Like Two Entwining Strands Of The Double Helix

"Like the two entwining strands of the double helix, law and power form the genetic structure of government. Law is nothing but empty verbiage without power to back it up, enforce it, embody it. And power without law is nothing but a mad ape, baring its teeth, thumping its chest, raping and beating where it pleases, taking what it wants: a bestial thing, born in the muddy swamp of our lowest, blindest, rawest biochemical impulses. Disconnect these strands and things fall apart, as Yeats says; the center literally cannot hold, and the blood-dimmed tide is loosed upon the world."
Chris Floyd, Presidential Tyranny Untamed by Election Defeat

M. Ward, Chinese Translations

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToEPFDIzhNA

M. Ward, Chinese Translations.

'If life is really as short as they say,
then why is the past so long?'

They Waste Paper Telling Us Not To!

On my way home I passed a billboard advertising credit cards. Not any particular one, just credit cards in general. Their slogan was "Don't Waste Paper".
??!!
I don't know about you, but I can think of a lot more ways that paper is wasted than by printing money! !

Selective Advertising. That's all it is. Let's make you feel bad about using paper money by printing out all these guilt-inducing billboard advertisments ON PAPER! Does anyone else see the irony?

I'm not really a fan of credit cards. In fact, I'm not really a fan of most things virtual. I prefer to deal with things that are a bit more tactile than numbers and figures hurtling through cyber-space.
But then again, that's just me.

Authentic Cuisine?

Myself and my cousin Liz decided to go to a Lebanese restaurant I saw the other day while walking down Middle Abbey Street. I was looking forward to stepping back to the reality that I've left behind in AD.
It's called 'Fayrouz'. At face value this seemed authentic enough for me...
...*sigh* the innocence of an empty stomach!

'Fayrouz' was an Arabic restaurant alright; An Arabic restaurant with Indian waiters, Chinese cooks, a television mutely showing a British soap opera, 80's Euro-pop not-so-quietly playing in the background and a menu which advertised 'nam' bread.

Yes. It was an experience.

In their defence though, the falafels were good.

Extract From "Lila"

"This Cartesian 'Me', this autonomous little homunculus who sits behind our eyeballs looking out through them in order to pass judgment on the affairs of the world, is just completely ridiculous. This self-appointed little editor of reality is just an impossible fiction that collapses the moment one examines it. This Cartesian 'Me' is a software reality, not a hardware reality. This body on the left and this body on the right are running variations of the same program, the same 'Me', which doesn't belong to either of them. The 'Me's' are simply a program format. Talk about aliens from another planet. This program based on 'Me's' and 'We's' is the alien. 'We' has only been here for a few thousand years or so. But these bodies that 'We' has taken over were around for ten times that long before 'We' came along. And the cells - my God, the cells have been around for thousands of times that long.
These poor stupid bodies that 'We' has invaded, he thought. Every once in a while they overthrow the program and go about their ways leaving 'We' mystified about how all this could have happened. Mystified, and somewhat horrified too at the things bodies do without its permission. All of this sexual morality of Rigel's - it wasn't just social codes. It was also part of this sense of horror at these cells 'We' has invaded and the strange patterns of Quality that existed before 'We' arrived.
These cells make sweat and snot and phlegm. They belch and bleed and fuck and fart and piss and shit and vomit and squeeze out more bodies just like themselves all covered with blood and placental slime that grow and squeeze out more bodies, on and on.
'We', the software reality, find these hardware facts so distressing that it covers them with euphemisms and clothes and medical secrecy. But what 'We' is covering up is pure quality for the cells. The cells have gotten to their advanced state of evolution through all this fucking and farting and pissing and shitting. That's quality! Particularly the sexual functions. From the cells' point of view sex is pure Dynamic Quality, the highest Good of all."

Extract from "Lila", by Robert M. Pirsig

Radiators Have Feelings Too

For the first month of living in my new apartment, I had no gas. By this, I literally mean I had no gas. This meant no cooking and, more importantly, no heating! In fact, I got so used to the cold, that for once I wasn’t the person complaining when the weather took a bad turn. Frost, mist, icicles; none elicited any reaction from me. While others were chattering in their thermal undies, I was humming a merry tune and prancing about the flowers in my bikini. It got so bad that people who visited me kept their coats on the whole time. In fact, it got to the point where I could judge what the days weather would be like from the density of the cloud my breath would form before my face each morning as I awoke.

Needless to say, it was a cold month.

The problem with the cooking wasn’t so hard to live with. I have a microwave, and luckily that doesn’t run on gas. It might be the most unhealthy, cancerous-causing, way to cook food, but it didn’t run on gas. Therefore, I single-handedly kept the Tesco vegetarian ready-made meal market afloat. Veggie curry, rice, veggie curry, rice, veggie potato curry, rice…it wasn’t a particularly varied diet, but as I’ve stated, it didn’t require gas.

Needless to say, I lost weight.

In fact, I lost so much weight that I now need a new wardrobe. My parents of course think this was all planned. Although I would like to claim to have the intelligence necessary to hatch such a well-thought out, original method of eliciting money for a new wardrobe, I fear I must own up and say, no, alas, it didn’t quite work out like that. Simply, I had no gas. And Tesco had no good microwavable food.

A couple of weeks ago, my gas got connected. I really must commend the Irish Gas Board for their speedy service. It only took them 4 weeks. They beat Eircom; from whom I am still expecting the broadband package I ordered 6 weeks ago.

Anyhoo, the gas got connected, and I got heating.

It’s actually quite amazing how easy it is to forget what some things are like. I honestly had begun to believe that everyone spent the first 10 minutes in bed each night, their duvet swathed about themselves like a cocoon, shivering to get warm. I’ll be upfront with you. For the first few nights I missed it. Going to bed had become less of an adventure, if you will. I found myself just lying there thinking ‘so…I just go straight to sleep?’ The sudden presence of heat in the house was quite exciting. I spent many hours next to my new best friends the radiators. Unfortunately, none of the radiators were close enough to the beds, or the chairs. None, that is, except for the one in the bathroom. Whoever designed my box of a bathroom was smart. The radiator is right next to the toilet. That could be due to the lack of space. Nevertheless, the bathroom became my favourite place. More specifically, the toilet became my favourite seat. When heating was still a novelty I would drink bucketfuls of water, just so that I could spend as much time as possible next to Bert. That’s the radiator by the way. When you spend so much time with something, it feels almost rude not to give it a name. I seriously considered moving a desk in there. If the bathroom had been a bit bigger, I might have. I didn’t though. And eventually, I had to end things with Bert. We still see each other, although it’s not quite as serious. It wasn’t him, it was me.

Death For Saddam: A Real Sentence From A Mock Trial

I'm in shock.

I knew it was coming, but now that it's here I just can't believe it.
Saddam Hussein has been sentenced to death.
The outcome of that joke of a trial was decided before it had even begun.

I don't know what to say.
Back in May when the 'trial' began I wrote about it. Back Stabbing Saddam Hussein.
I feel sorry for the man.

Frazzled and Fatigued!

Well, the cracks are beginning to show. Or rather, they're beginning to form.
The gruelling schedule is starting to take its toll on all of us; and, some of us are handling it better than others.
How am I handling it? Oh, only by bringing into question my very mental sanity. Let's just say I don't function the best when overcome by fatigue. Picture alot of, what myself and my new friend the lovely Heff referred to today as, the partial externalisation of my internal monologue. In English, that's alot of talking to myself in unfinished sentences!
Many seem unfrazzled by the work load; but, I don't believe them. I think the rampant acne breakout in the class is a clear indicator that stress levels are on the rise.

So, apologies for not keeping you uptodate.
In fact, I'm going to have to let you go, as tomorrow I'm supposed to be mooting. Ok, I will be mooting. There's no getting out of it. So I have to go formulate some sort of argument!

Who's Who??

Is it wrong that I don't know the names of the latest law books on the market?
Or that I don't know the names of all the Irish judges, their wives (or husbands!), children and pets?
Is it also wrong that I'm not familiar with the whole list of 'who's who in the law world'?
That I'm not really sure who this SC is or that JC is? That I can't recite the headlines from 3 different papers published today?

I don't know. Maybe it is. Maybe I should know these things. I don't though. And sometimes, I really wonder
1. how these people seem to know all of this, and
2. whether half the time they're only pretending they do.

