Smile empty soul

It's that time of the year again, heck I get reminded to it everytime I go to work for the past few months. Christmas tunes and all kinds of decorations that fit this period just perfectly; ranging from obvious Christmas tree, candles, lights to the less obvious straw pointy shoes and decoratives for adorning Christmas (pre-made) pieces. The consumerism comes at you in ways that makes you vomit if you stay in it long enough to capture you. There is too much, too many of everything and they're all trying to get on the best side of the deep-end of your pocket.

What's in store for me? I suppose I'll just wrap up the last week of school just fine and act my way through this period like I did many years before. Although I can't seem to escape that feeling of awkwardness. This period has a certain dull edge to it, where the cold weather happens to play a huge part of it. They usually say Christmas time is the period where most people commit suicide, because this is the period where the loneliness cuts deepest. Now it's not that I'm a lonely guy, but I can relate to that feeling of discomfort where everything seems to be so disconnected. Perhaps it's the almost obsessive crusade for comfort and happiness as it is reflected in the things we buy and the plans we make with friends & family. I reckon it's also the period where idealistic people want to remind us of the real reason behind Christmas and that it's not merely the end of the amazing shopping months. Referring us to biblical stories written which in turn get abused to make peace, discrimination, racism and everything else that's bad in the world a heavy weight topic once more. You could almost set your clock to the events that unfold in chronological order every year again. And I for one can't really decide what's more discouraging: the consumarism, the loneliness or the idealistic side of Christmas.

For the others among us, we can't really change anything other then to hope it passes like it does every year. Get back to the normal life we were leading before we entered this haze that's stronger than any drug available. I just wish this period would bring us more in high spirits as it always promises us, alas that only happens at the exact time it stops one year full.

A music delirium

It's a good period for a musical journey to new frontiers, as I am now left with not one, not two, but four new bands that will most likely remain in my dynamic music database. As always there is a perfect balance between the kind of music that's aggressively painstaking loud, hard and grim as opposed to a more joyous, lyrically addictive style of playing. The bands I'm talking about are respectively: alexisonfire, The fall of Troy, Acceptance and PANIC! at the disco. Serve yourself and there might be one of those four that clings to your musical flavor as well. If not, no harm done I can't dictate all the good music that comes at me to the rest of the world. I do want to reserve the right to laugh at your bad taste though.

The first two bands fall under the aggressive label I depicted and especially The fall of Troy is so much insanity packed in one album which could best be described as Dream theater meets MCR on acid, minus the vampiric theme. Best part of it all is that they come to Holland in December, which is a real treat for a new fan like me. Alexisonfire is a good band, not because I just said so. Although talking with a God complex alone should justify such a sentence. It's a good band, because it grows on you, I didn't much like them at first when listening to it. But my friend told me had the same at first, so I persisted and now this gem has grown to it's full potential and I like it a lot. Mainly, because I haven't come accross such a band yet.

The two bands left are the more lyrically addictive style of playing. Acceptance is what you could call the aftermath of Anberlin. Which was handed to me by the same guy, so that kinda makes sense. Although I do think Anberlin is superior my musical world isn't about restrictiveness and any addition to it is more than welcome. Although it shouldn't be seen as a cheap rip-off, but merely a referral. The last one I'm left with came along my path a long time ago, don't know how and when but somehow I did not decide to download it. Thanks to last.fm it's reminder I got my second chance and this time went along with it. A sound which should very much remind you of Fall out Boy; it has witty lyrics which unsurprisingly are much to my liking. Besides, screaming and grunting can only get me so far. The synergy of these two partially made up genres by me, copyright breach will be dealt with bitches, are really what gets me going.

I reckon I've filled you in more than enough and by the time you seriously have listened to the links I added to each band it could very well be Christmas or a happy new year.

Freakazoid! Chimpanzee!

A long awaited entry, I'm sorry I've kept the millions of fans around the world aching for a new masterpiece of me. Well let me tell you, the wait is over! I've seen the complete Freakazoid series and I can say, all is well. This rough gem may not hold up to the real mastodons of cartoonland, eg. The Simpsons, Futurama and Family Guy. Still, it relies heavily on a style that is truly it's own and while it may at times be more catered at the teens, it is without a question a notable series in cartoon history. The brilliant side-line heroes play a great part in this. The first one worth mentioning is Captain Bravery, an English bloke that looks like a Roman soldier. Together with his English snobbery we see only two parts of him in the whole series, but they are magnificently played. The second and my most favorite one is the Huntsman even if you hate everything that's Freakazoid, you have to see this one. Brilliant in his short moments on screen, he certainly tickled my funny bone many, many times. The last notable one is a spin-off from the Japanese anime Astro Boy; dubbed Hero Boy in this series he's a great stab at Japanese simpleton philosophies. With his memorable line: 'I must succeed' it greatly enhances the parody it tries to display. The rest of the Freakazoid has it's up & downs, some episodes remind me too often of the Animaniacs or even worse the Loony Toons. But when it's good, it shines and it quickly leaps away from the aforementioned drivelry. I also enjoyed the returning element where jokes are played throughout the series as are the characters that get introduced throughout the series. It gives it a much more structuralized feel, whereas other cartoon series feel so random which in turn really hurts those series. In conclusion I can say while this is not the epitome of cartoon history, it certainly is a worthy addition to the drought that's displayed on television since now and forever. Such a shame that it was cut short to only two seasons though. If you're able to get your hands on it, give it a shot.

My quest for ascendancy has ended

I reckon everyone has had those moment in which they rented a bad movie on purpose and then watched it with a bunch of friends who all had a bit too much alcohol in their blood. In the end these movies were so bad that they actually became good, together with the influence of alcohol of course. Now this has evolved in a bit of a contest among my friends or at least I see it that way. Who can find the ultimate bad movie, the competition is tough as nails though. Picture a guy who likes every bad movie there is out there eg. Coneheads, Short Circuit 1,2 and the mario brothers movie. Then there is also another friend of mine who always rents the worst of the worst, I seriously haven't seen a single good movie whenever I went there for a decent movie night. The all time low was the visitor starring a worn out William Shatner a plothole the size of the sun, no actual story and actors/actresses who had moodswings that would even outshame the most biggest of dramaqueens out there. So how am I to compete with such an impressive force?

