I'm still not what I'd call a "great writer" yet. I say this because I know this. I love writing and I feel very passionate that it can and will take me somewhere someday, but for now I'm just another reader, another observer. I observe the work of others and I stumble upon realizations that are brutally inspiring.
Back in 2008 I got into Spielberg's "Band of Brothers" and the thought of what it would be like to be a participant in the first world war blew my mind clean out of my skull. I couldn't properly explain the effect the real-as-life series had on me, but it gave me chills every time I tried to write about it and my respect for veterans was magnified ten fold. Now that Spielberg's new series about World War 2 entitled "The Pacific" is coming out, one episode a week, the same thing is happening all over again. It churns up so much in me about life, about the original values and morals of humanity, and how people's minds have changed so drastically over the years that it's hard for me to grasp how a guy like me would handle things if I had to live way back in the 1940's/1950's.
The thought that if you were to hop into a time machine and head back to the era of the original world wars, that were justifiably fought for the future of how we now live on earth. If you went back there with the mushy-ass mentality of life that you've received through passive evolution, you'd be a fuckin' pussy!
But if you actually grew up back then, and you were stomping around at the age you are now, you'd be one tough set o' balls!
It's the do-or-die aspect that really humbles me. And it's a factor of life that most of us are never forced to put to the test. I'm very thankful for that, but a part of me can't help but dwell on the "what if."
When a person has to do everything within their entire being to find a way to stay alive, they open up a part of themselves that is as natural as nature itself. I think that's called the will to live. And it's way beyond what we refer to as living or surviving today.
Sometimes I don't know how, why or where I come up with these thoughts, but they are strong and spontaneous and they must be relevant in some way to somebody. It's my inability to understand exactly what I'm digging at and what it means that makes me feel that I've got a long way to go with my writing. And also because I still use cliched scenarios like time machines.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
freelance writer looking for work and riot gear
When I first moved to Thailand, I promised myself that I would devote the best of my free time to writing- more specifically, writing about events beyond my personal adventures, topics of a more serious nature that would potentially lead me to a job as a freelance journalist. So, in the three and a half months that I was unemployed here, I scoured the daily headlines for something that would catch my interest, something I could research heavily and get involved in with my own words. All the while I was coming up with nothing, an angry cauldron of political craziness was bubbling right under my nose.
I'm sure by now, after over 20 countries have issued tourist advisories to stay the hell out of Bangkok, most of the world is somewhat aware of how unstable the Thai Government is. But do you know what's really going on, and what could potentially happen here? I wouldn't care too much either, but since I happen to be looking for trouble I'm going to treat this as an assignment and make the most of it. In order to do that I need to get you interested and bring you up to speed on this story with a stiff shot of intensity. The best way to do that is to start today.
Today is Friday, the 5th of March, 2010. In seven days a dominant anti-government group known as The UDD (United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship, or "the red shirts") will begin a million man march, growing in numbers from all provinces and meeting in the capitol city of Bangkok on March 14, where they will then attempt to bring down the administration that is the current Thai government, run by an appointed (not elected) Prime Minister. The decision in this Prime Minister's hands is a stressful one to say the least. When the time comes and red shirts gather in Bangkok with the promise of a million people and a hundred thousand pick-up trucks, the PM has the option of either stepping down from power and dissolving the government or suppressing the opposition with whatever military defense the government has. A lot of police and soldiers are in support of the red shirts and will likely not partake in any shit that goes down. Furthermore, red shirt leaders have said that if they are met with any defensive force than they cannot be certain what will happen, but there is a strong possibility of a civil war in Thailand.
“If the government suppresses us, then they will have declared civil war. If this happens, you will not see elections of democracy in Thailand for five, maybe ten years."
- Mr. Jaran, Senior red shirt leader
In other words, there will either be a brand new Thai Government instated this year or there will be civil unrest for an undetermined amount of time. Decisions, decisions.