Either way, I suppose I should think about subscribing to something. The Times, National Geographic, Readers Digest, Cat Fancy, Cosmo... you know, all the quality publications out there! Try and edumacate myself a bit. It's a thought.

A Disturbing Mental Image!

This is very disturbing...
I've heard of prison inmates hiding drugs on their person. I've even heard of syringes being hidden in the many available cavities of the human body.
But, this has got to be a new one... mobile phones!
Apparently, it's true.
Does anyone else think that's just so wrong?!

....As opposed to hiding drugs and syringes in the same way, which is so right!?

Academia Has Nothing To Do With It Now

One of the great things about Kings Inns is that it's almost like a new beginning.
Everyone starts off on the same level. Since no one knows each other, they know nothing about each others past academic performances. Obviously everyone there is intelligent. The entrance exams were not easy. But therein lies the extent of your knowledge. Indeed, if there is someone who you were lucky enough to have been acquainted with already, and whom you always regarded as a bit dim, then Kings Inns brings with it a new opinion of that person.
In fact, you begin to realise that academic grades mean absolutely nothing in the real world. Although, I could have told you that ages ago! It doesn't matter if you got a First Class Honours in your degree ( I didn't!). The list of factors that 'matter' has been completely re-written and reformed; and, if you think that you're going to breeze through just because you were top of your class at University, then think again.
We've left the world of academia behind. Now it's all about professionalism. It's about how well you cope under pressure. It's about your attitude, about your social skills, and more than anything, its about your how good you are at accepting criticism. The addition of this latter point may seem confusing; but, let me explain. Attending Kings Inns marks the beginning of many years of being ripped to shreds. It marks the start of a career where you can expect to be emotionally torn to pieces on a daily basis. Judges don't have regard for your feelings. If they feel that you're presenting your case sloppily, they will tell you to get your unprofessional rear end out of their courtroom. They might even tell you to employ a stylist. Well, ok, maybe not. But, it's always a possibility.
Unfortunately, there are some people who just cannot take criticism. Interestingly enough, those are the people who think that having a First Class Honours degree actually means something in this course.
I wonder how long it'll take for them to figure out that it doesn't? Probably the same length of time it takes them to learn to accept being criticised.

Week 1: A Summary

In the last week, what have I learned?
I've learned how to give feedback, how to give my opinion, and how to negotiate. I've learned how great it is to be in a class where everyone knows the answer, and most importantly, where everyone wants to know the answer!
I've learned how versatile the colour black is, and how it is so important not to judge on first impressions.
I've realised how great it is to feel like I'm actually doing something productive with my life again. I've re-learned how good it feels to be a part of a group of people all aiming at the same thing; all with the same goals in mind. Well, almost the same goals.
I've also learned that there are so many lovely people in the world. One must not get so blinded by the bad that they become ignorant of the good.
Most importantly though, I've learned how foolish girls can be when a handsome, charming, older man is around. Our lecturer is a complete sweetheart. As you can imagine, most of the girls are having trouble acting sensibly. I'm not in any way denying that I find him lovely...I do. But, I like to think that I'm not really the 'throwing myself at a lecturer' type of girl. Sadly though, many don't seem to share this belief. Ah, the results are amusing to say the least. It's like a little social experiment, which I am more than happy to observe; and perhaps even encourage, if only for my own entertainment!

Liz Farrelly: On Dublin

As a little something different, I asked my cousin Liz Farrelly to write a little feature for my blog. She's just moved up to Dublin to go to Trinity, and well, I think I'll let her fill you in on the rest!

"Good God…Dublin is most definitely NOT a fair city. I’ve been invited by Zena to sit down here and rant away about whatever takes my fancy, and for once, I can only think of one thing that’s pissing me off at the moment. Like Zena, I’ve just moved up to Dublin, and even though I’ve only been pounding the pavements of the city for a week, I’ve found something about the place that I hate. The people.
“Eow my Gawd!,” I hear you scoff. “What a statement! She couldn’t possibly hate all the people in Dublin!” But I’m afraid it’s true. Yes, Dublin is diverse. Yes, Dublin is a melting pot of cultures. Yes, Dublin is full to the brim with a positive pick’n’mix selection of different types of unique and special individuals. And yes, I hate them all.
Now, society in Dublin doesn’t work under the usual ‘lower-, middle- and upper-class’ system. To be brutal with you, everybody here is lower class. The only difference between people is how comfortable they are with that status.
First off, you’ve got the ones who are completely, utterly (and perhaps ignorantly) comfortable with being on the bottom rung. You’ll spot them quite easily; they’ll be the ones belting into you in the street without apologising, the ones toting a fine selection of Champion Sports, Pound City and Guineys bags onto the bus at the end of an evening, and the ones for whom a form of multi-tasking is managing to rob you blind whilst dangling a fag from their mouth, screeching at the infant wrapped around their leg and pushing a double buggy down Henry St.
The ‘Dublin middle-class’ is the most frustrating group by far. They are an infuriating herd of people who are desperately scrambling to get away from the caravan, but are incapable of quite catching up with the BMW. They can be slightly more difficult to spot than the other groups; masters of deception they certainly are. They weave tentatively between the two groups, not wanting to appear “lah-di-dah” while, at the same time, being completely unwilling to quietly slip into their place in the dole queue. You’ll probably find them studying Commerce or Computer Science at UCD. A real degree, with none of that ‘poncey Trinners shit’. Will most certainly end up on the Luas back and forth from Ranelagh every day, under fluorescent lights in a suffocating office until they finally get promoted to Department Managing Director or Director of Department Managing or something, and they finally get a reason to throw a dinner party so they and their friends can sit around and pretend to like organic butternut squash and hate George Bush. Roll on the Rosé…
Then you’ve got the cream of the crop; the ‘Dublin upper-class’. Ironically, these are the biggest charity case of the three, for the simple reason that you just have to pity these guys. I mean, they seem to really believe that they’re a cut above the rest. From what I can figure, this is a brief history of the typical evolution from ‘middle-’ to ‘upper-’ class. Somewhere along the line, Mary and Patrick (married at 26, after meeting in their UCD Commerce course) came into some money (I think Patrick got a promotion in the Department of Directing Managers). They upped sticks and headed out to Dawkey, where little Orlaith, Darragh and Cathal were born and bred. Here they led a life filled with coffee mornings, The Sunday Times, rounds of golf and Gaelscoils (“I mean, of coooouwrse we want them to learn about their heritage…it’s just seooow important nowadays”). The upper-classes are usually reserved, in other societies, for ‘old money’. And the thing about ‘old money’ is that, usually, it’s so ‘old’ that the people know how to deal with it by this stage. But herein lies the problem. Money in Ireland is far too new to ever be ‘old’. Any real wealth in this country can only be traced back two or three generations, so bless us, the novelty hasn’t quite worn off yet. And of course, little Orlaith, Darragh and Cathal will certainly be going to Trinity. Only the very best! Look, I hate to be negative (that’s a lie), but these are the people I’m going to be sharing the next four years of my life with; A city of a million people in various stages of delusion about their social status. A bunch of skangers in BT’s clothing. They’ll be asking me for change in the street, they’ll be giving me change in high-street shops, they’ll be teaching their kids to save their pocket money change and use it to start their pension schemes (“You can never start too early!”). So yes, I hate to be negative…but with these people, can you blame me?"