Luckily, lady fortune smiled at me this very month or better yet it was my brother who gave me the needed artillery to blast down the competition. A collection of some of the worst movies crafted; two on one disc and like twenty in total. He brought back home all of them and together with my friend who likes every bad movie we watched the first specimen. It was fucking bullseye, the movie was called 2001: A space travesty and is the uncrowned king of the bad movies. It had such a random storyline that it even outbest 'The visitor' and on top of that it starred Leslie Nielsen, whose acting skills hardly surpass that of a wooden tree, then there were the terrible jokes not even an infant could laugh about. In the fx department, the special effect studio was obviously on vacation while making this utter piece of shit. My friend? He sincerely detested the movie and wishes never to see any of the movies again that I had gotten through my brother.

They should invent a new label for this kind of movies, a warning of some sort that says: 'could cause severe brain damage, do not watch when not intoxicated'. I'm still curious whether the pile of movies has an even bigger gem though. I can't wait to find out.

When shit hits the fan

Epilogue~

Picture this: weeks you've waited for a band you desperately wanted to see at all cost. Everything goes on smoothly, some of your friends actually want to accompany you. Then one week before the concert you are lying in your bed getting all giddy inside, because you're going to witness something awesome in just a few days. Your mind shifts to school and in merely three seconds you realize that the day after the concert you've got to get up real early to make an exam, which happens to be the hardest subject of that period. Would you just quit on the concert? I doubt there will be many who would have done so and neither did I initially. Initially, as in before you tell your parents about the predicament at hand. It's funny how they said: 'It's your own choice, but we strongly advice against it.' I put the exam up against the concert and as I'm no fool realized quickly that it would be in my best interest to follow my parents advice. In this so called society there is little room for mistakes and I already got my second chance by going to a different school. I couldn't just see and let it all happen again, besides I'm not 16 anymore and I must have some certain amount of responsibility by now when it comes to planning my future. I didn't go and I still regret it sorely, especially since this all revolved around getting enough rest to be at my utter best at the day of my exam. Ironically I couldn't catch any sleep and was up from one o' clock till four.

At the infirmary of broken computers~

On the background something else happened when I was still dubbing the predicament described in the first paragraph: my PC reached it's all time low. A brief history would be at it's place, this computer I'm currently behind is three years old and has had it's fine share of tantrums, I like to see this PC as a mentally disabled with a short temper. In the summer it functions as a Turkish sauna and in the winter it's my bonfire, it even makes realistic sounds! Not to mention the amount of noise it produces as it needs to carry out a mouse click, it really would be better off grinding meal and baking me some bread or as the final stress test for anger management, all will fail guaranteed. My parents insisted on the fact that I don't need a new one to do my schoolwork and I was saving up for a new one myself because of that. I was all set, until the amount of money needed for my school books kinda exceeded my expectations. I was back at square one and the PC was really going down the drain real fast. But finally after months of perseverance my parents caved and agreed on buying a new one. There's just one catch, I need to pay every damn penny back to them. The PC should arrive next Saturday and I hope it's not as a deformed malfunctioning piece of scrap metal with loose wires, and fried hardware under the pretense of actually being a PC as I am behind now.

The miscellaneous rinky-dink ending~

I drink coffee as of now and am actually getting accustomed to the gross after-taste. The downside of it, is that my mother now obsessively asks me every day at eight O' clock if I would like some coffee. In other news my Avenged Sevenfold albums are in and I'm enjoying the enhanced experience of the sound coming from my stereo, it really adds that special something or it's just because I can lie down on my bed. Bol.com was nice enough to send me a free copy with 'Made in Holland' which rest me assured that no good music can come from our little country. Not as long as we have shit-hazed hissy-fits like Jan Smit & Ali B jumping around spilling their God forsaken talents.

In the wake of determination

I've been raving about four new albums since early August, as my closest friends must have noticed. Now that all albums have been officially released and illegally downloaded I can say I'm content with it. The very first album that came about was Smile Empty Soul's follow up to it's self-titled debut album. I had mixed feelings about this album, curious as how they evolved compared to their new album, which was nicked Anxiety. I feared that the dark brooding mood of the first album was brought to an excess. Thank God I was proven wrong and they actually matured. Maturing in the music industry is the most often used cliche and also the most corny one, but I couldn't be arsed to think of a synonym that sounds better. Back to the album, the track that stood out most to me was the very last song 'the end of the world' although the name hints at a very dark track, it is in fact the most sentimental song on the whole album. Yes, I purposely avoid using the word emotionally, since it has such a bad ring to it nowadays.

Second up was a big one, Trapt's Someone in Control. The first thing that I noticed when I was waiting in anticipation, is that the album was being produced by Don Gillmore. I bet that doesn't ring any bells with the lot of you, neither did it with me if it weren't for that small explanation that he had worked with Linkin Park before. That made me frown, don't get me wrong I like Linkin Park, but I don't exactly want to see Trapt head in the same direction. The product turned out to be enough of themself to be labeled as a Trapt product. The influence of the producer is definitely heard throughout the album, but it doesn't bother me as much. A pretty solid album all in all, yet the lack of diversity of the first album is missing. Which is the only negative point I have to say about it.

Then we headed of to the biggest cohonos in my music family after Apartment 26 had died of. The band mind you, not my love for their music. Thrice's Vheissu, that's vs if you want to pronounce it correctly and not wrong as I did at first. Trivial tidbits aside their album wasn't much as a surprise until a few weeks before release. They exclaimed that the album would head into a different direction then their previous works. Experimenting is also a big plus, however it's also a big question mark. Will that direction be the one you would adore to listen to? After listening the album a couple of times I can say that the direction they've taken with this album is the right one for me. I very much like every aspect of the album and a lot alike Apartment 26 it's Music for the Massive it has no real bad song I need to discredit in this critical music piece I'm writing. It's all good.

The final release was a little one, namely Story of the year - in the wake of determination. Out of habit I watched for their release date and would pick it of, from the intarweb harhar, once it would be 'published', *wink* *wink*. My expectations weren't that high and I had written it of as a minor side-band I would listen to occasionally. Yet as always when you least expect it they knock you down so hard, which is what I like the best. Yeah you guessed it right the album blew me of my socks, especially since my expectations weren't that high. The album is very sweet and much more then I had bargained for at the start. That's why the title of this blog-piece is dedicated to their album.

Feel free to tag along in my musical preference, if you have half a mind you won't regret it.

edit: note to self, never try to add the correct pronounciation for a word, blogger effs it up anyway.

How do I manage to breathe?

