Work, work, work!

It was after eleven at night when I got home, and eight in the morning when I left home.

The second last day before the BIG moot court competition, and it's really work, work, work. So many things to finish before all our guests start streaming in. Already went to pick up three teams from three different countries this morning... three down, only twenty-two teams from twenty-two countries to go.

Been running around the entire day almost, buying this, carring that, doing errands...and then writing emails, printing, copying, wrapping presents, doing all the finishing touches. But I'm glad I have such wonderful colleagues/classmates working together... otherwise I can't imagine what kind of table throwing and shouting and swearing we'd have because of the pressure and time constraints. And the team members I've met so far are really, really friendly. At least as far as I know.

So... four days of competition about to begin. Four days of wearing suits and tie, chique shoes and shirts. Four days of 'Sir', 'Madam', 'Your Excellency', 'Your Honour'. Four days of being on constant standby ready to answer questions and help people. It's not hard work, but it's tiring.

But it should be a really great experience... after all, not just anyone can walk around freely inside the Peace Palce, meet all these important judges and ambassadors. And there'll be so many new people from different universities all over Europe.

And there's free food too.

How gay?

Fascinating article someone sent me today. As much as I don't really agree that science can explain everything about human life and behaviour, some conclusions are striking:

“If you can’t make a male attracted to other males by cutting off his penis, how strong could any psychosocial effect be?”

[...]
Whether women describe themselves as straight or lesbian, “Their sexual arousal seems to be relatively indiscriminate — they get aroused by both male and female images,” Dr. Bailey said. “I’m not even sure females have a sexual orientation. But they have sexual preferences. Women are very picky, and most choose to have sex with men.”
[...]
Sexual orientation, at least for men, seems to be settled before birth. “I think most of the scientists working on these questions are convinced that the antecedents of sexual orientation in males are happening early in life, probably before birth,” Dr. Breedlove said, “whereas for females, some are probably born to become gay, but clearly some get there quite late in life.”
[...]

Dr. Bailey believes that the systems for sexual orientation and arousal make men go out and find people to have sex with, whereas women are more focused on accepting or rejecting those who seek sex with them.

Similar differences between the sexes are seen by Marc Breedlove, a neuroscientist at Michigan State University. “Most males are quite stubborn in their ideas about which sex they want to pursue, while women seem more flexible,” he said.

[...]

A somewhat more straightforward clue to the origin of homosexuality is the fraternal birth order effect. Two Canadian researchers, Ray Blanchard and Anthony F. Bogaert, have shown that having older brothers substantially increases the chances that a man will be gay. Older sisters don’t count, nor does it matter whether the brothers are in the house when the boy is reared.

I do have a brother, so...

PIL Day Out

(PIL: Public International Law)

Cheeks chapped and red from the early Spring sun, and winds that never seemed to be with us, but always against us. Bones sore, and muscles aching from the overdose of exercise.

What was a sudden ‘Schnapsidee’ to get together for Easter in the end it turned into some forty kilometres and almost eight hours of non-stop cycling and hiking. More torturous for the others (especially the hunter-gatherer guys amongst us), since the rented lady bikes had no handbrakes and only one gear. Trying to keep up with my tendency of racing whenever I hop on a bike was perhaps hard enough, but the wind and the countless ‘mountains’ we had to conquer along the way made the leisurely ‘PIL Day Out’ a real ordeal. But divided we are weak, and today we proved to ourselves that advanced and regular together we can ‘Climb every mountain, ford every stream, search high and low".

Every journey begins with a big brunch, and we stuffed on the tones of eggs, chocolates, all sorts of warm bread and cold juices. Calories and any excess body weight gained attributable to me could be burnt later, I reassured. Soon enough we were on our bikes and hogging the inner lanes of the cross-country bicycle highways with our turtle speeds. The legendary PIL Tour had begun.

Being devout loyalists of the monarchy and so grateful for the fact that some great-, great-, great-, great-, ancestor of the Queen had decided to lay the foundations of what is to be The Hague as his hunting ground, we of course had to pay her a visit. We stood before the gates of ‘Huis ten Bosch’, only to be disappointed that the Queen was not in and had apparently forgotten our afternoon tea appointment. No matter, as we counseled ourselves with the fact that we were mere metres to the very building (though perhaps then not yet inviolable) where the Hague Peace Conferences took place.

Onwards we went, in search of our future residences in the luxurious and wooded neighbourhoods of Wassenaar. Translated literally, it would mean ‘to wash-strange’. Perhaps that’s why so many ‘stinking rich’ people love to live in what is the most exclusive area of the Netherlands. Enormous free-standing mansions with tennis courts and swimming pools rolled by, some big, lavish-looking cottages to house the gatekeeper at the beginning of what was more a tree-line avenue than an ordinary drive-way. Shame, the mansion opposite the residence of the Canadian ambassador I had my eyes was just been sold. “One day…”

We amused ourselves watching family dramas unfold from the top of what may have been the second highest hill in the country. We could see the scenic electric pylons in the distance, watch the occasional yellow trains fly past, and admire a certain talented football-players-to-be tackle at everyone and everything except the ball. Then it was through the dunes we went, braving the steep gradients and treacherous uneven cycle-paths that led us closer and closer to where the salted-sea breeze blew and lured. Finally, after expending all that energy and effort which made the rush to finish a paper the night before the deadline seem like a stroll in the park, the wide-open sea lay there waiting lazily before us. As did the ice-cream and ‘poffertjes’ (wo)man.

We sat down to coffee, tea and mediocre service. Though the weather was fine, and the water ‘lovely’, we enthralled ourselves with deep and revolutionary debates about the virtues and evils of nature vs. nurture, feminism, bio-power, identity, and why (to be politically correct, some) girls always seem to go the bathroom together.

On we rode on our metal horses, encountering magpies, a lone pheasant, and plumb pigeons, swarms of “killer, blood-sucking” mosquitoes, and realised the true meaning behind “doing it like rabbits”. We stopped once or twice to climb up to lookout points to take in the skyline and argued amongst ourselves which spire belongs to our beloved and revered Peace Palace. Posing like the inquisitive PIL-students we are, we looked on with philosophical glimmers in our eyes, in search of the horizon.

After numerous “Another fifteen minutes…” from me, we finally got to the fish restaurant at Scheveningen. We were all starving, and drained, our knees weak, faces sober like we just walked out of an exam we failed. The wonderful Dutch hospitality and service never ceased to amaze, but the food was pretty decent overall. All save for the tortured look of three twisted fish heads and hollowed corpses at the end.