Coloured Dresses Have Rights Too

As a Kings Inns student you need to attend at least 10 dinners in the year. Don’t ask me what’s involved, but I’m thinking a lot of schmoozing and networking. Needless to say, a girl’s got to have a lot of dresses if she’s expected to go to all these dinners. For those of you asking why I don’t just rotate between 5 or 6..I ask you, are you sane? Are you a guy? Probably yes on both counts. It would be more sensible, it would be the option most men would be in favour of; but such a decision would be nothing short of the kiss of death for any fashion conscious young woman. Or old woman for that matter! Although in the case of the latter it could be reasonably put down to senility, or alzheimers, or diabetes, or toothlessness and the like. I am not yet old. Luckily, I have many dresses. Apparently though, as I was kindly informed last night by Flatmate-Aine (that’s pronounced Awn-yaa) who conveniently has just finished the course I’m starting, dress code for these dinners comprises of 1 word – Black! Black dress, suit, trousers, skirt, hotpants…they’ll all do. Main thing is though, that you must look like you’re in mourning. I didn’t really take this news very well. I like colour. In fact, I enjoy looking like I’m alive, or at least looking like everyone I’m related to is still alive. Was just looking through my wardrobe, and I have a feeling I’m going to be needing a lot more black! In fact, my current shopping list looks a little something like this:
5 Black Dresses
1 Black Trouser Suit
1 Black Skirt Suit
1 Pair of Black High Heels
1 Pair of Black Flat Shoes
It is at times like this that I must confess, it would be much easier to be a man! In fact, this new turn of affairs has put a bit of a damper on these dinners everyone’s been raving about. To be quite truthful, I’m having second thoughts about how suitable a career with such a bland dress code is for me!
You know what though? Black is black, but black does not have to be boring!! I can accessorise, and most importantly, I do believe that technically a dress code does not cover the colour of shoes. And I have just as many coloured shoes as I do dresses. Red, Gold, Pink, Silver, Green; watch out Kings Inns, my feet are not going to be boring! Now this is getting interesting. It’s almost like a little game; how many attractive outfits can I pull off while sticking to the dress code? And if all fails, what can they really do if I do turn up in a red dress?? They may call it a dress code, but I can easily call it discrimination. Coloured-dresses have rights too, and I’m all for upholding them! Until next time.

First Day In Dublin

Well, first day here. Got the 7 am train from Cork with my cat, my laptop, a suitcase that took 3 grown men to lift, and about a million other things. Can't believe I made it up here alive!
But, I did! And I've even registered.
Don't know if I'll be able to survive the year though. Surrounded by pompous, pretentious, annoying people who think they're something just because they're in Kings Inns. Hello!! It's not that big a deal!
Oh, the things I had to listen to today...
"Ah, yes...blah blah blah the Italian 150 euro jacket I bought for Kings Inns."
Ok, sorry, but...150 euro? That's cheap for a nice jacket!!!!
And what about the guy who thinks the world spins for him:
"Oh, looks like I had nothing to worry about, well or so the results showed. Yadda Yadda Blah Blah *cue rolling of eyes and smug expression* I'm so wonderful I'd love to smother myself with chocolate and lick it all off I'm just so amazing."
Ok, I may be exaggerating, but that's the extent that this particular person loves himself. Let's call him 'Bighead'. I have a feeling I'll be writing about him alot. The urge to take my gown and strangle him with it is almost, I say almost, too much to ignore. Still though, suppose I must just ignore him and let him live out his egotistical life in peace...if only for the sake of chocolate spread makers worldwide.

Until next time..

Chasm Of Fire

Irina Tweedie writes in "Chasm Of Fire":
"I recalled particularly, on a day of trembling luminousity, of sparkly transparency, that he was already seated outside when an Indian village woman came to him. She was small, very thin, her face wrinkled and shrunken, as if dried up by the merciless sun and the hot winds of the plains. She was telling an endless, sorrowful litany of her troubles. Illnesses, misery, the death of her husband and most of her children. Now she was alone, useless, nobody needed her, she had nothing to hope for, nothing to live for...
...And she came out with the question which seemed to burn, scorching her trembling lips: 'Maharaj, why did God create this world so full of troubles? Why did he create me to endure all these sufferings?' I saw him lean forward, a shimmering light in his eyes, the light of compassion I knew and loved so well. His voice was soft when he answered:
'Why has He created the world? That you should be in it! Why has He created you? He is alone; He needs you!'
Never will I forget the broad, blissful smile on that lined emaciated face when she was walking away. She went happy in the knowledge that she was not alone, not really, for God needed her to keep Him company because He too was alone...
...Only a very great soul could have expressed so simply and convincingly one of the Great mysteries to a naive, childlike village woman. The Ultimate Metaphysical Truth; that He who is Alone and Perfect, in order to realise His Perfection, created the Universe..."

Off To The Big City

I got in!!

Off to Dublin to be a WigHead.

Just Waiting...Still Waiting...Yep, Stiiillll Waiting!

I've been waiting for the postman since 9am this morning.
It's now 1pm and he still hasn't shown.
Don't get me wrong, I love the whole 'postman coming to your door in his little green van' postal system!
But my results are out today, and I wonder if he knows that and isn't just taking his time on purpose!
Evil postman!

PatternsOf Reality

Poincare asked "Why is the reality the most acceptable to science one that no small child can be expected to understand?"
Pirsig asks "Should reality be something only a handful of the world's most advanced physicists understand? One would expect at least a majority of people to understand it. Should reality be expressible only in symbols that require university-level mathematics to manipulate? Should it be something that changes from year to year as new scientific theories are formulated?"
He goes on to explain that in a "value-centered Metaphysics of Quality this "scientific reality" platypus vanishes. Reality, which is value, is understood by every infant....science is a set of static intellectual patterns describing this reality, but the patterns are not the reality they describe."

The patterns are not the reality that they descibe.
Not the reality that they describe.
A description of reality.
Not reality itself.
Not real.

Reality, as I've been saying all along, is subjective.

On another note, I'll be back to the rain soon.

100,000 years to extinction??

I read somewhere the other day that a species usually has about 100,000 years before it destroys itself.

Does anyone know how long humans have been on earth?
I just want to know how much time I have left.

Clarity In The Stars

The Barefoot Doctor writes that 'there's something disturbingly privileged about living through and witnessing first-hand such momentous phases of human history as the one we're in now. This will be the stuff of history lessons a hundred years from now, if there are still schools, or even people, for that matter'. Bar the latter extremely depressing question, it a startlingly accurate statement. He's right. We are witnesses to a new era, to events of massive proportions. He explains that the 'key to sanity at this and every time is to remain centered in the present'; to 'become aware of the breath and consciously decelerate the tempo, feel the life force in your belly.'
It's much easier said than done really isn't it? I know my own mind is forever in the throes of analyzing the past, or trying to predict the future. I hardly ever focus on the moment. I did last night though. I floated on my back staring at the stars, the only person in an empty swimming pool; and I concentrated on the moment. On the present. I gained calm, I gained clarity, I gained perspective, and I came home and fixed something that I didn't want to break. Sometimes you have to think about yourself, follow your instincts, and try not to let the ego and self get in the way. Try not to be so stubborn ;)

Lock Me Away

I feel like locking myself into a room forever,
I don't think I can handle civilisation anymore.

I tear myself apart to defend anothers honour,
and then they tell me they kinda liked the way it was before.

Now I'm left here standing with a body unwhole,
no thread could hold together this self-ravaged soul.

I'll walk through the night with my heart in my hands,
blood dripping behind me as I blindly advance.

Fighting The Inevitable

Is there anything admirable in fighting against the inevitable??

That's something I'm wondering. The way I see it tonight...there isn't. Fighting against the inevitable is pointless. And yet, we all do it. Whole societies are doing it. I fight against the inevitable on a daily basis. And for what? What do I gain? Recongnition? Praise? Contentment? No on all counts. I can tell you what I lose though. I lose my time, I lose my sleep, I lose my energy, I lose my mind. The only things I can think of that I gain are wrinkles. And personally, I don't want them.

Life seems to be a constant lie. Lying to ourselves, to others; and the one that hurts the most, lying to those you love, to those who love and trust you. It's crazy. And yet, society imposes upon us this necessity to lie. Why? Because of the continual fight against the inevitable. Everyday I'm seeing this fight more and more in the Arab world.

It's really getting me down.
I just don't want to lie anymore.

Life is over in a blink of an eye. There's no time for doubts, for procrastinating, for shyness. Take all the chances you're given. Tell every single person you love that you love them; put your arms out that give them a hug. Time waits for no one. If its there, if you feel it, let it show. Don't waste your time in a job you hate, or with people you don't even really like. Take life by the shoulders and shake it till every single last bit of it is used up. Do it all, and don't let it be that in your last breath you wished you had done more.

