Everything is relative



So you've spent the best years of your life studying to become a journalist or a politician or something important that involves suits and big words. Then one morning you wake and someone higher up the social ladder will ask you to maneuver yourself into an awkward position to hold a microphone. Of course you can't refuse! You might as well kill yourself at that point.

Dear sir who was hiding behind those chairs,

Everyone was focused on the sour looking lady, but don't fret I noticed you and I'm proud of you for doing that crappy job. I really hope I'll see you in ten years or so as a secretary of state or a badass journalist.

Best regards,

A girl who knows that in a couple of years she has to take on a lot of crappy jobs too to get somewhere in life

Honey pick up the phone



You can learn a lot from people just by listening how they, as recipients, respond to the questions posed by their friends on the phone. Yesterday I was on one of my journeys to the center of the universe, and the train was a perfect place to start my research. I was in a Linnaeus mood and decided to classify them into categories. One of the specimens was talking to his friend (I presume) and for twenty minutes he just kept asking questions but never answered a question himself. So I decided to put him into the shy-boring category. But then in the time lapse that the train hits a railroad switch, the moment when you bump into the creepy obese person sitting next to you even though you tried your hardest to avoid physical contact, that moment, I felt sorry for him and wondered if anyone had asked him how he was doing today.

Or maybe the guy was just related to Socrates and had inherited that dreadful quality of asking questions.

You don't really care about this

You know what I hate?

When stand up comedians don't create a proper story line or at least some kind of transition to their next story or joke. If I want to look at someone basically reading all their jokes out loud, I could buy one of those 'how to be funny for dummies' books and look at myself in the mirror.

What's up with the self-deprecating humor lately? Get yourself together soldier.

I want to write about a lot of things; books, films, thoughts, international affairs, your mom but I'm not sure if this is the right place. You see I put off writing in this journal because I don't feel as if I'm writing for myself, but for an audience and I don't want to bore you to death, so I try to make these blog posts interesting. You really don't care about how a bird pooed on my window and that it's way too cold outside to clean the spot so now I'm going to cut an image from a magazine and stick it on my window so I don't have to look at it.
I don't want to bore you with my personal details. But then again, this is a journal not a column in a fancy schmancy newspaper. I can do whatever I want with this....(if you belong to snor, please erase all dirty thoughts RIGHT NOW).

Talking about dirty (see that's a transition right there! Take that boring comedians!), my computer screen is so freaking dirty that I have to hire a whole legion of cleaning ladies or gentlemen to clean it. At first, I didn't realize it was so icky, until I kept seeing photos of people with spots on it. I first laughed out loud because I thought they were just ugly until I scrolled down and realized that the spots kept reappearing... yeah.

See, this is the reason I don't update this journal.

Discours préliminaire au projet de code civil - Portalis

La France, ainsi que les autres grands États de l'Europe, s'est successivement agrandie par la conquête et par la réunion libre de différents peuples.

Les peuples conquis et les peuples demeurés libres ont toujours stipulé, dans leurs capitulations et dans leurs traités, le maintien de leur législation civile. L'expérience prouve que les hommes changent plus facilement de domination que de lois.

De là cette prodigieuse diversité de coutumes que l'on rencontrait dans le même empire: on eût dit que la France n'était qu'une société de sociétés. La patrie était commune; et les États particuliers et distincts: le territoire était un; et les nations, diverses.

Des magistrats recommandables avaient, plus d'une fois, conçu le projet d'établir une législation uniforme. L'uniformité est un genre de perfection qui, selon le mot d'un auteur célèbre, saisit quelquefois les grands esprits, et frappe infailliblement les petits.

Mais, comment donner les mêmes lois à des hommes qui, quoique soumis au même gouvernement, ne vivaient pas sous le même climat, et avaient des habitudes si différentes? Comment extirper des coutumes auxquelles on était attaché comme à des privilèges, et que l'on regardait comme autant de barrières contre les volontés mobiles d'un pouvoir arbitraire? On eût craint d'affaiblir, ou même de détruire, par des mesures violentes, les liens communs de l'autorité et de l'obéissance.