Being diligent and proud PIL-students, we could not but pay homage to our place of worship. We cycled through the night, braving the black forests of Schevenigen which are rumoured to have countless sex-addicts lurking around after dark (sorry I didn’t tell you this then!), and with held breaths arrived at the Peace Palace. Easter Sunday, the sun had long set, it was close to ten at night, but we stood almost banging at the gates of the holy sanctuary of international law. In the end we satisfied ourselves with numerous shots of the another moment to remember in the years to come. We may be on lady’s bikes, and some of us may not even have backlights, but made a solemn vow to ourselves that we will one day return in all the glamour and glitz we could possibly muster. Next week, dus, for Telders.

What a day... what a great PIL Day Out!

Easter

Been really busy the past week. The moot court competition I've been helping to organise is starting next week, so there are many loose ends and odd jobs to finish. Seems like nothing's ever done, and there's always more to do! The other day I was at the office from 9 to 7, got home, and worked more until 9! It's tiring, and some of the things are tedious to do, others just downright irritating (especially when you contact people and ask them questions, but they don't answer your mails!!!) , but in the end it's worth it, and I have a lot of fun at work with my colleagues.

So come Tuesday, we'll be receiving the first group of guests... in total twenty-five groups from all over Europe, so it's a lot of people! After that, it's three full days of work, work, work. In a way I'm looking forward to it, since me and others have been working on this since September. That feeling when everything comes together is great... then again, you hope that people will enjoy themselves and have fond memories of their time here, so there's 'pressure' to make things go as smoothly and problem-free as possible... everything, from the catering to the party, from the set up of the moot court sessions to the arrangement conference room tables, from the travel to the accomodation... little details, but things that hopefully will click together and work as planned.

Thankfully there's a long Easter weekend before all this, so time to relax and take it a little eas(y)ier before the busi-ness sets in. Been cleaning up the whole day today... my balcony has grown green and mossy over the winter, and leaves were collecting. Gave it a big swipe and sweep, and it's clear and fresh and ready to be sat on when the sun is out and bright! Planted a few pots of daffodils and hyacinths and hung them over the edge of the balcony... a refreshing feeling of Spring in the air, especially so with the sight of budding flowers.

I've invited a bunch of my classmates over for tomorrow. It's Easter Sunday, and I thought since none of them have family here, it'll be nice for them to have a 'homely' brunch. So went to buy a lot of food, and some of them will be bringing choclates and eggs. Should be quite a feast! For the occassion I promised to 'fast' a number of days... It was hard, and at times difficult to resist, but finally tomorrow I can have chocolates again!

Stroke

Suddenly today I got a mail from my cousin saying that my aunt had a stroke a few days ago. Thank goodness it was mild, and she's more or less recovered (I hope), but still it's messages like this that really stun me. Being so far away from my family, it's moments like this that you realise when you get to know what happened, it's already a few days later. This was a relative... but it could very well be my parents. What then?

Which made me think about my dad.... not that I don't think about him from time to time. Ever since he left around a month ago, I've not heard anything from him at all. I call hom every single week, but never have a chance to talk to him. I talk to my mum, but dad never answers the phone or bothers to call me. So I really don't know what is happening with him, or how he's doing. All I know about him is through my mum, and she said they've not talked to one another for over a month... the other day she cooked and asked him whether he wants to eat. He didn't answer and just looked at her like she's the number one enemy... I really don't understand what dad is up to, or what's going on inside his head... all this hatred and anger, how can you be happy and peace with yourself with all these negative feelings?

That's why it’s so disturbing to hear that my aunt had a stroke, and to know that it runs in the family. What if one day…? I dread to think of it, but it is a possibility. And the more I do not hear from my dad, I less I know about his wellbeing. If one day something does happen to him, when am I going to know? Who am I going to hear it from? What do I do...?

Beach at sunset

There’s something strangely romantic about an (almost) empty beach. More so when the sun is setting, and the sky is dyed in streams of orange, red, violet and dark, dark blue that collapse and merge into one another in a natural blend.

It’s been a while since I last went to the beach, and because the sky is getting darker later and later since the change to summertime, I cycled to the beach after dinner. It was nice and quiet, as the hordes of tourists have disappeared as dusk slowly approached. So it was just me, and the waves… a few other faceless couples in the distance, and curious dogs that came, sniffed and went away again.

So quickly Autumn and Winter went, and Spring is creeping in, while Summer is just lurking behind. But standing there watching the sky get darker and darker, all that didn’t seem to matter for a moment. The waves came and tried to ‘tag’ my feet, but I was most of the time quick to get away. Playing with the sea seemed such a precious gift, especially when at the back of my mind deadlines and things to be done are whispering.

1st of April

(Couple in love at the beach)

It was my brother's birthday yesterday. No real big celebration, as he seemed a little 'distracted'. Perhaps the fact of turning 27 isn't something to look forward to. I can imagine, four years from now, how that must feel like.

Though I did get him some present. He may not have remembered my birthday, I did remember his. Because he loves to drink coffee, and makes huge mugs in the morning with those instant powdered coffee, I thought I'd get him a coffee maker. The latest 'sensation' is called Senseo, an invention made by Philips and Douwe Egberts, which is a famous Dutch brand of coffee. Basically, instead of coffee powder or beans, the coffee comes in pads that you put into the machine. With the help of high pressure and boiling water, a really aromatic blend of coffee comes out! Or so I hear... personally I don't really like coffee.

I had gotten the machine about a week ago. Went to a couple of stores to compare prices, and before buying I thought to myself I'll spend a maximum of around €50... But when I got to the store, I looked around and there were a couple of models on sale. The cheapest, and oldest model, was indeed around 50... but it was blue and plastic... the next best was 20Euros more, and the only difference was the water storage was bigger... and then I saw it. The very best, metalic coating, adjustable nozzle, extra, extra large water storage, coffee brewed in 30seconds... a must have! But the price....

I remember standing at the store, and the lady telling me all these functions. She could see that I was struggling, and that I probably wanted to spend only a little. I told her it was for my brother, and that actually birthdays come only once a year. She smiled, and sympathetically said it must be a hard choice. I stood in that showroom for like ten minutes... wondering whether my brother deserved such a nice present. To be honest, I can't remember the last time he did anything for me... I wondered if I would be a fool, and whether I would be, as always, much too nice to the point that people just take for granted the things I do... I thought about the kind of treatment I've be getting at home, and but balanced that thought against the fact that things have been going better between us recently... I thought about what someone once told me about how those instant coffee powder can be bad for your health, and reminded myself that brother's been drinking the same coffee day in and day out for years... I thought about how if you buy something, it'll be for a long time to come...

Later I would walk out that store parting with €130. Exactly enough to pay my mothly tuition fee instalment, but I was happy because I knew I could make someone else happy.

So the machine's been sitting in my room, hidden under some clothes for a week, and finally this morning I put it in the kitchen before brother went downstairs. I was excited, doing something so 'sneakily' without arousing any suspicion at all. Brother was of course very surprised, in a pleasant way, and kept saying I shouldn't have. Even just before bed, he thanked me again.