David Hume's 'Senseless Child'

David Hume was an empiricist. That is, he believed that all knowledge is derived exclusively from the senses. The scientific method of experimentation is a good example of carefully controlled empiricism. So what? you may ask. Well, don't you see where this line of thinking takes you? Let us look at a child that was born without any senses whatsoever, a 'senseless' child so to speak. A child unable to receive any information from his senses. What would be the mental state of the child? The mental stae of the adult that he becomes? Would he have any thoughts? Hume believed that he would have no thoughts whatsoever. Senseless = Thoughtless. If you think about it, it's very interesting. We assume that as a human, we instinctively have thoughts. But what do we have thoughts about?? Things we see, things we hear, things we touch, smell, taste. What if we had none of our senses? What then would be think about? Our entire lifetime of experience is built up of data we glean from the use of our senses - 'sensory data'. And this is the basic line of thought of Hume and other empiricists. Pirsig noted 2 problems with this reasoning. Firstly, considering the question: what is this substance which gives off this sensory data?? If all knowledge is obtained from sensory impressions, and if there is no sensory impression of substance itself, then it logically follows that there is no knowledge of substance. That is, it is all in our minds. I can imagine that many of you who read my blog would be appalled at the very thought that the world we live in, our lives, are anything other than solid, and concrete, outside of and out of the control of our subjective selves. And yet... well I digress. Secondly, Pirsig considered the issue of causation. If all knowledge comes through our senses, then we must ask the question: from what sense data is our knowlege of causation received? That is, what is the scientific empirical basis of causation itself? Hume was of the opinion that, simply, we imagine causation when one thing repeatedly follows another, because to consider otherwise would be out of line with empiricism, as there is no evidence for causation in our sensations.
Hume believed that our idea of causation is little more than expectation; expectation for certain events to result after other events that precede them. For this Hume coined the term 'constant conjunction'. That is, when we see that one event always 'causes' another, what we are really seeing is that one event has always been 'constantly conjoined' to the other. The reason we do believe in cause and effect is not because cause and effect are the actual way of nature; we believe because of the psychological habits of human nature (Popkin & Stroll, 1993). Hume believed that 'Nature' and 'Nature's laws' are creations of our own imaginations. To an extent, I would agree with this last statement. I say to an extent, because at some point I begin to wonder what the situation would be if humans were not around. Would there be no cause and effect simply because we would not be here to identify it?? Surely we can assume that animals have basic concepts of cause and effect. I believe Popkin and Stroll should not have limited their reasoning to human nature, and instead have referred to the nature of all living organisms. An experiment I learned about so many years ago comes to mind; that of a sea slug being prodded with a finger and then blasted with a jet of water. Over time, the simple prodding of the finger brought about the recoil that was its instant reaction when squirted with water. The slug had identified the connection between the initial prodding and the final squirt of water. Cause and effect. And yet, we're back to the question of what would happen if the slug had no senses? If it could not feel the prod of the finger or the squirt of water? A senseless slug? Is cause and effect a by-product of our sensory observations?

Immanuel Kant said that it was David Hume who caused him to write his 'Critique Of Pure Reason'. In it and through it, Kant effectively tries to save empiricism from the consequences of its own self-devouring logic. He said "That all our knowledge begins with experience there can be no doubt...But though knowledge begins with experience, it doesn't follow that it arises out of experience." He identified aspects of reality not supplied immediately by the senses. Such as space, and time. We do not sense time; that it, it is not present in our sensory data. And yet, we do not ask ourselves if time exists! We do not ask for sensory data to confirm its existence. Such 'a priori' concepts are neither caused by the sensed object nor bring it into being, but provide a kind of screening function for what sense data we accept. We apply these concepts of space and time to the impressions we receive. Otherwise, the world would be unintelligible. I am not sure who to attribute this quote, but it was said that, in fact, "Reality is a continuous synthesis of elements from a fixed hierarchy of 'a priori' concepts and the ever changing data of the senses."

So is that what reality is?? I don't know. In fact, I really should not be posting about this, as I am in no way an expert on this. I don't think I could even be called a beginner; That is, I know that little about it all. I need to read more; understand the points of view of those before me, before I can make my own conclusions, offer my own opinions, or indeed, speak about their theories. What I know of their thoughts is not worth talking about. It's the tip of the iceberg, and I know that. So, I'm off. I'm going to the bookshop. Enjoy.

It Is Later Than You Think

I was clearing through my room today, and I came across a scrapbook that I had put together in 2000. Of course you forget about so many things until you're reminded of them in some way, whether its a noise, a smell, a memory trigger, or actually coming face to face with it. Don't you ever wonder what the point is of living if you forget 90% of it? I mean, so much that happens is just forgotten. That's why its good to have a sister, she remembers things I forget, and vice versa. Although its usually her remembering things, my memory is shocking lately! Still though, she need only remind me, and it comes flowing back, and I remember that it didn't happen like that at all! What is she saying?! Different aspects of the same situation impact differently on different people. I remember the looks, the body language, she remembers the words. That's the way it is, and it works out just fine. But, I digress, the point was that I came across this scrapbook, and what it is, is a book of newspaper clippings. Things that were in the news that I thought were interesting, that I thought I would like to look back on in years to come. What did I see? The same things that are in the news today. Nuclear weapons, Hezbullah, Israel, ceasefires, gay rights, and halfway through the book, the trial and execution of Timothy McVeigh. If you'll remember, he was the 'Oaklahoma City Bomber' put to death by lethal injection. In the book is his story, day by day for almost 3 weeks. It was something that I now remember had a profound effect on me. It was the beginning of the end perhaps. The beginning of an interest in justice, in the policies of countries, in what I have come to realise will be an eternal quest for the truth. I have no interest in bringing up the past right now, and even less interest in depressing you any further than I am sure my previous posts have, but it has made me think. I know that many argue that capital punishment is effective justice; that it deters future crime. But I ask, should we not use our resources in a manner that seeks to REFORM these criminals. Can we justify the giving up on them that is capital punishment? Is it not just a simple way to end our problems? To ensure that they will not be taking up room in our jails, depleting the countries resources and not putting anything back into the economy? The easiest option is usually not the right one.

Its a debate that goes round in circles. I dont know about you, but I'm sick of spinning. Thats all that I've been doing lately. Today, I made the first step towards slowing down the spin. I can't say what it is, but I'm excited. As Horace once said ' it is later than you think'. I don't want to waste any more time. I want to end this post with a quote by Harold Whitman, I think it says it all:
"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

Links To Articles Of Interest

"'Gaza is a jail. Nobody is allowed to leave. We are all starving now'"

"Palestinians tell Blair: you are not welcome here"

For those that think that America is some 'saint' when it comes to fighting wars, and upholding human rights, I have this to say. There is nothing saintly about starting wars; and human rights?? How can human beings decide what rights we as humans are entitled to have?? Such rights should exist to the extent that those who are entitled to take our lives away from us say they should exist. As you can see, this effectively means that, for the Palestinians, Iraqis and Lebanese, it is America, Israel and the UK that decides what their rights as human beings are. God help the Arabs is all I can say. And yet, I fear that even God will have to go through them, the only axis of evil that I can see evidence of (US, Israel and UK), and gain their permission, before being able to help!

Here are a few more snippets of articles that may be of interest. Click the highlighted words to view the full articles:

"In October 1950, the first year of the Korean War, American soldiers massacred tens of thousands of innocent people in the North Korean city of Sinchon. In perhaps the most horrifying incident, US soldiers led 900 residents, including 300 women and children, into an air-raid shelter. After the victims passed three days in thirst and fear, the GIs poured gasoline into the dark, confined space and threw in a match"

"The head of Europe's human rights watchdog yesterday called for monitoring of CIA agents operating in Britain and other European countries, after President George Bush's admission that the US had detained terrorist suspects in secret prisons."

"In one bedroom, a picture of the late Pope John Paul II was found carefully torn into three pieces. "The picture was hanging on the wall, and we found the glass from the frame still intact, but the picture had been torn," said Tawfic. "For me it shows the Israelis don't like either Christians or Muslims, only themselves.""

To Be, Or Not To Be; An Engineer?

