Manifestation And Some Paintings

Very strange things have been happening lately.
Things that are just too much of a coincedence to ignore.
Events occur almost at my will,
Almost in a manner that proves, or indeed supports, the theory of Manifestation.
The theory that we have the power to manifest whatever we may desire.
It's true that we possess abilities beyond our capacity of belief,
But can we really influence events in our lives by our thoughts?
By simply willing and desiring things to happen,
Will they?
In the past few days, people and situations have appeared, have arisen in my path, as I have desired. It's almost unbelievable.
To be honest, it's kindof frightening.
Whatever it is, coincedence, divine intervention, manifestation of these situations and persons through the will of my thoughts, whatever it is, it has been more than welcome.
Because of one of these chance encounters, I believe I have a better understanding, and a better chance of getting through, these exams I'm working towards.

On another note, here are some snippets from a couple of paintings I've finished. I decided to start painting as a sort of stress reliever, and also because I wanted paintings for my apartment! They're based on paintings I've seen and liked, but have no idea where to find. Based; because I have made significant changes.

The Little Things In Life

It's the little things in life..

Like when you find a 50 euro note in one of your bags.

Or when you realise you've already done a huge chunk of that reading already!

Yes, It's a good day.

The Unexpected Guest

Apologies for not posting more often.
I would have liked to.
God knows, there have been thoughts enough to fill an entire blog these days. Things I want to talk about; Issues I want to address.
I'll come to them some time. Not having internet access at home, and being at home studying most of the time, means that I can't now just post whenever a thought comes to mind. Instead, I have to hope it will remain in my mind, for the time when I will get to a computer. I have to, for now, rely on the trusty pen and paper, which in my opinion is the only true way to really record ones thoughts and feelings. Perhaps I should continue as I began last night, to simply use a floppy disk to store things on.

When I finally do get to a computer, I never end up posting what I had originally intended to. Instead, I find that something more pressing has come to mind, or that I just do not have the strength to address my original thoughts simply because they generate such strong emotions within. That is my problem really. The fact that I feel things so much more strongly than others. I blame it on being a scorpio, and the fact that my element is water. Perhaps blame is the wrong word. I credit this trait to those facts. For that reason, others don't seem to understand where I'm coming from alot of the time. There is no way for me to explain how I feel inside, because there simply are no words for it. Therefore, alot of the times, I just don't try. For those who are more logical, and less attuned to the feelings of themselves and others, it's hard to understand me. They can listen, and they can appreciate it, but it ends there.

However, I count this intuitive, emotional me, as a blessing rather than a burden. It's the reason I'm such a good actress. Only for these traits, I would not be able to project myself so successfully within the mind and character of others, whether fictional or not. When someone is happy I become happy. Likewise, I feel their sadness when others do not. Perhaps that is why I cannot ignore things others can so easily turn a blind eye to. This mind works overtime, all the time. Sometimes I feel like Phaedrus, from "Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance". He went insane in the end. I don't think I will. But, what is insanity anyhow? Something other than the norm. I talked about this in an earlier post.

Enough of this anyhow. I have to go. Here's something I came across last night. I wrote it a few months ago, and I think it's good. If you're easily disturbed then it's probably best you don't read further. I don't think it's disturbing at all. I actually think it's quite beautiful. If you would rather reject sadness, and death, simply because they are not 'happy' topics; if you ignore their presence in this world; if you choose to close your eyes to a part of life which is just as real as laughter and birth, then not only are you fooling yourself and missing out, but you probably wouldn't feel comfortable reading this. Needless to say, it wasn't meant to be disturbing. It's a piece written upon a chance of inspiration.


I shall be an unexpected guest
In the kingdom of death
And unexpected guests are
Seldom very welcome.
Yet I shall arrive, travel-weary,
The only baggage my emotions.
A knock at the door
Will signal my coming
And though He is kind,
He shall sigh in confusion;
For however so kind a host is
Eleven is a bother when ten places have been set.
But wait! In my haste to flee
That hate-filled world of sadness
I forgot that you should never
Expect hospitality when you come empty-handed.
I have brought myself though,
Is that not enough?
There were ones at home
Dying to possess me
And here in death
Am I not giving myself unto Him?
Hearing his footsteps nearing the door
Leaving the warmth of the party
For the purgatory of the hallway
Between their heaven of laughter
And my hell of indecision
I panic. And in my panic
I turn to run
Toward the tunnel from whence
I came. Yet I cannot move, for
I recall suddenly the fact
That although life is hesitant and unsure
The strength of death lies in its
Sureity that it is absolute.
While living, the only thing we
Know for certain is that we shall die.
I would soon have received my
Invitation, and yet here
I am impatiently demanding
He feed my starved soul, and
Clothe my naked emotions.
He has reached the door, for I
Hear him turning a key.
I realise how very rude my
Early arrival must seem.
Empty-handed, Empty hearted,
I have come seeking a warmth
My dead blood cannot yet
Hope to gain. And so I turn.
Pick up my soul with a heavy sigh
And turn toward the darkness
Which surrounds His house of light.
I step off the porch
And resign myself
To wandering the darkness;
Without purpose;
Without cause.
Alone,
Until my arrival
Is expected.

And so it was...