After all, it was his birthday, which really does come once in a year, and only once in a lifetime, if you think about it...

'Why don't you like me?"

Do I attract you?
Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?
Am I too dirty?
Am I too flirty?
Do I like what you like?

I got to be wholesome
I could be loathsome
Guess I'm a little bit shy
Why dont you like me?
Why dont you like me without making me try?

I tried to be like Grace Kelly ( mmmm )
But all her looks were too sad (ahhh ahhh)
So I tried a little Freddie (MMMM)
I've gone identity maaaad!

I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why dont you like me?
Why dont you like me?
Why don't you walk out the door!

'I DO feel like dancing...'

She likes to push open my door late at night, and sneak in, sit around a bit, maybe even jump around on my bed, before she leaves, only to come back one or two hours laters. As sweet as Kitty can be, she can be pretty annoying at night, especially when she can pay a night visit to my bedroom.

I usually get woken up by her visit, since she's always so (hyper)active at night, jumping around and up and down, making the bell around her neck ring and ring. So I didn't sleep too well last night, and had to wake up only for work.

With the BIG event drawing closer and closer, I promised my boss to dedicate three days of my week off this week to work. Originally I wanted to spend some time working on my thesis and doing some reading, or even go on a long cycle trip... but a promise is a promise.

There's really lots of things to do, the little organising details and procedures, tonnes of printing to do, evelops to stuff, and emails to write. Less than three weeks, and it's really show time. All these months of preparations and organising the moot court will hopefully all come together and hopefully everything will go smoothly as planned. But before that, there's still a lot of work to be done.

At first I didn't feel like it, since I'm so clumsy with my body, and always feel so self-conscious. But two girls from school managed to convince me (and another) to join as their dance partners for their salsa class. I was pretty tired after work, but still went anyways.... since I had said I would go, and a promise is a promise. I wasn't expecting to enjoy it.

But enjoy salsa I did! Not exactly a pro after the first ever dance lesson, but I guess I'm getting the hang of it... We had to first master the 'simple' the four-step Bolero movement, and from there we could build on the routine... left leg forward, resting the weight on that leg, lifting the right leg up (ONE)... right leg down, resting all the weight on that leg, while lifting the left leg up (TWO)... bring left leg together with right leg (THREE)... rest a little (FOUR)... and repeat, but stepping backward this time. Sounds easy, but with my clumsy and stiff body, it took me a while to get into the rhythm, and the teachers were patient enough to dedicate extra time and attention to me, so I could eventually stop tripping over!

The friend I went with was also very patient with me, and stayed by my side to count the steps as I practiced. I'm not a very 'touchy' person, especially when it comes to girls... which was one reason I originally didn't want to go dancing... but it actually turned out to be alright. We held hands, I rested my hand on her back, and she rested hers on my shoulder, and it was pretty alright. At least I didn't start to shake with nervousness or sweat my palms... though it was still pretty weird to be so close to another person, literally face to face, alsmost lips to lips... especially a girl!

Then came the hip moving... and I realised, boy, I can really move those hips!! : ) Up, down, up down, left, right, left, right... to the beat of quick-beat latin dance music. It was pretty amazing, and the hour of class went by all too quickly. I was sweaty, my stiff bones were aching from having not excercised for I don't know how long, but I was smiling and looking back at myself in the mirror-wall in the dance room.

Till next week!

'Interview with God'

Something to watch and think about...

Love in the air

It seems to be everywhere I look. Love, and manifestations of it. In the way couples play with each other's hands... in the way they whisper to each other softly, and stare into the depth of each other's eyes... in the way they touch one another's bodies... in the way they close their eyes and kiss.

Somehow I seemed to notice it more today... in the train, on the streets, in the shops, and even between two of my friends who unofficially seem to have become a couple. Even 'kids', probably no more than thirteen, were so deep into each other at the busstop! I looked out the window as the flat, gray landscape rolled passed. You try to look at something else, to focus on the trees and sheep going passed you outside the window, but someehow your mind turns back to the intimacies and warmth between two people in love. I turn away, try to block away the feelings that are caused by what I see around me, but trying to block it out seems to make it all a little worse.

I guess at least I can come home and find comfort in the fact that Kitty is there waiting for me.
Is it comfort, or perhaps a little sad?

First day of Spring

It was officially the first day of Spring yesterday. Hail, rain, gusts of storm-force winds. For some reason the weather turned, and it suddenly became so very, very cold.

Been kept occupied in the last few days by a number of papers I've got to hand in for school. Just completed two in the last week, and am about to start another one, which will be the final one of my entire studies, or at least that's what I think... Seems like I've been writing and reading non-stop in the last few days, to the point I literally feel faint! But I guess it pays off, and I'm kind of proud of what I've managed to written. With around a month or so of classes left to go, I'll be more or less finished with my whole course... except for that thesis I have to complete by the end of Summer. Sometimes I can't believe it's almost the end... when it seems like it only started yesterday.

Not much interesting's been happening lately... The other day was my brother's girlfriend's birthday, and I woke up especially early on a Saturday to bake a cake. I had bought some flowers and hidden them in my room, and waited till she woke up to give her the surprise. Well, she wasn't all that enthousiastic for some reason, and the cake was only half eaten... and I know for a fact I took a bit part of that half. So the strawberry-flavoured cheese cake with rasberries on top lay in the kitchen for four days... I haven't been home to have dinner much this week, and only this morning did I discover that the cake had actually gone mouldy.


It hurt somewhat, and I felt a little insulted too. I went through the trouble to buy ingredients, (and fresh rasberries are pretty expensive this time of the year!!), and hide it all, and then make it so early in the morning... I remembered promising myself I'd never do anything nice again... but then this afternoon I received the two tickets I had bought online for them to go see this famous beautiful flower garden that just opened.

I gave the tickets to them anyways... I just can't stay angry at people for very long.

'Male Restroom Etiquette'

With the help of "The Sims", a narrator, and centuries of documented practical experience, we've got:

Past midnight

It's just past midnight. One of those moments I should be going to bed, but not quite
ready yet... one of those moments I could finish off a paper I'm writing, but not quite got the braincells to read anything else any more... so I guess I'll just write about my day.