Paul Coelho was asked how he had decided he wanted to be a writer. Here's what he said:
"When I was fifteen, I said to my mother: 'I've discovered my vocation. I want to be a writer.' 'My dear,' she replied sadly, 'your father is an engineer. He's a logical, reasonable man with a very clear vision of the world. Do you actually know what it means to be a writer?' In order to answer my mother's question, I decided to do some research. This is what I learned about what being a writer meant in the early 1960s:
A writer always wears glasses and never combs his hair. Half the time he feels angry about everything and the other half depressed. He says very 'deep' things. He always has amazing ideas for the plot of his next novel, and hates the one he has just published. A writer has a duty and an obligation never to be understood by his own generation.. A writer understands about things with alarming names, like semiotics, epistemology, neoconcretism. When trying to seduce a woman, a writer says: 'I'm a writer', and scribbles a poem on a napkin. It always works. When invited to say what he is reading at the moment, a writer always mentions a book no one has ever heard of. Armed with all this information, I went back to my mother and explained exactly what a writer was. She was somewhat surprised. 'It would be easier to be an engineer,' she said. 'Besides, you don't wear glasses.' "

It made me laugh, because its something that myself and Ismaool were talking about the other night. The differences in how life, the world, problems and so on are approached depending on how your mind is trained. He's an engineer, I'm a lawyer, our approaches to life couldn't be any more different! Paul Coelho's mother was right when she wanted him to be an engineer. You know why? Because he's always going to be SURE. An engineer sees life as a set of right or wrong answers, there's nothing in between. There's no deliberation. There are formulas, equations, methods; follow them and you're on the right path. On the way to correctness, to excellence, to TRUTH. Ask me what truth is, and I tell you that it depends on whose side you're looking at it from. Truth in what sense? I ask you whether truth as a fact really does exist. In effect, I complicate my life. I don't think its a characteristic of all lawyers. In fact, my good friend P is a lawyer, and if you listened to our conversation over dinner last night you would realise that being a lawyer is in no way a hinderance to his being sure about anything. His background as a lawyer means that he is open to looking at a problem from many different points of view but it does not encourage him to complicate his life. Maybe it's just the philosophical writer within me. I always was very good at coming up with all those different 'meanings' that writers of classics intended. We all know they intended none of it. When they said the table was round, they meant the table was round. They weren't intending it to be a metaphor for the circle of life or something similar... Or did they?
See what I mean!
To be honest though, I think an education in the arts is far more beneficial in the long run. It may mean more complications, but it means you can think outside the box. Or it should mean that. For many, thats sadly not the case. But thats for another post.

So Now An Actual Language Is Offensive?

Did you hear about the guy who was prevented from boarding his plane in a New York airport until he changed his t-shirt? It's true. What was on his t-shirt that was so offensive? Perhpaps the stench of BO? Or maybe his breakfast? The words 'I Have A Bomb'? No. Simply, Arabic script. That's it. What's more, the translation was right underneath it in English.
Read HERE for the full story.
If you want to check out his blog, click HERE.

Maybe I Just Need Some Sleep

like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, i have tried in my way, to be free.
like a worm on a hook, like a knight from some old-fashioned book, i have saved all my ribbons for thee.
and if i, if ive been unkind. i hope that you will let it go by.
and if i, if ive been untrue, i hope you know it was never to you.

like a baby stillborn, like a beast with his horn, i have torn everyone who reached for me.
so i swear by this song, i swear by all that ive done wrong, i will make it, i will make it all up to you.
i saw a beggar, leaning on his wooden crutch, he cried to me, you must not ask for so much.
and a pretty woman, leaning in her darkened door, she said to me, hey why not ask for more.

Leonard Cohen "Bird On The Wire"

its really late, and this song is just going round my mind. its from memory, but i think the lyrics are right. im so stuck, i just dont know what to do. i dont know which direction to take. every moment i feel so close to a decision, so close to the path i should take, but then the next minute ive lost that grasp and im drowning in the abyss that is my thoughts. the problem is that ive become so caught up in the 'theory' of it all, that im almost incapable of taking action. afraid to go one way in case i should be going the other. remaining suspended in midair, treading the water of my mind, failing to get out into the battle that is the world.
maaybe thats the problem... or maybe i just need some sleep!

Long Before Consciousness Set In

"Phaedrus remembered a line from Thoreau: "You never gain something but that you lose something." And now he began to see for the frist time the unbelievable magnitude of what man, when he gained power to understand and rule the world in terms of dialectic truths, had lost. He had built empires of scientific capability to manipulate the phenomena of nature into enormous manifestations of his own dreams of power and wealth - but for this he had exchanged an empire of understanding of equal magnitude: an understanding of what it is to be a part of the world, and not an emeny of it."

exerpt from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance", Robert M. Pirsig

What a morning... Socrates, Aristotle, the Sophists, Plato, Phadreus and Leonard Cohen.

It feels like I'm about to grasp another piece of that jigsaw I've been trying to put together these last months. I still don't know what the finished picture will be.. but I'm sure when that last piece fits in, I'll be looking at something so familiar, I'll realise that it was I who cut the pieces, who painted upon them the images, and who decided what it would be, long before I was conscious of this fact.

Sometimes I Forget...

Ok, I'm going to go out on a limb here and ask....

What do I have to do to get to be a Blog Of Note?

For those of you who aren't bloggers, Blogger.com has a little popularity ladder going on (doesn't everyone!). Every now and then, they put someones little unknown blog on the top of that ladder on their list of Blogs of Note. What happens then? Well, hits skyrocket! Instead of your normal daily hits, which for me would be somewhere between 5 and 50 everyday, you can expect to get a few thousand!

What's the point? What do you gain? More readers, more comments, a larger audience. Does that matter? Well, it depends on the point of your blog. If you've got something to tell people, then a larger audience is what you're aiming to get.

This is the latest Blog of Note "Strangers Among Us".
Here's another, and another.

To be honest, i never wanted the point of my blog to be the number of hits... but it is so easy to get caught up in it. Occasionally, I do find myself comparing my blog to others and wondering what it is about their blog that makes Blogger think it worthy to be a Blog of Note. Perhaps what they percieve as quality of writing is not what I believe it to be. Or maybe what they're looking for is not quality at all, in which case, I'd rather not be considered a Blog Of Note thank you very much!

Or maybe I should just slap myself out of these rare fits of competitiveness. Most times, that's what I do. Apparently today though, it warranted a post. This will be the first, and last time, I promise.

Mother Tongue?

Last night, on the plane over to Abu Dhabi, I had a vision. I was watching “The Wind That Shakes The Barley”, and I realised something that had a profound effect on me. You know how some things just have an impact on you? A “Copernican Revolution” so to speak, where nothing changes, and yet, everything changes!
Copernicus stated that the earth moved around the sun. Nothing changed, and yet, everything changed!
Perhaps it was the combination of the movie and this book that I bought, the very interesting “Mother Tongue” by Bill Bryson…
I was sitting there, the lights of the cabin dimmed, my headphones on my ears, the shouts of the boys giving their lives to free Ireland from the British reverberating through my eardrums, and I realized, here I was, my mother Irish, my father Jordanian (originally Palestinian) and what language do I speak? English! What language? The language of the country that took my parents homelands away from its people. That placed Ireland and Palestine in the situations that they are in. Ireland – divided. Palestine – a hometown for the jews.

Therefore, I am going to learn Gaelic, and I am going to perfect my Arabic. Young men died for the freedom to speak Irish, and now, hardly anyone in Ireland speaks the language. Its a shame. I will persevere and I will speak the language that my Irish blood dictates I should speak. I will persevere and not stop until my Arabic is of the standard that my Arab blood says it should be.

Exams...Oh Crap!

Well folks, I probably won't be posting for the next week. Heading up to Dublin tomorrow to sit those dreaded exams.
For the next week I will be holed up in a hotel room surrounded by papers, papers and more papers; caffeine tablets to keep me awake; ginger nut biscuits (because I read somewhere that ginger boosts brain power); and if I had one, I have no doubt I would be in possession of a lucky horse shoe too. Nevertheless, I am horse-shoe-less, and feeling quite jumpy at the mo.
I don't know if it's nerves, or denial, but I wasn't able to do very much studying today. I mean, really, not very much at all. 5 hours tops. Crap, the day seems so long until its actually upon you. Oh well, I think I'm taking this very well actually.
I'm just going to go in there and answer the questions.
If I put down what they're looking for, then brilliant!
If I don't...

*deep breaths*

...well, let's not consider that option. I shall assume that I will be putting down what they want.
And maybe I'll put a few smiley faces at the bottom of the paper to be on the safe side. You know, project the whole professional, intelligent, law student attitude they're looking for.
Absolutely. Brilliant Idea.

Now, if you'll excuse me... I can't seem to find my pink pen!

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

So you've heard the latest?
Israel doesn't want to accept peace-keeping troops that do not recognise the state of Israel.
Israeli UN envoy Dan Gillerman made clear Israel's unhappiness with some of the contributors. "It would be very difficult if not inconceivable for Israel to accept troops from countries who do not recognise Israel, who have no diplomatic relations with Israel," he told the BBC. He said they would be "very happy" to accept troops from Muslim countries they have friendly relations with. "But to expect countries who don't even recognise Israel to guard Israel's safety I think would be a bit naive," he said.

