Picture Perfect

And so I leave to Jerusalem, again, on the 30th of this month. That is just a few short days. For my 3-month trip, I have bought:

• 3 month supply of monthly contacts
• "450 legal questions solved" (published by Penguin)
• 90 "one-a-day" vitamin "C" tablets (what my diet sorely lacks over there)
• Shampoo+body wash. The Dove conditioner and "Baby shampoo" my sister gave me before she left Jerusalem at the beginning of the year will have to go unused. I did actually use them after my conventional shampoo ran out. I really don't see the fuss over Dove products, to be honest. I speak as a user of a Dove product for exactly 2 weeks. I never used the baby shampoo. Afterall, I'm not a baby (ha!)
• running shoes + cleaner + crew socks (I'm not sure why I bought those socks. It was an impulse buy. It'll be so hot over there, anything not made of the lightest, thinnest material will bake me. Ah, well. They'll stand me in good stead when I get back to England. Of course, the running shoes were a bargain: £25, reduced from £50.)

My passport expires at the end of July. This means I will spend most of term time doing what I shouldn't be doing, and touring around as much as I can get away with. I'm already famed in the college for touring around Jerusalem, and ending up in the most dangerous areas, usually alone, and usually when I'm meant to be in a lecture, so I'll have to watch my step, or I could be asked not to come back next year. Oh. Wait. I'm NOT going back next year. HA! I'll be FREE TO RULE ALL JERUSALEM! And from there, THE WORLD!

Of course, I would have renewed my passport. But under mysterious circumstances, my completed forms for passport renewal went missing for 3 days running this week, every day of which I had the intention of renewing the passport. They eventually turned up in even more mysterious circumstances. The upshot is, my mother's very, very glad I have to be back by July. I wonder if I can get an "emergency passport" thing from the British consulate in Israel. Hmmm.

And, as I am leaving, I wonder how much longer this blog will remain open! I have decided not to burn any bridges, and therefore this blog will never, ever be deleted from the realms of cyberspace. During these three months, I shall not update regularly. Maybe once every week or so, probably once in two weeks.

I can't wait to get back to the tense atmosphere which will no doubt ensue in my room. I expect one of my roomates will be overly nice to me for quite a while, although this is BOUND to either drive me insane, or to milk it for all it's worth, simply for the fun of it. And my best friend, well. I'll stop paying "special attention" to him, and he shall therefore cease to be my best friend. And I relegate him to "friend." There. 'Tis done. We have had some fun times together though. Such as the time we broke into the tennis club (Cat, the one I showed you) when no one was there, then found another door we missed totally, which was open the whole time. Ah, those were the days, my friends....And I did indeed think they'd never end. I mean, no one does, do they?

Weird conversation of the week:

This award goes hands-down to ex-best friend's mum. Here's the convo:

Mum: Something about you's changed...
Friend: He's wearing contacts, mum.
Mum: Ah, yes, I knew there was something! You look very nice.
Friend: You can't see them, mum.
Mum: He knows what I mean!
Friend: Yeah. I would have put mine in, had I more time...
Mum: DJ likes you better with glasses anyway *big smile at me*
Me: Err...
Friend: It's not like that, mum...

I'm not quite sure what to make of that last part. I only assume that she has suggested *I'm* gay to her son, just as my mother mentioned it to me, about him. Mothers. Gah.

And now, goodbye, everyone. We shall sit here again, screen to screen, in another time, another place, and another land.

Be well.

A few things to say here. There's an old proverb from the ancients (I suppose it must sound rather queer, these references to "the ancients" - quite like a bad film of some sort) "The wise answer first questions first, and last questions last." So as much as I'd like to comment on Cat's post first, it'll have to wait.

But yes, I am an uncle. And there is not another one of me running around: for if there was, then there'd be two me's, and the world can barely cope with just one. I have, thank God, two sisters and a brother.

"but they want me to get new lenses anyway since I tend to be hard on the ones I have now" - do I smell a scam? Just what do you do with them? Use them as a chopping board for sushi? Start small fires on them, perhaps?

Unless you're engaging in such activities, you shouldn't need to change the lenses so often. It sounds to me as if they just want to make you pay for something you don't actually need, to be honest...

Now down to Cat and her comment. Yes, I know, I know, Harry Potter. You have no idea how much I've heard that since the films. In fact, I was once told I looked like Harry Potter by a kid in a younger cousin's birthday party. Thankfully, he didn't ask me to pull any tricks "just like Harry." I think I'd find it decidedly difficult to defeat Lord Voldemort.

Draw a scar on my forehead? "loads of fille's numbers" - Yes, if they're psychologists, specialising in "Harry Potter mania."

I viewed your challenge with mild amusement, arty. And yes, as Cat (and now you) know full well, the score was drawn, before the game had even begun. Now, in the same vein, I have a comparison for you of my own.

You mentioned that the only difference between our colleges (it being same sex and all) is that half of yours are filled with bi's and lesbians. Whilst I sympathise with you on being hit on, consider my situation:

1) I sleep in the college. With two other room mates.
2) One of them was the one who asked me out.

Even up on this, and I'll be impressed. Really. There may even be loud racious laughter.

However, considering that the guy who asked me out is also my best friend (or was, I'm still not sure), I won't hear a word against him (or I will, maybe, at some undefined point in the future. Not really. I just added that for consistancy).

Now I've told you this, I feel I have to explain a bit more. I don't know why I feel this, but I do, and so here it is.
He also has a girlfriend. Of sorts. I know he once thought - and sometimes still thinks - he's bi. But he isn't. And he knows this too (confusing, isn't it?). It has transpired to my brain, through his putting it there via conversation, that he "feels very strongly towards you" (you being me) - but I fear this is the emotion of comradeship being mistaken for something else.