Went to bed pretty late/early last night, at around 2am, working on the paper due next week. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing, but once I get started doing research, I just read on and on and on, and don't feel like stopping. And for a short paper of 2000 words in length, I've got some 70 footnotes that total to around 3500 words alone! And I'm not even finished yet. I guess I have what is called 'footnote fetish'... almost every single sentence I qualify my arguments or refer to similar and contrasting arguments with a footnote. So a typical example would be this:

It is such a perspective of a “millenist, triumphalist, upbeat”[1] liberal international society that echoes concerns of a return of standards of civilisation under the liberal label.[2] Indeed, a “facile universalism”[3] of standards in the international system would overshadow the political, economic, social and historical idiosyncrasies of our “multicultural (as opposed to cosmopolitan)” international society".[4]

Too pedantic? Too detailed? Too much fine print dealing with something that says very little? Not sure, but it's 'lawyer-ly', and I do enjoy writing like this, because it makes me feel... smart!

Anyways, I only managed a few hours of sleep before I had to get up just before eight to go to work. I had to turn back home almost immediately after leaving home because somehow the circular lock on my bike came off and started to make embarrasingly loud noises against the wheel as I cycled.

I was somewhat sleepy, but the sun was out and shining wonderfully like an early day in spring. And somehow I always feel so 'energetic' and excited about going to work, even if it's just one day in the week.

As I arrived, a couple of boxes were spread over the floor, and my colleague excitedly told me about the 'goodies' and books that a number of sponsors have sent us. About time, since for the last couple of months we've be trying to solicit ('beg') for sponsorship and for whatever people can spare to support the event on HIV/AIDS we're organising. Luckily, we got a positive response from UNESCO, which sent us two big boxes of information packages. My colleague nonchalantly opened one, and started to show me the wonderful things that were inside the info packs... Between it all was a little foil package, and I curiously removed it.

My colleague saw the expression on my face, like the expressions of so many other people who realised what it was that I was holding, and burst out laughing. It was a condom, not just any condom, but a female condom, with on the back vivid pictures and careful instructions showing how to put it on (or in?). The rest of my co-workers came, and each were equally surprised and burst into laughs as I was. So now together with the latest collection of contraceptives, we also a bunch of red ribbons, a number of lollies with 'Safe Sex' printed on them. And still to come is another big batch of condoms. We have so much that my boss asked whether we'd like to take some home with us... without thinking too much, I said no. Well... I guess taking them home will be a waste, since the chances of them being used in the near future is... (lower than) slim : /

Come mid-April, when our guests start to arrive from all over Europe, we'll be standing at the door welcoming them with our huge supply of condoms and other 'accessories', and say: "Welcome to Holland"!

---

[1] José E. Alvarez, ‘Do Liberal States Behave Better? A Critique of Slaughter's Liberal Theory’, 12 European Journal of International Law 183 (2001), 189. At 192 Alvarez talks of the “oppressive voice of neo-liberal hegemony”. Much of this ”liberal triumphalism” can be traced back to Francis Fukuyama’s seminal declaration that “with the universalization of Western liberal democracy as the final form of human government” history was at an end: Gerry Simpson, ‘Two Liberalisms’, 12 European Journal of International Law 537 (2001), 539; and also Susan Marks, ‘The End of History? Reflections on Some International Legal Theses’, 3 European Journal of International Law 449 (1997) and Gerry Simpson, ‘Democratic Liberalism in International Legal Theory’, 15 Australian Yearbook of International Law 103 (1994). See also Alex Mills and Tim Stephens, ‘Challenging the Role of Judges in Slaughter’s Liberal Theory of International Law’, 18 Leiden Journal of International Law 1 (2005), 29. Patrick Capps, warns that liberalism seems to justify “unilateral interpretations” by the Kantian proposition of a ‘league’ powerful states “of what objective morality requires when applied to a highly complex world”: ‘The Kantian Project in Modern International Legal Theory’, 12 European Journal of International Law 1003 (2001), 1020. Euan MacDonald cautions against “neo-liberal imperialism”, the foundations of which “rest on an incoherent mixture of selective positivistic analysis, highly contestable political science, and the essentially uncritical acceptance of a 200 year-old political theory”: ‘International Law, Democratic Governance and September the 11^th’, 3 German Law Journal (2002), available online at: .

[2] Fidler (1984) speaks of “the standard of civilization [having been] reincarnated n the standard of liberal, globalized civilization”: 411. Anghie (1999), similarly writes that “the civilizing mission may be reconstructed in the contemporary vocabulary of human rights, governance and economic liberalization” (80). Simpson (2001) distinguishes between ‘classical Charter liberalism’ which emphasises “tolerance diversity and openness together with an agnosticism about moral truth” (539), and ‘liberal anti-pluralism’, which is a profound form of “illiberal conformitarianism” that views original Charter conceptions of sovereign equality as “an absurdity” (541). Koskenniemi (2002), 54-67, outlines that the origins of the ‘liberal project’, with human rights as “the fundamental objects of protection by international law”, took root at around the same time as European expansion in the late 19^th Century.

[3] Thomas Carothers, ‘Empirical Perspectives on the Emerging Norm of Democracy in International Law’, 86 American Society of International Law Proceedings 261 (1992), 262-264.

[4] Gong (1984), 244.

Monday morning

Woke up at 8.08am this morning. In order to get on the train and be in class at 9, I usually have to leave at 8.10.

"Oh, sh*t!" I thought to myself as I read my watch. The sun was already up and bright, but I was feeling pretty miserable for having such a wonderful start to Monday morning. Within 10 minutes, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, tried to get my hair in order ( realising again that it was a bad idea to shower and then go to bed...), got dressed, and got on my bike. I cycled as fast as I could, but it was exactly those moments when you're in a hurry things get in the way to slow you even more. Traffic lights, slow cyclists, cars...

I missed my regular train, but thankfully there was a slow train a couple of minutes afterwards, which would get me into Leiden (where I study) a little before 9. I ran and skipped through the streets, and managed to complete a walk that would normally take 20 minutes in around 10. Sweaty, hungry, out of breath I got into class, ten past nine. We have this unspoken rule at the university, the so-called 'Leiden quarter' (Leids kwartier)... usually classes don't officially start until a quarter past the hour, so I was technically still on time.

It was a slow and boring class, even more so because the weather, in what seemed like the first day of spring, was so lovely outside. The lecturer asked questions from the 150+pages of readings we had to read to prepare for class, but nobody seemed to have read anything... because frankly the text is so tedious and technical that you'd have to read two, three times to understand. A grueling two hours, and class was finally dismissed.