I ask, what about guarding Lebanon's safety?? Oh, of course, how could I forget? Lebanon is an Arab country...who needs to protect the Arabs? It's the Arabs that are destroying infrastructure, and slaughtering innocents. Yes, that's right. So, let's forget about them, and concentrate on protecting Israel. The land of democracy, and equality and a policy of non-violence.
I think I'm going to be sick!

His comments were dismissed by Malaysia, which, along with Indonesia, has a Muslim majority population.

"We're going to be on Lebanese territory ... We're not going to be on Israeli territory," Foreign Minister Syed Hamid Albar said.

Exactly!
Where is the Lebanese Government? Do they not have a say in what troops are stationed on Lebanese soil??

And you know the worst thing? People are going to start saying "Yeeeaahhh...Israel is right! Why DON'T these countries recognise it?" And the worlds attention is going to be distracted from the issue at hand, that is, the protection of a country and its people (I'm talking about Lebanon!), and be shifted to an issue that has nothing whatsoever to do with the situation. An issue, in fact, that has no doubt been raised as a sort of "wolf in sheeps clothing" to allow this violence to continue.
Let's just hope we're not that stupid!

What Loyalty Means

There's this guy I know...let's call him "X".
X grew up in America.
His parents are Arab.
He's currently finished his masters from a top US university, and is working as a paralegal in a well-known law firm. He plans to go to law school and then hopefully begin working for the US Government.
Since I've known him, which is about 7 years, X been trying to perfect his Arabic. He speaks it as much as he can, and is always going on about the Arabic food he eats with his parents and the Arabic things they do together. All in all, he proudly tells everyone who will listen that he is ARAB!
Brilliant isn't it?
Well it would be, if it wasnt so hypocritical.

You see, something that I should tell you about X is that he hasnt been to visit his family in the Middle East in a couple of years. His parents are always begging him to go with them and he refuses. In fact, he told me that he will continue to refuse until he finally gets that job with the US Government. Huh? That was my reaction. It could be 10 years before the job even comes up! Why? For what reason? Is it because he's too busy? Apparently not. Too broke? Again, answer in the negative. The reason he refuses to go to the Middle East, the country and area that he so proudly claims lineage to, is because he DOES NOT WANT A TRIP "HOME" TO JEOPARDISE HIS CHANCES OF WORKING FOR THE US GOVERNMENT!!!!! He said that before the US Government employs anyone, they run a complete check. If they found that he had visited the Middle East in the near past, then they would refuse to give him a job. And he accepts this!

Now, call me crazy, but isn't that a little bit hypocritical? So here he is telling the world that he is Arab, even though his accent and mentality are so very American, and yet, he then shys away from the connection for the sake of a job that he might not even get! Is America now putting conditions upon being Arab?? Can he not see that by abiding by this informal rule he is indirectly affirming their beliefs, and the beliefs that they insist on imposing upon the world, that being connected to the Arab world can only mean trouble. If that was him, I would tell them to take their job and shove it where the sun don't shine. How dare they restrict his access to the Arab world by a faint threat of future limitations upon his job choices! America will argue that as a Government employee one's first priority must lie with America. That the safety of America prevails. That by accepting to work for the Government, one has to accept limitations upon rights that one would otherwise have taken for granted. The 'right to travel' must take a back seat to the safety of the USA. This no doubt will include keeping away from 'terrorists', and countries where they come from. Fine, if that's the way they want it, they have every right. But perhaps X should stop and ask himself where his priorities lie. There are plenty of jobs out there, and I for one would prefer a job that paid a little less, if it meant I kept my dignity.

I am disgusted with his attitude to the situation. Will this attitude help the world as it stands? No, it will not. It is an attitude that merely affirms America's place to dictate what the world can or cannot do. X, you should be ashamed of yourself, and I have every intention of telling you this next time we speak. Don't call yourself an Arab, because one of the best traits of Arabs is their loyalty. And you my dear, I'm not even sure if you know what loyalty means!

noone, not even the rain

ee cummings once said
"We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit."

Tonight I don't want to think of war. Tonight I don't want to think of pain, and sadness, and hunger and death. I don't want to think of statutes, and cases, and neverending notes. I just want to sit and enjoy the silence. I think tonight of what Oscar Wilde once said, that "Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace." Yes, tonight I want to read something, not because I have to, nor because it will afford me any tangible benefit; But, just for its own sake. For its beauty, and its poetry, and its simplicity and truth. To appreciate it. To sink slowly into its soft sweet rivers of emotion, and feel the shivers run down my spine. The aftertaste of its meaning lingering upon my tongue, the scent of its words clinging to my skin. I'm so sick of objectivity, impartiality and sensibility!

some ee cummings...

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Stupid War, and Stupid Exams!

I cannot wait for these exams to be over. Just so I can put my time and energy into something I actually think is worthwhile. That is, the ending of the atrocities being waged on the Arab world today. I am not naive enough to think that my actions alone can put an end to the madness, but I'll tell you this much, I have to try and do something.

Lubna Hussein claims that "Justice Is Dead; At Least If You're Born An Arab." Click here to read her excellent article.

Exams start in just 7 days. One minute I'm worried, the next I'm as cool as a cucumber. Although last week I did have a dream that I went into the Company Law exam unprepared. She kept calling my name to come up and sit the exam, and I kept asking for a little more time as I frantically scribbled down the last of my notes. In the end she cancelled the whole exam because I had held everyone else up with my time-stalling antics. Ah well, its inevitable isnt it that my subconscious fears will manifest themselves in my dreams. What really annoys me is the fact that as a student you're supposed to memorise case after case after case. Show me ONE lawyer that will advise his client or present a case to the court without consulting his case books, and I will show you a pig that can fly! It just isnt done, and personally I think it's stupid to think that as students we should be measured by our abilities to commit to memory facts which are written down in a million and one text books. We're people, not machines. Education is not, and should not, be measured by our ability to recite facts and information. Computers can do this; are they educated? I sure as hell am not going to go in there and reel out the cases. I refuse to. I'm actually going to try and put some insight into my answers. Which is probably not what they're looking for, but I really don't care at this stage. I'm just going to go in there and answer the questions. Why should there be only one way to do something? Let's do it my way shall we? :) [as I type I know that such an attitude will probably only lead to failure in the stiflingly traditional arena that is our legal education. The question remains, will I eventually cave and resort to the tried and tested methods of answering?]

I personally don't even think that we should have exams anyhow. But then, that could just be my bias talking, as Im going to have to go in there in a week and sit those very exams whose usefulness I'm currently questioning! I'd better get back to the books as to be honest, none of the examiners are going to give a crap about what I have to say about the said exams, and I'm really just wasting my time here. Later.

A Tyranny Approved By Conscience...

It was Lewis who once said:

"Of all the tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive...Those who torment us for our own good, will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

George Galloway Link

Click here to hear George Galloway on Sky News.

It might take a while to load, but it's worth it.

A Sad State Of Freedom

A SAD STATE OF FREEDOM

You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;
you are free to slave for others-
you are free to make the rich richer.

The moment you're born
they plant around you
mills that grind lies
lies to last you a lifetime.
You keep thinking in your great freedom
a finger on your temple
free to have a free conscience.

Your head bent as if half-cut from the nape,
your arms long, hanging,
your saunter about in your great freedom:
you're free
with the freedom of being unemployed.

You love your country
as the nearest, most precious thing to you.
But one day, for example,
they may endorse it over to America,
and you, too, with your great freedom-
you have the freedom to become an air-base.

You may proclaim that one must live
not as a tool, a number or a link
but as a human being-
then at once they handcuff your wrists.
You are free to be arrested, imprisoned
and even hanged.

There's neither an iron, wooden
nor a tulle curtain
in your life;
there's no need to choose freedom:
you are free.
But this kind of freedom
is a sad affair under the stars.

Nazim Hikmet
Translated by Taner Baybars

Let The People Speak

Sri Chinmoy said

The madness of this world
Cannot be conquered
By the sadness or the power
Of the world,
But only by the oneness
Of the world – hearts

He also said

Anger says:
"I can destroy
The whole world."
Peace says:
"Not when I work
Inside you.