So, as we we wait for anarchy to ensue, there is time to go back and look into how this whole thing began. The plot to this is almost as good as StarWars, except it all happened here on planet Earth. It started with a dude named Thaksin, a business man who served as the Prime Minister of Thailand from 2001 to 2006. Mr. Thaksin was the first PM to actually complete a full term in office, which is apparently hard to do here. Today, he is regarded as one of the most distinctive PM's because he introduced many policies that affected important issues such as an easily affordable healthcare plan and a rural poverty plan that cut the number of poor in half. For the most part he was quite a popular man of the people. However as time went on Thaksin's administration began to face allegations of corruption, like tax evasion and laundering money to international investors.
Then, in 2006, while Thaksin was out of town on a business venture, a massive protest began by a different group, The PAD (Peoples Alliance for Democracy or "the yellow shirts"). This led to a military coup that overthrew the government, surprisingly without any bloodshed. One of the tactics of the group was seizing two of Thailand's biggest airports, essentially stopping people from coming in or out of the country. When Thaksin got word of this he did not return to Thailand and shortly after, a newly appointed military government was put in place and the yellow shirts disbanded claiming their goal had been accomplished. The only problem was that the new government was not an elected one of the people and therefore the people got pissed off, accusing the unelected officials of undermining democracy. And so the "red shirts" began to rally. Meanwhile Thaksin, now considered a fugitive in Thailand, the county he was once a revered Prime minister of, is rumored to be hiding somewhere in Dubai. Like a puppet master he leads the red shirts in support by addressing most big meetings by video link on the internet. Look for him on Skype.
Now, since the emergence of the red shirts, the opposing yellow shirts have reactivated and the two equally strong groups have been clashing loudly and often violently for about 4 years. People have been killed, bombs have been thrown, assassinations of leaders have been attempted and it looks like shit is about to officially hit the fan in a matter of days. All I need is a video camera, a bus ticket to Bangkok and a huge pair of balls.
I'm sure by now, after over 20 countries have issued tourist advisories to stay the hell out of Bangkok, most of the world is somewhat aware of how unstable the Thai Government is. But do you know what's really going on, and what could potentially happen here? I wouldn't care too much either, but since I happen to be looking for trouble I'm going to treat this as an assignment and make the most of it. In order to do that I need to get you interested and bring you up to speed on this story with a stiff shot of intensity. The best way to do that is to start today.
Today is Friday, the 5th of March, 2010. In seven days a dominant anti-government group known as The UDD (United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship, or "the red shirts") will begin a million man march, growing in numbers from all provinces and meeting in the capitol city of Bangkok on March 14, where they will then attempt to bring down the administration that is the current Thai government, run by an appointed (not elected) Prime Minister. The decision in this Prime Minister's hands is a stressful one to say the least. When the time comes and red shirts gather in Bangkok with the promise of a million people and a hundred thousand pick-up trucks, the PM has the option of either stepping down from power and dissolving the government or suppressing the opposition with whatever military defense the government has. A lot of police and soldiers are in support of the red shirts and will likely not partake in any shit that goes down. Furthermore, red shirt leaders have said that if they are met with any defensive force than they cannot be certain what will happen, but there is a strong possibility of a civil war in Thailand.
“If the government suppresses us, then they will have declared civil war. If this happens, you will not see elections of democracy in Thailand for five, maybe ten years."
- Mr. Jaran, Senior red shirt leader
In other words, there will either be a brand new Thai Government instated this year or there will be civil unrest for an undetermined amount of time. Decisions, decisions.
So, as we we wait for anarchy to ensue, there is time to go back and look into how this whole thing began. The plot to this is almost as good as StarWars, except it all happened here on planet Earth. It started with a dude named Thaksin, a business man who served as the Prime Minister of Thailand from 2001 to 2006. Mr. Thaksin was the first PM to actually complete a full term in office, which is apparently hard to do here. Today, he is regarded as one of the most distinctive PM's because he introduced many policies that affected important issues such as an easily affordable healthcare plan and a rural poverty plan that cut the number of poor in half. For the most part he was quite a popular man of the people. However as time went on Thaksin's administration began to face allegations of corruption, like tax evasion and laundering money to international investors.