Thank God he loves his girlfriend more than me. And he's told me such. I was shattered. Oh so shattered. *cough*

And what of the friend situation? I managed to snub all two of my roomates today. They both called, wanting to do something with me, but I decidedly told them:

Me: "Um, yeah, I'm doing something else"
Roomie: "What?"
Me: "Um, a prior appointment. I'm doing something with someone somewhere else at that time."
Roomie: Oh, ok.

I kid you not. Bad, isn't it? But it's the truth! Absolutely and whole. It's not my fault the things I was doing were arranged AFTER the conversation over the phone.

The other one went like this:

Bestest Friend: "Hey Deej!" (I suppose the sounds "Dee" and "Jay" are too much to pronounce, hence the "it's spelt DJ and I'll pronounce it like that too" attitude)
Me: Umm. Yeah. hi. (this is actually HIS phrase when he answers the phone. I stole it and flung it back at him).
BF: Yeah "umm hi" (making fun of me. Meh.)
Me: So, what do you want? 
BF: I was going to ask you to do something with me tonight.
Me: Ok.
BF: But it's too late.
Me: Yeah.
*silence*
Me: Erm, yeah, thanks.
BF: Maybe tomorrow night?
Me: Umm, sure, maybe.
BF: Sorry I was unable to come yesterday (he is the LAST person I phone these days. I was meeting someone who I haven't seen for months and months (6, actually) and thought he should come along (as the guy I was meeting was a mutual friend) But I've hurt my knee, and I wanted to rest it.
Me: Ok. *trying hard not to say "suuure"* Ok.
BF: I'll call tomorrow.
Me: Ok. Bye.

Let me analyse one line:
"I hurt my knee and wanted to rest it" - My big toe. I KNOW he hurt his knee. He knows I know he hurt his knee. Afterall, I was the one who took him to the doctors. I was the one who took him to get his crutches, and I was the one who paid the deposit for his crutches. And yes, you guessed it, I was the sad and naive sod who did nice things for him (such as bring him food) when he was ordered to bed.

What I also know is, he plays football regularly. Not a 3-man kick around in the local park for 20 minutes, either. A 10-man do with an hour's, hard play, generally in such weather as rain. And he couldn't bring himself to walk the 25 minutes it takes to get there - or get a lift, or even ask if I could give him one. Nope. None of that. Instead, the reason he didn't want to go was because he couldn't be plain bothered. But to lie to me, when I KNOW it's a lie? Fine. Well, guess what, laddy? I can't be bothered to see you. For at least the entire week this week. I'm not even going to answer your calls anymore (the first time he rang me, I gave my mobile phone to my little sister to answer for me. Thank God for caller-ID). I don't know what I'll do once I get back into college. My other friend and roomate thinks I'm a poor bundle of sensitive nerves, which, quite frankly, amuses me almost to the point of laughter. I can have fun with him yet, but I won't risk losing that friendship.

As for this other friend. The only thing which niggles at me, is "what if he really HAS hurt himself, and really CAN'T go?" But then I'm dealing with someone who has recently told me he doesn't want to do anything at all, then when he thinks I'm out the room organises his plans for the evening (I don't care, I made him feel really guilty after that. So guilty, in fact, he just put his head under his blanket for a full 15 miutes, after sulking for 20 minutes previously. He deserves it).

As I'm typing all this, I feel....I feel....I feel a deep sense of calm. Calm thoughts. Calm. Calm. Calm. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I'm not mean. really not. I just can't take it anymore. Really, really not. I firmly believe that in order for a relationship to work, pride should certainly not get in the way. This means I should always be the first to make up, and the last to ever start a fight of any kind. And this is what I've been doing. For about a month, and I can no longer take it: I've had almost 0 response from him. If I got somewhere, it would be fine. But I haven't and it isn't.

Therefore, I have decided to cool off for a bit. I don't want to share any bond of friendship with him. I don't want to "feel strongly for you" (you being him), to paraphrase.

I just want things to go back to how they were.
------------

I blame Cat and Arty for getting me worked up like this.
Gah. It's all due to that lesbian comment :p

And what, you may ask, do I have to be pleased with about myself this time? Have I done something worthwhile, at long last, you wonder? "No!" I reply in a loud voice and serious posture, "No, sir, not I!"

Then what?

The reason I'm feeling pleased, is because of the events that took place at the optician's today. I usually dread going to the opticians, not because I dislike men in white coats (they're all women and wear black in there, anyway), but because it just takes so much darn time. I had the earliest appointment possible (10:00am) and I finished at 12:00pm. That's two hours. And it was the same the last time I went there for a simple eye test. 2 long hours!

This time, however, I was unsurprised at the length of time taken, even for the simple task of collecting my contact lenses - for yes, my dear children, I have now invested in the costly product which are contact lenses, which costs me the princely sum of £45 every 3 months.
I like the optician there. I must confess. She's a nice lady, and surprisingly remembered all about me from my first appointment, two weeks ago. I told her I was a student, planned on going to LSE next year, enjoyed sports like football and tennis. This sort of small talk, you'd expect someone to forget. Whilst I was semi-impressed she took the time to make this small talk about my personal life in the commercialised ever-busy optician's labs, this conversation caught me by surprise:

Optician: There we go! Your lenses are all done. Now you can really score well flirting.
Me: Wha'?! *bemused look on face*
Optician: You do play football, don't you?

Whilst I was dreaming of having breakfast, she obviously told me I could "score when playing football" or some such equivallent, which I mistook for the above. Ok, it can happen. But nevertheless, the missheard version of the conversation is most likely just as correct.

But aside from getting contacts, the other reason I'm happy is because of the new sales-person in the shop.

