Santa Clause has been to town

It's that one special day of the year when children wake up at 5 am because they are so excited about Santa and all the presents he has left behind. That time when everyone is just a little bit happier and more generous. I often think about those spending christmas alone, or those who have nothing. I feel happy because I too am celebrating with my family, getting lovely presents, eating incredible food and spending time at the beach just generally being merry.

I think about those people who have nothing and I feel sad for them. I feel like I want to help them. I think about Somalian refugees and old people with no family left. I think about those who are sick and in need,  who have lost loved ones and those who have nowhere to go. There is a lot of sadness and despair in the world, and I see that all the time, but at this time of year it can be masked by merriment. I often wonder how I can help, and where I can even start, but I do know that it makes me appreciate what I have so much more.  So today I will be merry, enjoy my presents, and spend time with the people I love, but I will spare a thought for people less fortunate because that is what christmas is about to me.

Merry Christmas!

Germany.

It's this tiny little country, that likes to steal my friends. I know saying goodbye to people is hard I expect it. I make friends with people from overseas, and I know that eventually they will leave. I think maybe it will get easier but it never does. Not even a little bit. That final hug, that final kiss, that urgency to make known how much you are going to miss someone, and how much you love them. All the conversations you have ever had, pop into your mind, all the great times you had together, blur by, everything blurs together and the next thing you know, you are driving off, down a dreary highway, rain pelting down, with "Never let me go" blaring out of the radio and you just can't fight the tears anymore, even though you so desperately want to. 

I just want you to know though, that you always make me smile. I have never felt safer than when I was in your arms for cuddles, and I have never told anyone half the things I told you. I will miss you more than I can really stand to think about and the night I told you not to come to close because I smelt like sunscreen and tasted like saltwater and you said "Yes, but that's just you", was the most important thing anyone has ever said to me because at that moment I knew that I never had to fake anything about myself with you because you just appreciated me the way I am. 

You are so very important.

Homebake baby!

It's that time of year again. Festival season, summer, the festive season. It's all happening. To kick off these general festivities on Saturday was Homebake. The all Australian music/comedy/film festival. It was a perfect, summers day in Sydney, lots of bikinis and short denim shorts.

The day kicked off with the Rubens, triple J unearthed winners, and continued with such classy Australian acts as Housos, and some fantastic Australian music with Drapht, The Jezabels and the awe inspiring Eskimo Joe.  Ladyhawke, our sweet as NZ cousin also  rocked the stage, pleasing fans with My Delirium as her final song.

What made this day even more special, was when it was all over, and everyone was walking back through Martin place, the Christmas tree and all the decorations reminded us that it is Christmas time.

The simple life.

The other day, I fooled myself into thinking life was simple. I had a day off, I stayed in bed late, I watched trashy movies, I drank hot chocolate from my favourite mug, I sat by the window working on my novel watching soft rain falling over the ocean. I almost believed that nothing else mattered in that moment. I actually almost fooled myself. 

Goodbyes.

"Never say goodbye. Because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting."

 I need your calmness. I need your positive energy. I need your organization. I need your guidance. I need you to dance with me crazily, I need to hear you tell me about your life and I need to tell you about mine. I need to see you laugh when someone says something funny, because I probably found it funny too but I don't want to laugh by myself. I need you to teach me to play wii properly and I need you to include me in decisions so I know I am needed. I need you to tell me what to do when things go wrong, I love that you're friends with me just because I am me, no pretending. I need to know you are still there because I need you as my friend.

The biannual breakdown and how to survive it.

Every session in exams, students have a breakdown. Some will be worse than others, some will cry, others will sit and stare at a wall. Some will almost quit uni, others will forget to eat, sleep and shower because that takes away valuable study time. So what do you do when you wake up one morning and realise you have been sleeping in the dining room all night and you haven't showered in 3 days?

1. Call your Mother- or if you live with her, go and cry on her shoulder. (Fathers tend not to be quite so sympathetic in such matters). Tell her everything your thinking, how much you hate uni/school/your job. Tell her that your thinking about quitting, tell her that you need her to send food or come and pick you up. She'll probably have been expecting this phone call anyway.

2. Get rid of the energy drinks. These ultimately sap your energy and in addition to that, disrupt your bowel  movements. Stop now to avoid shitting yourself in an exam.

3. Take a shower. You stink. No one wants to come near you.

4. Eat something, preferably not something by Cadbury or Starburst or that came out of a vending machine.

5. Have a dance to some Calvin Harris. It's a guaranteed mood elevator. 

The fictional profile.

Mattias Lincoln is the president of the University Law Students Society. He has a lucky top hat and has been known to carry a cane. Although people see him as one of the highest achievers in the faculty of law, he assures me that he is secretly a bit of an underachiever who would rather watch ABC’s newest legal drama “Crownies”, than actually do any of his readings.