And so it was she found herself a part of one of those couples she used to look at and pity. She sat there next to him, neither one of them talking, staring not at one another but at the man standing singing in the corner. Arms almost mandatorily entwined, looking like they had been together so long they had run out of things to say to one another. A wall had been erected between them, and hard as it was to accept, she knew that it had been her who had built it. Whether it was a quick process, or one of long, tedious labour, even she could not tell you. Had it grown brick by brick with every thing he had said that had annoyed, with every action which confirmed he was not the man for her? Or had it just shot up overnight, over the space of a few hours, like the ivy one suddenly notices has consumed one’s house?
It had been fruitless anyhow; she could have told you it would have been. And yet, she had foolishly listened when all around her pushed them together. She had naively believed that the love she held for him could be converted to romantic love, as easily as one would change currency before travelling abroad. Yes, she had loved him. She still did. A tender, genuine love; But not like that.
And yet, how could she now break his heart? Break the heart that had waited so long for her? She wondered if her life’s actions should depend firstly on how they affect others and lastly on how they affected her? But, could she, and should she, justify a relationship which did not penetrate to the depths of her soul and emotions? No, she could not. She could see no reason large enough to justify fooling her heart and his. Fooling his that she felt for him as he did for her, and fooling hers that she would develop such feelings over time.
Love grows with time, that is true, but earth-shaking, world-shattering love; there’s no way to generate that. It’s either there or it’s not, and you can know the chances of its being there from the first moment you catch eyes, or the first real conversation you share, or the first time your lips meet. Yes, you know. And yet, so many of us are prepared to settle for nothing more than “nice”. Perhaps we feel we should not be so conceited as to assume we deserve anything more? This may be true. But as she sat there, these thoughts whirling about her mind, she knew that she would rather wait for that earth-shattering love, than wait for the time never to come when this “nice” man would turn her world upside down and inside out. For, when it comes to love, the last thing you want to be is standing feet firmly on the ground.

Post On The Way

Post in progress.
Stay tuned.

Serving Your Country??

Ex-Soldier Charged in Killing of Iraqi Family
Coverup Is Alleged; Four Others Implicated
By Josh White
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, July 4, 2006; A01

A former U.S. Army soldier was charged yesterday with the rape and murder of a young Iraqi woman and the slayings of three of her family members in their home south of Baghdad in March, federal prosecutors said.

Several soldiers allegedly planned the attack over drinks after noticing the woman near the traffic checkpoint they manned in Mahmudiyah, according to a criminal complaint filed in U.S. District Court for the Western District of Kentucky. The soldiers allegedly worked out an elaborate plan to carry out the crime and then cover it up, wearing dark clothes to the home, using an AK-47 assault rifle from the house to kill the family, and allowing authorities to believe that the attack was carried out by insurgents, investigators said.

Former Pfc. Steven D. Green, 21, and other members of 1st Platoon, B Company, 1st Battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment, allegedly carried out the crimes on March 12. Several soldiers told authorities that Green killed all four people and that he and another soldier raped the young woman.

The plan worked, at least until soldiers began discussing the incident last month while they were going through stress counseling after two other members of their platoon were captured at a checkpoint and beheaded by insurgents. Army officials began investigating the day after hearing about the events in Mahmudiyah.

Green, who was honorably discharged from the Army for an unspecified "personality disorder" before U.S. officials were aware of the alleged crimes, was arrested Friday at his grandmother's house in Marion, N.C., on a federal warrant. Four other soldiers who have been implicated in the attack but were not named in the federal court documents remain in Iraq. None has been charged.

Cecilia Oseguera, a federal public defender who represented Green at an initial hearing yesterday in Charlotte, said that Green has not yet entered a plea and that he is incarcerated awaiting a preliminary hearing on July 10. She declined to comment further.

The case is the fifth in recent weeks in which U.S. troops have been accused of killing civilians in Iraq, a spate of incidents that has drawn attention to the way U.S. forces operate in what is often a complex and confusing battlefield. The rape and murder allegations against Green, however, detail a crime that appears to have had little if anything to do with the prosecution of the war itself.

Federal prosecutors are pursuing four charges of murder and one charge of rape against Green, said Marisa Ford, chief of the criminal division for the U.S. attorney's office in the Western District of Kentucky. In a rare move, the Justice Department is pursuing the charges because Green is no longer in military service.

The case was filed in Kentucky because it is the home district for the 101st Airborne Division, of which the 502nd Infantry Regiment is a part. If convicted, Green could face the death penalty.

According to an affidavit by FBI Special Agent Gregor J. Ahlers, the crimes appeared carefully crafted. Soldiers told Army investigators that Green and another soldier discussed raping the woman and had previously been to her residence, about 200 yards from their traffic checkpoint. Before leaving for the house, they also said, Green and two others drank alcohol and changed into dark clothes.

One soldier was left at the checkpoint to man the radio, while four others headed to the home, armed with three M4 rifles and a shotgun, according to the document. With one soldier guarding the door, the three others entered. Green covered his face with a brown T-shirt, grabbed an AK-47 rifle from the house and herded an adult couple and a young girl -- who authorities estimated was 5 years old -- into a bedroom. Green then shot them, according to authorities.

"Green came to the bedroom door and told everyone, 'I just killed them, all are dead,' " Ahlers wrote. Green and another soldier then allegedly raped the other daughter before Green shot her two or three times in the head with the AK-47. Military officials estimated her age at 20, although neighbors and hospital officials in Iraq said she was 15. She apparently was set on fire in an attempt to hide the crime.