Almost the rest of the day I spent in the library, working on this paper due for next week. The topic is up to us to decide, as long as it's related to a theme of international law. In my undergrad studies I had come across criticism of international law as Eurocentric and as something simply forced upon the rest of the world. And more recently I came across literature about how international law was used in the 19th Century to justify colonisation and imperialism under the banner of 'humanity' and 'civilisation'... so obvious, with my flair and attraction for the critical, this was what I chose my topic to write about. There's more and more talk of liberalism's virtues of human rights, democratic governance, rule of law, and more and more you see certain states preaching these idea(l)s, or even setting these conditions for other states if they want to be accepted as a member of the (so-called) 'international community'. Well, it occured to me that perhaps today we are not that far away from the slogans of 'humanity' and 'civilisation' as we presume to be... that perhaps today international law is not something that can be applied universally because it appears to be so neutral and so accepted by all. So in my paper I'm going to try to draw the links between 'civilisation' then, and liberalism now, and how through time and different contexts, the (neo)colonial tendencies and inequalities of the international system have not shifted away from the hegemony of the few over the many. Fascinating, mind-boggling stuff... at least I find! :)

Anyways, after sitting in the library reading (and getting distracted by cute people walking around...), I took a break and went to see an old colleague of mine. We've not seen each other for almost a whole year, since she's been on fieldtrip to a far, far away land called Angola. It was like old times, we sat down to dinner, and two hours later were still sitting there, leaving only because the waitresses were wiping the tables around us in a subtle sign telling us to go. She's one of the few close friends with whom I can talk to about anything and everything. We chatted,I told her about my (love-less) life, family, studies, my disgust of bourgeois pretences like the gala I attended sometime ago... and she told me about her adventures in the 'bushes', about being phone-tapped (possibly followed), and the extremes of poverty and super-rich-dom in Angola.

I cycled home, not in a hurry like I was while leaving home his morning, and admired the beautiful stars on this wonderful, calm evening.

Nightmare

I was awaken by the intensity of the dream. So real... so frighteningly real. Under my blankets I crunched into a human ball. I knew I was awake, but I didn't open my eyes, fearing perhaps tears would burst out. I was in pain.

Went to sleep last night, with my head buzzing slightly from the alcohol. It was cold outside, but inside I felt warm. I haven't dreamt in a while, and last night was horrible...

I saw myself kneeling on the ground, head hanging low, completely distraught and in tears, and my hands together in prayer. I lifted my head, and in front of me was my dad. He was in pain, his body writhing the way fish do when they are out of water. I can't remember if he said anything, but he seemed to be moaning and his face was crumpled together, in obvious pain. His hands reached out to mine, but didn't touch, perhaps beacuse he was took weak to touch. And he kept on moaning and groaning, obviously suffering terrible physical and mental pain.

It was a horrible sight, and I saw myself in the dream pleading and begging with my hands together. I can't remember what I said exactly, but it was something along the lines of praying that my dad's pain would go away, and that he would pass on peacefully. I think it was pretty clear it was his final moments, and he was in complete anguish...

On his contorted face was a scared look.. a look of someone who seems to be carrying the sorrows and burdens of a lifetime, and is seeing his life flash back before his very eyes. There seemed to be a look of guilt too, or perhaps of shame and of regret... or of all these terrible things that come back to you at that moment when you yourself know time is really ticking away...

I knelt before him, feeling the intensity of the suffering consume me. I repeatedly sent him prayers and kind thoughts, and wishing that he would feel no pain, feel no more suffering. But as much as I prayed for dad's bliss and for his wellbeing, his writhing body told me othewise. His stomach was bulging-- a phenomenon I had previously seen as a child in the final days of my grandma, before she was taken away by her failing liver. They say liver disease, cancer included, is one of the most painful experience of all... and that toward the end you cannot eat or drink, but then your stomach is so inflated it feels like it's about to burst open...

And that was what I saw in the dream... dad, lying there, suffering and in pain, his hands trying to reach out, but failing... his body trying to stabilise and calm down, but moving around frantically, as if in a last attempt tp gain control, to fight against disease and suffering, but also... failing.

I knelt there, crying, praying, and begging for mercy as life came and took life away...

Party

2am. Tipsy.

Just managed to travel one hour on the train and cycle home without having an accident. When you're under the influence of alcohol everything seems to be happening so fast, but your reaction slows. I'm one of these people who can drink and drink, but never feel sick or throw up. And I'm one of these people who drinks, gets tipsy, and a little quiet... perhaps even philosophical.

It was a birthday part I just attended... actually birthday celebration for three people who had their birthdays one after another recently. So in fact, the three of them and me are all the same starsign. And coincidentally one of them is born on the exact same day, month and year as me.
Never ever met anyone before who has the same birthday... so it was quite something.

But then we're so different people. He's more outgoing, and looks more mature and seems so together, whereas I'm so shy, a little naive, and so full of doubts and uncertainties and insecurities. I mean at the party there were around twenty people or so, but even so I felt somewhat lonely. Not that I didn't talk to anyone, but even when you talk to someone and meet new people, there's still this feeling of loneliness inside, which is so contradictory of all the noise and all the chattering and laughter on the outside.

I left a little earlier, perhaps even the first to leave. But early was already 1am, and I had to rush to the station to catch the train home, or else must be stuck at the station for one whole hour. As I walked out the door, into the cold, clear night with stars shining brightly in the sky above, I felt a little relieved.

In the distance the sound of people's voices and music continued, as I cycled into the silence and dark of the night.

Values and interests

They say there is law that applies everywhere, because the law is the law, and is supposed to mean the same to everyone, no matter where. The law is certain, black and white, and protects the weak against the strong.

And there are values... idea(l)s, perhaps, that certain people (or states) cherish that should be protected and developed because it is seen as necessarily 'good', indisputably 'moral' and 'just'. Contrast this with interests... a self-motivation which everyone (and every state) tries to pursue so that they benefit most, and mostly at the expense of others. It is these values and interests which often makes the law appear more like a tool for those who are willing and able to (ab)use it to their own ends.

In the last couple of days I've come across two things that have made me, more than ever, more skeptical about the 'nieceties' of law, especially the interantional kind, which we lone human beings are almost powerless to influence, yet which affects us all in so many, many ways. One was some of the readings I've had to read about the so-called 'universal' human rights, and the other was a lecture I attended last night, given by an influential (and refreshingly critical) international lawyer from the University of London.

Why is international law so influential? Because through the countless number of international, multinational, bilateral and multilateral treaties and agreements there are, our lives are being regulated, to a large extent also protected, but to some extent also limited. Our fundamental rights and freedoms to life, to speech, to work and to found a family are subscribed by international law... as are our responsibilities should we commit certain heinous crimes like torture or genoicide. The environment, and how to save it from further deterioation and certain extinction, is governed by numerous agreements to cut greenhouse gases, to stop mining, overfishing, and to promote so-called 'sustainable development'. The global economic and capitalist network composed of markets, media and coporations is held in place by a complex regime of free trade and flow of goods and people. And international law regulates war and peace, it says that certain behaviour like aggression will not be tolerated, and international law has set in place security arrangements to ensure that 'aggressors' are dealt with under the banner of 'collective peace and security'. And if there is to be war and conflict, international law underwrites the standards of what you can and cannot do in armed conflict, and provides the bare minimum amount of protection for civilians and property.