Well, there I was, in the waiting room area (a few chairs at the edge of the sales floor) reading some magazine from an organisation which seemed to be printed by hard-core opticians ("look after your goddamn eyes!" was the general message), and I happened to notice someone milling around, who looked quite attractive. And so, I did what about 90% of men do in that circumstance: glance over the edge of whatever article he happens to have in his hands (in my case, a magazine. The other 10% are split into two groups: 5% blush and look away quickly, and the other 5% stare shamelessly. They can often be seen with drool dripping slowly down their chins. Which is the sole reason why some men grow beards - it absorbs the saliva). I was attempting to ascertain if she worked there.  It became apparant she did, but was new, from the fact that she was walking around clueless, and kept asking the sales people if they worked there, then asking for advice or clarification on different matters.

I really felt sorry for her. I noticed the difficulty she had with English, and the way everyone gave her false smiles whilst being overly-condescending. This was felt in part, because I know how it feels to be the odd one out, and I know how it feels to work in an environment where you don't speak the language: I've worked alongside 4 people from the Ivory Coast, who all spoke little English and lots and lots of pidgeon French.

But what made me very happy, was the way she kept making circuits of the shop, and twice - not once, but twice - when she got to my part, she made a bee-line to me, stopped two metres away, opened her mouth as if to say something, then walked away again. And she smiled at me three times. HA! Beat that.

What makes me even more happy, was the fact that she was French (and therefore spoke one of the sexiest languages in the world), and had a very nice accent. And she was also very pretty. Most unfortunately, I haven't spoken French properly for years, and every time I attempt to configure a sentence in my mind, I end up throwing in words from Hebrew. It therefore takes me twice as long to figure out anything I want to say: once to think it in English, then to translate that into Hebrew, then that into French. I used to fare much better in my French speaking just 7 short months ago, in August, when I found large numbers of people who spoke French. 

The upshot is, if I were so inclined, I would bet my hat, all my gold coins, my walking stick AND silver button, that I could have got her number in a flash.

The only other time someone of the opposite sex (my college is all boys, by the way. Gah.) expressed any sort of interest in me, was the sales lady in H. Samuels, in about July time last year. Not only did she fix some watches which she shouldn't have, but she didn't charge me either. And she was stunning too. Being a religious fellow, of course, I would never act on anything like this. No. But it doesn't stop me in taking pleasure out the fact that someone's interested in me :p

And that, my dear children, is that.
I must now go and renew my passport, for fear of it expiring whilst I'm abroad. That would be a right hastle. Israeli citizenship would be forced on me, and I'd be conscripted into the army in a flash! Or a jail cell, depending on if I agree to join or not.
----------------------------

The other day, my niece came to visit. Being 1 year and 4 months old, she obviously came with her parents. When I saw her last, she used to be able to say 4 words: "ball," "mummy" and my name, prefixed by "uncle." Now, however, her vocabulary has reached extraordinary heights. So much so, that I feel it must be blogged.

In addition to being able to count from 1-14 (which exceeds my mathematical skill), and the various nursery rhymes she can sing, she also knows:

1) "If I were a rich man" featured in "Fiddler on the Roof" (no, not a low-cost porn website, but a classic film. Go watch it).
2) The word Motzart,
3) and on the other side of the scale, the first verse of "hands up, baby hands up!" complete with hand movements.

 Very sweet. And funny.

Before I begin, you'll notice my picture has changed. This is because I felt it was appropriate to show the world my much famed hat, walking stick, gold coins and the silver button, which I regularly bet on pointless bets which I have never yet lost.

It was quite a while ago Cat was remembering back to the "good old days" of this blog. Y'know. Before the time I said I was shutting it down. That period.

And she remembered, particularly, the voice stuff I used to do on this blog, and she asked why I couldn't do it again, with a Scottish accent. Well, guess what? I have! And here it is, for your pleasure at your leasure. Enjoy the voice of moi, with many different accents.

Descriptions
Scot_r.wav:  A Scot. Me, in fact, with an attempted Scottish accent. Me, with an attempted Scottish accent, taking the mick out of the Scots. And the English. It's only fair.

am_sco_r.wav: Ok, this weird file name stands for "American-Scottish-real.wav" - An American, and a Scot. All me. Again. This one's quite funny, imho. And if you liked the one above, you'll like this one. I like the one above more. Especially the Tory part. It makes me laugh, at any rate. I stole that part of it, it's not my own joke, and it's not my own ingenuity. It's that of an author of some book I was reading featuring Scottish people in it.

debate: This is the sort of debates I have in college with the Americans. Of course, they're not always 56 seconds long, as it is here. In fact, it's generally much longer. But here is the shortest debate, ever. As this is the longest one out of the selection here, I wrote a script for it, and even put it up on here, for you to decide if you want to waste 56 seconds of your life listening to it, and if you find you don't, you just wasted your life reading it instead. Anyway, it all features me. Me with an American accent V me with a "proper" English accent which, I'll have you know, is my very own. However, I do warn you, based on real-life, it's [not only the longest] but what I consider the least funniest out of the three.

scot_r.wav
am_sco_r.wav
debate.wav

---
Random American: We kicked your ass in the Revolution! And what were we, a bunch of farmers!

Me: Look, you never won more than a charity donation. We didn't want to be in a place roaming with savage settlers, away from the lovely streets of london. Your so-called victory was charity from us to you.

RA: That's bull, man. We kicked your ass good, and we're still goin'. Where's the British Empire?

Me: The British Empire was bigger and more influential at it's peak than you are now - and let's face it, you've reached your peak now. And as to "kicking your arse good" remember the war of 1812? We burned your capitol - white house included - down to the very ground.

RA: Yeah, well. That's just pure Brit propaganda! And we've a bigger economy anyway!

Me: With 4 times our population, I'd hope so. To all American's out there: It's ok. We, the British people, forgive you. You can come back, colonies! And welcome to the USK: United Society's Kingdom.
------

As I churn all this out, I would like you to report back. Was it funny? What did you like best? Were my accents any good? All these questions. And not because I'm necessarily interested in what you have to say. I just want to make you work a little, after the considerable time, effort and expense (*cough*) I went through to produce these.