Neighbors identified the young woman as Abeer Qasim Hamza. They said she had expressed concerns about the U.S. troops to her mother in the days before her death because the soldiers made advances toward her. According to death certificates viewed over the weekend, also killed in the attack were Fakhriyah Taha Muhsin, 34; Qasim Hamza Raheem, 45; and Hadeel Qasim Hamza, 7. Army officials could not confirm the names of the dead yesterday.

Soldiers told investigators that Green and others returned to the Army checkpoint with blood on their clothes, which they later burned. Green told one of the soldiers to throw the AK-47 into a canal.

According to the criminal complaint, Iraqis notified the U.S. soldiers of the killings and reported that the house was on fire on the afternoon of March 12. A soldier who allegedly was in the house during the crime was one of those who later responded to the scene. Army investigators have 15 photographs of the bodies, taken to record what was believed at the time to be an insurgent attack.

Green, who grew up in Midland, Tex., joined the Army after receiving his GED, and later went to Fort Benning, Ga., for infantry training, according to his family. He graduated in June 2005, and family members joined him at the ceremony.

"It was such a proud day," Green's uncle, Greg Simolke, said in an interview last night. "He had found direction in his life, something important and something that he really wanted to do. He was talking about making the military his career and was ready to go to Iraq. He thought it was a good thing to be serving his country."

Paul Meuse: on War

One of the best things that came out of this blog, is that I got (electronically) introduced to Paul Meuse properly. I say properly, because we were in the same class at University. However, our conversations only went as far as Hi's and Goodbye's! Nevertheless, Paul was given my blog address, and quickly became a regular reader and commenter. One of the things you should know about Paul is that he is a war veteran, and an American. Before I became acquainted with him, I believed that this combination of qualities was synonymous with conservatism and refusal to accept the reality that most wars are fought for reasons other than those the leaders put forth to the public. Paul changed this belief. I was so impressed with his opinions, his quest for 'the truth', and his unique perspectives on what's going on in the world lately, that I asked him to put together a short piece for the blog. Paul is keen to see the world from all points of view, and with this end in mind reads 10-12 daily newspapers from around the world. He regularly contributes articles to newspapers, and recently sent a letter to the Pentagon. Thanks for the article Paul!



"The greatest purveyor of violence in the world today is…the government of my country." Martin Luther King JR. 1967.

When American troops commit another atrocity in Iraq or Afghanistan President Bush or Rumsfeld try to assure the world that these actions do not represent American values. I beg to differ. I love my country, but America was founded upon the genocide of Native peoples who existed there for thousands of years.

After the massacre at Haditha excuses were heard such as the troops ‘were under great stress’ or that they weren’t thinking right after seeing one of their own blown apart by an IED (Improvised Explosive Device-in Vietnam we called them booby traps). Some blamed understaffing of troops as being partly to blame.

Others talked about such soldiers being a ‘few bad apples’. Rumsfeld and Bush pushed this to explain the torture at Abu Ghraib. When I think of a ‘few bad apples’ I think of Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld!

But many people wonder how can ‘good young American boys’ do such things?
I have a unique perspective because as an 18 year old boy I volunteered for combat twice in the Vietnam War. I was a Marine Corps rifleman; a ‘grunt’ or ‘bullet stopper’ as we called ourselves. I landed at DaNang airbase on Christmas Day 1968 at about 3 a.m. I had been out of secondary school just under six months. I hope that my experiences may shed some light on how these atrocities can occur.

Like many of the troops in Iraq I believed the lies of my government about the Vietnam conflict. I believed that we were the ‘good guys’ trying to help the South Vietnamese in their quest for freedom and democracy. Was I gullible! For instance, I did not see the irony of my government’s propping of up a military dictatorship while preaching democracy.

The young are sent to war because they have the physical stamina required of combat, and have a desire for adventure, or to be heroic.

American boys of my generation had grown up on a steady diet of World War II and cowboy and Indian movies. War seemed glorious. The rich and powerful direct these emotions towards war. That ended the first time I had to carry a young man who had absorbed the explosive impact of a land mine-booby trap. I’ll never forget the expression of pain and shock on his face at the instant of death.

But, how do you explain massacres and atrocities that we are seeing in Iraq?

But, how do you explain massacres and atrocities? Some of it is rooted in a culture that believes that it is superior to others. But, military training plays a big role as well.

It begins in boot camp. I spent nine weeks at Parris Island, in boot camp.Then six to eight weeks in advanced infantry training (AIT) tactics, and another 3-4 weeks at more at Camp Pendleton, Oceanside, Cailfornia. In all of my training the Vietnamese people were referred to, at best as ‘gooks’. Webster's dictionary defines 'gook' as:'usually disparaging : a nonwhite or non-American person; specifically Asian.' The only time that I heard the word ‘Vietnamese’ was in a class on cultural sensitivity crammed in at the end of training. There were other more offensive terms as well. They were repeated over and over again; hundreds of times. By the time mt training ended I was two things.

One was a perfect killing machine. I wanted to kill; I saw that as my job, and I couldn’t wait to start!

The second thing was that I did not think of the Vietnamese as human in the same sense that I, an American was. This is the probably true for the troops in Iraq. Almost all, or most likely view the Iraqi people as different in an unsaid, but inferior way. Many troops have openly expressed their contempt for Iraqi’s and Arab culture.