7:00 A.M. Off to school, grab my backpack, Ipod, keys, wallet and sport clothing bag. A steady pace towards the bus stop, so I won't miss my bus. Direct sight of busstop, it's not there yet. Reached the bus stop I can stare for some time in peace. Bus comes in a couple of minutes later, I take my seat, thinking this day is going to be a smooth ride. As the bus flows with the scenery consisting of sheep and cattle I drift away in my own thoughts, my Ipod seems to read my mind and plays soft tunes as I am not awake or in any mood for angry loud music. We get to the stop where I need to switch to the subway. I get out and grab my backpack and walk towards the stairs that will guide me to the subway. One minute. It seems my subway connection is going to be smooth as well. Wait, didn't I have a bag with sports clothing? Where is it, did I put it on the ground? No, I didn't. So where can it be? Still in the bus! I run down the stairs not knowing where to find the bus that already left. So many busses at this hour I can't seem to find it, has it already left?

This is the part where my funny bone sets in and I went of to the local bus drivers who were sitting at what could be described as a lunchroom, I only see a shithouse. 'Excuse me, does anyone know where the 171 is currently stationed?' 'No, I don't know, do you know?' 'No I am baffled by this question as much as you.' 'People usually never come down to talk to us, this doesn't fit with the procedure.' LOOK THERE! IT'S A CONNEXXION GUY, GO ASK HIM! Sadly he wasn't much of a help either as he barely knew what bus he was driving himself, so I was back to square one. I looked around some more, when I hit a bus with 172, one that also comes past my street. That particular bus driver referred me to the phone number on the back of her bus. I called that phone number hoping it would help me, alas the bitch on the other line only referred me to yet another phone number. I decided from that moment it would be best to just go to school and fix this mess when I have some more time.

At this time I was already predicting the responses from my class mates when we would have gym class. My response to their obvious question would have been: My sports clothing is currently sightseeing the Hoeksche Waard (my region) and is not available for use. I never put it to use though and just said it in a normal way. Luckily my gym teacher believed me and I just sat out the two hour course. One bright light at school was the return of my English test which I passed with a fifty-four out of sixty points. No extra lessons for me, that part is reserved for only one guy in mine class. 'Haha! You suck at teh Engrish!' 'Weren't you the one who left his sports clothing in the bus?' 'BASTARDS!'

The school day ended at 5:00 P.M. I take the subway and bus to my home. Once in the bus I look a bit around me - yeah quite frankly I was hoping to find my sports clothing and bag on the spot where I left it - I guess the sight seeing tour already ended. I'm ready for some angry music now, my Ipod once more reads my mind and sets of a slew of angst and angry lyrics. I could excite myself with the fact that the biggest treat still lies ahead: my parents. They know how to patch you up when you fuck up. You know me from description, multiply it by two and you have my dad. As predicted he sets of with a wild variety of jokes that hit the past, because it sure as hell isn't the first time that I have lost something, to the more actual jokes of my bag being found by the bombsquad and blown up as a precaution. Then he reminds me that replacing the sports clothing is going to cost me dearly. 'No dad, I had no idea we use money in this world! Thanks for reminding me!'

How was your day? Mine was fan - fucking - tastic.

The first few days at school

After a long absence I have once more started studying my way through many books in the hope that I once will graduate and be able to act out an profession I like. The first week of school is in progress and I already like it a lot more than University, which ironically happens to be the neighbor of the school I currently reside in. I don't feel as disconnected as in my previous study, perhaps because it isn't so massive. After all, I did go back to the structure of classes consisting of only thirty people as opposed to the hundreds of my previous study.

Yet the enjoyment doesn't stop with only the classmates. Oh hell no! It carries on with the teachers, because I happen to come across a special breed. The first one is your typical do-gooder teacher who wouldn't be able to keep order in a class full of toddlers. Sounds familiar? Well this one has a twitch: everytime he speaks it looks like he is having a seizure and his eyes move to the corners of his eyelids. It's either that or him teaching is so orgasmic for him that he ejaculates once a minute. The latter one would make more sense, because he smiles a lot; a creepy big smile that wouldn't look bad on a psychopath. 'Dr. Semen has come, are you ready to receive what he giveth you?'

Lucky me it doesn't stop there as today I was treated to the next fruitcake. All looked normal at first while he was teaching, but with the first sentence that was way out of context I quickly realized that I love this guy. 'I get a bit nervous around new people and I don't know any of you' 'This is the book we will be using, but I already said that twice, see that I am nervous!' Even more funny was his remark to some job descriptions. When we hit treasurer, he exclaimed that he would love to be a treasurer because it sounds better than teacher. 'This may sound a bit weird though!' 'NO SHIT SHERLOCK!' Once he left the room I noticed something that made this experience beyond terrific, the guy was walking on sandals. Who in his right mind - mid twenties, mind you - would walk on sandals!? I guess it goes with the wacky character.

I hope tomorrow brings me even more eccentric types whom I can laugh about. If I didn't know better I would say that I study comedy instead of accountancy. At the very least this is an omen of good fortune and jolly years to come and hell I didn't even fall asleep in classes this time around. That was something that did happen to me on university. I still think I should be hold blameless for those incidents, because those teachers were just so damn boring compared to these. If I could give an advice to the universities it would be to hire some fruitcakes to spice up their colleges.

Three cheers for sweet revenge.

Where I failed at Lowlands I received a second chance at the Melkweg in Amsterdam for the band My Chemical Romance. Overjoyed and excited I first had to do some other stuff that day. Like an introduction day of the Hogeschool Rotterdam, it made me set my alarm clock to six o' clock which as all our youngsters know is way too early to be doing anything besides sleeping. I practically slept the whole bus ride to the remote location where all the (fe)male bonding had to ensue and was awake when we arrived. The rest of the day consisted of - some more than other - team sports on water, after all this is Holland we are talking about. I enjoyed myself meeting the people whom I am going to spend three years with, the weather was really nice and the tasks were fun to partake in. The only thing that put a little dent in the day was a kid on a bike that was coming straight at me. Naturally I was thinking no way in hell am I going to step aside, so I pushed him off of his rampant course. Which naturally pulls the trigger of those type of guys - yes it was a foreigner, yes he added to the stigma of Moroccans. I just walked on when he was shouting at me, but then I was reminded to the fact that these kind of people do not hesitate to attack you from the back. I turned around, answering to his gibberish as to why I pushed him from his path. Because he was obviously too dense to understand the logic of me not meshing with his bike and if I had not done what I did we would have collided. After I had my say I turned around and walked on. All bark and no bite.