And whilst we're all here, I may as well bombard you with something more serious. I've decided I would not like to start a family in the next year. Ok, I never thought otherwise, but it's best to formalise these things by posting it on your blog, for the information of all 3 readers.
But there is method in my madness. You see, whilst I would be effectively against myself marrying some fine bonnie lass (gah! Too much Scottish!) down in the lowlands of London in the next 2 or 3 years, I would certainly not be against it when I turn 22 (two years time). This, of course, will be at a time when I have not even completed college - wait for it - and so will therefore seek only to engage, but not marry, until I finish law school (about 2 years from then, God willing. Maybe 3, depending on if I'm good enough to get a masters, and if I decide to). This means being engaged for two years. Two whole years.

This is not unlike what Miss Arty has done with Matt. As such, I would invite the comments of either on this matter. What should they say? I haven't the slightest idea. Perhaps what it's like to wait "so long." Etc.

Random thoughts:

1. I wonder what  the longest period of engagement was.
2. Could I set a new record?

I dropped science ASAP in school. I never did science GCSEs (government exams kids in the UK take aged 16). It wasn't a requirement by law when I took my exams. I dropped science in favour of the arts, simply because science required more dedication than I could be bother to muster up. In short, taking history instead of chemistry was easier than the other way around. Or so I thought. Turns out History is the hardest exam by way of usage of skills and knowledge, than any other. Though the last time I smelled the smell of sulphur, or dropped sulphuric acid on the benches, was 5 years ago, I am pleased to report that my experiments with polymers is quite underway.

If you're not quite sure what I'm doing, that's fine: neither am I, hence the term "experiment."
But here's a basic rundown:

I'm mixing ethenyl acetate homopolymer (one of the scientific terms for PVA [polyvinyl acetate] glue, as we all know) with a couple of other ingredients to produce something lovely. I may add magnetic powder (magnets broken into little tiny chips) to the formula, to see if it can become magnetic. Though PVA is best for this, I may try and use glue with some inherant magnetism in it: of course, this warrants more research, for magnetic "glue" is the same stuff they use in experimental high-output super-conductors, as well as a theoretical componant for absorbing electromagnetic radiation. This type of glue may, therefore, just be slightly unsuitable for my experiment, as one will have to be able to hold it in their hands without it becoming stuck to them. In short, it has to be 5 year old proof. Looks like I'll have to research more about phenol-formaldehyde resin (polyoxybenzylmethylenglycolanhydride [no, I didn't make that up. It actually exists. Click on the link.] ), a sticky substance.

I don't want my hands to be burnt off either, as PVA already has a Ph of 5, and using copious amounts of the afforementioned long-named chemical [in the event of mixing the substances] would not bode well for carbon-based objects such as hands and fingers.

The upshot of all this is, when I'm done, and if it's safe, I shall send a sample of this ... thing... I have made to you all. "you all" being arty, and anyone else who gives me a mail address.
-----

In other news, I visited my friend yesterday. As I told helen the other day, I'm growing to dislike him. But why? I don't know. He hasn't done or said anything wrong or bad to me in the past 3 weeks. In fact, he hasn't done or said anything to me for the most part of these past 3 weeks. Slightly annoying maybe, but surely not a reason to dislike someone?
I have decided, therefore, that the problem is not with me, but with him. And not with him personally: his conduct is obviously the result of circumstances the details of which are known only to himself, and I'll bet my hat, a gold coin and my walking stick when I get it, to his mother.

Therefore, I have concluded that he needs a little support at this time, and I consequently visited him yesterday, and invited him over to my house for lunch sometime in the next two days.
---

After visiting him, I went to another friend's house in the area. Someone who I have never met before was with him, another friend of his. In order to establish just who we were, we exchanged names, as is the custom here on earth. As the conversation went on, we got to discussing people. We each mentioned a name we thought the other would know, and established that whilst we didn't know each other, we knew many people who knew both of us.

I was musing that between us, we knew an awful lot of people from all over the world. And this is one of the things I love about being Jewish: one can connect to people they have never met before, merely due to the fact that they are Jewish. And if the people you've just met also happen to know someone who knows Abraham from France, you've just found another connection. Communism disliked it's Jews, because they were viewed as "international" - though that's not a logical basis for the dislike of another group of people, at least from my perspective, and although it was a point of contention amongst Communists and Jews contemporary to the USSR, I would say that it's true. Jews are, indeed, international. The point need only be proven from that fact that when I was at this friend's house yesterday, between us, we were related to, or knew people well in Austrailia, America, Europe and Asia and Africa: 5 continents.

As one historian on Jewish history once quipped, "If Abraham in London knew Isaac of Paris, and they both knew Jacob of Rome, all three stood to make a profit."

The saying "it isn't what you know, it's who you know" springs to mind.

If anyone as ever read Harry Potter, I enjoy making comparisons between the wizarding community and my own one, including the international connections. Like the world of HP, the Jewish one is completely different to any other society. This is simply because the Jewish one was formulated long before civilisation sprang up in Europe. Indeed, Jewish culture pre-dates that of the Greeks, the first "cultured" European civilisation, which went on to occupy much of the then-known world, under the leadership of Alexander of Maccedon. The only culture older than the Hebrews, is that of the Chineese, who beat us by about a thousand years or so, but then, if the bible is one's guide to world history, the verse "and they travelled from the east" in Genesis would be highly suggestive.

Which brings me to another thing. Atheists. I usually find atheists to be intelligent and informed, and usually well mannered. With the exception of one, whom I met a few years back, who was a real hard-core "there's-no-God-and-if-you-say-otherwise-I'll-pull-a-knife" type atheist. Otherwise, I find they've read the entire bible, and have understood and retained most if not all of it. I also find they've most likely read the koran, know about buddhism, and have a vast general knowledge of world history and religion, as well as the sciences. Of course, this does not pertain to every atheist out there, just the one's I've met. Though I no longer maintain contact with any of them, we have had interesting discussions. And many of these discussions revolve around "contradictions" in the bible.