In my military training an instructor would yell ‘what are you going to do in Vietnam", or words to that effect. And we would scream back KILL, KILL, KILL. The Drill Instructor would often yell: 'I Can't hear you.' And, we would yell it louder. For a sense of what Marine Corps boot camp was like I recommend the movie 'Full Metal Jacket.'

I have heard some troops say that in training Arab people are referred to as 'camel jockeys.' Many troops in Iraq call the refer to Iraqi people as ‘Hadji’s’. I think that Zena would be better able to explain the significance. My understanding is that is a religious slur making reference to a Hadji; a pilgrim who makes a religious journey to Mecca.

I apologise for any offence. I am trying to show how insidious military training, and the military mindset is.

Military training equates masculinity with aggression and violence. On our time off we drank and got into fights. Military training that I had degraded women as purely sex objects whose sole purpose was to satisfy male sexual impulses. It is interesting to note that the Pentagon has had a massive increase in sexual assaults committed against female personnel by male troops since the war began. I am not surprised at this.

When I got to Vietnam I believed that I was there to help the Vietnamese people. However, most Marines who had been in country longer had nothing but contempt for the people. I understand this now. We were occupiers, and many hated us; yet we felt they were ungrateful for our risks and sacrifices. In these situations hatred and contempt and distrust grows.

Before joining my rifle company a combat veteran grabbed me and said: " Get that F------ John Wayne look of your face. I don’t care what you’ve been told in training, out in the bush the word is ‘no contact’. We want no F------ contact with Charlie (the enemy). The only thing that matters over here is to get your butt out alive. You got that?" He had a knife at my throat; I nodded. This meant, as I would find out that we don’t want to get into combat. That only means another chance to die. War is only about killing and dying and trying to stay alive and in one piece while keeping your sanity!

At one place I was at, LZ (landing zone-for a helicopter) Cunningham, just a mountain top in the jungle we were partially overrun nightly. Sapper teams with satchel charges of TNT strapped to their backs tried to locate our holes and bunkers. When they did they jumped in and pulled the cord that would end in a massive explosion in six seconds or so.

We had many casualties. I don’t remember seeing one of theirs. Fighting breeds rage, and feeling that the population is hostile breeds more rage and contempt. And, in these situations troops want to extract revenge, and try to imagine every eighteen year old boy in Cork walking the streets with hand grenades and automatic weapons. Would you trust them to be rational human beings? I wouldn’t! I’d stay out of the city as much as possible.

Revenge, such as happened at Haditha are not new. In World War II, the German army killed almost all the inhabitants of Lidice, in Czechoslovakia. Then they razed the village. This occurred after two German occupiers were killed by partisans. In the U.S. attack on Fallujah the U.S. employed similar tactics of the Germans at Lidice. The U.S. forced males of 15 to stay in the city.

During the Vietnam War over 500 Vietnamese civilians (mostly women, young children and elderly) were killed in a murderous rampage by members of the Americal division. The My Lai massacre ended because Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson, Jr. a US Army helicopter pilot, who saw the carnage landed his gunship between the American troops and the surviving Vietnamese people and told the US officer in charge that if one more shot was fired his guns would open fire in the soldiers engaged in the killing. The difference between an atrocity happening and not happening is leadership. If abuse, or killing is tolerated, then it will continue.

There are certain factors that lead normal people to do the most despicable things in war, such as at Abu Ghraib, Haditha, (every day in Iraq there are Hadithas on a smaller scale), Gitmo, Bagram et al. First is the willingness to follow authority without question. This is instilled in most soldiers.

The second factor is conformity. Very few people have the moral fiber go against the crowd and speak out against injustice.

The third, and most important factor is the dehumanization of the ‘others’, or victims. It happens every day. The word Palestinian has become synonymous with ‘terrorist’. When the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) shoot young Palestinian girls in the stomach, or use snipers to shoot at peace activists(this was reported and verified), this is denied by the Israeli government. Then, when admitted we are told that the soldiers thought that they were ‘terrorists’ To me, the Israeli Defence Forces treatment of Palestinian people are war crimes and crimes against humanity. But the world is silent.

Insurgents in Iraq or Afghanistan are called ‘terrorists. They are fighting against an illegal occupation. I would call such people ‘freedom fighters’.

There are two other factors. One is ‘peer expectations’. In Iraq killing passengers in a car as they drive towards a checkpoint is normal. It is also against the Geneva Conventions. It is a war crime. Yet, no American soldier or Marine has been prosecuted for this.

Another decisive factor is how the U.S. military handles cases of illegal killings or torture. Let’s look at the facts. New York University’s Center for Human Rights and Global Justice conducted a joint project with Human Rights Watch and Human Rights
First. The study looked at all allegations of torture and abuse in Iraq, Guantanamo and Afghanistan.

The study noted that there were over 330 cases of abuse, torture and killings of detainees involving more tha ‘600 U.S. personnel..and more than 460 detainees.’

“f the hundreds of allegations of abuse collected by the DAA Project, only about half appear to have been adequately investigated.

• In cases where courts-martial – the military’s equivalent of criminal trials – have convened, the majority of prison sentences have been for less than a year, even in cases involving serious abuse. Only 10 U.S. personnel have been sentenced to a year or more in prison.