Then the fun part started, because we were in a traffic jam and time was running out and on top of that my friends were getting impatient. Luckily I arrived in the nick of time, because the train arrived as soon as we stepped up the station. The trip all the way to the Melkweg consisted mainly of sleeping, some walking, grabbing fast-food and more walking. We finally arrived there at half past eight where we could enjoy the support act. Which with each number became more and more a routine. Lots of screaming little diversity, but those guys wasn't why I was there in the first place so no biggie. After they left the stage we had to wait for a few minutes until the banner was pulled up and there they finally were. At long last a band I actually knew every bloody song of and I enjoyed their presence thoroughly. The quirky lead-singer with all his strange movements and weird stories added to the show in a good way. Because let's face it Mikey - as he is called - isn't that far of the psychiatry ward. Where the show of the support act couldn't advance soon enough this one ended too soon, but that's a given.

The trip back wasn't that special apart form the fact that the red light district had taken the privilege to seat itself in our wagon. A guy and a girl were exchanging kisses after each word they said to each other. Extremely annoying for me, because once more I was trying to catch some shuteye. I ended up in bed fatigued, but satisfied: 'Three cheers for sweet revenge!'

Exodus or how Skander Bor got caught on camera.

My ears are still ringing even after four days of complete solitude. Well anything away from Lowlands is quiet I tell you that. I suppose it is my time to write a full report about my experiences on and about Lowlands. First observation: the main act that drew the most people wasn't the Prodigy, Marilyn Manson or Queens of the stone age, but the waiting lines. Two and a half hour waiting in the sun with your bags isn't pleasant. Okay, I probably have no right to complain seeing as I wasn't that heavily packed, but it still was annoying. Once in I thought it would get better, how wrong I was...

But I am getting a bit ahead of myself. The main reason as told in my 'I'm going to Rowlens' story were My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy. Both of those acts were cancelled for obscure reasons, a blow to the neck but it couldn't be helped. And instead of selling my ticket I took a more positive approach and went in smiling like a Clown on steroids. Which in the end I am glad I did, because Lowlands is an experience that must be seen, smelled and most of all heard. The first notable act were the Kaiser Chiefs. A very impressive four-some that dished out some decent music even though I wasn't into them. Granted, I knew two songs of them but not enough to leave the roof a blazing. After that I was quickly dragged to the Bravery. The only band which truly blew me away and whom I proudly now listen to. I really wish I would have known about them beforehand or at least was with them from the start. Sadly we could only hear the last three or so songs.

The amount of people that gathered in the Walhalla of alternative music is impressive to say the least. Even more impressive is the diversity, the amount of witty shirts dazzled me. Not a line was to lame or it was written on a shirt. For example take this obese drunken guy with the line: 'and as the final touch, God created the Dutch' written on his tight orange shirt. Seriously I was looking for the nearest rock and was already transferring myself to another country out of embarrassment. It was also the conglomerate of nerds who found their mother's make-up kit. Yes, you guessed it: Marilyn Manson fans. If you didn't know better you would have said Halloween was in the works with all the black latex suits and mime looks going about. The terrain only needed a few hours before it was transformed in the pigstine where every step you would scoop some garbage around. Invite some third world country children and they could have played soccer with the amount of junk lying around. One thing I must commend the Lowlands organization for is the placement of toilets on the hill near the main tent where all the big acts played. I mean, who wouldn't want to take a whiff at other people's body odors while they are enjoying good music.

But enough about the atmosphere on Lowlands, let us continue to the acts. I saw The Pixies which were the favorite band of a friend of mine, not my slice of pie but not all bad either. They surely drew a crowd and weren't as depressive as Marilyn Manson or Korn. Well okay, Marilyn Manson was more of a good laugh, the whole show was supposed to be amazing as told by some friends. But I think I passed out in-between the laughter at him waving around a chandelier and the paramedics bringing me oxygen. I also saw Mala Vita again, for those who read some other articles that's the band where I went ballistic on. Once again I committed that sin and before I knew it I was put on camera for all to see (picture is included) But I can't be arsed to care, because they were so catchy to dance to. The last memorable act was Alkaline Trio, they succeeded Fall Out Boy in the line-up. A worthy one if you ask me, because they put up a solid show, even though the sound at their stage sucked. I still get shivers of thinking Fall Out Boy had to play on that broken stage.

All in all, Lowlands was well worth my money and I hope to be returning next year.

How indifference became negligence

My mother used to accuse me of putting on an indifferent face whenever I did something wrong in her eyes. I never understood what she meant by that and just looked dazed at her, which in the end only made it worse. Rest assured, I'm not going to proclaim I have no emotions in me and that I care about absolutely nothing just as to look tough. I'm just emotionally rested; tranquility so you will: a care-free guy who gets a kick out of life, even if it is at the expense of others. I never really hesitate to come up front with my thoughts and never let down any ample opportunity to provoke, make a lame remark or be sarcastic about anything that comes about.

To outsiders this behavior is usually type-casted as coldhearted and non-caring. Is it entirely wrong? Well let's just put it so, that I do not believe in a black and white world. So the statement is neither wrong or right. I do have to admit that I take pride in my behavior, not without reason though. The very first reason would be my dad, who has the exact same character and whom I of course respect. The second reason comes from friends who in one way or another contribute to my behavior, be it by laughing about it or complimenting me on a remark I made. Don't get me wrong though, in the end I am responsible for my behavior and I am certainly not looking for a scapegoat. I am merely depicting the background of my personality as it is.

Naturally there has to be a downside, well there are more then just one. It's just that only one has actually caught my eye. Indifference embedded a part of anti-sociality in me that makes me not talk a lot to strangers whom I've just met and this will proceed until I am interested in that person. This might come across as elitist behavior that I close out anyone who wasn't introduced by friends, because those I generally accept a lot more easier. But that's not it, it's just that I am easily content with a few acquaintances/friends, depends in what kind of situation I am residing; work, family, friends or on the street. Which brings me to the stigma that is being put on me, one outsiders usually comment about when I am conveniently not there. Which is that I am seen as dull and boring. I am seen as unfit to exercise the degree of care expected of a person in all kinds of situations. That immediately turns people down, because they are usually looking for a bit of compassion and a desire to be handed some if not many, depends on the kind of person, attention.

A craving which I do not fulfill towards strangers, which is fine till a certain degree. I am just afraid that this indifference turned into negligence is going to backfire on me, leaving me isolated from new contacts that I might need in the end. It's not that I feel like I am chained by my current friends/relationships when I am with them, it's more the times when I am not. Growing up means going in a different direction; we can't all go the same way. Yet I quickly turn foot towards that part of sanctity I am so used to, afraid that I might lose it.

In the end you could sum this up as being afraid to gain more individuality, self-sufficiency and attaching myself to other people or just in general growing up. I guess I should open up a little, but people know all to well to take advantage of that.

Parenthood, rated R for restricted.