My English teacher was an atheist, and quipped "what do you do with all these contradictions? I suppose when you grow up, you'll try and resolve them" to which I responded "they already have resolutions. When I grow up, I'll look for more so-called contradictions." He laughed and said "Yes, you thrive on contradictions. So do Christians." 

Though I was itching to debate my English teacher, I didn't think it would be popular with the headteacher. For all his atheistic leanings, he constantly quoted out the bible; I suppose he did this for it's poetry, such as Ecclesiastes' "a time to mend" et. al.

We also had a born-again Christian in the school, who retired just before I left. I never liked the man. He never liked me either. But, being a religious fellow, I sometimes found him asking some kids to explain just who Jeremiah was and what he did, before he acquiesced to their requests.

Which brings me to a moral dilemma. He a member of staff in a private [meaning not public] Jewish school. On his last day, he was handing out New Testament bibles to the kids. Is this morally allowed?

The fact that he did it on his last day shows he knew it wasn't right. But this is a question I pose to born-agains, and they always say "yes, it is correct."
I often then post the following question to born-agains:
Is it correct for a Jewish person to hand out texts negating the belief of Jesus?

The response is unsurprisingly, "no."


This blends in with a completely secularist view of morals, which my computer teacher (you can tell I had an interesting time in school) preached: "no-one has the same morals. It differs on person and place" - meaning morals are subjective, not objective.

However. For those of you who got this far, is this right, or wrong? What, indeed, are your views on the objectivity of subjunctive morals (See? See what I did? I made a question of subjectivity whose main focus was the objectivity of subjectivity, which is a contradiction in terms. Harrrr.)?

On this note, I found the Enneagram test! :-O

Here, take it. Everyone. It's good: http://okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=12721960859055255705

I got (my comments appear in brackets):

How to Get Along with Me

• Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me. (No they don't, and it makes me feel uncomfortable)
• Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself. (Maybe...when I'm feeling down)
• Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision. (What? Just respect me, mate)
• Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little. (True, true...Although the more I alienate myself from a group, the more I really want to be involved...)
• Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting! (Urgh! Certainly true about the sensitive part).

What I Like About Being a Four

• my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level (yup)
• my ability to establish warm connections with people (I hope so)
• admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life (mhmm)
• my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor (You're just flattering me now.)
• being unique and being seen as unique by others (Oh, please, stop!)
• having aesthetic sensibilities ("aesthetic sensibilities" indeed)
• being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me (certainly. Although that's not always a good thing. Many time I have to leave a room, if people are angry. I just can't take that atmosphere. And though I hate to admit it, if people are very sad, I do follow that lead too...) 

What's Hard About Being a Four

• experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair (Sometimes)
• feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved (None of these, I don't think) 
• feeling guilty when I disappoint people (very much so)
• feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me (Not really. When I was younger...)
• expecting too much from myself and life (I guess that fits with me, huh)
• fearing being abandoned (of those who are close to me, yes.)
• obsessing over resentments (I don't hate people, and I don't care if they hate me. Unless they're close to me. Then I care very much, as you've all witnessed recently.)
• longing for what I don't have (A girl? Ok. Aside from that, no).

There we have it, people. There we have it. I'm looking forward to all your resuts!

I'm not one to have 5 entries on a single day...And today is no different.
However, it is also quite unusual (but not unheard of) to have 2 entries on a single day, in this blog. But, I must tell the world what just happened. But first:

Responses:


Cat! Cat, Cat, Cat. Cat. What are we going to do with you? No, it wasn't intended as a dig at you. Not even a little poke. It was merely a "hah, you're probably the only person reading this who knows just what I'm talking about" thing. Y'know. An acknowledgement that we did tests until the late hours. Sad, no? Yes. But no insult this time.

As to the pretty faces:


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Mila Kunis
53% Eyes, 38% Nose, 48% Mouth, 60% SexyCute

You seem to prefer big eyes, smallish other features, and cute women. Altho they sexed her up for the Maxim shoot, Mila's definitely a cutey, in a unique, Eastern European way. She plays Jackie on the very popular 'That 70s Show' as well as voicing Meg Griffin on 'Family Guy'. If you scored in this category and don't think Mila's that great, Natalie Portman's another choice. Personally, I think Mila's adorable.

Similar: Natalie Portman, Keira Knightley (sexier)

If you liked my test, please remember to give it a decent score, and of course I'm always happy to hear feedback. Thanks!
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Anyway. As to the Daniella Urzi website, it took AGES to load. I did see the first page though, and the "work" part. That's where I got fed up and left. Yes, she is pretty. However, she will not be entering my "pretty celebrities" list.



Arty. Dear Arty. Kind, good Arty.
There will never come a time when I'll make a bet and lose it. If I lose it, I wouldn't take it. The bets I make are hardly bets at all, especially when I lay down something like my hat, a silver coin, or a walking stick: my most precious items, two of which I don't yet own, more's the shame. But as I said, it was hardly a bet. I may as well have bet there's such a thing called gravity, or it will rain in London tomorrow.


On the note of rain, I love it. It plip plops down, in a most relaxing way. Just sit back on a sofa with a hot cup of coca, the lights off, and some relaxing music in the background, whilst listening to the constant, ever calming rain. If that's not relaxing, I'll eat my hat. And don't make me eat my hat!
I've been known to sit in the rain for long periods of time doing nothing. Most recently, after being drenched, I then sat in an empty classroom for an hour, talking with a friend. Sure, it raised some concern amongst the staff in the college, but hey! It was brilliant.

