A good conversation

Hey, how are you? Nice to see you. Please, come in. No, don't be shy, make yourself comfortable. Yes, you can take off your shoes. Just sit down and relax.

Now, I haven't seen you around lately. I admit, I am to blame mostly for that; I don't regularly visit this place anymore. Despite my best intentions.

Did you know there are millions of blogs that don't get updated? Someone optimistically started some blog, for friends, work, special interest, or just because it was the thing to do at that moment. Now, years later, most blogs have never had a second posting and a lot are all but forgotten.

I do not want my blog to share that fate.

To be perfectly honest, not many people read my blog. That's fine; I am glad for every visitor. I am glad you are here, because it means I'm not alone in here. Although talking to oneself is not as bad as many people seem to think.

This blog is not about any special interest; not any one in particular, anyway. It's not some work-related information or a way to "connect" with the rest of the digital world. Basically, my blog is about one thing: me.

Apparently you are interested in me. Now, don't take that the wrong way. "Interested" does not necessarily mean "wanting a romantic or physical relationship". It merely means the things I write interest you in some way.

This could be that you find my writings insightful, my jokes funny, or my links useful. It could also be that you find my posts annoying and you keep visiting this place to either remind yourself why you find it annoying or you just keep waiting for something that you do like. Either way, my blog, and therefore I as a person, captivates you and makes you want to read on.

You've been reading all of this, right? That must mean something caught your interest. Or perhaps you're waiting to see if all this rambling will, at last, end and something truly interesting comes up.

Well, it doesn't get any better than this. Trust me. If you're bored, stop reading.

Honestly. Do stop reading. It's ok. Don't apologize; I will never know.

Still here?

Actually, there is something interesting at the end of this post. But I wanted to make sure the not-truly-interested people would be gone.

The interesting part is...

Drumroll please.

...the interesting part is that I have no idea what I'm talking about. Ever.

You just wasted your time reading the stuff that I wrote, while I don't even know what I'm saying. But apparently, it makes sense to you.

There is a fine line between brilliance and insanity, but also between knowing having no clue and knowing exactly what you mean. I'm on one side of the line, and you're on the other side.

Please, take me to your side. Enlighten me. Explain to me what I truly mean. Because I'm truly at a loss.

Funny stuff

Weeds

It never ceases to amaze me how people think about drugs.

Last night, I watched the movie Grizzly Man; perhaps you have heard of it or seen it. I recommend it. Timothy, the central person in the film, admits to having been addicted to alcohol. But what struck me was how his parents seemed to ignore most of that, but instead talked about how he once tried to smoke marihuana in their house. His father "naturally" put a stop to that.

As if cannabis is far worse than drinking too much.

Do not misunderstand; marihuana is harmful in many ways. In the Netherlands, its dangers ares often underestimated and it is frequently seen as not addictive. That is, sadly, wrong.

However, the fear of cannabis in the United States seems to be far too great. One or two joints do not scar you for life. Obviously, much depends on your age, since cannabis does prevent normal mental development, but a (nearly) fullgrown person will not be harmed much.

It is odd, then, how all drugs are considered to be evil in a society where alcohol, a notoriously dangerous drug, is perfectly acceptable. This is not just America (although the USA are arguably most black-and-white in their views of drugs), but most of the Western countries, and many non-Western countries as well.

In my view, the Dutch approach to softdrugs is therefore more suitable. Not completely legal (as is often thought), the use and possesion of small doses of marihuana is tolerated; the well-known "gedoogbeleid" (a policy of not prosecuting this minor offense). Cannabis is sold in so-called coffeeshops.

This policy is now under discussion. To be honest, it has always been under discussion, but now more widely. One of the government parties believes it is best to erase the whole thing, and another party believes in a larger policy, where the government itself grows and sells the marihuana. A clash in the Parliament is inevitable.

The "gedoogbeleid" is under attack, more than before. On the one hand, this is sad, for it appears to be a very effective policy (the number of people addicted to marihuana is lower than in most other Western countries and there is a smaller black market in cannabis). On the other hand, it is always good to review a policy after a while.

I'm interested to see what will happen to our world-famous policy regarding to drugs. And if alcohol on the other hand will be given its rightful place in government policy.

What's to blame for the death of Michael Jackson?

a. Sunshine;

b. Moonlight;

c. Good times;

d. Boogie.

(For more tasteful and tasteless jokes on Michael Jackson, visit this site.)

Welcome back to the world that makes no sense whatsoever

Under the weather

I've been a little ill these past few days. And I was not alone in that...