Can words really help the children who are being blown to pieces? Whose dreams and hopes for their futures are shattered by the pressing of a button in a tank not far away. The little girls who one day dreamt of getting married, having children; who dressed their dolls and made make-believe tea. The little boys who dreamt of growing up to be like their father; who played football outside their homes, their biggest problem being that their team didnt win that day.
All those dreams gone. Those innocent smiles wiped away. Their small hands in death still reaching outwards for their mothers hands. A mother who probably died clutching her child to her breast, trying to protect him or her from the bullets raining down upon them.
It's a sad day for the world that we can just sit by and let this go on. That with all our claims of being compassionate, of being civilised, of being the protectors of Human Rights, we accept that this is happening and choose not to do anything.
And yet, what can be done? If the majority of the worlds people are opposed to this, if most countries proudly call themselves democratic, then surely it should be the will of the people that reigns supreme. Is that not the essence of democracy? Or is democracy only democracy when its convenient for it to be so? There is nothing democratic about using the blood of children to stain the roads red. I say ask the people. Ask them if they want this war to continue. Listen to the people and hear what they say. If you can show me a majority of the world that supports this violence, then and only then can you show me a war that has been waged democratically.

On A Bright Orange Post-It On My Wall...

Written on a bright orange post it, stuck on the wall above my study desk, is something that my sister Dana wrote for me last year during my finals. It’s a little rhyme that has successfully proved to be a motivating influence on me when it comes to my studying. “A day at the books, Instead of on looks, Will not lead to ponour, But a first class honours!” Granted she made up the word ‘ponour’ to get something to rhyme with ‘honour’, but I’ll tell you this much, that word has taken on a whole meaning of its own. It’s a perfect description for so many different emotions, situations and outcomes, that to be honest I’m even thinking of submitting it to Websters for next years edition! I never used to need any sort of motivation. Believe it or not, I used to have no problems when it came to sitting down at the books. In fact, when I was younger, I was known throughout my school as “The Genius”. I think that from the ages of 5 to 15, anything less than a 95 was considered tragically bad! I got a final year mark of 100% in 8th grade Maths. A teacher once pulled me aside and said “Zena, I don’t believe that any student should be given 100%. So, even though you have gotten full marks in all the exams throughout the year, I’m going to give you a 98%”. Understandably, I didn’t really have many friends at that point. When you’re 14 and you’re answering all the questions in class, getting top marks in all exams, every teachers pet, and even helping some teachers correct the classes exams, you’re not very high on the popularity stakes. Nevertheless, for reasons completely unconnected to my floundering popularity, I changed schools at 15 and suddenly the strangest thing happened. I began to be embarrassed by my high grades. Other things started to creep up the priority ladder. Fast forward 7 years and Dana has to start writing poetry to get me to actually sit down and study! Go figure! You see, last year during my finals, I had taken to writing poetry instead of studying. Come to think of it, I had taken to a lot of things instead of studying. One day Dan decided to lay down a study programme for me. Apparently, in one day I was supposed to get done what I would have probably taken a week to get around to doing. If I remember correctly I laughed out loud. I did get started on it; but that was about it. You see, it was very hard to explain to her that in Law, there’s no such thing as the “right answer”. There’s no such thing as being “finished” studying! No matter how much you read, there’s always so much more reading that you can do. It’s literally never ending! A friend of mine had a nervous breakdown because quite simply, the more that she did, the more she realised she had to do! Half the battle of Law is won by being able to adequately utilise your power of BS-ing, and by being able to portray the illusion that you know what you’re talking about. That’s how a lot of people got through it. In fact, judging by how much work I did at the beginning of the course, I’m pretty sure that’s how I got through first year. And second year if we’re being honest here! And between us, my ability to BS was nowhere near as good as it is now. The problem with me is that I know that I could have gotten a first class honours if I wanted to. I knew that if I sat down and did the work everyday, I could get that first class honours. You see, intelligence is not enough. If you’re intelligent, you can get moderate marks by doing no work. Likewise, if you’re not very intelligent, you can get those marks by studying systematically on a daily basis. I know a lot of not very intelligent people who achieved good marks that way. However, you will never achieve outstanding grades unless you have both intelligence, and the routine of regular study. That, my dear friends, is the sad but true fact. Anyhow, so a half hour later she passes by my room to find me writing poetry, or playing the guitar, or something like that. Rather than lose faith in me, as most would, she decided she just needed to change tactics. Communicate to me in a form that I would pay heed to. And so she wrote a rhyme. And there it stayed, for when I was sitting there churning through the stagnant pool of precendent that is Company law, and when my eyes were closing on those final days of 3am cram sessions. I never did need it for Juris though. Which reinforces my theory that, when you’re doing something you thoroughly enjoy, the only motivation you need comes from within. The post-it has kind of lost its stickiness now, and the orange is slowly but surely getting duller, but that poem is still there. Any time that I think I might do my eyebrows, or straighten my hair, I think of that poem, and I somehow manage to get a little bit more done! Thank you Dana.

How Can We Stand By And Allow This To Go On?

Robert Fisk: 'How can we stand by and allow this to go on?'
Published: 31 July 2006

They wrote the names of the dead children on their plastic shrouds. " Mehdi Hashem, aged seven ­ Qana," was written in felt pen on the bag in which the little boy's body lay. "Hussein al-Mohamed, aged 12 ­ Qana", "Abbas al-Shalhoub, aged one ­ Qana.'' And when the Lebanese soldier went to pick up Abbas's little body, it bounced on his shoulder as the boy might have done on his father's shoulder on Saturday. In all, there were 56 corpses brought to the Tyre government hospital and other surgeries, and 34 of them were children. When they ran out of plastic bags, they wrapped the small corpses in carpets. Their hair was matted with dust, most had blood running from their noses.

You must have a heart of stone not to feel the outrage that those of us watching this experienced yesterday. This slaughter was an obscenity, an atrocity ­ yes, if the Israeli air force truly bombs with the " pinpoint accuracy'' it claims, this was also a war crime. Israel claimed that missiles had been fired by Hizbollah gunmen from the south Lebanese town of Qana ­ as if that justified this massacre. Israel's Prime Minister, Ehud Olmert, talked about "Muslim terror" threatening " western civilisation" ­ as if the Hizbollah had killed all these poor people.

And in Qana, of all places. For only 10 years ago, this was the scene of another Israeli massacre, the slaughter of 106 Lebanese refugees by an Israeli artillery battery as they sheltered in a UN base in the town. More than half of those 106 were children. Israel later said it had no live-time pilotless photo-reconnaissance aircraft over the scene of that killing ­ a statement that turned out to be untrue when The Independent discovered videotape showing just such an aircraft over the burning camp. It is as if Qana ­ whose inhabitants claim that this was the village in which Jesus turned water into wine ­ has been damned by the world, doomed forever to receive tragedy.

And there was no doubt of the missile which killed all those children yesterday. It came from the United States, and upon a fragment of it was written: "For use on MK-84 Guided Bomb BSU-37-B". No doubt the manufacturers can call it "combat-proven" because it destroyed the entire three-storey house in which the Shalhoub and Hashim families lived. They had taken refuge in the basement from an enormous Israeli bombardment, and that is where most of them died.

I found Nejwah Shalhoub lying in the government hospital in Tyre, her jaw and face bandaged like Robespierre's before his execution. She did not weep, nor did she scream, although the pain was written on her face. Her brother Taisir, who was 46, had been killed. So had her sister Najla. So had her little niece Zeinab, who was just six. "We were in the basement hiding when the bomb exploded at one o'clock in the morning,'' she said. "What in the name of God have we done to deserve this? So many of the dead are children, the old, women. Some of the children were still awake and playing. Why does the world do this to us?"

Yesterday's deaths brought to more than 500 the total civilian dead in Lebanon since Israel's air, sea and land bombardment of the country began on 12 July after Hizbollah members crossed the frontier wire, killed three Israeli soldiers and captured two others. But yesterday's slaughter ended more than a year of mutual antagonism within the Lebanese government as pro-American and pro-Syrian politicians denounced what they described as " an ugly crime".

Thousands of protesters attacked the largest United Nations building in Beirut, screaming: "Destroy Tel Aviv, destroy Tel Aviv," and Lebanon's Prime Minister, the normally unflappable Fouad Siniora, called US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and ordered her to cancel her imminent peace-making trip to Beirut.

No one in this country can forget how President George Bush, Ms Rice, and Tony Blair have repeatedly refused to call for an immediate ceasefire ­ a truce that would have saved all those lives yesterday. Ms Rice would say only: "We want a ceasefire as soon as possible,'' a remark followed by an Israeli announcement that it intended to maintain its bombardment of Lebanon for at least another two weeks.