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And now because I've discussed relaxing things, here's some stuff I'd love to do:

1) Go swimming when there's snow on the ground. Obviously, we're talking about an out-door heated pool, or one with glass walls.

2) Sitting in a dark room, music playing, cup of coca at the ready, in front of the fire place.

3) Buy a clear umbrella, and sit out in the rain with the umbrella, instead of getting drenched every time.

4) Get drenched in the rain.



The only one's I haven't done, is 1 and 3. That's a 50% completion rate. Woo!
Of course, all of the above would be lovelier with someone else. If you know what I mean. However, I have to make do on my lonesome for now.


And now for the most brilliant news which inspired this post.
You know how I mentioned I was "quite partial to a brunette," wearing red, and all? I just came back from a restaurant. Lo and Behold, would you believe it, there in a seat a few metres away from me, was a brunette in a red top. I don't know why (well, I do) but I couldn't stop looking at her. I didn't mean to! I swear! Red is a very eye-catching colour.



I would also like to skip to the subject of mothers. It's interesting how people respond to age, and such. Let me explain, with this little matrix:


Age      Someone's mother's comment:
3          "how cute!"
5          "Get your muddy shoes off my couch!"
7          "No, you can't have my ferrero roches as a snack."
10        "You have a large amount of influence on my son."
11        "You're not a good influence on my son"
12        "You're a bad influence on my son"
13        "Out! Get out my house!"
16        "Nice to see you."
17        "My, haven't you grown?"
18        "It's so good to see you. How are you? Really? That's nice. And thanks for doing that bit of shopping for me."
19        "Thanks for coming by. Yes, he'll be ready in a minute. How have you been? Really? Do send regards to your family.... [insert more small talk here]"


Before you ask, 19 is in bold because I'm 19.
Ah, sweet, sweet memories.

Notice how at 18 and 19, you're being spoken to like an adult, when at heart, you'd like nothing better than to jump up and down on their sofa with muddy shoes.

[Please note: I haven't actually ever jumped up and down on anyone's sofa with muddy shoes. Not even when I was 5. That was a mere example of what could happen. I have, however, helped people with their shopping, and have even bought a few items for some of my friend's households].

As to this change in manner, I'm quite unsure why it's taken place. I believe it has something to do with that charade people refer to as "growing up."

I shall never decipher these beings known as "friend's parents," particularly the female type. They are simply too complex. 

Talking about friend's mothers. I just remembered 2 things, at the same time, regarding parents:

1) I once [perhaps stupidly] told my best-friend that I'd like his mother to hook me up with someone, when the time comes.... This caused a great amount of confusion, and therefore fun. However, he tells his mother everything. When I say everything, I mean absolutely everything. He has no secrets. It is highly likely, therefore, that this information I imparted with him, passed over to Dearest Mum.
This may explain the slightly odd behaviour I've been experiencing from her. Like the constant apologies for being kept for under 5 minutes, whilst her son grabbed his coat and put on his shoes. Or the large amounts of small talk, and general nice-ness, recently.

The second thought, was of the Red-Top-Girl who I asked out. I happen to bump into her father every week. EVERY week. He's a very nice man. He's always been nice to me. Perhaps he thinks I'm the weirdo who needs people to be nice to him. Either way, I don't mind. He's also an intelligent man.
And when I met and shook hands with him last week, I just couldn't help wondering: does he know I asked his daughter out?

For those saying "so what?" you must all be girls. Every guy knows it's a no-no to ever meet the brother of someone you're going out with, or asked out. The father is even more terrifying. We do not like big brothers or fathers.


Of course, it's all conjecture. But it's not unlikely that both parents of both kids know. Of course, I shall never know. It kind of bugs me, but: I shall wallow in the depth of my ignorance, and smile inanely as if nothing is amiss, for ignorance is, indeed, bliss.

I'll bet that title grabbed your attention right away, eh?
Sit tight.

As you can see, I've changed my blog.
This is because I was bored with the old style, much as you're already bored with this entry.

The point is, I'm constructing a new blog, which won't run on blogspirit. This, of course, means work, and work is bad, and therefore the odds of me getting this new blog sorted before leaving again is extremely remote. I just like to make myself happy by pretending I still understand code by getting lost in the script. As you can see, that's what's happened here. So don't worry, this blog is perfectly safe.

Arty too, must have changed something on her blog. Clicking on an archived post transports you not to the post, but a black hole of hellish bloggatry, completely untamed and wild. Sort it out Arty! Her hedgehog is pretty cool though. But it got boring pretty quickly :p

The point of this post, however, is of course, arty's comments on Scarlett Johansson. They cannot go ignored.

Here's a comparative pretty test (hehe, Cat):

Well, which one? Picture 1, 2 and 3 are all very sexy.

Notice how she's frowning in EVERY picture? I wonder why. These pictures are all from the film, The Island, and all at different times and scenes. Strange.

However. We pit her against the following:

So, here are some of Catherine Zeta Jones' latest films, in order: 1) The mask of Zorro (seen)
2)Ocean's 12
3) The terminal (seen. V. funny)

In these photos, I'm afraid the only one remotely pretty, in my opinion, is the first. That one IS quite pretty. The rest...nope. I'm not saying she's unattractive. Just that the set of Scarlett whip these ones.

In conclusion, Arty, you should really be drooling over Scarlett, not Zeta Jones.

And this brings me onto my opinion about drooling over stars. I generally don't do it. Indeed, this whole "picture on blog" thing is extremely uncharacteristic of this blog, as you all well know, let alone a blatant "pretty comparative test" - which is abhorrant, I know.

My excuse is, I was up 'til late taking tests Cat threw my way (and more besides) and woke early. I am therefore sleep deprived. Forgive me.