Then, in 2006, while Thaksin was out of town on a business venture, a massive protest began by a different group, The PAD (Peoples Alliance for Democracy or "the yellow shirts"). This led to a military coup that overthrew the government, surprisingly without any bloodshed. One of the tactics of the group was seizing two of Thailand's biggest airports, essentially stopping people from coming in or out of the country. When Thaksin got word of this he did not return to Thailand and shortly after, a newly appointed military government was put in place and the yellow shirts disbanded claiming their goal had been accomplished. The only problem was that the new government was not an elected one of the people and therefore the people got pissed off, accusing the unelected officials of undermining democracy. And so the "red shirts" began to rally. Meanwhile Thaksin, now considered a fugitive in Thailand, the county he was once a revered Prime minister of, is rumored to be hiding somewhere in Dubai. Like a puppet master he leads the red shirts in support by addressing most big meetings by video link on the internet. Look for him on Skype.
Now, since the emergence of the red shirts, the opposing yellow shirts have reactivated and the two equally strong groups have been clashing loudly and often violently for about 4 years. People have been killed, bombs have been thrown, assassinations of leaders have been attempted and it looks like shit is about to officially hit the fan in a matter of days. All I need is a video camera, a bus ticket to Bangkok and a huge pair of balls.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
gone.
I learned a long time ago that some of the best experiences in life come out of sheer spontaneity and randomness. All it takes is just saying "yes" to an un-expected invitation that could lead to anywhere and anything and nine times out of ten, you won't be disappointed because you have no idea what you're in for. Over the past 3 months in Thailand, I've learned to cradle this belief for all it's worth. Say "yes" whenever you can to any offer that sounds remotely genuine. That's how I found myself carrying 8 pounds of fresh bananas through a foggy jungle at 7AM, far away from my home in Chumphon, far away from anyone who could speak decent English, except for a man named Hank G. Tomahawk. I felt safe. I felt that I had gotten what I'd subconsciously asked for; a strange challenge. I had already gotten over the dreaded hill of uneasiness by asking to stop about an hour into our trip because of course, I had to shit in an extreme way. When I told Hank this, all I did was hold my belly and say "toilet" and he hit the gas like he was trying to kick through the floor. My head flew back and the shit in my bottom almost came up top. I don't get embarrassed about this problem anymore, because it's happened to me too many times now in the presence of strangers and I find it works out for the better because it instantly rips off the lid to a more personal level of conduct. There were other passengers in the truck during this race; Hank's wife and a dude my age named Glank, who treated me like a celebrity for providing such tense entertainment on the long ride to where ever the hell it was we were going. I was fucking clueless. All I knew is that we were going fishing.That's what I initially said "yes" to.
Two days before, on the Friday evening, Charlie and I were just pouring our first drinks with our visiting friend Ms. Crystal Rydall, when we received a last minute invite to an office party at Chumphon's Department of Electricity. We went for it, and turned out to be the only "Farang" (whities) there. It was a well catered event with free food, booze, towels and a huge stage set up for karaoke and a special performance by a famous Bangkok country star, yep, Hank G. Tomahawk. We noticed him as soon as we sat down- he was the only dude dressed up as a cowboy, which I generally don't respect. Fake cowboys are one of the stupidest breeds of people in the world. However, this old guy had a defining quality, which I couldn't figure out until he came over to chat with us. As soon as he shook my hand, slapped my back and laughed I knew what it was. He was the Thailand rendition of my Grampa, Gerald Wesley Wicks. The first question he asked me was if I listened to Johnny Cash, to which I told him that I was raised on the man in black. We talked about music for half an hour, before he went on stage and covered everything from Cash to Jonny Horton. By the time we were on our second 26 of whiskey, Charlie and I were on stage singin' "Band on the run" to an audience of at least a hundred. I thought we sounded alright, but instead of giving us the traditional flowers after our performance, we received a can of sardines in tomato paste.