Yet... international law is made predominantly by states, and the skeptic, like me, would say mostly by states which are big and powerful. How fair is it that certain states are able to sit in the Security Council just because they were 'winners' from a world war sixty years ago and wield almost unchecked authority over world affairs, and be armed with the veto power if certain events or decisions don't suit their interests? How just is it that certain states are able to wage war against whomever they see fit, supposedly in the name of promoting freedom and democracy, but actually pursuing and protecting their economic and geopolitical interests? How is it that certain states claim the right to preach and champion certain values, and if necessary take action to 'intervene' to make all other states a mould of themselves? And how can transnational corporations, many as influential and affluent as states, control and monopolise so much of the world's wealth and production, while so many countless are left out of the most basic resources for survival, let alone the benefits of the supposed progress and comforts that the age of post-modernity is to usher in?

There is much talk of principles and idea(l)s like the "international community", "democracy", "perpetual peace", "global prosperity"... but in truth the world is any thing but a community, anything but democratic, while peace and prosperity are reserved for the few lucky enough
to have been born in the Western/Northern hemisphere. True, much progress has been made because of an ever closer cooperation between states and peoples the world over, in the area of combating disease, scientific advancements, cultural exchange and political goodwill. Yet, behind these apparent successes lie the reality that the international system as a whole, and the international legal order in particular, is appalingly predjudiced and shockingly fragile to the manipulation by the few at the expense of the many.

I don't want to pinpoint certain states and people for all the faults...I don't want to criticise for the sake of criticising, but in truth, from a historical point of view, the 'west', embodied firstly by Europe alone, later by the United States together with Europe, and now more or less by the US alone, has been most focal in championing the concept of 'the international'. The ages of discovery, empires, slavery and trade, and the late age of colonialisation led to the expansion of 'western' ideas and influences to those places and people deemed savage and god-less. Religion, under Christianity, was used as a 'civilising' mechanism to convert natives into subjects sharing similar, if not same, ideologies, while trade, under trading companies, was used as a 'marketising' tool to transform natives into consumers to satisfy the unsatiable market of production and consumption. And laws, exported and implemented wholesale, were used to legitimise imperial rule, to justify territorial acquisitions and defend against local rebellions. The international was thus first a result of the European (and later America) going beyond their own continents; a direct result of the 'west's' infusion of markets, power, culture and guns into the rest of the world's territories and populations.

Thus we have the idea of the 'civilised nations', originally coined in the age of colonisation, as a way to distinguish European states and peoples from the 'rest'. The idea developed into 'international community', through the League of Nations and United Nations frameworks, under which supposedly all states enjoy sovereign equality and dignity. Though the decolonisation of the 1960s and 1970s changed the balance of power, as well as voting behaviour and direction of the 'international community', the established order of powerful (winner) states is still unbroken. 'Civilisation' turned into something home-grown and cultivated as a result of the 'west's' shared history of ideological, social, economic and political developments from the age of Enlightenment to the liberitarian and Industrial Revolutions. Today, talk of 'civilisation' is frowned upon, and mention of its clash is discredited. Yet, other slogans and notions are used in its stead, notions like 'democracy', 'human rights', 'rule of law', and 'good governance'.

As virtuous as desirable as they are, and I do agree they are the next best alternative to the worst excesses of tyranny, these idea(l)s are far from being neutral and universal. If anything, 'democracy' and all the other catch phrases, are being used as yardsticks by the 'west' to measure other states against, as a means to classify, justify, divide and rule the world, as they did centuries ago. Speak of alternatives, act in the alternative, and the policing actions of sanctions, isolation, and worse, military force, strike down hard on any one or any state that dares to differ. 'Good' and 'evil', 'us' and 'them', 'friend' and 'foe'... all so simple, simplified and all so black and white. Either you are for, or against the new world order. For there is no other alternative, no middle way.

It makes someone like me, who has been studying and working and hoping for a better world in a better tomorrow, disappointed. Really, really disappointed.

I was falling alseep in class today, trying to keep my eyes open and look like I'm awake. I don't know why I'm so tired, even though I slept pretty ok last night in my own bed for the first time in two weeks.

Originally I had planned to stay the whole day in the library to finish off the paper due tomorrow, but I just couldn't. So I grabbed my bag and headed home, all along the way, looking forward to that moment I jump under the blankets and take a good, relaxing sleep.

Almost three hours I slept... not completely sound, as I kept on having these short and intense dreams... one with me floating and drifting over a beach, one of me at a party and not enjoying myself at all... the others I can't remember, but they weren't really that pleasant...

And now dozens of articles to read and a paper to write...

Sunday evening before school

Just getting ready to crawl into my own bed again. I've been sleeping on the floor in the last two weeks or so and letting my dad sleep in my room. I don't mind at all, but sleeping with my cat who seems to get more and more active every night, spending time with my parents and studying late at night made me so exhausted.

In a way I'm sort of relieved that my parents are away. Life can slowly get back to normal again, without me having to wake up with the fear of when the next confrontation or argument will take place. It's comforting not having to walk around the house and trying to be on the look out for potential situations or words that can turn into a source of conflict. That constant shadow of unpleasantness and tension was tiring to live with.

Then again, I miss them both already, and I must admit, mum more than dad. They must be still on the plane, with another few hours to go until they land. Throughout the day, at times when I was sitting still, I'd wonder how they're doing, what they're doing sitting in separate seats on the same plane. The suitcases they have with them are pretty heavy, and I wish I could go along with them, if only just to lighten their load on the journey home.

Perhaps I miss the fact that while they were here, both of them gave me, in their own different ways, a feeling that I belong, a feeling of care and warmth that I need so much. I dread having to come home to an empty home, and with no one to look forward to.... I'm afraid that as the days and weeks go by, I'll again become the lonely and sighing boy, longing for that very simple and very little bit of human warmth and closeness that can make the bad thoughts and worries all go away.

There were many moments throughout today that I shed a tear or two asI recalled moments and images of them in the past two weeks here. And with the work I have still to do, the dealines approaching fast, I'll probably soon forget all the troubles and noises.

Life must go on.

Departing

I clenched my jaws and bit on the inside of my cheeks. The pain directed attention away from the pain of parting. It helped, because I didn't cry.

We stood in front of the passport control. We shuffled slowly forward, as one by one loved ones are separated by the glass wall. When it was their turn, I looked up at their faces. Dad was a little expressionless, but mum's eyes were wavering in tears. I tightened my teeth together, and tried to be a strong boy.

"Take care. You take care of yourselves..." I said, as I patted dad on his back and left my hand there a couple of moments before letting go. In those moments, I wished I could have the ability to reach inside of him, and heal his pain and illnesses... I turned to mum, and closed my arms around her. I held onto her tightly, hoping I wouldn't have to let go, hoping I could shelter her from her physicaly and mental pains. As I leaned in close to her ear, I whispered: "Take care of yourself. Live happy, live well..." Behind me I heard a sniff, perhaps coming from my brother.