• No U.S. military officer has been held accountable for criminal acts committed by subordinates under the doctrine of command responsibility. Only three officers have been convicted by court-martial for detainee abuse.

• Although 20 civilians, including CIA agents, have been referred to the Department of Justice for criminal prosecution for detainee abuse, the Department of Justice has shown minimal initiative in moving forward in abuse cases. The Department of Justice has not indicted a single CIA agent for abusing detainees; it has indicted only one civilian contractor.

This may be contrasted with the stiff sentences handed down by military court martial to soldiers or marines who refuse combat duty in Iraq. They can expect to spend more time in jail than they would if they shot an Iraqi child in cold blood.

In Vietnam I knew that I could kill in combat, but I knew the difference between right and wrong. I could never imagine myself killing civilians, and during my time in Vietnam did do the best I could to be friendly to the people.

However, as long as the US is in Iraq and Afghanistan there will be atrocities. And, the real war criminals, Bush, Blair, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Rice, Powell and the military leaders who planned and executed a war against a nation to grab their oil resources go free. That is a real crime.

Paul Meuse, June 2006

So Much Talk About The System. And So Little Understanding.

Alright, let's think about this rationally.
Let us review the way the world has evolved, let us focus on the reasons that 'civilised' society ever developed. Let us try and understand the reasons why morality exists. Why certain actions have been deemed to be 'immoral', and therefore unacceptable, in the eyes of both society and some higher being. Let us try and understand what the point is in so tightly holding onto the belief of a higher being; of a higher spirit watching over us and our actions, and deciding whether those actions are worthy of approval or indeed, of condemnation.
Why? Why are we here? Why do our actions have to be censored by, not only man-made law, but also the higher 'natural law'? Why do so many of the world's people not spend more time asking these questions and trying to find answers? Why are so many content to accept things the way they are? Why do the others, the questioning minority, drive themselves crazy asking such questions for which answers probably don't exist?
Perhaps rationality is not the approach to take.

Allow me to quote from Robert M. Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance":

'To speak of certain government and establishment institutions as "the system" is to speak correctly, since these organisations are founded upon the same structural conceptual relationships as a motorcycle. They are sustained by structural relationships even when they have lost all other meaning and purpose. People arrive at a factory and perform a totally meaningless task from eight to five without question because the structure demands it to be that way. There's no villain, no 'mean guy' who wants them to live meaningless lives, it's just that the structure, the system demands it and no one is willing to take on the formidable task of changing the structure just because it is meaningless.
But to tear down a factory or to revolt against a government...because it is a system, is to attack effects rather than causes; and as long as the attack is upon effects only, no change is possible. The true system, the real system, is our present construction of systematic thought itself, rationality itself, and if a factory is torn down but the rationality which produced it is left standing, then that rationality will simply produce another factory. If a revolution destroys a systematic government, but the systematic patterns of thought that produced that government are left intact, then those patterns will repeat themselves in the succeeding government. There's so much talk about the system. And so little understanding.'

Arab Fathers In Denial

There are some blogs that I've come across over the past few months which I try and read every now and then. One of these is a blog written by a self-labelled "Cynical Single Kuwaiti Woman", which is entertaining, amusing and thought provoking.
I had to laugh when I read her most recent post today... was she writing about my life?? I guess most Arab fathers have the same attitude when it comes to their little girls being all 'grown up'!

Check it out here.

On The Eve Of Something

i awoke this morning with this tingling of anticipation running up and down my spine, gushing through my veins and sending waves of apprehension crashing through my ears, my muscles pulsating to the rhythm of expectation. expectation of something looming on the horizon. an event so grand in scale and proportion, its importance and worth immeasurable at this moment in time.
what it is, i don't know. what i do know is that something is about to happen. i can feel it in my bones. feel it in my very soul. its a knowledge gleaned from sources i cannot even imagine. its a preparation over which i have no control. a change i am about to undergo. good or bad, i cannot even begin to predict. i shall have to wait; wait and see. or wait and feel. wait and know. wait and understand. wait to realise what already the universe knows.

Elusive Butterfly of Contentment

surrounded by people, yet alone.
encircled by friends, yet being held apart by the claustrophobic feeling of your thoughts analyzing the world around you.
you watch the way someone stands. he tries to look confident, but you can see the fear and the insecurity that he holds within.
or the way she glances quickly about the room, adjusting her bra strap and holding her drink close to her chest. she laughs, but her eyes betray her wish to be somewhere else.
hundreds of people trying their best to act like their having fun.
laughing too hard at a not so funny joke.
throwing back their drinks quicker than they'd like to.
desperately hoping that the buzz they get will give them the life they want.
fooling themselves into thinking that this is entertainment.
yes, it's entertaining, this falling asleep at tables, and stumbling down the street.

its unnerving to be around someone who has an ulterior motive. try being among a few hundred of them. the air is filled with static energies of guilt, and fear, and boredom, and confusion. with fright, and hesitation, and insecurity, and anxiety.
noone goes to a bar just to drink. if that's all you wanted to do you could stay at home. no. people go to bars with an ulterior motive. a sort of invisible butterfly net. they enter with hope of catching that elusive butterfly. what she is depends on who we're talking about. to some, its love. to others, its comfort. to others again, just a sense of belonging or even just 'happiness'. some are successful, though more often than not this is merely by chance. but most; most leave empty handed; empty netted. they enter with hope and leave it standing at the bar.