The following evening, around 11:00PM, we were shuttin' things down at our house when a truck rolled up and out hopped Hank G. Tomahawk with his wife and a small entourage. I still have no idea how they found out where we lived. I tried to ask in many ways but it was a mute point. They were here now, our first Thai guests and we were very unready to be good hosts. We served water and a leftover tray of cookies from Charlie's school. I had finished the beers about 15 minutes before they unexpectedly showed up. Hank eventually sent his driver to pick up some snacks while we all sat outside on the greatest party porch I've seen, and attempted to chat in a mash-up of broken English and Thai. All conversations came back to one consistent topic; the sweet love of music. Finally Hank brought out the guitar from his truck and we all sang into the night. Somewhere in that time I agreed to go fishing without knowing when and where. I was high on the presence of good strangers and was almost positive they were joking when Hank said they'd be back at 5:00 in the morning to pick me up to go fishing.
It was already 1:30AM. I was waiting for them to pull out tents and set up in front of the house but instead Hank sent his driver out again for a coffee and when he returned Hank downed about half of it and said goodbye as the entourage piled back into the truck like it was a circus car. I chugged about a jerry-can of water and went to sleep. Normally I'd start a new paragraph right now to represent the next morning when I woke up, but it's more realistic this way, because it actually felt like there was no in between period of when they left and when the alarm went off at 4:30AM and I jumped up and looked out the window to see them all standing outside, waiting around the truck like a bunch of vampires. I was fuckin' flabbergasted. I threw on some random clothes, packed my survival knife in my pocket, kissed the girl and was out the door.
Aside from the shit scare, our long ride was filled with Jonny Horton tunes and learning each other's languages respectively. I also learned that we were heading to Arunothai Beach where we would head out into the gulf of Thailand on a small charter boat. Man was I let down when we got there and found out that no boats were going out because there was talk of a hurricane on the way. Hank was determined though. We drove to the outskirts of town and found a poor Thai family that lived by the water and slept on the ground in little huts made of bamboo and leaves. They had small boats of their own and Hank made a hell of an offer in attempt to get us out there fishing, but the family was aware of the hurricane too and declined. Living poor is better than not living at all.
We went back to a pristine looking shrine at Arunothai beach where Hank, Glank and some other dude said some prayers and then bought an arsenal of huge firecrackers to light off. This is a tradition that wakes up the gods (and everything else within 10 kilometers). The gods had already decided we weren't allowed to go fishing, so we drove to Glank's house in the jungle. I had always wanted to hang out at a place like this- over 6 acres of land full of trees producing bananas, lychee, papaya, and even coffee. I know there was ganja somewhere in there too because Glank's father was stoned out of his mind. We sat and drank fresh coffee while random kids came running out of the wilderness to get a more familiar glimpse at the white guy. More people showed up, brining food and we ate a spicy ass meal that I couldn't handle. I chased it all down with a mug of Glank's father's whiskey before walking up an inclining jungle to pick bananas. Glank had a machete. I had my camera. Hank was singing at the top of his lungs. There was still a dewy fog in the air and everything smelt sweet n' real. It was the perfect time of morning and all I kept thinking was "What a beautiful day to disappear completely."
Two days before, on the Friday evening, Charlie and I were just pouring our first drinks with our visiting friend Ms. Crystal Rydall, when we received a last minute invite to an office party at Chumphon's Department of Electricity. We went for it, and turned out to be the only "Farang" (whities) there. It was a well catered event with free food, booze, towels and a huge stage set up for karaoke and a special performance by a famous Bangkok country star, yep, Hank G. Tomahawk. We noticed him as soon as we sat down- he was the only dude dressed up as a cowboy, which I generally don't respect. Fake cowboys are one of the stupidest breeds of people in the world. However, this old guy had a defining quality, which I couldn't figure out until he came over to chat with us. As soon as he shook my hand, slapped my back and laughed I knew what it was. He was the Thailand rendition of my Grampa, Gerald Wesley Wicks. The first question he asked me was if I listened to Johnny Cash, to which I told him that I was raised on the man in black. We talked about music for half an hour, before he went on stage and covered everything from Cash to Jonny Horton. By the time we were on our second 26 of whiskey, Charlie and I were on stage singin' "Band on the run" to an audience of at least a hundred. I thought we sounded alright, but instead of giving us the traditional flowers after our performance, we received a can of sardines in tomato paste.
