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.