My parents inched closer toward the passpart control desk, and further away from me. I looked at their backs, and silently sent them silent wishes and prayers... "May they be happy... May they be well... May they be healthy... May they be free from suffering." Then and there, I wondered when I would be able to see them again. I got flashbacks from the past... those partings that were always so difficult to bear, and all too easy to come.

Dad was through the control desk first, and he walked off without turning to look back. He swayed a little under the load of the handluggage he had strapped over his shoulders. He stopped, and I thought he would turn to look back, but instead he looked left and right, as if confused and wondering where to go next...

Mum stood before the passport control person, and as soon as she was ready, she turned to wave. I waved back. She waved back some more and motioned me to go, to go eat because we hadn't eaten yet. I nodded and faintly flashed her and smile, and mouthed "take care" through the glass barrier separating us. She walked on, turning back one more time to wave goodbye. I felt no sadness, no regret... in my mind I only wished that for the coming time when I am unable to see and be with them, they both have the courage and the strength to go on, to go on living happily and well... I watched as the back of mum's figure disappeared into the sea of people...

I stood there for a few moments, hoping and expecting to catch a glimpse of either mum or dad. Through a narrow slit in the glass barrier I could see people passing, people coming and going. But my parents had disappeared.

Slowly I left where I had stood for a short while... but I kept turning back, half expecting to see them, and half expecting to wave goodbye one more time.

Eclipse of the moon

It's not often that the moon eclipses, and even rarer that for a few moments in a couple of years the moon is completely aligned with the planet and the sun. There's a beautiful song about eclipses and the rising and waning of the moon, and how it seems to resemble the people you meet and leave in life... there's a time when the moon is bright and full, and when it shies away into the darkness... just as there is a time of meeting, there is a time of parting.

Dad was already home and packing his bags when we arrived at close to midnight. Our day to Belgium, and tour of the picturesque 'medieveal' city of Gent went so smoothly that even the weather cleared the moment we arrived and as we wandered the cobbled streets aligned with history and culture.


As soon as we paid and got out of the parking garage, we realised there was a big problem. The automatic window on the driver's side didn't want to go back up... and though it was sunny outside, nobody felt like driving two and a half hours at over 120km/hr on the highway in freezing temperature. So we called the car rental... and got referred to the car manufacturer... and were referred to an insurance company... then got referred to the Dutch Automobile Association... after an hour or so on the phone (with ridiculously high international roaming tariff!) we finally then got transferred to the Belgium Automobile Association. A repair man was promised within thirty minutes.

But it turned out to be another two hours before the window was fixed, and before we could leave the city. Perhaps the city didn't want us to leave, or at least, our memories of our mini adventure in Gent would never leave us.

I walked up to dad as soon as I came home, as I hadn't seen him for a day. We chatted a bit, connecting like we should have but never had much chance in the last two weeks because he was almost never at home. But I guess better late than never. How frail and thin he looked, the gray hairs on his head catching the light of my bedroom ceiling light. We chitchatted as he packed his bags. To be honest he has very little with him, and very little to take with him... and often when he picks up something he would then say I probably need it much more, and stuff it into my hand. It's typical of him, being so thrifty and stingy toward himself, but so giving and kind to me (especially).

A couple of moments our fingers touched. I felt the roughness of his darkened fingers, dark from years of smoking and years of work. It was an emotional touch, one that was accentuated by the fact that as he packed his bags he began the 'pre-departure' talk on how I should take care of myself, how I should eat well and mind my health, and that if there's anything I ever need, he'll support me to the end...

These kind of 'pre-departure' talks always seem to make my heart waver and eyes go moist. It's in those words of reminder and in the 'take cares' that reveal that despite dad not daring or not wanting to say it, he does care about us... or, perhaps, at least about me. I replied in a way I have often done, and out of my heart. Like so many times in the past, I told him that he is one to take good, good care of himself, to mind his health and to be happy. I told him he can enjoy his retirement without a care or worry in the world, and that nobody else is able to guarantee his own health and happiness than himself. Dad listened and looked down. He didn't say anything, but I believe in the eyes that avoided me temporarily, there was a shimmer from the way words you hear seem to touch you deeply.

Mum was next door in her room and she too was packing her bags. She and I still have to have our 'take care' talk, but for the most of the last two weeks, I've been with her and telling her that she too needs to live well, live happily and be free from misery and confrontations. I'm sure she knows how I feel, and there's nothing I've not already said.

I stood in the corridor in a position from which I could see both my dad and my mum in their separate rooms, separated by walls, busy packing their separate bags and lives. In truth, deep down I still had that sliver of hope I had been holding onto since childhood that they would be happy and loving together... but at that moment, though not a new moment of suddenly realising something for the first time, as I stood between the two of them, each in their own rooms and in their own separate lives, I knew it was for the best. It was, and is, meant to be. This way noone gets hurt...

I watched the both of them doing their own thing, ironically their backs were facing one another. Both middle aged, and aging more. Both my parents, and forever more. My mind flashed back to the arguments and 'cold wars' they've had since I was a child, to the arguments and 'cold wars' they had in the past two weeks... silently I said to myself I have done more than enough... I have said more than enough, and I must let go again, let go and let them just be. As I walked downstairs, I looked back at both of them again, wondering the next time will be when I will get to say good night and sleep well to them both. Silently, I wished them both good health and happiness.

In a couple of hours, it is time to say goodbye.

Talk with dad...

"To put it in a way that sounds terrible to hear, when I'm gone I couldn't care less what happens to this all."

Dad said that a few moments ago, and I was again taken aback.

It's rare that I talk to dad, and even rarer for a long time. When he came home late tonight, I walked up to him and tried to start a conversation. Who would have known that lasted two hours. Except the two nights he spent at home and had dinner with us, this was the longest time dad and I sat together in the living room in the past two weeks.

It started slowly, and mildly, small chit-chat about what we both did today, and where we went. I said I went to see a friend of my mum's, who took care of me and treated me like her own son in those years in high school when I lived completely by myself. It's been over five years since I last saw this dear friend, and I told dad how surprised I was at how people age and grow old. In a way, I was hinting at my dad, and made it more plainly so when I said to dad that even though that friend has grown old and looks somewhat tired, she still lives happily from day to day enjoying life, and enjoying the company of her husband in their house in the middle of the woods. Dad merely scoffed and wondered aloud what boring lives these people must lead.