The following evening, around 11:00PM, we were shuttin' things down at our house when a truck rolled up and out hopped Hank G. Tomahawk with his wife and a small entourage. I still have no idea how they found out where we lived. I tried to ask in many ways but it was a mute point. They were here now, our first Thai guests and we were very unready to be good hosts. We served water and a leftover tray of cookies from Charlie's school. I had finished the beers about 15 minutes before they unexpectedly showed up. Hank eventually sent his driver to pick up some snacks while we all sat outside on the greatest party porch I've seen, and attempted to chat in a mash-up of broken English and Thai. All conversations came back to one consistent topic; the sweet love of music. Finally Hank brought out the guitar from his truck and we all sang into the night. Somewhere in that time I agreed to go fishing without knowing when and where. I was high on the presence of good strangers and was almost positive they were joking when Hank said they'd be back at 5:00 in the morning to pick me up to go fishing.
Aside from the shit scare, our long ride was filled with Jonny Horton tunes and learning each other's languages respectively. I also learned that we were heading to Arunothai Beach where we would head out into the gulf of Thailand on a small charter boat. Man was I let down when we got there and found out that no boats were going out because there was talk of a hurricane on the way. Hank was determined though. We drove to the outskirts of town and found a poor Thai family that lived by the water and slept on the ground in little huts made of bamboo and leaves. They had small boats of their own and Hank made a hell of an offer in attempt to get us out there fishing, but the family was aware of the hurricane too and declined. Living poor is better than not living at all.
We went back to a pristine looking shrine at Arunothai beach where Hank, Glank and some other dude said some prayers and then bought an arsenal of huge firecrackers to light off. This is a tradition that wakes up the gods (and everything else within 10 kilometers). The gods had already decided we weren't allowed to go fishing, so we drove to Glank's house in the jungle. I had always wanted to hang out at a place like this- over 6 acres of land full of trees producing bananas, lychee, papaya, and even coffee. I know there was ganja somewhere in there too because Glank's father was stoned out of his mind. We sat and drank fresh coffee while random kids came running out of the wilderness to get a more familiar glimpse at the white guy. More people showed up, brining food and we ate a spicy ass meal that I couldn't handle. I chased it all down with a mug of Glank's father's whiskey before walking up an inclining jungle to pick bananas. Glank had a machete. I had my camera. Hank was singing at the top of his lungs. There was still a dewy fog in the air and everything smelt sweet n' real. It was the perfect time of morning and all I kept thinking was "What a beautiful day to disappear completely."
Monday, February 22, 2010
Reflections of Freeloaders
I knew when Charlie and I first moved to Thailand, that one day, eventually down the road, we’d meet up with an old friend who just happened to be travelin’ through on a trip, but other than that, we’d be pretty much on our own, especially since we took up residence in the small town of Chumphon. But then came 2010; the year of forward movement, the new decade of connection- heading out as far as possible and still meeting up with someone you know. It's an amazing time for living abroad. Perhaps as close as possible to that untouchable feeling of what Kerouac was talkin' about in "On The Road." It's difficult to tell, but it's easy to enjoy.
DEC. 31, 2009: Crystal Rydall gets off a bus at 5AM in Chumphon. That night the three of us rent a cabin in Thung Waluen and ring in the new year on the beach. She stays with us for two weeks and does more dishes than we own.
JAN. 13, 2010: Mr. B. Parr and his traveling roommate, Nova Scotia Nick arrive on a train from Bangkok sometime in the afternoon. Beers are ready and a BBQ of music gets underway on the front porch as the sun sets. The next day we rent motorbikes and I get us lost on the way to the beach. As always it pays off. We find a freshly paved road, winding its way up a mountain and it leads us to an inspiring look out point where we decide to indulge in the first session of “Being with B.” a 20 minute meditation course lead by B. Parr. Outstanding. Afterwards we discover a footpath leading even higher up the mountain so we take it and trip out on the altitude of natural beauty.