Ever had the joy of experiencing that one annoying kid that just couldn't stop screaming or crying and did you also notice how those young and inexperienced parents are baffled and have absolutely no clue what to do? Well I did. Perhaps it is the media highlight that has been brought on this subject and magnified it to abnormal proportions, yet something still doesn't add up. What's happening around us that makes adults discuss matters that are of no concern to a three year old? Even more pathetic is that the parents almost always lose the discussion.

When I look back to my upbringing I notice that I was raised far more strictly than the current generation of infants. There wasn't much room for misconduct; I was almost immediately put back in my place and my parents never hesitated to show me their physical superiority. Not to mention I was given a basic set of ethics and values on which I could build my live on. Nowadays, children got mouths the size of the grand canyon and are not afraid to abuse it. They even turned it into family entertainment by broadcasting on TV how much a parent sucks and needs a 'professional' to set things right. A 'professional' that gives the obvious answers, does in fact have oversight and a bit of common sense. I mean, if you can't control your own child in their early years how good of a parent are you anyway then? Everybody knows that in the relationship between a parent and a child the child needs to be taught discipline and learn to show respect to the elderly. Any deviation of that path should be rectified.

What parents really shouldn't do is listen to those supposed intellects that say hitting your children is bad. Their arguments usually revolve around the kid getting traumatized or learning that physical violence is acceptable. Well I am not an advocate of slapping your child silly, but this is still utter bullshit. How in the hell can a kid get traumatized from authority by force? I don't have a trauma and neither should anyone else for that matter. Having no authority and making them run amok really is an alternative to slapping though. Good going, scientist* better go into a debate with those children, I bet they will enjoy the fact that you can't do shit to them. Because if there is one thing children are good at it is abusing every little bit of freedom they are granted. On top of that the parents of today are so transparent that the roles are turned around which makes it all the more sad.

The other side of it is that people are looking for scapegoats for the obvious flaws they posses. I guess it is human nature to blame someone entirely else for your problems. In this case they picked games, television and bad music as their target. Every now and then when misconduct of infants shows up in the newspaper a discussion starts of about games/music/violent television being the cause. Has it ever occurred to them that the television can be turned off? That Games have an age restriction on the box and music has a big warning sticker on the CD case? They are just too damn cowardly to accept the fact that all these things can be prevented by their own hands. If they would only spent less time on their holy crusade against the morale erosion of society and started actually raising their kids, nothing would be wrong.

Negligence seems to be the source of it all, add to that the creche and you got one big cluster fuck previously known as upbringing. Just drop of your child, because you have better things to do, right? Go on long enough and they will think the employees at the creche are their father and mother. But it's all justified, because you see both parents got to have a job, who else is going to pay for those must-have two cars on their drive-way? Speaking of the house, it needs to be big or else they won't be recognized by the local community. Luckily the charade quickly falls when they see what kind of monstrosities are coming from their gene pool. Being successful is so hard.

I wish upcoming parents wouldn't think that having a child is the same as having a pet turtle. 'Let's feed it some lettuce'. Guess again. I will be the last one to say that being a parent is easy, but these ones aren't even trying.

*I use the term scientist loosely, because in reality they know fuck all.

Interlude

Ai, it seems that it's quite some time ago that I added a new story. I reckon work really cut in on my internet time seeing as creatively wise I have about four long posts swimming in my head. I just need to form it into a coherent structure. For now, all I can give you is a little story more a sort of conspiracy I found out about.

If winking is a gay thing, I've been hit on by a dozen men. I hope it's not just me, but it seems men wink randomly at me, especially the elderly ones. In my book winking still stands as a sign of comfort or trust if you will. 'No worries, kiddo. All is going to be squeaky clean.' But for all I know they are just trying to get in my pants. Awkwardly I usually laugh back at them thinking: 'How far is the nearest escape exit?' 'No way in hell is that old fucker going to outrun me.' I never really noticed this before or perhaps was bothered by it. Still with the monumental increase I am thinking more and more that my cherry will be cracked by a burly truck driver called Earl, who happened to think that me smiling at his winking was giving in to getting myself ripped a new one.

I think it's just me being paranoid.
Now excuse me while I go out to buy a chastity belt for males.

Behold! The rise of the drama queens!

With each passing generation it seems to get worse, guys who got more estrogen in their body than the average women. Any sober guy could tell you it's just their way of seeking attention/affection no matter how much the slobbering queers try to deny it. I know you're wondering why I care about such things, just ignore them and be done with it, right? Wrong. Because it just happens to be everywhere you look: on the back of my TV guide, on any forum, on MTV, etc. This whole world seems to thrive on oozing drama; a contest that aims at bragging how shitty their life is. Heh, a typical paradox. People who act like their whole life is filled with life changing events for the worse, just cue the emo bitch song and you could broadcast it on TV. Oh wait, they are already doing that.

You can't turn your back or some pansy is demanding your attention, reject and you're typecast as an antisocial, egocentric and coldhearted bastard. 'Why thank you, ma'am'. Nowadays, you have to dig real deep in society to find the male specimens that still have a spine and don't turn into gooey when stepped on. Even worse are the types that spill their emotions with the snap of a finger and then exclaim that they don't have any feelings left inside of them and are completely numb. 'No of course you don't, because you just spilled it all over my bloody shirt!' They have experienced so much woe - according to them not to the rest of mankind, mind you - that they feel like they're extra special in the everlasting line of attention whores. Well let me tell you, the only people who can truly claim that they don't have any feelings inside of them anymore lie buried, three feet under the ground.

I don't know when it became common good to blurt out every random emotion, but it's certainly pissing off the few good blokes who can still get a kick out of living. I wish we would go back to the times when emotions were still deep down inside where they belong and were only marginally shared with intimates and not with everyone and his/her dog.

Blogworthy!

There I was, just checking my cellphone for new messages. I don't use my cellphone frequently, heck I didn't even want one. I delayed getting one as long as I could, but eventually my parents decided I needed to have one so I could be reached everywhere. Like I want to be called when I am on the shithouse minding my own business.

Anyway, I actually received a new message. I was quite surprised, because I didn't recognize the number on my screen. I opened it up and read it, well let me just put it here to make this story more engaging.

Good morning,
It was good, I enjoyed your energy.
xxx

Like wtf? I am certain I have nobody in my list, because I am assuming this is from a girl, who could have sent me this. My reply could probably have been funnier, but I just typed a 'wtf' and hit the reply button. So there you have it, I am messenged by a girl who said she enjoyed 'it'. By it, I assume she got humped by some guy with a duracel battery pack strapped to his genitals. The guy who should have gotten this message probably is cowering in a corner right now, because his prestige in bed wasn't acknowledged and he needs to ask her the embarrassing question: 'Was I any good'?

