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.)

Return to the light

As you can see, my blog has turned a paler shade of white than a goth's skin in winter. Apart from the long-overdue change in layout, I feel this is a little easier on the eyes.

Talking about easy on the eyes, feast your sight on this.

Errr... what was I talking about?

Nevermind.

Happy New Year!

Better late than never.

Oh, and please keep on treating me like a god in this year, too. :)

Waves are calling

Today, I took a walk on the beach.

Since a few months I live quite near the sea and for some reason I hadn't gone there yet. I thought about doing so quite a few times, but it wasn't until today I really went.

I've always loved the beach and, more so, the sea. Since ancient times, the sea has meant freedom to many people. Some of the first human societies were sea-faring peoples. The sea brings food, prosperity and adventures.

Mankind's fascination with the sea is understandable. Weathering its many dangers, people can gain so much from the sea, despite the costs. She gives and she takes.

Some societies thought the sea was a godlike person. A god with a fish tail and a trident, or a powerful goddess. Perhaps that is why the sea attracts so many -- and also attracts me.

I am no sailer, no fisherman, and I don't think I ever will be. However, the sea is inviting and mesmerizing to me. I don't find her fair (not the North Sea, anyway) and she's often cold to me, but for some reason I feel a strong pull towards her. She's calling me, but I know not for what purpose.

Perhaps it is my sense of adventure, my need for freedom. When I am at the beach, all I want is the sound of crashing waves, the wind through my hair, and my eyes on the horizon. Moments like these, nothing else matters. A sense of the divine, perhaps -- or some form of "zen". Leave all earthly matters behind.

Eventually, of course, I must go back home. But always there remains a sense of wonder. Wondering at what the sea wants from me -- or perhaps wondering why I left her again. In my mind, her promise that she'll be waiting forever.

Every day, she sends her sea gulls to remind me of her.

Just a shame I don't like fish.

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.

A night out

G'morning

I open my eyes. Despite the curtains, the room is well-lit by the early sunlight on the windows. Another day is here.

I groan as people on the radio talk too loudly for the time of day, and I know that the radio is my alarm clock. I take a look beside me and see you lying next to me, half awake. You look so magnificent; your soft hair slightly roughened up, your soft skin against my arm, your naked breasts finding their way from underneath the sheets, your gentle breathing against my shoulder.

Realizing I have some time before I need to get out of bed, I watch and adore you. With two fingers I slowly caress your skin, and you open your pretty brown eyes and look at me. You smile. "Good morning," you whisper, and I reply the same.

I don't ever want to get out of bed. I want to lie here next to you for days and weeks and months.