Fear not the darkness

'Maybe there is a beast....maybe it's only us.'
~ William Golding: Lord of the flies

Both for our early ancestors and for modern man, night is a scary time of day. The inevitable darkness hides everything that is not illuminated by the light of a campfire or a lamp post; scary monsters can lurk nearby, just out of sight.

Mankind's active imagination turns innocent noises into threatening foes. It is wise to suspect the worst, so every bird in the undergrowth can be a pack of wolfs in waiting; every backstreet mouse can be a serial killer looking for a victim.

While this simple principle can be effective and even life-saving, it is inherently flawed. The real world holds far less dangers than the mind perceives. Likewise, what is optically revealed by the light is not always so innocent and true to its appearance as one might hope.

People who fear the darkness, fear their own imagination more than anything.

It has been said that most of the human brain is not used. While this statement is controversial, it does imply that mankind may not be living up to its potential, which sounds like a fair assumption. Are you living up to all your potential, in every way? Not likely -- but I mean that without offense. Growing in one direction means simply not growing (much) in another direction.

Much untapped potential still exists, and why would anyone want to waste such precious possibilities? Would you not rather be the person you can be, rather than the empty shadow of that complete self?

Do not be scared of the darkness within you. Explore the deep depths of your own mind, uncover the secrets that are hidden still, and expose the harmless spectres of your own fear. Understand yourself -- improve yourself.

Stop fighting your inner demons; accept them. They're merely another part of you.

Only thus can you face the challenges life throws your way. The mere sight of your confidence will change the mind of many who seek to oppose you.

Imagine, if you will, the imposing figure of Darth Maul. More than his mastery with both the Force and the blade, the complete control over himself and the selfconfidence are what make this Dark Lord so terrifying.

Fear not the darkness within you; embrace it.

Gadget

Am I not your favourite gadget no more? How come, my little baby?

Am I not your favourite gadget no more now? How come not anymore?

I heard stories that you're shopping around, you've been all over town with some slut hanging round your neck... Now I'm broken down and out.

Am I not your favourite gadget no more, how come my little baby? Am I not your favourite gadget no more now, how come not anymore? Since you bought me, I feel lonely. Since that day things are wrong. Could you not repair me, honey? Is my warranty garanteed gone?

Oh, second hand for ever and ever old, for ever and ever second hand now, oh no! I've been bought, I've been sold, but I just needed some fixing! I feel cheap, but I'm not a bargain.

Just for you I keep waiting. Oh, second hand now...

Am I not your favourite gadget no more, how come my little baby? Am I not your favourite gadget no more now, how come not anymore? (Nananana...)

I've been bought, I've been sold -- but I just needed some fixing! I feel cheap, but I'm not a bargain. Just for you i keep waiting.

Am I not your favourite gadget, no more? What did I do, baby?

~original lyrics by Ellen ten Damme, "Gadget"

Errr...

Mickey van Gogh

Goth the life -- revisited

Somehow I've managed to not talk about one of my other fascinations. That is shocking to me, since it's possibly an even bigger obsession than Star Wars and blogging together. I know, it's that bad.

I've always been a fan of fantasy and the line between reality and makebelieve is one I find very interesting indeed. And as macabre as it may sound, the role death plays in that.

Sounds creepy? I bet. But I've always been fascinated by so-called "gothic novels" and the gothic subculture.

And vampires.

Vampires and the goth lifestyle are often associated, for obvious reasons. Goth wear black clothes, often oldfashioned style, dye their hair black and pale their faces. The resemblance to an undead corpse isn't that farfetched.

However, both vampires and goths are often misinterpreted. When talking about vampires, people quickly start to talk about stakes, garlic and full moons. Full moons? That's werewolves for you. Their ancient enemy. But vampires are fascinating. I once did an essay on them, and discovered that although cultures around the world have their own sort of vampires - just like dragons - they are all just a bit different.

So what defines a vampire?

Is it being a walking corpse? Nah, some cultures believe in vampires that have nonhuman origins, or no origin in life at all. Is it the human appearance? Nah, some believe in vampires made of flames. Is it the seducing aspect? Nah, some vampires are just plain gross. Kind of like zombies.

Is it the blooddrinking? There are some creatures that do not drink blood, yet they are most definately vampires.

So what defines a vampire?

And what defines a goth?

Goth, in my opinion, is misinterpreted by many people, even goths. Does that sound ridiculous? I'm sure. But please realize just how many people just try to fit in, even in such small and remarkable groups. However, misunderstanding is more common amongst those who are not gothics.