It always seems to be like this when I talk to dad... you tell him one thing, and he comes up with negative things and complaints to say about that something or someone. And it's worse when it comes to any subject remotely related to either mum or brother... then it sometimes frightens me how much of that deep seated hatred and misunderstanding arises and bursts out, as talk clenches his teeth and gathers this tense, angry look in his eyes. Then, there were also moments when we connected, as we recalled moments in the past, moments growing up and when I was young. It seems like just yesterday when I first set steps in Europe, and now I've lived here almost 16years. All the ups and downs, the falls and climbing-back-ups. The sweet, bitter memories...

Since tomorrow is the last day of his stay here, dad told me what he thought about the past two weeks. He said he needed to explain why he reacted in the way he did. I sat and listened, nodding at times to show that I am listening and that I understand, as he talked about how he needs to protect his self-interests against "certain people", to guard against "other people" who might infringe against his rights and squander all his money, and about how he needs to be able to know that he can be in control of his money and assets. He ranted on about how the "other people" have treated him so unkindly and rudely, how they have shown him only a long and unwelcome face. Dad ranted on about how angry and disappointment, more than any other time he can remember in his whole life, of the "worthless dog" he raised. These 'other' or 'certain' people were no other than my brother... and to some extent my mum...

Angry, hurtful words... I sat and listened and nodded in understanding, but deep down inside I searched (hopelessly) for any show of emotions and love that may or may not be hiding behind dad's attachment to money and assets and profit. Perhaps it's years of working in a bank, or perhaps because he had a poor and deprived childhood growing up with five other children in poverty, but to him money and how to make or own more seems to be the most important thing in life. He even said it himself, much to my disappointment, that a house is nothing more than an investment. I said that a house is a place where you go back to to feel safe and sheltered from the outside world, but dad insisted it's nothing more than a "commodity" on a market in the capitalist world to invest in and to sell for profit...


At one point I asked him what he plans to do in the future, and how things should go between him and mum. Dad said he lives his life and doesn't want any one to bother him or interfere with how he lives, and started to berate mum for caring about what he eats and what he does all day. Taking this opportunity, I asked him why they don't simply live separately, or better still, divorce all together. I explained that, like I told them , and so many, many times in the past, I really don't want to see them live unhappy lives and have to suffer because they don't want to be with or see each other. I said, like I said so many times already, both of them are already so ill, and both need a calm and peaceful environment of living that is free from agitation and frustration, and living together is simply not helping anyone. Dad hesitated a little, and finally admitted: "To put it in an ugly way, I don't want to divorce because then mum will get half of everything."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry... all he cares about is money, money, money... I was surprised myself, but I asked a question I didn't know I could ask: "What if she divorces without having any of your money...?"

There was no hesitation, and in a loud, firm voice, dad said: "OK! I agree."

I was saddened, and a tingly feeling went up my spine...

Dad, where is the dad I used to know?

Dad, who have you become?

Colours of the Rainbow

It started with a new belt I bought last week, one with the patterns of the rainbow flag on.
Of course, it must have started much earlier, as mums have a sort of intuition for the 'ins and (very much) outs' of their own sons.

As I was putting on the belt this morning before going out, mum commented that she didn't really like the belt, and suggested I put on something else. I said I really like this belt, and she responded by asking what's so nice and special about it. I replied that it's the pattern, and sneakishly added that the pattern "says a lot".

Before my parents arrived, I sort of had this urge to 'come out' clean to them about my sexuality, and have been really searching for an appropiate moment to do so that wouldn't be so... dramatic. We've had enough drama already in the last few days. I more or less knew that mum would be the one I'd tell first, and dad would have to wait, if ever!, since he's more 'old fashioned and traditional'.

There was a chance last week, when I went to attend that posh event at the Peace Palace wearing a pink tie. Dad said that it looked "gay", but because the day earlier the others had just had a great big confrontation, I didn't make too much of it. I only replied: "So what if it looks gay? Gays are people too."

This morning, it was just my mum and me, so I pushed my chances a little more. After my sneaky comment that the belt "says a lot", my mum sighed a little, and said: "That's what I'm afraid of. I know it's a rainbow flag."

"Oh... does that matter?"

"I'm afraid you have that tendency. And you have that Brokeback Mountain poster in you room, I'm really afraid you have those feelings."

"HA! Tendency, smendency!" I scoffed.

"Well, you sort of told me sometime ago, and it made me really worry about you."

"What's there to worry about? I'm fine! There's nothing wrong with me at all!"

"But you have that tendency, and I'm afraid you are."

"It's not a tendency. It's natural. It's nature, it's nurture, it's everything and nobody knows how to explain it. I'm just who I am," I said firmly.

"I'm afraid you've fallen into that 'trap'." By now we were on our way to a park for a walk since the weather was so fine.

"Trap! I'm already so deep in there's no escape," I joked, thinking what a ridiculous use of word it was, and laughing inside.

"I really don't wish you'll be like that."

"Why? What if I am already?"

"Why, you ask? Because I'll be disappointed. I'll be very, very upset." Mum shook her head a little and looked into the distance.

"But what can I do about it? I am who I am, there's nothing wrong with me." I looked at her, and nudged her a little on the shoulder. "I mean see it from a Buddhist perspective. Who knows what or who I was in my past life, and this is just who I am now. I can't change it."

"Those sunglasses I gave you [a few days ago], I think I should take them back. I think over the years I've given you things to use and wear that are feminine, and so that may be the reason."

I laughed a little. "This has nothing to do with that! Fine, you can take back the sunglasses, but I'll still be who I am. There are a lot of reasons, like I said, and it has nothing to do with clothing"

"You know I've always wanted you to find someone and be happy with. To have someone to share life with..." she said quietly.

"And I can! And I want to, with someone I care about and love. A person I want to be with."

"Do you have someone now?"

"No... who do I have in my life? Noone. But I really want one," I said, looking around at the empty park I often go alone on my own, "I come here often and feel so very lonely. You know, I'm so 'old' already, and I shouldn't have to worry about how you and dad are getting along, I shouldn't have to be in the middle of brother and his girlfriend's relationship. I could just go and get a life of my own with someone, but no... I care too much about you people, and care too little for what I want..."

Mum didn't say much after that. We sat on a bench in the park, bare rose bushes and green, green grass and an expanse of water waving in the wind stretched before us. Seagulls flew overhead, as crows fluttered their wings. There was a light breeze in the air, and the sun shone on our faces. "I want everyone to be happy... but I need to be happy too."


We didn't touch upon the subject any more after that, and mum didn't react angrily or become more distant toward me. Like I said, she suspected already, and there have been hints here and there I've been throwing at her over the years, and now it's finally (come) out into the open. For the rest of the day we talked and walked around like the close mum and son we are, admiring the little spring crocuses that dotted the grass fields, even in the hustle and bustle of the city centre.


Little spring crocuses that were so colourful, beautiful and free with their buds freshly opened.