Throughout the day, Qana villagers and civil defence workers dug through the ruins of the building with spades and with their hands, tearing at the muck until they found one body after another still dressed in colourful clothes. In one section of the rubble, they found what was left of a single room with 18 bodies inside. Twelve of the dead were women. All across southern Lebanon now, you find scenes like this, not so grotesque in scale, perhaps, but just as terrible, for the people of these villages are terrified to leave and terrified to stay. The Israelis had dropped leaflets over Qana, ordering its people to leave their homes. Yet twice now since Israel's onslaught began, the Israelis have ordered villagers to leave their houses and then attacked them with aircraft as they obeyed the Israeli instructions and fled. There are at least 3,000 Shia Muslims trapped in villages between Qlaya and Aiteroun ­ close to the scene of Israel's last military incursion at Bint Jbeil ­ and yet none of them can leave without fear of dying on the roads.

And Mr Olmert's reaction? After expressing his "great sorrow", he announced that: "We will not stop this battle, despite the difficult incidents [sic] this morning. We will continue the activity, and if necessary it will be broadened without hesitation." But how much further can it be broadened? Lebanon's infrastructure is being steadily torn to pieces, its villages razed, its people more and more terrorised ­ and terror is the word they used ­ by Israel's American-made fighter bombers. Hizbollah's missiles are Iranian-made, and it was Hizbollah that started this war with its illegal and provocative raid across the border. But Israel's savagery against the civilian population has deeply shocked not only the Western diplomats who have remained in Beirut, but hundreds of humanitarian workers from the Red Cross and major aid agencies.

Incredibly, Israel yesterday denied safe passage to a UN World Food Programme aid convoy en route to the south, a six-truck mission that should have taken relief supplies to the south-eastern town of Marjayoun. More than three quarters of a million Lebanese have now fled their homes, but there is still no accurate figure for the total number still trapped in the south. Khalil Shalhoub, who survived amid the wreckage in Qana yesterday, said that his family and the Hashims were just too "terrified" to take the road out of the village, which has been attacked by aircraft for more than two weeks. The seven-mile highway between Qana and Tyre is littered with civilian homes in ruins and burnt-out family cars. On Thursday, the Israeli Army's Al-Mashriq radio, which broadcasts into southern Lebanon, told residents that their villages would be "totally destroyed" if missiles were fired from them. But anyone who has watched Israel's bombing these past two weeks knows that, in many cases, the Israelis do not know the location in which the Hizbollah are firing missiles, and ­ when they do ­ they frequently miss their targets. How can a villager prevent the Hizbollah from firing rockets from his street? The Hizbollah do take cover beside civilian houses ­ just as Israeli troops entering Bint Jbeil last week also used civilian homes for cover. But can this be the excuse for slaughter on such a scale?

Mr Siniora addressed foreign diplomats in Beirut yesterday, telling them that the government in Beirut was now only demanding an immediate ceasefire and was not interested any longer in a political package to go with it. Needless to say, Mr Jeffrey Feltman, whose country made the bomb which killed the innocents of Qana yesterday, chose not to attend.

Justice Fatty?

I think its safe to say that you've been studying that little bit too hard when you start dreaming about a well known Judge!!
Justice Carney was walking towards me, and I said, oh there's Justice Fatty! And he said, "Did you just call me Fatty?". I answered, "Oh no, I said there goes Justice Carney. I said Carney!"

I think it'll be a good thing when these exams are over!

My Darling Bimbo

I was 16 years old when I got the chicken pox. In fact, I had to do my O'Levels in a room all on my own because I had them at the time. Needless to say, it wasn't that great a time. I was thinking today, and my thoughts wandered to a time back then when I was feeling at my most, shall we say, unattractive? One night laying in bed I remember how disgusting I felt, how spotty and ugly and horrible I was feeling, how I felt that noone would ever want to be anywhere near me. And as is usually the case in these kind of circumstances, I wasn't able to see the end of my chicken-pox ANYWHERE on the horizon. My cat Bimbo was laying on my pillow next to me that night; my spotty, calamine-lotion covered body disgusting even myself. I remember closing my eyes with the weariness of it all, when all of a sudden, for the first time and probably the last time, Bimbo leaned over and gently placed her forehead against mine; As if to say "Don't worry Zena, I don't think you're disgusting, and I will always want to be near you."

It still makes my heart melt thinking about it.

And some people don't like cats!!

Giblets Speaks The Truth

Years ago, I remember looking at Kofi Annan and having such respect and admiration for him. He seemed to be in such a poweful position. He seemed to be the epitome of good, with the ability to, with a nod of his head or a flick of his pen, put a stop to any wrongs being perpetrated across the world.
Alas, I look at him now and see nothing but weakness. I see nothing but defeat in his eyes, for although he is the Secretary General of the United Nations, he might as well be the Head French Fry Frier in MacDonalds.
Lebanon is being bombed for no good reason. The UN, and Kofi, have not even condemned it. They have not even taken advantage of what it seems to be is their only real ability. The ability to condemn actions. In fact, he chose to phrase any reference to the current bombing in terms of Hezbullah's involvement in it. "We cannot take the weapons from Hezbullah by force", he said.
Why not say, 'we cannot take the weapons from Israel by force. Palestinians cannot win back their rightful land by force, and yet, they can think of no other way to get through to them.'
Is everyone blind? Can they not see the inexcusable amounts of double standards ongoing in this world today?
Here in Ireland, the current unacceptable bombing of Lebanon, a country which had just managed to build itself up after so many years of civil wars, has received practically no news coverage. Nothing is being shown of the over-300 Lebanese civilians killed in this new branch of Israeli tyranny.
Someone once said that the most dangerous, and unbeatable form of tyranny, is when the tyrant claims to be doing all for your good. This seems to be the case; America and Israel get away with their atrocities because they perform them 'for our own good and in furtherance of freedom and democracy, which MUST be ideals we support, otherwise WE must be terrorists too'. Hah! Freedom is no more than a word in this case, and for the record, so is Democracy.
Allow me to quote Giblets' newest post:
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Now They Hate Us With Our Freedom!

Giblets takes a few weeks away from the blog and the whole world goes insane! After four years of justly convicting Guantanamo prisoners of classified crimes before a fair and impartial kangaroo court of their peers, a power-mad Supreme Court has ruled that the military tribunals at Gitmo are "illegal" and that the president has to "obey the law." Well this is just the kind of dangerous radicalism that leads to fascism and human rights! What are we going to do with these people, try them in actual courtrooms with lawyers, juries and "evidence"? That way lies madness - or worse, democracy! If we give our enemies actual rights they'll turn the deadly power of our justice system against us, smuggling weaponized due process into American cities, crashing the Fifth Amendment into skyscrapers, setting off radiological writs of habeas corpus in Times Square!1

And how are we going to fight the terrorists in the first place with our military tied up in bureaucratic red tape like the "Geneva Conventions" and the "Bill of Rights"? We can't give up our right to torture people while the enemy's still torturing people - that's unilateral disarmament in the torture race! We've already got an atrocity gap here, people! Oh sure, we're doing alright with our cutting-edge waterboarding, hypothermia and "beat them to death" programs, but we'll never catch up in this fight if we don't get access to their top secret beheading technology!2 It's a simple question of action and response. When they blow up a mosque, we massacre a village! When they chop off someone's head, we send someone else off to Uzbekistan to get boiled alive! That's the GWOT way! But none of these vital tools will be at our disposal if we've got activist judges shutting down our Pentagon torture programs and our secret CIA prisons and our crack commando baby-rape squads!3

That's why George W. Bush has to take this case to the highester court in the land: the court of George W. Bush. It's a tough bench alright, but Bush can win this one as long as he exercises his constitutional right to ignore the Constitution. The legal technicalities are pretty complicated but Giblets believes it involves filing a writ of neener neener according to the precedent of I Can't Hear You v. I'm Not Listening. Only then can the forces of freedom protect America from the hordes of Democrofascists that would menace her with their savage civil liberties!

1. You can't trust a New York jury to convict Osama bin Laden with his fancy legal maneuvers and his smooth-talking ways!

2. Oh, you complain about it now, but what if chopping off somebody's head could've prevented September 11th?

3. They're enemy baby combatants, people!

¶ posted by Giblets

You can check it out here

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."