Tout à coup une grande révolution s'opère. On attaque tous les abus; on interroge toutes les institutions. À la simple voix d'un orateur, les établissements, en apparence les plus inébranlables, s'écroulent; ils n'avaient plus de racine dans les mœurs ni dans l'opinion. Ces succès encouragent; et bientôt la prudence qui tolérait tout, fait place au désir de tout détruire.

Alors on revient aux idées d'uniformité dans la législation, parce qu'on entrevoit la possibilité de les réaliser.

Mais un bon code civil pouvait-il naître au milieu des crises politiques qui agitaient la France?

Toute révolution est une conquête. Fait-on des lois dans le passage de l'ancien gouvernement au nouveau? Par la seule force des choses, ces lois sont nécessairement hostiles, partiales, éversives. On est emporté par le besoin de rompre toutes les habitudes, d'affaiblir tous les liens, d'écarter tous les mécontents. On ne s'occupe plus des relations privées des hommes entre eux: on ne voit que l'objet politique et général; on cherche des confédérés plutôt que des concitoyens. Tout devient droit public.

Si l'on fixe son attention sur les lois civiles, c'est moins pour les rendre plus sages ou plus justes, que pour les rendre plus favorables à ceux auxquels il importe de faire goûter le régime qu'il s'agit d'établir. On renverse le pouvoir des pères, parce que les enfants se prêtent davantage aux nouveautés. L'autorité maritale n'est pas respectée, parce que c'est par une plus grande liberté donnée aux femmes, que l'on parvient à introduire de nouvelles formes et un nouveau ton dans le commerce de la vie. On a besoin de bouleverser tout le système des successions, parce qu'il est expédient de préparer un nouvel ordre de citoyens par un nouvel ordre de propriétaires. À chaque instant, les changements naissent des changements ; et les circonstances, des circonstances. Les institutions se succèdent avec rapidité, sans qu'on puisse se fixer à aucune; et l'esprit révolutionnaire se glisse dans toutes. Nous appelons esprit révolutionnaire, le désir exalté de sacrifier violemment tous les droits à un but politique, et de ne plus admettre d'autre considération que celle d'un mystérieux et variable intérêt d'État.

Ce n'est pas dans un tel moment que l'on peut se promettre de régler les choses et les hommes avec cette sagesse qui préside aux établissements durables, et d'après les principes de cette équité naturelle dont les législateurs humains ne doivent être que les respectueux interprètes.

Aujourd'hui la France respire; et la constitution, qui garantit son repos, lui permet de penser à sa prospérité.

What else is there to say?

One billion gazillion pillars of wisdom

Hey. Ho. Yo.
This is entry doesn't make sense. First of all, people asked me a couple of questions. Well not really, they asked me questions because I asked them to ask me questions. Hahahahaha. Hilarious.
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And if those answers didn't cheer you up, maybe this poem will:
Nee niets klinkt verwender
dan jongelui op een commerciële zender
ik zie zoiets en denk meteen
daar moet een oorlog overheen

bijvoorbeeld wereldoorlog één
niks geen huis vol camera's en kicken en fun
nee met tyfus in een loopgraaf onder het spervuur in Verdun
met je afgeschoten been in het prikkeldraad vol modder
en daarna praten we verder als volwassenen
bij big brother
-Herman Finkers

From WW1 to current affairs. The pope got knocked down by a crazy italian woman. What's with Italy and lunatics lately? I think somebody put something in their tomato sauce. Oh and I had to laugh when I heard that the pope wanted to go to bed early so the christmas mass had to be held before midnight. In a couple of years the midnight mass will be held right after sesame street.

By the way please forgive me father for I have sinned. I have been using tumblr lately. So add me if you have an account, because we all know that a large following will bring you happiness and inner peace.

This is one of my new year's resolutions: I'm going to try to spend just two hours online, every single day. This isn't normal anymore. I keep wasting my youth while I could be out there conquering countries and doing something important. HA.

Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere



Whenever I look at paintings of women made by 'modern' artists (this one is by Corneille), my first reaction is always: geez, all their models must have been so freaking ugly. But then of course I realize that it's just art, and that they were probably really hot. It must have been weird though to look at a modern art painting of yourself. Just imagine what their reaction must have been. "My ass looks too big/I'm not blue/I don't have monobrows/I'm not that fat". But they probably just said: omg that's amazing and then cursed the painter when they were alone.

See, being pretty isn't everything.