JAN. 15, 2010: The boys decide to go Island hopping for a while, with a plan to be on Koh Phangan for the infamous full moon party. Crystal leaves one day after in the same direction. Meanwhile, I’ve just landed a job, after a brief interview and a night in Bangkok.
FEB. 2, 2010: We get home from work to find that Crystal has made her way back as well. She also has some interesting stories involving “happy shakes” and staying up in the hills with a couple named Mr.T and Bindy, and wondering off alone for 5 hours. Sounds like it was an enlightening few days.
FEB. 3, 2010: Nova Scotia Nick shows up and talks about his special lady friend. Love is a curse? He leaves the following day to “go see about a girl.” No conclusion to that story yet.
FEB. 5, 2010: I sneak outta work to bid farewell and safe travels to B. Parr, on his way back to Bangkok, and onto Australia. Crystal is the last remaining guest. She tells me that Karina and Joc-D are on their way.
FEB. 6, 2010: In classic Thailand (mis)communication, we arrange a truck ride twenty minutes out of town to await the arrival of the ladies, but the bus they’re on somehow drops them off about a five minute walking distance from our house. Charlie and I get a power nap in on the wooden bench at the bus stop before finally meeting up with them. Then it’s time for beers and coolers. We take the ladies out for a fancy dinner and they pay for it. Shoulda known. Shoulda had the steak.
Karina and Joc-D are up for anything, with only one request; they want to see monkeys. So we hook up a little trip with our neighbors, Ao and Bob. The next morning a rad lookin’ truck with bench seats in the flat bed shows up on our front yard. It’s 10:30 and Bob’s already half snapped. I want to join. We cruise outta town and spend the day exploring deep caves, and a Buddhist shrine where we see the preserved little body of a revered monk. We stop for beers and side of the road pastries before continuing on to the swinging grounds of the monkeys. But not just any monkeys... we’re talkin’ about Gibbons - a breed of monkey that looks like a cute ninja. We even get to see one of the babies, which is very lucky thing according to Thai people. The baby is a golden yellow and looks magical. I made a birthday wish on it, but hasn't come true yet. After we run out of bean plants we offer the gibbons bananas and they seem almost offended by our prejudice display. We end our day with a dip at the beach before heading back to the house for a BBQ on the porch.
FEB. 8, 2010: Crystal joins Joc-D and Karina on their ride back to Bangkok and the house is silent for one whole week until a little black dog falls into our hands and now we've got a permanent resident.
Only a few more weeks until the school term is over and Charlie and I have a month and a half off to explore. Who's coming over in March and April?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Have you heard about the other side of the world?
Next time you get restless and thirsty for some good thinking, you should try this out; Get on the internet and look up a country you hardly know exists. For example what's the Republic of Haiti all about? Do you have any idea where it is on a map? I know I didn't until recently. I never got any news coverage when the earthquake struck there because I didn't have a T.V. and I couldn't find an english newspaper. So I looked for the disaster online, where you can find any disaster thinkable and unthinkable to man.
Apart from the fact that it's the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, I also learned that Haiti is one of those places that had a military rebellion. What a surprise. Do we have any idea what the fuck a rebellion really is? No, we don't. We are on the cozy side of the world. We associate rebellion with light-weighted shit that we here in a pop-punk song. Where make-up and getting rowdy on live T.V. symbolizes a rebellious attack on morals. It's a good thing North America hasn't adopted words like coup de' tat. Oh wait that's a French word, it'll never fly.
I'm trying hard to stick to the point of how Haiti is a prime example of a whole other world ( I believe, it's called a 3rd world), that the majority of us will never whole-heartedly feel enough sympathy and compassion about to help out. And by help out, I mean actually get motivated and ask some questions, do some research, make some phone calls, influence some people and still feel like maybe you could be doing more. There's no reason to feel guilty about not feeling anything. We're all the way over here. We got our "big" problems under control for the most part. They're over there. It's too far away to care what's wrong with them. Let them figure it out right? I wish we didn't think like this. I wish we could start all over again as a world and find a way to stay united in one big party instead of a giant spherical neighborhood of assholes. I wish I could really get out what's inside right now, but it's too much. I'll do it in doses.