I once had a conversation with a religious woman who had read about goths, yet she never had encountered any. She was appalled, yet fascinated. Of course the article, in a christian magazine, was not too objective, and often reminded readers that some goths deny god, or are satanists. And I explained, that the essence of goth is not that.

Goth, in essence, is a philosophical view of life, in which death is acknowledged as the ultimate certainty. Every being is subject to death, human and animal alike, and also angels, demons and gods. Goths are not religious by that view, since they do not see any god or devil as mightier than death. Satanists are not gothics.

However, the misunderstanding stems from that view of death. Many people think gothics are fascinated by death, yet the opposite is true. In accepting the finality of death, gothics take more pleasure in life.

Gothics enjoy life on a more conscious level than most of us.

I know there are people that call themselves goths and disagree with this. But in essence, this is what gothic is all about. Misunderstanding comes from too few explanations from the gothic subculture, but also because people don't bother to look under the eerie surface.

I would call myself gothic if it wasn't for the fact that I don't wear makeup. I do like dark medieval-looking clothes, and I love the silvery jewelry with pentacles and such. I am not fascinated by death, yet I am fascinated by vampires. The nightstalking undead, caught between their previous lives and the death they cannot reach. The ultimate exception to the ultimate truth.

Please don't look down on goths ever again.

Aerosmith

Over the border line

Borderline. A nice song by Madonna; a serious and tiring disorder for some people.

The sad part is that this "personality disorder" is not a grotesque, absurd thing that is entirely beyond other people's understanding; no, it is a disorder in which normal human emotions are magnified out of proportion. Everyone feels extreme emotions sometimes -- love, fear, anger -- but people with borderline do so every single waking moment. And they switch between the emotions instantly.

One moment a person is everything they've always wanted and more, and the next moment that same person is the devil incarnate and can't do anything right. This, of course, exhausts borderliners themselves, as well as their surroundings.

I feel great sympathy for people with borderline. Despite the fact that they sometimes drive me mad -- or, perhaps, because of it.

Right now, I am going through many emotions. Much like a borderliner, my emotions can change rapidly and are intense. I will not go into the situation that caused it (but don't be worried -- I'm fine, sort of) but what I feel is conflicting. I feel torn.

But unlike a borderliner, I often feel conflicting emotions at the same time. Anger, joy, love and repulsion -- it's all there. A paradox of feelings.

And I fear only time will tell which emotion will last the longest.

Today's random thoughts

New on this blog's menu: the random thoughts of the day. Which, as they are random, will probably be a non-daily occurrence.

On to the randomness.

* Trees and flowers should have human rights, too.

* Wiggling noses are cute. So are toes. Eyes are scary, though.

* Why is that in the dark, one can't see, while in the light, one can?

* Of all the things one should do, the easiest are the hardest to start doing.

* There is a 99.1% certainty that nobody's reading this. There is a 23.6% chance you are offended by it, though. Around 4.7% chance you will now boycott trade relations with me, my family and generally everyone who happened to live in a 200 kilometer radius from me. And then try to kill all of us.

* Randomness is overrated.

Who am I?

A seemingly simple question -- who am I?

One could say I am a guy called DragonFang to some and Nils to some others. One could say I am a friend, or a lover, or a son. One could state I am a psychologist, or a dreamer, or perhaps a nice guy. And one would be correct in all cases (I hope).

However, those descriptions do not define me.

There is something, beyond words, that defines my identity -- who I am, and nobody else is. Everyone feels it instinctively. The moment a child realizes its identity does not stretch out beyond itself -- their mommy and daddy do not know what it has done in their absence. The line between oneself and the outside world. The line that defines my being.

Nothing I do or am is unique; however, every person is unique. This is probably the individualist's paradox -- one doesn't want to be part of the crowd, but in doing so becomes a part of (another) crowd that wants to be unique. People try to define themselves based on what they are not, but achieve the opposite effect.

It is a paradox I can't escape from, and from it springs my question -- who am I? Am I a unique individual at all?

Interestingly, people in less individualistic societies (China, North-Korea, even Eastern Europe) define themselves exactly by referring to their social class. They are a farmer, or a businessman, or a mother. What makes them special is generally not what they think of.

Perhaps we are not as unique as we would like to believe. To paraphrase Tyler Durden, perhaps I am not a beautiful and unique snowflake, but I am merely the same decaying matter as everything else.

And only in death will I have a name -- on a fading tombstone, eroded and finally forgotten.

Goth is art

Pimp my Sith

There's been a slight misunderstanding, but we're fine now