“I thought that having scraped into law with the minimum UAI, it would all be a breeze. Then I failed contract law in my first session at university.”

Having grown up in Wollongong, attending local schools, the University of Wollongong seemed like an obvious choice once the decision to continue studying had been made. “That and the fact that the UAI for law, was lower than anywhere in Sydney.” He says.

“My parents desperately wanted me to go into teaching or do an apprenticeship. Possibly one of the motivating factors for me to finish my law degree, is that they didn’t think I could do it.”

“I have always idolised Denny Crane from Boston Legal. People told me that was a stupid reason to study law, but I maintain it was an appropriate and well thought out reason.”

He also didn’t want to be stuck doing anything physical. Although enjoying the occasional run, he admits that physical activity really isn’t his thing, and that the only physical activities he enjoys, are the ones that he gets to cum at the end of. He agrees that maintaining a balance is important but argues that it can be easily achieved with minimal physical exertion.

Since becoming president of the LSS, and entering his third year at university, Mattias has fine tuned the art of being a student. He spends a proportionate amount of time studying, socialising, travelling and getting drunk. He has tried moving out of home, decided he didn’t like it, and moved back. He has also developed a voraciously healthy interest in reading for leisure and admits that if he isn’t watching legal dramas, he’ll be reading one.

When asked about his family, he jokingly says there is a strong possibility he is adopted. Although his family are kind and supportive and his mum makes a mean pumpkin soup, Mattias feels he bares no resemblance to them personality wise.

“My sister is an interesting character. She wants to be a bird when she grows up and she enjoys repeating everything I say. It’s unacceptable, even if she is only 5.”

His biggest achievement so far is passing property law, although he says that becoming president of the LSS goes close to being number one. Mattias only has two more years until he graduates and he plans to be a judge by the time he is 30. He wants to fight crime, in an air conditioned office, a suit, and while sipping on a large skinny flat white with 1 sugar.

His advice to new students is worth taking on board. He says “In the paraphrased and slightly inaccurate words of the great Spock “Stumble forth and try to prosper.”

Just because.

So our professor told us quite some time ago that to establish ourselves as writers we must write every day. I have failed in this task. Dismally. I am however, as I think of it, with a little procrastinating time on my hands, and with everything too noisy to try and get real work done, going to write something. 

I wanted to get something off my chest. It's the fact that I don't have a couch. I mean seriously, what a ridiculous thing to be wanting. In my room currently, I have a single bed, a desk, a chest of drawers and a cupboard. Sort of. More like a small box. What I crave though, is a couch. It is one of my motivations for wanting to move out of dorms in the nearish future. I want a couch that: I can curl up on in winter with a blanket and a good book, I can fall asleep on watching TV at 8pm, I can entertain guests on, I can flip through magazines with a glass of wine on. It just seems like a cultural necessity to own one. When I go home, I do all of these things. My favourite is falling asleep on a saturday night, after some thai take away and wine, watching Breakfast at Tiffany's. Yes. I need a couch. It's an investment I feel is very necessary for my well being. Im sick of my yoga mat covered in pillows. It just isn't the same. 

Heartbeat with improper punctuation.

A fear so deep it shakes you to the core, picking at heartstrings like a vulture picks at flesh.
Darkness leaking through a window, mopped up by sporadic light, fading in and out.
Sickness poisons your blood, fresh and red, essence of your life, and it's dying
You never know what to expect, you just want it all to be okay.
All you taste is vomit, and all you can hear is static energy coming from nowhere.
You crumble to the ground and go pale. No sign of a conscious thought. All you can see is the clouds as you wonder why it's all vanishing.
A heartbeat with improper punctuation, thats all it has to be.

The Milk Fridge.

"There's no use crying over spilt milk". Thats what they used to tell me. Until I spilt it. 

Careless, off limits, why, avoided, follow protocols, cost. These are just a few of the common phrases you might hear once you actually actually spill the milk. Or spoil it... as the case may be. 

It was a dark and stormy night... at least I am pretty sure it was, my mood was dark and stormy, which is really all I can remember. I had just returned from a long weekend in my second home on the north coast, where I saw my elderly relatives for what may well have been the last time. I said goodbye to my family at home, knowing I wouldn't see them for weeks. I was in a terrible mood. I sat in a meeting the second I got back for over an hour, at which point, on the edge of a nervous breakdown and feeling distinctly like I was about to pass out... I was asked to retrieve a dinner. And thats when I left the fridge open. 

I stood there and thought, you know what, how can I best fuck up everyone at this place... what would cause the most inconvenience possible... I know! I'll deprive them of their cereal in the morning. 

