:

At approximately 13.00 hours in the afternoon of 14 January 2007, the Accused, Mr Mouscovic, was found dead in the premises of The Tribunal. The cause of his death is unknown. Due to the untimely death of the Accused, proceedings will now be terminated.


FACTS

The Tribunal was informed of the reappearance of Moucovic and promptly investigated. Officer of the Tribunal, Cat, was seen playing with the corpse of the deceased. Whether Cat is guilty of the crime of desecrating a corpse has yet to be conformed.


Mr Mousovic's body was found lying beneath a chair in the Living Room. He lay on his side, and his four limbs were stiff in a tense posture. His eyes were still open, but he was no longer breathing. In order to determine whether Mr Mousovic had indeed passed away, The Tribunal poked his corpse with the Camera used to capture photographic evidence. There was no response.


There were no signs of external injuries or wounds on the corpse of Mr Mousovic. The suspected killing by Cat could not be confirmed. The Tribunal is not aware of any illness or health problems that Mr Mouscovic suffered prior to his death. Nor is The Tribunal of any mental health problems that may have triggered Mr Mousovic to take his own life. It is therefore presumed that Mr Mousovic died of natural causes.

Attempts were contemplated to contact the family of the Deceased, however this was hindered by communication hurdles. The Tribunal decided to give Mr Mousovic proper burial, and his corpse was scooped up with the help of Jar (the same Jar used to capture him a few days earlier).

The Tribunal searched the Woods of Clingendael for a quiet place as the final resting place of the Deceased. Fear of vandals and hungry Dogs, or other wild Beasts, desecrating the corpse even more were taking into account.

The Deceased was lowered into a carefully dug hole underneath a tree, and subsequently earth and leaves were used to enclose the grave. Since the religion affiliation of the Deceased was unclear, The Tribunal did not conduct any elaborate ritual or ceremony. Besides the Tribunal, no one else was present at the ceremony.

HELD
Following the death of the Accused, The Tribunal must thereby conclude the proceedings against Mr Mousovic.

Though short lived, Mr Mousovic will be much missed.

(Dis)incentive

As it turns out there was no meeting today. The oh-so-snobbish members of the society actually forgot about about our appointment, and kept my colleagues and me waiting the whole morning. We joked that we took reluctantly showers and dressed up and got up early to be at work especially for the meeting.

So I worked a bit, answered some emails, and hauled some boxes from one office to another with a little cart that made big noises as it rode over the cobbled road. The American Embassy (or as I call it, Guatanamo in The Hague) happened to be on the way. Armed policemen looked at my colleague and me, with our big boxes and our loud-sounding cart, suspiciously. It prbably didn't help that an American embassy was attacked earlier this morning.

I got home early in the afternoon, had a quick lunch, and my plans to finally get some studying done were stolen by sleep. I just wanted to lie down and take a nap, but it turned into two hours of sleep, and by the time I got up, it was already dark outside. Apparently the winter blues have not gone.

It took bars of chocolate, cookies and huge gulps of tea to keep me seated for a good few hours. But somehow I don't feel like studying... it's the last exam of the term, and the exam itself is just four days away, but I'm so tired and unmotivated for some reason... I read the pages and pages of judgements, but it seems like I read and I forget. Not encouraging.

Well, on the bright side I get to have the house to myself over the weekend. The others are going to their parties and friends, so it'll be nice and quiet.

Would be nice if I could share this empty place and feelings with someone though...

Meeting

I don't like meetings. Not when you have to dress up and look pompous. Especially not meetings with pretentious people who think they're soooo important and better than everyone else and don't even try to hide that.

But sometimes you just have to smile and be friendly and friends with everyone else, even though deep down you just want to get out of the place and can't bear to be with those people one more moment. Well, it'll be like that this morning. At work we're meeting the board members of the society organising the moot competition... and I just can't not go and mingle.
I know one of the board members, who happens to be in my class. And he's one of these arrogant, snobbish people who likes to show off with his expensive gadgets and tell you all about the experiences he's had working at the UN blah blah blah...

Oh well, smile and be friendly and friends with everyone else.

Homosexual vs. homosexuality

There is a difference between the two, according to a local evangelical school.

In a recent guide to schools in a local paper, a school in Amsterdam, called 'The Passion', claimed that because homosexuality does not fit in with the principles of the school there are no (openly) gay teachers working there.

This caused a bit of an uproar, and a law-maker has prompted investigation into whether the comment overstepped the Equal Treatment Act [de Wet gelijke behandeling]. The direcotr of ‘The Passion’, however does not think it discriminates.

“Discrimination is characterised by the unequal treatment of people in [prohibited] situations. This is different at our school, which is based on [biblical education]. We ask our teachers that they subscribe to the bible, and live to that in their private lives.

[…] We see a difference between homosexual and homosexuality. It is possible that we have teachers who are by nature homosexual, but as Christians decide not to engage in a relationship with someone of the same sex.” In comparing with Islamic schools who only take on teachers who are Muslims, the director continues: “We also don’t have teachers who say that God does not exist. You may select on the basis of outlook on life.”

What a skewed argument in this day and age...

Spur

After work today I was tired, and it was pouring with rain. Quickly went to the market to get some veggies, since the fridge is pretty much empty. Walked between the stalls, and my shoes and trousers became completely drenched, and I felt pretty miserable on the bus ride home.



But just as I got out of the bus the sky had miraculously cleared. Above and around me was an amazing sunset, a canvas of purple and pink, one I've not seen for a while. Suddenly I got the urge to go to the beach, so after putting everything down I grabbed the bike and sped toward the sea, hoping to catch that last glimpse of the sun before it sunk into the sea.

It was a struggle against the wind, though there was no more rain. The wind was strong, and resisted, but I was stronger, and zigzagged forward, and onwards. But by the time I got to the beach, it had pretty much become dark... just that last trace of the dying day were left in little puntures in thick, thick clouds that were blowing in from the sea, and looming.

I stood on the empty beach, disappointed, and felt the gusts of wind laugh at me.

But still... I triumphed over it and cycled home.