Yeah energizer bunny you put that bitch down, real nice.

Flower bud wrecking crew.

I had to write about it sooner or later, heck I already mentioned it in my 'Restless as ever' post. Yes, you guessed it right I am talking about my job. Simply put I work at a garden centre; a place where all sorts of garden stuff is sold. Surprising, isn't it? I suppose I could give you a list with what I do at a random day, but what better way to explain my work by depicting a whole day?

Anyway, every Saturday morning starts off with sweeping the floor. No, I don't think any human being could make that sentence remotely more amusing. Heh, but what do you want, it's just an effing broomstick that's making the same movement over a designated area; cleaning all filth that lies there. I hate sweeping floors, because it's boring. On to the next exciting task that I had to do on this day. It turned out to be a task of an urgent matter, one that could very well put the whole country in an emergency state. Yes, it was that important and if I would have failed Interpol would have had to clean up the mess. Luckily I am very skilled at what I do and pulled of the task without a sweat. What did I have to do, you ask? Well there was this problem with glass bottles and the top metal plate that goes on it. You see, everytime a customer would grab a bottle the top would fall off, thus leaving a pile of tops on the floor. I had only one tool at my disposable to end this matter for ones and for all; tape. Pick a piece of tape from the roll, put it over the metal top and let it connect with the glass bottle. Rinse and repeat a hundred times.

Oh, I haven't told you about the kind of atmosphere that is present in the company. You see, the company mainly consists out of hicks, hillbillies and rednecks. Quite the simple folk who are easily content with a mere cold beer. This also reflects on what kind of attitude the company holds. A little bit of gossip about colleagues when they 'happen' to not be there, physically of course. Really small community kind of stuff. Let me give you an example: a colleague has, as good as, quit the job and suddenly another colleague who worked with him states out in the open: 'Good riddance'. With the most craftiefst of explanations that it was a nice kid but that he didn't work quite hard enough. I'm thinking by myself, maybe, just maybe if you'd had mentioned it against him while he was still working here, he might have picked up the pace. But no, Mister peacock brain just sporadically realized this opinion after he left. The funny part is though, that this guy doesn't do anything more then talk against customers. Talk, talk and talk and to his big surprise a big line of people has piled up before him who also are in need of his oral expertise. And capture this, he actually had a burn-out not so long ago. How in Gods name can you get a burn-out from talking? What the eff could he have possibly exerted other than his jaw, did he strain several muscles in his mouth? Come on Mister smack talk, you got a burn-out from talking out of your arse and you dare to blame another colleague after he is gone that his working speed wasn't all that? I might add that I'm not particular fond of this colleague I am referring to.

Also a big part of the job are the plants. I know, I know, this job is like a giftbox with a big effing tag on it that spells out what's in it. Mostly these plants look good enough to be sold, but occasionally decay is noticeable and we need to 'clean' them up. Remove the yellow leaves and pick out the flowers that have already blossomed. This time it was the roses their turn. I reckon everyone on this whole damn planet knows that roses have thorns. I was kindly reminded to that small fact when a thorn was sticking out of my finger. 'You dare to put a thorn in my finger, bitch?' I'll tear you down leave by leave!' Heh, wrecking flowers is much fun, especially those flowers that have blossomed. A quick, strong pull and you realize that you have half the plant in your hands. 'Oops, heh like anyone was going to buy it anyway.' I think when I pulled in the container to clean up the mess, I also made roadkill out of some other plants who were not scheduled for destru....uhm clean-up.

The day ends with a cold beer, given to us by our boss thinking he can bribe us that way for not noticing that we're underpaid. 'Hmm beer, what was that again about wanting a salary raise?' *Takes a big gulp.* 'I suddenly forgot all what I was thinking about, my mind is completely empty.' Like it was ever full of philosophical and intellectual thoughts that would make Einstein eat his heart out, anyway. A cold beer later I'm off for home after a day of daring tasks which would make a rocket scientist jealous.

My job rules, can't wait till next week.

The most troublesome question.

'How's your love life?'

Somehow, God decided it would be funny to genetically engineer this question in the minds of all men, so they will have an opening line at all time. Some sort of catch phrase that ensures male bonding will ensue. Now, I don't blame those men. Simply, because most of them do not know me that well. My first reply usually is along the lines of 'couldn't be shittier' or 'it's non-existent'. Almost always a bad move since men see that as an omen of doom and probably are expecting me to burst out in tears and go all mushy on them about how lonely I am. Once again, I can't blame them: it's my fault for making such black humorous remarks.

I do think that I owe those men an explanation. A relationship could be considered as an anchor which weighs you down and holds you in one place; a feeling of comfort overwhelms you. I'm someone who isn't in need of comfort, even stranger perhaps I value my freedom more than companionship. The aging process will probably see to it that I'm stopped dead in my tracks and when it does, then I'm ready to settle with whom I consider to be my soul mate, till death do us part. With that philosophy in mind it's funny to see how thirteen year-olds are freaking out, because they haven't landed at the french kissing hallmark yet. 'Oh no! I haven't pulled of the big smooch, quickly someone save me before I'm reduced to a pile of ash.' Heh, it would be even funnier with the 'virgin no more' hallmark. Whereas desperate virgins will shout: 'He, you stranger! Please make sweet love to me, otherwise the world will crumble and the heaven will fall from the sky!'. This attitude can take awkward forms of what could be considered as desperate. Really desperate men that take advantage of any signal a women could possible send out. At those times I feel sorry for women, don't worry the rest of the time they'll just be cannonfodder for my lame and immature jokes.

That should wrap it up as far as this matter concerns. In short, when I respond with what could be considered as an overly dramatic remark, please do not feel sorry for me. Feel sorry for men that turn into desperate walking libidos. Feel sorry for the women who in turn have to endure such men.

Restless as ever.

I can't help getting that itchy feeling everytime a dull period sets in my life, a period where nothing much is done by me or could be done. You see, the side effect of switching studies is that you're left with an abundance of spare time. It wouldn't be all that bad if I could work some more at my current job, alas that's not the case. My boss can't possibly be very smart, seeing as he does hire a shit load of new workers, but as soon as I want to work some extra the whole business is pulled back in second gear. All this strengthens my feelings to leave, go somewhere, do something, anything for crying out loud! How I would love to just pack my bags and go see the world, hell it could quite possibly be the fresh breath of air I need. I don't give a rats arse which direction: east, west, north or south. At this time, anything is better than here.