But if these painters made pretty girls ugly, would they then make ugly girls pretty in their paintings?

Make believe it's nothing

I'm back. Blahblah. So a couple of weeks ago I saw Once Upon a Time in the West for the first time. My expectations weren't really high. I thought that nothing could top The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. No wait, I actually thought I would just hate the whole film. I never really liked spaghetti westerns (or so I thought, but damn that term always makes me feel hungry). Because, what's so interesting about sweaty men who squint a lot? Just give them deodorant and sunglasses, that will solve the whole plot. Well, I was so wrong. Everything about that film was amazing, except for the fact that Cheyenne dies (oops, spoiler alert, but I think no one on my flist cares, and the people who do care have seen the film already). Why do those broody men who have a mysterious past but turn out to be good guys in the end have to die. Damn.

In other news, I've been reading Bird Song and it's so awful. The book sounds nice, first world war, tragic love story, hawt main character. All the ingredients for a perfect book, right? Wrong. The characters are fucking annoying, let me show you:
Main character: I can't stop thinking about you! I want to get into your pants skirt and have hot making love time even though you're already married 8D!
French lady: OKAY :D, Ohh Stephen I've never felt like this with anyone before
Main character: ooh cherie let's run away
French lady: : D OKAY
*A couple of days later*
French lady: OH NO, I'M PREGNANT, and Stephen scares me. I must get away from him.

Damn, COULDN'T YOU'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU HAD HOT MAKING LOVE TIME, WOMAN. Geez.
And yes, that's the way passages in the book are actually written.... kind of. Har.

Aux armes, citoyens!

I've thought long and hard about this. Well, not really. It was an easy decision. But there are so
many things going on in my life now. Things like finding out what I am going to have for breakfast tomorrow, where my pink socks are and how to make a chocolate cake, and emo real life stuff, that I can't keep this (=online life) up anymore.

It's not like I update this journal regularly, but I would still like you all to know that my life is on a hold for the next 1.5 - 2 years. So I won't update live journal, and you probably won't be able to reach me for a long time. But, just because you won't be able to talk to me doesn't mean that I won't continue stalking you and reading all your entries (and maybe even commenting *gasp*). So don't remove me from your friends lists kthnxbai.
And don't cry. I will be back before you know it. I might travel the world for a couple of years and come back with stories of hairy arabic traders with curly beards who wanted to sell me strange objects, or French people who tried to slap me with baguettes, or that I met a strange man who looked like a vampire in Transylvania.

You guys have been a wonderful audience. Good night.

Heaven cannot brook two suns, nor earth two masters

Today I decided to wear tights and a dress with hearts on it to school to show my love to the world. It wasn't one of my best ideas in my short life span because the moment I stepped outside it started to rain. I'm not talking about oh I'm singing in the rain I'm so happy these small rain drops are so cute. I'm talking about serious Zeus is fucking pissed off/Damn where is Noach's ark when you need it rain. Of course, when I arrived at school it stopped raining. Aah, the story of my life.

But when I was on my way to school I admitted that not only I'm unhealthily obsessed with my historical heroes, but that I want to be like them. I want to be just as great, no, I want to be better than all others. I'm slightly worried about my strange life ambition, seeing as all my historical heroes were insane and geniuses at the same time, they died young and had bad habits. I guess I should take up drinking and prepare myself to die young and/or tragic. I assume that I should also get a sex change seeing as all my heroes are men. I need to work out so that I can escape the island where people who hate me will exile me to, and so that I can keep up with those long daily marches. Oh, and I need to find a soul mate. Hello world, where is my Patroclus?

Sigh, I have a gazillion things to do. But I know I can do it. Please send me money for my sex change and I'm taking volunteers for my army.

Never, never, never give up

Yesterday night I couldn't get to sleep so I counted the squashed mosquitoes and spiders on the ceiling. Life has been treating me fairy well recently, but of course as any good teenager I don't admit that and continue to say how lonely I am or how my parents don't understand me.

My new favourite sport to watch
The Clericus Cup. There's nothing better in the world than watching priests playing football and having bitch fights over red cards.

My new hobby
Watching the weird faces politicians make behind the politician who is giving a speech.

My new favourite song
¿Que haria yo, si tuviera capital?

My new favourite place to obsess over even if I haven't visited it (yet)
Dubai