HOWEVER. We have come off topic slightly. Stars. Drooling at them.
I think it's pretty pathetic (har-har! See what I did there?) that it can pass people's lips, or indeed enter their minds to say "I love/have a crush on [insert celebrity here]." This is the height of sadness. Of course, this person probably secretly wishes to meet the celebrity in person, alone, and fantasises about having dinner with a few glasses of wine with them. The more millitant of this group can be found raiding the trash cans of some celebrity or other.

The next level down, is someone  who says "I think [insert name of celebrity] is pretty." Ok, so I did this. This is the only other level, so it's better to be in this one, than the one on the top. This group can be seen to be putting up pictures of different celebrities on their blogs/web page, to see who's prettier. They can also be caught drooling at film posters of the celebrity from time to time. Not that I do that last part. I just...glance quickly whilst walking by...

Oh. And the other one is not even a level: it is the person who excludes themselves from both levels, and this is the catagory I'm usually in. I just think of celebrities as fake people. As not real. Larger than life. They are not who they are in the public eye: be it films, interviews, or anything else. They are their "film-selves:" an alter-ego of their own making. Appearance is everything, afterall. Sadly, the "philosophy" also extends to their bodies, which these days are made more and more of silicon and make-up than flesh.

And so, they are not real people. Of course, they're real when they're alone, and whenever they choose to drop the charade. But that's only if they remember who they truly are.

Therefore, I never really think of celebrities as people who are pretty. They're just people. Strange.
Of course, there are a few exceptions, when prettiness just comes out the screen and hits you, like Scarlett Johansson in "The Island."

The only OTHER celebrity to have such a quality, is Ms. H. Duff. She is exceptional inasmuch as, due to her young age, she hasn't had the opportunity to mess her body up yet. And I really hope she doesn't.
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For those of you who are bored, leave now. It's only going to get worse:

Which brings us nicey to role-models and appearances. The other day, I found a photo of a girl in a profile I was looking at in a poetry website (her poetry was quite good). Her profile said she was 14 years of age, and yet she resembled anything but a 14 year old. Her pose was almost sickly, more befitting a seedy pole-dancer than anything else.

Why is it that there's a rush amongst celebrities to see who can make themselves more like a prostitute than the next celebritity? Have you ever seen music CD's lately? I have in front of me Jennifer Lopez's "on the 6." Where are her clothes gone? I only assume she makes enough money to be able to buy some. Here's the cover photo:

I know I don't need to bring in any more cover photos; if you have eyes, you know what I refer to.

Music videos can be even worse.

I realise that a lot of people are now thinking "we live in a modern society..." etc. etc. etc., but all those people don't really know what they're saying: for that defines "modern" as having no values. Are there no values? Well, that's up to society, but it's on a constant downwards slope.

The above picture is, of course, sending a message to kids, perhaps not to do the same thing (although some kids may) but more importantly, altering the perception of what beauty is. Kids may very well think "I have to look like that," which of course, leads to nasty things like unhealthy eating (too little of it), low-self worth, and the very want to copy their role-models.

But why do celebrities do all this? Obviously, because sex sells. I guess, then, that it's all the fault of the male population. Oh well. Sorry.

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Cat and I (as you may know) undertook many tests yesterday. There was one test called the "enneagram" test, which had but two questions, and was astoundingly accurate. It was a character test. Unfortunately, I know not whither it went, and in search of it, stumbled across another one, which was developed in 1976 or something like that, by someone who happened to have a PhD in something or other, and thought that qualified him to make tests which assertain your "personality characteristics." The classifications of said characteristics are as follows: masculine, feminine, androgynous, or undifferentiated.

The test may be taken here: http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=9417365772332679...

Before I post my results, Cat shall tell you, after taking many of these tests together, that I put 0 confidence in all internet tests, with the exception of one we did last night, the enneagram test. I therefore put up the following test result, not because I believe it to be true, but just for fun... I took the test 3 times, and got the same result, with similar scores. Darn it. Anyway, here it is:

Androgynous You scored 73 masculinity and 80 femininity!

You scored high on both masculinity and femininity. You have a strong personality exhibiting characteristics of both traditional sex roles.

Hey! I scored higher than 81% on being masculine!
(Although that is kind of shadowed by the fact that I scored higher than 91% on being a girl. Dammit).

So now I'm Keanu Reeves. That's great. Just great (he was "the one...")

After running errands for the first part of my day, and playing computer games until I got bored of them (it took about an hour), I started up the good 'ol "Google Earth" program. After visiting Moscow (I always wanted to visit Red Square. Sadly, it was quite dissapointing. Of course, it's a little more awe-inspiring when you're actually standing there), and various other places of interest (the German Reichstag, Beijing's Forbidden City, Google's very own campus, etc.) I decided to see if my house was on the map. It was. There it was, my house, as seen from a satelite photo.

It was absolutely amazing, and I suggest people download this free tool at once, merely to find their own houses. After this, of course, I visited the houses of some relatives, and then of some friends. When I got to the house of my best friend, I got a bit lonely (dammit, I hate soppy stories) and then decided to call him. Which I did.

 After an unenthusiastic invite to his house, I came along, 45 minutes later, as requested. After being kept for exactly 5 minutes at the door (every 30 seconds or so of which his mother kept apologising for) we were off. As it turns out, we went to a local fry-up place, whose health and safety certificate probably expired some time around my birth date. However. We ordered two drinks and two beefburgers and chips, which we ate on site. It took all of 30 minutes. We decided to go back to my place. To cut a long story short, he enjoyed himself a lot, and even said "maybe we'll see each other before wednesday?"
I just smiled.

Of course, lessons need be learned, and the only way to move forwards from the present is to acknowledge the mistakes of the past, and remember what they are, so as not to perform them again. Not only this, but we must realise these lessons in our every day actions, and ensure that they are kept up at all times. So, dear children, the very necessary question we need to ask ourselves is: "what did we learn from this?"