you will not catch her in these places. you will not catch her when surrounding you are those who are reaching just as earnestly upwards with their nets. she knows she is desired, and will give herself unto noone. it is only when you set yourself apart, and wait for a moment when there is peace in your head and peace in your air. when the grass blows cool rippling through the fields, and the flowers smile secretly to themselves. when you're not being crushed by the weight of the desperation of hundreds of lost souls standing about you. only then will you find that as you sit serenely upon the rock of tranquility in a state of quiet contemplation, the butterfly will fly that little bit closer and with movements so slight even the wind has trouble hearing her, she will land, ever so gently, upon your waiting trembling shoulder, offering her fragility so firmly to you. only then will you find what it is that you seek.


saturday night, 3am, and i still didnt get my dance. feet were tapping all night, but there was no dancing by those i described above. almost went to a crappy club, just so i could dance. but birthday girl calls the shots. so ill dance tomorrow.

Ah, Life!

Ah, Life! How quickly you can turn around, and swell my heart so its fit to burst. With no more than a few words, how easily you can lace the breeze with the scent of heather, and place upon the corners of my mouth a smile which I cannot suppress.
Yes, Life! It is for moments like these that I can accept your hardships, and for moments like these that the endless days of monotony and futility seem more than worthwhile.
Ah, Life! I have been scratched and swayed and tossed and thrown, but now, with those words from him I stand strong. In the song of a bird I can hear the ocean, and in the crash of the waves, the calls of the seals.
Yes, Life! It may only last a moment, but what a moment it will be!

A Golden Hue Upon The Past

Oh for someone who still has a way with words!
Oh for wit. For humour that involves more than profanities and crude imagery.
For lyricism. For style. For class. For grace.
He is rare. That man of wit. Almost no more to be found in my generation.
The last of them are dying out. On whom should we cast the blame for this tragedy?
On the media? On "liberation". Sexual liberation has brought with it a somewhat ironic liberation of language. For, although if you so choose you now may curse and blast and flirt in a manner no way coy in its meaning, and therefore be "free" of the restrictions social protocol had placed upon your use of language in the past, a curious restriction seems to have placed itself upon the lips of most of the young today. You see, although there now exists no facet of the spoken language that is out of bounds in today's public domain, strangely enough, most insist on using but a small handful of the vocabulary available to them. This handful being mostly comprised of that which until a few decades ago was considered blasphemous and shameful.
Like the child finally allowed to have chocolate cake for breakfast, who forevermore will have nothing else because he fears losing this long-awaited right.
Perhaps similarly, many feel the need to litter their speech with as many four letter words as possible, in a way cementing their right to do so if they wish.
"Liberation" has led to "Restriction".

Of course we can blame it on lack of education. Blame it on the 'changing times'. Whatever reason you should choose to excuse this loosening on the grasp of language, it does not change the fact that we are losing something precious. Losing our ability to adequetely express ourselves. Adequetely describe today's world for future generations. Perhaps 'adequete' is not a very good word to use in this case, as for many in today's Ireland, it would be adequete to tell your grandchildren that the world when you were young was "alright, like." That the woman you fell in love with was "savage, like." Not much of a ring to it.

Oh for someone like John Donne, asking her to "send home my long strayed eyes to me, which too long have dwelt on thee."
Or even asking another to "licence my roving hands, and let them go, before, behind, between, above, below."

Or describing to his love the mingling of their two bloods in the one flea that bites them both, which cannot be described as a sin, or a loss of virginity. I'd like to hear men today coming up with such an elaborate story to seduce a woman. Elaborate stories are still around, yet none so poetic or indeed so refreshingly individual.

Or Henry King, who in "The Surrender", a particular favourite of mine, described the parting of him and his love as the parting of the severed soul from its body. Who began the poem with the words "My once dear love, hapless that I no more must call thee so", who continued throughout with a flair and a feeling almost unmatched today:
"We that did nothing study but the way
to love each other, with which thoughts the day
rose with delight to us and with them set
must learn the hatefull art, how to forget

We that did nothing wish that heaven would give
beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live
beyond that wish, all these now cancell must
as if not writ in faith, but words and dust"

Who ended the poem with words as hauntingly beautiful:
"In this last kiss I here surrender thee
back to theyself, so thou again art free
thou in another, sad as that, resend
the truest heart that lover e'er did lend.

Now turn from each. So fare our severed hearts
as the divorced soul from her body parts."

Do you think there is any connection between the increase in secularism and the decrease in romanticism?? Do you become less romantic as your belief in a higher being fades away? Religion requires faith. So too does love. I believe there is some connection. How much of a connection, I do not know.

I could go on..and on. My love for poetry, in particular the certain 17th century poetry termed "Metaphysical", knows no bounds. My admiration for those who write with passion, with style, with ease, is huge.
But I won't go on. Perhaps today's thought is one of my many that seem to place upon the past a golden hue which it never had possessed. There still are those whose words, both spoken and written, strike a chord within me. Some are writers I shall never meet. But others. Others are people who, although perhaps not published, possess that certain 'je ne sais quoi'. I know, because at various points in my life I've met some of them.