I didn't think I was gonna write anything about Haiti, because I knew that people would see the title and think "fuck, another article about Haiti." And that's the problem right there. Something crazy happens and it's front page news. If it's close to home, we eat it up, we're all about it, waiting for more news to break. If it's on the other side of the ocean, it doesn't matter how tragic it is, it becomes old news. We forget about it, assuming the problem will fix itself, so long as it stays the hell away from our comfort zone.
Now that I'm living in a far away country I realize how ignorant I am as a North American. But I'm beginning to wake up. When serious shit goes down here in Thailand (and surely it will), I want to be here to experience it. I know my family would freak out and never talk to me the same way if I declined to come home, but I don't think I would hop on that plane to safety. I'm being honest here. I would want to witness just how barbarically crazy life can be in the world. And if I could make it so I would want most everyone to see it too. It would change things. The reason we don't truly feel anything for smaller poorer countries with crazy shit constantly happening to them is 'cause we don't have an iota of understanding for what it's like. Indeed, we are the lucky ones.
Apart from the fact that it's the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, I also learned that Haiti is one of those places that had a military rebellion. What a surprise. Do we have any idea what the fuck a rebellion really is? No, we don't. We are on the cozy side of the world. We associate rebellion with light-weighted shit that we here in a pop-punk song. Where make-up and getting rowdy on live T.V. symbolizes a rebellious attack on morals. It's a good thing North America hasn't adopted words like coup de' tat. Oh wait that's a French word, it'll never fly.
I'm trying hard to stick to the point of how Haiti is a prime example of a whole other world ( I believe, it's called a 3rd world), that the majority of us will never whole-heartedly feel enough sympathy and compassion about to help out. And by help out, I mean actually get motivated and ask some questions, do some research, make some phone calls, influence some people and still feel like maybe you could be doing more. There's no reason to feel guilty about not feeling anything. We're all the way over here. We got our "big" problems under control for the most part. They're over there. It's too far away to care what's wrong with them. Let them figure it out right? I wish we didn't think like this. I wish we could start all over again as a world and find a way to stay united in one big party instead of a giant spherical neighborhood of assholes. I wish I could really get out what's inside right now, but it's too much. I'll do it in doses.
I didn't think I was gonna write anything about Haiti, because I knew that people would see the title and think "fuck, another article about Haiti." And that's the problem right there. Something crazy happens and it's front page news. If it's close to home, we eat it up, we're all about it, waiting for more news to break. If it's on the other side of the ocean, it doesn't matter how tragic it is, it becomes old news. We forget about it, assuming the problem will fix itself, so long as it stays the hell away from our comfort zone.
Now that I'm living in a far away country I realize how ignorant I am as a North American. But I'm beginning to wake up. When serious shit goes down here in Thailand (and surely it will), I want to be here to experience it. I know my family would freak out and never talk to me the same way if I declined to come home, but I don't think I would hop on that plane to safety. I'm being honest here. I would want to witness just how barbarically crazy life can be in the world. And if I could make it so I would want most everyone to see it too. It would change things. The reason we don't truly feel anything for smaller poorer countries with crazy shit constantly happening to them is 'cause we don't have an iota of understanding for what it's like. Indeed, we are the lucky ones.
Friday, January 22, 2010
"These doors close and we're chasing the sky
This chaos brews and keeps us alive
Why trade the world when the world is mine?
Why give up now when all we've got is time?
Looking through this broken glass,
these dreams invade the ceiling they could fall so fast
but now we're knee-deep in this shit
Oh make it last
A lifetime of wanting and waiting and deadly persuading
The volume's too quiet now
These tires' tread mark a special occasion
And my ears haven't stopped ringing out
As these notes are bellowed they'll rip you apart
So let these flat chords just break your heart
And who the fuck said we were giving up?
Cause it's just begun!"
-lyrics from "this respirator" by The Flatliners
Sunday, January 10, 2010
note to self...
Everybody has got a purpose
and everybody has got a dream.
The theory that fell into my head today around 3:15 PM was that there are many ways for a person's life to play out, depending on if they realize their purpose and/or their dream, and how they go about achieving it.