Perhaps being dropped of some plane and then parachute my way to some distant abandoned piece of land where I show off my survivor skills. Just give me a couple of weeks and I'll have a stench so thick that it will scare away even the sturdiest of annoying mosquitoes. My daily agenda will consist mainly out of finding food, making some sort of shelter out of my own shit and bamboo and staring at bonfires I so elegantly created in just under ten hours. In reality I will die in just one week of food poisoning, because I ate the wrong berries. 'Not the purple ones, those are toxic!!' But boy, will I die with a smile on my face.

Or I could ofcourse go to the east where I enter some Shaolin monastery and train my body and mind the rest of my life. Days consisting only out of fighting against teenager locals who started way earlier than me and beat my ass with two hands tied behind their back. Evenings will consist of soup and meditation. And day in, day out I will be freed from any earthly sin, burden or hardship, because my body and mind are in perfect harmony. In reality I couldn't even get in, because I would try to sent my Curriculum Vitae. 'They must have noticed that I have worked in a potato factory, right mom?' I bet their laughter can be heard all the way down here.

I suppose I'm not alone in my sentiment of being chained to my birthplace and everyone as young as I am must have an adventurous heart, right? So, sweet dreams galore, but reality is still far away. Surely I understand it doesn't go as easy as I just said, mainly because I lack the balls and well other trivial stuff like family and friends going: 'WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GO?' In old days, boy do I sound like an old fart now, I could rely on my most relished hobby; games. Damn, those purty games combined with my playful mind triggered my utmost loved escapism. In my mind I was already gone wherever the eff the creator of the game sent me to. Sadly, that doesn't cut it for me nowadays. No, not because I have grown to far away from my hobby and don't like to play games as much as I used to. But, because I don't have the money to buy an effing new pc, because the jackass of a boss doesn't let me work some more!

The sad fact still is though, that the only thing in motion right now are my fingers; typing this new story for my blog.

You've just entered the twilight zone.

It's Monday and I have to do some groceries, so beforehand I already thought by myself that I need to use my moms bike for extra carrying space. I quickly jump on my own bike daydreaming away, till I come at the end of my street. DOH, I'm riding on my own bike instead of my moms, so quickly I return to my house and switch bikes. Take two. As I am maneuvering the bike through the narrow corridors I suddenly see my neighbor girl coming around the corner. She startles a bit and blurts out some apologies. As I go on my way once more and come at the end of the corridor the exact same thing happens only this time it's a boy out of the neighborhood. Freak accident and coincidence on an epic scale! Hell, it struck me as funny for any reader yawning by now.

Anyway the groceries all went without any problems and I was going to the local post office to get my ticket to Lowlands. Yes, my objective thinking and excessive studying of the pros and cons concerning this matter had made me come to this crucial decision.*

So I come at the postal office with about twenty people in front of me. Bah, so I guess I'll have to wait a while for my turn. While I am looking at all the clerks behind the counter I see one boy sitting. Immediately it became obvious that this is a 'new' guy. But for fucks sake what an obnoxious face did this young lad have, as if looking at a mentally retarded on a chair wasn't enough he was also staring at all the customer with his mouth half-opened, the only thing missing was a small river of drool along his mouth and chin. But, what's a public place with just one obnoxious character? No way, there had to be three, yes three insanely irritating characters. The second one was a young child, which of course had to scream his lungs out and make all sorts of annoying sounds. Like repeating his whole vocabulary which happened to consist out of one word, it was like listening to an effing broken record. All the while his parents were, well they weren't doing shit. It's as if all parents nowadays have lost all sense in the 'correct' upbringing of their child. If it were my child I would have already twisted his little arms 360 degrees or at least bashed his head against the wall a couple of times. Then there was the third obnoxious character, well actually characters seeing as it was a couple. Both in there teens; there was this burly kid talking to his cellphone all the time, which I truly detest and his girlfriend with a high pitched screech which had to pass of as laughter. You could quickly observe at their behavior that they weren't the brightest bulbs on the face of this planet.

Finally after enduring this trial, it was my turn. Luckily I didn't wind up with the retarded kid, instead I got a nice foreigner. One that happened to whisper and you had to practically stand in cuddle formation to hear this bloke speak. Not thrown off guard, I directly asked for a Lowlands ticket, upon which we had to go to the other corner of the store where a computer stood. I had hoped this guy could pull this one of fast, so I could be on my way. But no, the guy happened to not hear what I wanted, so I had to spell it out for him. How I came to this daring conclusion? Well, he started typing 'Row' when he accessed the computer. I had to say it at least four times with variations as 'Lowlens' popping up at the screen, before he got it right. My inner self was jumping up and down facing this triumph. But it couldn't be over yet, oh hell no. 'Oh eff, three choices, which one do I need to chose?' Automatically I asked him what the difference was between the three. Bad move, the guy could hardly spell the goddamn name, so he sure as hell couldn't comprehend what the eff the three variations on the screen meant. Lucky for me this wasn't rocket science and after some looking at the screen I came up with the right ticket. 'Oh it's 115 Euro, that's pretty expensive. Yes asshole, but who gives an eff it's not like it's coming out of your salary, so why should you care? If that wasn't enough he was suddenly interested in what it was all about. It's a festival with music, cabaret and all sorts of cultural stuff, I responded. 'And you have to sleep in tents?' Yes a tent, you know a portable shelter, as of canvas, stretched over a supporting framework of poles with ropes and pegs. Finally he let me go, probably startled by the infinite knowledge he had acquired and couldn't possibly comprehend in just one day.

Anyway, I am going to Rowlens!

*Translation= 'eff it, I'm going.'

To go or not to....

I must be one of the many, in the never ending line of people, to rape shakespeare's classic saying. However that's not important, what's more important is that three of my friends already have their summer booked full with concerts and festivals and I am pretty far behind. Heck, I can't even decide if I will join them at Lowlands for what seems a rather insignificant reason. You see, I just switched to another study and thus also switched schools, which means I am going through an introduction week once more. You know a week where you first meet the people you are most likely to spend the rest of your study with. Although I have always hold on tight to my friends from childhood, it's not smart to isolate myself completely from new contacts. So, what does that have to do with Lowlands? Well if you're smart you probably would have guessed by now that there is the possibility those two events blend in each other leaving me with a choice. It's not like I can easily wait and see if all things fall in place, because I heard the ticket sale is going above expectations.