To Exist Is Not To Live

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on another note, Tim you're email isnt working. my reply keeps coming back to me. coffee sounds great. Let's hope you read this before you arrive.

it never ceases to amaze me how easy it is for people to give up. give up on others, give up on themselves, give up on their education, give up on life. give up, give up, give up.
but give up to whom? to give up is another way of saying to surrender. you surrender your life, yourself. you surrender your opportunities. you surrender these things to someone else. surrender them to the universe. surrendering these opportunities to someone else who is willing and able to utilise them. surrendering yourself to fate. and yet, for many...fate is the perfect excuse for many of the shortcomings they possess. the perfect excuse for the things that don't go right in their lives. yes, fate is the opt-out clause in the contract of life.
and while, personally, i do adopt a somewhat fatalistic attitude to life, i also still hold onto the firm belief that we can accomplish whatever we want if we put our minds to it. faith is just as strong as fate, and sometimes, its even more powerful. faith in yourself, in your abilities, in others, in love, in life. faith in fate even.
and yet, sometimes, even faith eludes me. its not a nice feeling when you feel there is no hope. when you fail to see what surrounds you. for a moment, your eyes cannot see, your heart cannot love. for a moment, you are as good as dead. for a moment, your hope is gone. and it is only when you resurface; when you reawaken; when your eyes can see and your ears can hear and your heart can feel; when you once again can sense your heart beating out the rhythm of your life; only then do you realise that, to live without hope is not to live, but only to exist. and yet for some, existence is life.
yes, maybe for some. but not for me.

We All Know Someone Like Her

we all know someone like her.
she who loves to be the bearer of bad news.
she who fervently hopes that some misfortune will befall you, so she may have something outside of her life to focus on.
she who compliments you with eyes of envy,
whose hello is never complete without a scan of your outside appearance.

we all know someone like her.
she who believes she has a right to know every detail of your life,
and an even stronger right to tell the whole word.
she who enjoys talking about others, but
fails to see that it is she who others should be talking about.
who is quick to point out any similarities between your character and hers,
and even quicker to point them out when they are similarities which drag your character down with hers. does it matter that most times these similarities only exist in her mind?

yes, we all know someone like her.
she whose conversations leave you feeling empty.
feeling that you wish you'd never stopped to say hello.
she who is quick to do whatever she wants,
but quicker to refuse to help others if it doesnt suit her.
who lets her emotions dictate her approach to others.
who feels entitled to verbally put everyone down when she's not feeling the best.
who is almost worse than america at sticking her nose into other people's business.
the girl who sidesteps her own problems by focusing on the imagined problems of others.
the girl who needs help. help that you are not willing to give her.
its difficult to continue trying to help someone who can only truly be happy for you when your life has taken a turn for the worse.

yes, she is a difficulty you must learn to bear. However hard that may be.

Happiness

we live in a world where the current mentality seems to be: why take a minute when you can do it in 30 seconds? quality seems to have come to be judged on speed. indeed, many would agree that the quality of tv seems to deteriorate the slower the channels take to load. for many, happiness is measured by the number of appallingly bad tv shows one can flick through in 10 seconds. because flicking has become the newly preferred form of interaction. flick through tv, flick through a book, flick your friends away when you're done with them, flick your food around your plate. ill stop, because the word has lost all meaning to me.
can you blame me for wanting to restore meaning to my life. to the lives of those who surround me. to shake everyone by the shoulders, including myself, and say: life doesn't get better the faster you do it.

i suppose this is reason behind the willingness of people nowadays to turn to medication so regularly. "oh you're feeling sad? well, you must be depressed! absolutely! depression! go to a doctor! get anti-depressants!" god forbid you might willingly accept feelings of sadness for more than a few minutes!
it's got the point where i can't even MENTION that i may be feeling any way other than chirpy and happy and wonderful and great. any slightest trace of a frown, and people are practically shoving you out the door to sort out your depression.
if i try and kill myself, then i give you permission to diagnose me with your "wealth of medical experience" and confidently assert that i am depressed. only then. any other times, accept the fact that perhaps im not that happy today, and that this could be for reasons other than a deep depression.
because, for some reason, the people of the world have been turned into a bunch of soppy little molly-coddled saps who seem to be of the opinion that a human being must constantly be happy. who ever said we had a right to be happy?

i read that somewhere once, and its true. our lives are currently geared towards gaining happiness; being happy; looking happy; smellng happy. if we could eat happy i'm sure we would! oh wait! ive forgotten that happy eating does now exist. like the girl who searches for happiness in a series of unstable relationships, pushing away the one person who wants to give her stability. why? because she wants happiness. perhaps she should stop and rethink her definition of being happy. being "happy" is a state of mind. you could go to a hypnotist and he could program you to feel happiness everytime you looked at a banana. surround yourself by bananas constantly and you would never again feel sad. do you see? buy this! buy that! do this! do that! look this way and you'll be happy.

life wouldn't be life if it didnt have its obstacles. making it over and through those obstacles on our own, unaided by science or medicine..that's called living. i agree that sometimes, one has no option other than to turn to the wonders of science. but in my opinion, those cases are genuinely rarer than we currently think. if you're lucky enough to have a life that has fewer than normal stresses and strains, count yourself lucky. happiness isn't a right. its a reward that we earn when we deserve it. i don't want it handed to me on a plate, or in a little bottle of pills. i want to work for it. i want to sweat. i want to get hurt. i want to suffer. i want to earn my happiness. because god knows, a cup of tea tastes so much better when you've worked hard all morning to earn it.