There are a few combinations to break down here and fortunately I'm in a great state of mind to explain in detail before I get hungry and lose interest.
The first thing that should be known in this theory is Purpose.
No matter what becomes of a person's life, wether it be lived and viewed as a great success or a tragic failure, the person in question will inevitably serve their purpose. This purpose could be a number of small, seemingly insignificant things, or one big memorable thing. And furthermore, it can occur in one spectacular moment, or at many different junctures in a person's life.
The Purpose could be good, it could be bad, it may even have a domino effect that could echo through time, producing a moment, event or occurrence that will never be feasibly traced back to its' origin. But that last thought isn't really important right now. I don't wanna get into time travel here - I haven't smoked ganja in quite some time.
The point to remember is that Purpose is inevitable, however, a person's Dream, if properly introduced and nurtured in the equation of life, can lead to an even great conclusion of Purpose.
Some people never truly realize their dream, and sadly, even if they do, they often don't believe in them-self enough to pursue it, or they make too many compromises that block the path to their dream.
Should a person feel strong enough to pursue their dream with full determination and focus, then they are sure to achieve it, or come close enough to be happy and feel complete.
In an incalculable amount of lives lived, a person's purpose is in fact the same or very similar to their dream, leading them to exactly what they are destined to be. Most of us have no way of knowing if our dream and purpose are running on the same line, and so it should be. If one knows their dream, they're half way there- the easy half. What is crucial for the rest of this person's life is staying resolutely on the path of their dream and working toward the goal with one question in mind; HOW to get there.
In some cases that are hard to swallow, a person may be destined with a purpose of dying in an accident or from a disease. They may be on their way to achieving their dream or may have even reached their goal and got to momentarily bask in the glory of their dream before death took them. Regardless of how tragic it may seem, it is far better to leave this world on the path of your dream than it is to be a lost soul, wandering until either death or meaning presents itself. If a person hasn't realized their dream yet, they need not worry, but they must also not waste time.
and everybody has got a dream.
The theory that fell into my head today around 3:15 PM was that there are many ways for a person's life to play out, depending on if they realize their purpose and/or their dream, and how they go about achieving it.
There are a few combinations to break down here and fortunately I'm in a great state of mind to explain in detail before I get hungry and lose interest.
The first thing that should be known in this theory is Purpose.
No matter what becomes of a person's life, wether it be lived and viewed as a great success or a tragic failure, the person in question will inevitably serve their purpose. This purpose could be a number of small, seemingly insignificant things, or one big memorable thing. And furthermore, it can occur in one spectacular moment, or at many different junctures in a person's life.
The Purpose could be good, it could be bad, it may even have a domino effect that could echo through time, producing a moment, event or occurrence that will never be feasibly traced back to its' origin. But that last thought isn't really important right now. I don't wanna get into time travel here - I haven't smoked ganja in quite some time.
The point to remember is that Purpose is inevitable, however, a person's Dream, if properly introduced and nurtured in the equation of life, can lead to an even great conclusion of Purpose.
Some people never truly realize their dream, and sadly, even if they do, they often don't believe in them-self enough to pursue it, or they make too many compromises that block the path to their dream.
Should a person feel strong enough to pursue their dream with full determination and focus, then they are sure to achieve it, or come close enough to be happy and feel complete.
In an incalculable amount of lives lived, a person's purpose is in fact the same or very similar to their dream, leading them to exactly what they are destined to be. Most of us have no way of knowing if our dream and purpose are running on the same line, and so it should be. If one knows their dream, they're half way there- the easy half. What is crucial for the rest of this person's life is staying resolutely on the path of their dream and working toward the goal with one question in mind; HOW to get there.
In some cases that are hard to swallow, a person may be destined with a purpose of dying in an accident or from a disease. They may be on their way to achieving their dream or may have even reached their goal and got to momentarily bask in the glory of their dream before death took them. Regardless of how tragic it may seem, it is far better to leave this world on the path of your dream than it is to be a lost soul, wandering until either death or meaning presents itself. If a person hasn't realized their dream yet, they need not worry, but they must also not waste time.
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