Oh well, now the more fun part of this post; the reason why I definitely should be there, no matter what. I get to annoy and irritate my friends three days long with all kinds of retarded and sarcastic remarks, something I never will get bored of. Secondly there are the bands, yes there is music on Lowlands *wow* shock! Abusing another cliche: 'a picture says more than a thousand words'. I do just that and show it to you:




Oh, about the annoying part, seeing as lowlands means sleeping in a tent. I can show of another specialty of mine: minimality to an absurd degree. Going to Lowlands would mean the second time I am going to sleep in a tent. My first time was on a vacation with two of my friends and I managed to pack no more than a toothbrush, towels and some cloths. Oh boy, were they happy when they saw that and they were hauling a truck load of shit needed for camping. Heh, how am I supposed to know what to bring aside from personal stuff, right? I wonder if I can pull that off once more at lowlands though, now that they are aware of my minimalistic approach.

Anyway, tomorrow I am going to end this dilemma by putting forth my choice. In the mean time I will drown myself in music of Fall out boy and My chemical romance, which will ensure my choice will be an objective one.


Always last.....

I just found out about audioscrobbler: a site which generates statistics out of the music you frequently listen and then gives recommendations based on the information it received. A very nifty site no denying about it, but why in Gods name is it only now that I found out about it? Let me elaborate, it's not like I just recently heard about it; I saw it mentioned in a thread on a random forum I whore and I've seen the link just staring at me a couple of times on a site of a friend of mine.

And now I am probably the last person on this earth finding out about this site. I just thank God that I'm not trend sensitive; with my attitude that would be hell. Heck, I would still be in the clothes my parents used to wear when it was hip in that era. Then again they always say that trends return after a set period of time, so maybe I would actually be ahead of my time.

Naah, that's just wishful thinking.

Skander Bor

Yesterday I had the privilege to go to the Virus festival in Eindhoven. The festival had many bands and other interesting acts, however I knew none of them. How I wound up there? Well lets just say that a friend of mine told me it was going to be fun, which of course was enough for me to tag along. So, me and my three other buddies went there by car, which is a one-of-a-kind car mind you. The beast must be at least thirteen years old and most customizations that are standard in nowadays cars are missing. Anyway, the ride was silky smooth for as much as that was possible. A bit of a slip in sharp turns, but that can be forgiven looking at the state the car is in.

The first band we saw there was a happy-happy no nonsense band; Mala Vita was there name. Much fun and not hard to dance on, well if you consider flapping your arms and bending your knees in a strange fashion dancing. Surely I was enjoying myself until all of a sudden I got the brutal accusation slung at my head that I was into Ska. Ska, was that Ska? A bit of background information couldn't harm here. You see I, like many, many others, don't particular like Ska, which is obviously an understatement at best. My friends however do like ska; very, very much to be precise. So, I was having a great time on music that my friends considered as Ska, all the while I never had hesitated to remind them how much I hate Ska. Could you see the position I was in? Not an advantageous one, I assure you that.

Then there was the weather, not the weather you would wish for with an outdoor festival. It rained at several times which forced us to take shelter under the trees and on top of that there was a cruel wind blowing, leaving us cold and wet. Not a perfect setting for a fun day, although I must say later on the weather turned to our favor leaving us with a couple of sun-rays even.

Lets see what other acts were interesting to see, aah I remember! A guy who gets the best out of eyeballs and hands, does that sound strange? Well the act as a whole was even stranger. Using his hand(s) he impersonated several animals using only two eyes (not real ones) and some minor attributes. It was very funny and the guy deserved all the applause he got towards him.

The last memorable act was also the last one; reel big fish. Basically the band which persuaded my friends to come to this festival in the first place. Everyone was in a happy mood, seeing as soon as the band started to play a mosh big pit broke lose. For those uninformed: a mosh pit is like escaping a burning building with masses of people in it, apart from the fact that you don't run away but stay in one place. Well, you circle around the same spot, all the while dodging bodies and pushing every other towards certain doom. I ofcourse try to force my way through and I probably had a few angry faces thrown at me. I am not known for my tact in approaching others, but then again I couldn't be arsed to care a lot about such triviality. The embarrassing fact was however, not that I knew not a single line of what the band sang on stage and everybody else was happily chanting along. But, that reel big fish is in fact Ska. I once again fell into the trap of enjoying myself on something I ridiculed for so long and so well. So I am now in this dreadful position which has earned me the nickname Skander Bor and I am sure my friends will not hesitate to remind me, as long as I reminded them how ridiculous Ska is, of this day.

Damn my will to be assertive and have fun at the most worst occasion possible.

The vote for an EU constitution.

Those who don't live in Europe or are too young to vote should not bother reading any further. Anyway, today Dutch people get a chance to cast their vote on an European constitution. So what exactly does that mean? No seriously what does it mean? No one in the entire course that has led to this point; voting day. Has given an objective definition of what it means to have a constitution. Surely the advocates and nay-sayers have addressed several points of the general concept. But who am I going to trust on his or her word?

So, why don't you google for it and see if something comes up? Yes, I actually did that, to see if someone else could shed some light. Shortly after doing so a site popped up explaining the ins and outs of the EU constitution. The only minor problem with the site was that it's entirely written in Hebrew. No seriously they could as well have done so, because it is that cryptic. Despite all of this, I do know what I am going to vote in just a few hours; against the constitution. But if you ask me if my vote was based on something solid, well that might not be entirely the case.

Just for fun though, I will write down what drove me to come to this vote. What I understood from the general concept is that with this constitution we will get a central organ whose decisions can affect any country in Europe. Other than that, every country will be treated the same and we will follow in the footsteps of our bastard big brother; America. I am not that much a fan of a central organization, seeing as not every country can be treated the same and no way in hell can those people decide what's best for each and every country. Mainly because their oversight fails, especially in something as enormous as a continent. Secondly I fear that it will drive the Netherlands into obscurity even more than it has been as of now. I still want to be an individual country and if that means voting against then by all means I will do so. The third and last reason is that I do not want to go in the same direction as America. Perhaps because I loathe America, not the people mind you, just the course and actions they take/are taking.

I like to believe my decision is based on something, alas I can not say that with certainty.

An introduction.

Perhaps a bit of an redundant introduction seeing as I am not planning on heavy marketing this particular site. Still, for those (un)lucky enough to come accross it: welcome to my Blog.

Circulating in my head for quite some time now I finally pulled through with it and created my own little fuzzy and warm place. Where I can spill any bitter resentment I've got or lots of love and rainbows....probably some sort of mix. Although my prime intention is to make this site serious, I will probably fail miserably. So what can you expect here? Well I suppose almost everything that generates into a thought in my head, which is a lot I can assure you that.

For anyone who actually read past this introduction, I hope you will enjoy wasting your time on reading triviality.