1) Google Earth is the best free program of the globe out there,
2) The picture definitions are so clear, you can see your car parked outside the house. And if you happen to be standing outside the car, you can see you too,
3) The Island is one of the best films ever made,
4) "Scarlett Johansson is very pretty" is an understatement,
5) Scarlett Johansson is very, very, very pretty.

And there, my dear children, is what we have learned. Oh. And one more thing:

Book for eye-tests early.

This is a response to arty, which became a bit too long to be a "comment" and therefore I have taken the liberty (because it is my blog) of making it into a full post. It's also more of a diary entry than a blog entry, and I am therefore paying no attention to the 3 readers who read this blog. I am merely writing my thoughts and feelings. This post is probably amusing, which is a sad reflection upon myself. But otherwise, the tone is intended to be serious.

Read on if you will, dear children.

On the distance factor, I quite agree with you, and disagree on no point whatsoever. I may have opposed it in the past in reference to relationships, but that's just because I don't think a long-distance relationship would be a good idea for myself. But of course it can work. Just look at Matt and yourself.

As you say, both parties have to have an interest in maintaining that contact. However, I know my best friend, and I know that even if everything were fine and dandy, he would barely raise a finger to keep the contact. This is not because he's bad, or mean in any way. It's because his mind does not function beyond his immediate studies, and the three subjects of girls, soccer and music, in that order. He simply does not think. And when he does, he'd feel bad about not calling. But a passing thought lasts for a few seconds, before it's replaced with something else, more immediate.

Which is why he shall learn how good friendships walk away, and how I shall learn several lessons:

There is no such thing as the institution of friendship. I was mistaken that I could apply it to a person. I have learned that a noble cause is only ever acted upon when it overlaps with self-interest, and when that self-interest is no longer present, the noble cause is shattered too. The Elders of the Ancients tell me this themselves; "love which depends on an external matter will be gone when the external matter is gone. Love which depends on no external matter will last forever. Whose love rested on no matter? The love of Jonathan and David."

I never really understood the words until now. My friendship merely served an external matter. Now the external matter, whatever it was or is, is being removed, the friendship finds itself on thin ice.

I was therefore also wrong in my belief that it may be possible to have a friend as close as family. Now I realise that the only friend who will be as close as family, is the girl I marry, whomsoever she be.

I was wrong in my belief of having a few, close friends is better than many, not so close ones. The danger of putting all your eggs in a few baskets is obvious, yet I paid it no attention.

I was wrong again in dedicating myself to this particular friendship. I spent too much time being selfless. But this is hardly my fault, it's just who I am: I would have done many things I did for him, for anyone.

But all these ideas and beliefs of mine were later covered up with a larger, greater one.
You see, I have but two fears. Those fears are:

1) Giving, but not receiving. Some may call this being taken advantage of.
2) Being hurt.


[Edit: Arty suggested to me that "giving but not receiving anything back may lead to hurt" and therefore the first is merely an extension of the second. Yet I fear the second as a seperate entity, and therefore shall leave this such. Yet, it's interesting to note that what I fear most, is a shadow of fear: hurt itself.]

In that order.

And because I'm so afraid of being hurt, it appears I've set up all sort of complex defences. Up until very recently, there wasn't much anyone could ever tell me that would hurt me. That's because I never told anyone anything about me. To the person who wasn't me, I had no problems. No fears, no worries. Nothing at all was ever wrong. In short, I never confided in anyone...or at least...they never knew it if I did.


But I too, have worries, no matter how petty they are. In my world, if I worry about it, they're problems. Therefore a complex system was set up, where little parts of problems were given to friends in hypothetical-like settings. Even so, and speaking now in general, if I ever asked anyone their opinion on any matter to do with me, even in this way, it was probably because I didn't value their opinion. If I heard something I didn't like, I could disregard it entirely.

Of course, this doesn't necessarily pertain to anyone reading this. Online people are always different. I don't know why, but it is.

And yet this complex system of ensuring not one person knew anything about me which could possibly come back to me in a hurtful way ensued. Was I wrong? I fear not. People have a way of using things against you in unsual circumstances...an argument with a friend...that friend may say something about that secret you told them just the other day...

I decided to try a little experiment about a month ago. I told my best friend a few things about me. A few days later, these little tid-bits of information were used against me, in a jovial manner. It was nothing to joke about, and yet it was.

Something has changed between my friend and myself. I don't know what, exactly, except that he doesn't talk to me much. Maybe the subjects of girls and soccer weight more heavily on his mind than usual? But I don't understand why the friendship has changed.
Of course, If I mention this to him, he'd deny it, then perhaps drift further away. I quickly find I no longer care as much as I did for him. And this lack of care will quickly turn to indifference. In short, I intend to have nothing to do with him any longer. If he wants to be my friend, it's his turn to act like a friend.

But I will ensure to have a lot of exposure to him. For two reasons. Because there's a possibility this will change his mind. And because I know this will bother him most (am I really, really mean? I don't care. Now I'm back to full health after a rough 1.5 months of sickness, I realise I was mistreated or neglected for a fair amount by my so-called roomates and friends, as well as college. I am, therefore, harbouring a quiet anger towards them all. This is manifest by the indifference I feel to all my mentors, and friends. I fear I'm too dedicated for my own good. This very dedication could quite literally be the end of me. I fell ill looking after my friend. One I didn't recover from much later. I fear, however, I may become too selfish. I will destroy my morals if I'm not too careful. And I'd rather be destroyed in the face of execution of good, than in selfishness. I can only hope Solomon was right when he said "come with a peaceful complexion, and you will be encountered with peaceful complexion...")

I've been a dark horse for far too long. It's time to morph.  I fear I need to become...an elephant.
Yes, an elephant.

I need a thick hide, good memory, and an acute fear of mice. As Cat would say: "get over it and stop acting like a little girl" or something of the sort. I like Cat's no-nonsense comments. They're concise, frank, and  in short, don't contain rhetoric.