Why Do I Blog?

why do i blog? thats a question which was posed to me the other day. "why do you blog?" he wanted to know. "it seems to me that people blog for 2 reasons. either they feel a need to tell everyone what goes on in their life, or else they feel they have something to say."

do i agree with that? yes, i suppose i do. what other reason would there be to blog? either you feel that you possess some information that should be passed on, or you need to tell everyone what's happening in your life.

which category do i fall into? why do i blog? i dont know. its not to tell people the details of my life, as to be honest, i really can't. too many people read this. too many people who all know different sides of me. who all know "zena" from one small perspective. who all know multiple things about me, with no 2 people knowing exactly the same things. mother, sister, cousins, friends from all over the world, people ive dated, people im dating, people i may yet date, university friends, school friends, religious friends, those for whom the dancefloor is the new temple and pills the new bread. there are too many, and so in order that i keep myself in relatively safe waters, i just cannot blog about everything going on in my life.
personally, i wouldn't want to. some things are better kept private.

so why do i blog? maybe i feel i have something to say. maybe deep within me i feel there lies some secret to which only i hold the key. i do feel i have something to say. i havent said it yet. i dont know what "it" is. maybe "it" is this. these random posts that seem to mean nothing. maybe, like life, the journey is the destination. but its there. and its slowly coming out. there are things about this world i want to change. things i need to change. maybe thats where this desire to blog stemmed from. the dissatisfaction for the way things are in this world. the belief that i, one person, can change things. i can only try, and i can only blog. blog with no set reason, and with no predictable result. a random, all over the place blog, that gives you a small insight into the randomness that has become my life, and an even smaller insight into the craziness of my thoughts, in the hope that in taking the long way round, ill reach the point that im so desperately trying to reach.

maybe thats the reason.

Did I Just Brush My Teeth??

its amazing how, during the day, i'll get these flashes of inspiration! things i just must write about in this blog. yet, for some reason, when i've come online, checked my mail, done all your usual online routine stuff...the ideas have just dropped out of my head. just literally dropped out. does that ever happen to you? last night, after brushing my teeth, i was about to floss and i swear to god, i had to stand there for about a minute thinking.."DID i just brush my teeth?" i finally decided i HAD after feeling the brush to see if it was wet. ie making sure it had just been used! how old do you have to be to get alzheimers??
this is the problem. not living in the moment. not being fully conscious of all our actions. can you believe it i mean! forgetting whether you brushed your teeth 2 minutes after you had.

on another note, the thing i need to keep reminding myself on a daily basis: FACE YOUR FEARS!

Back Stabbing Saddam Hussein

Saddam Hussein's defence is starting.
If convicted he apparently faces the death penalty.
Funny isn't it how it's so obvious that he's going to be killed. This trial is being staged so that noone can turn around and say "hey! wait a minute! you never gave him a fair trial!"
i'm not saying this trial is fair. What i am saying is that noone in the world even CARES that it's going on.
honestly speaking, how many of you are regularly following this case? No one cares, and in effect, America is almost guaranteed the death of Saddam. As long as they follow the little protocols, those of 'justice', 'right to a trial' blah blah blah then they're flying.
I'll tell you who i want to see dead, and right now it's not Saddam.
How dare America get up on its high horse and claim to be on a moral highground when they are the ones who put Saddam in power and kept him there!
There's a word for it...its called back stabbing.

i just know it's true

the darkness of the night has fallen upon the buildings outside. inside the artificial sun has just risen. it is artificial because it pulls no one toward it. no one except the moths, who choose to be fooled. no gravitational pull. no attraction. not like the real sun outside. on a sunny day, you feel yourself turn your head toward the sun. like the flowers, the plants, the cat lazing on his back in the midday sun, you raise you neck and close your eyes and turn your face to bask in its warm light. this doesnt happen with the artificial sun that keeps us up all the night. an artificial sun, so we may ignore the beauty of the moon. the mystery of the stars. and the noise. it seems that one forever must have some noise about oneself. as soon as the tv is off, the radio comes on. even your laptop makes sounds. the keys clicking, the motor whirring. and all around the muffled voices of your neighbours. people whose lives are playing out so close to your own. whose daily habits you learn to expect, without ever knowing their faces. you know how your neighbour screams at his wife, but you could have passed him in the parking lot, and his would have been just another one of the empty faces you choose not to see. choose to ignore. or perhaps choose is the wrong word. have no reason to notice. an old man swayed on the sidewalk the other day. whether he was drunk, or just so old that he couldn't walk straight, i don't know. the crowds pushed around him, anxious to cross the road. your first instinct was to shirk away from him. as if you might catch something off of his unwashed clothes, his matted hair. as i crossed the street, i stopped and turned. maybe a moment of humaness, if that's even a word. but no, i looked at him, i turned and i kept going. he was just another homeless man. he must be alright, must be just another homeless person. nothing on the television said that there was a homemore man who died of a heart attack on the side of the road while pedestrians walked around him. because nowadays we use the tv to tell us whats happening in the world we exist in. hurry home from our walk in the park, so we won't miss the programme about the leaves falling from the trees. things are only real if they're shown through a square. try it. try cupping your fist into a cylinder and looking at the world through it. for some reason, it feels more real. why? i don't know. i just know it's true.