No not really. I thought I had shut it and I walked out, and didn't hear anything more until the next morning, when, at 7 am, the second I walked into breakfast, I was bombarded with questions of my whereabouts the night before (which are often hazy at the best of times, though that night I remembered because I had been watching sex and the city in bed until 3 am), the whereabouts of everyone else in this place, and made to feel like the earth had been shattered as a result of my careless actions. I had been awake for approximately 2 minutes... so as you might imagine... the best response I could give was to nod in what I hoped was an apologetic manner. 

Later that day, I was to receive a further 6 emails from various dignitaries of the residence. And a phone call, at which point I broke down in tears, and internally begged to be fired so I would never have to deal with anything this first world petty again. 

What I really can't stand about the whole situation is the triviality of it all, and despite knowing this whole issue was trivial, is that out of all the things I have been through this year, this was the one that set me off. It was the one that broke me. It was the cherry on the ruined cake of 2011. 

It saddens me to think that I have just written a whole blog... about breaking down... over a milk fridge.

Road Trip!

Tacking Point, Port Macquarie

So after a completely relaxed day of driving, we have made it to Port Macquarie.

 Port brings back a lot of memories for me, as we drove along past tacking point, I remembered the days of paddling up the beach towards the lighthouse, and the days where we hoped to just avoid the rocks that spot the beach the entire way along. I remember the days of peppermint park, and family holidays with our QLD friends. I remember the pancake place and the days before the high rise apartments.

We spent some time this afternoon just admiring the newly done up lighthouse. There was a spectacular storm cell that we had chased up the coast and that hit as we arrived creating a shadow across the coast and the north easterly, onshore winds made for some wild surf (Although, we went back later when the westerly had come through, and it had cleaned the waves up to a point where they were entirely surfable and offshore).

After arriving at the motel, we decided that Toro's Mexican would be the only acceptable dinner option so we had ourselves a margarita and some burritos. New memories to add to me already hefty collection, from the NSW, Australian coast.

King of the Rock

This is a tribute post to my brother who won the King of the Rock surfing competition today, held in memory of my uncle, Mark Clifford. 

 I am so proud of my little brother, not just today, but always. He is a true inspiration to me and frankly I would be completely lost without him. 

(Mark Clifford)

(Nick ripping up the rock. Photos by Heather Wren.)

Travel Bug

I made a rather foolish though exciting purchase last week, of the "Long Way Round Collectors Edition Box Set". It contains: Long Way Round, Long Way Down and Race to Dakar. Although I have seen Long Way Round and Down a number of times I had not seen race to Dakar. It's one of those shows that gives you this unexplainable urge to travel far and wide. I have been looking up flights to various destinations wondering what possible adventures could be next in store for me.

In about 3 weeks I am taking a road trip up the East coast of NSW which I am very excited about. I have also been looking up flights to Hawaii for their winter to travel along the coast to see the winter swells and maybe even get some surfs in somewhere. I also looked up trips to various pacific islands, Africa, South America, the UK and Asia. It is making me realise that there is SO much I want to see and do, and I want to take every possible opportunity that throws itself my way.

Every time I sit down to work on an essay, or to read a law textbook, I feel sad about the things I could be doing instead, and yet excited, knowing that one day, I will be doing them.

Attitude is Altitude.

Further to my post yesterday, while I am in the process of re evaluating my life some what... I stumbled across this video. It might just change your life. Or at least how you look at it!

Soul Surfer

There are times, when I look at my life, and I think "It's too hard." I am always worrying about my next exam, whether I am fighting with a friend, what I am doing on the weekend, not having enough time for a social life. 

Although I realise on a regular basis, the pathetic nature of these worries, there is the occasional moment of clarity when I am reminded of just how lucky I really am.  Today was one of those moments.

The movie "Soul Surfer" tells the story of Bethany Hamilton, a name that has become commonplace in the surfing world. Although I have been admiring the strength of this woman since her accident, having read her book and followed her website closely, when watching her movie today, it hit me all over again. Bethany was attacked by a shark while out surfing with her friends in her home state, Hawaii. She lost an arm as a result. For her surfing career, most assumed it was fatal. It wasn't. She managed to get back out in the water and return to the sport within weeks of the accident. Not only did she keep surfing, but she turned pro. Her faith, courage and ability led her to her dreams and as she once quoted "I have been able to embrace more people with one arm, than I ever could with two." 

People like this bring me back into reality. They make me realise how easy my life is, and inspire in me, a need to help others. Bethany has been such an inspiration for me, in that I look at her and what she has overcome to reach her dreams, compared to the path currently laid out in front of me with virtually no obstacles along the way. I watched this movie today, and almost cried at the end when they were showing you actual footage of her getting back in the water after the attack.

 It comforts me to know, that there is someone out there with as much courage, drive, ability, selflessness  and determination as Bethany Hamilton.

In the days we thought would last forever.

I miss the carefree days where all we cared about was getting caught. Those lazy, warm friday afternoons when we would lie on my bed and listen to music that would have us tripping for days. We would watch the laser as it got dark and it lit up the room with it's dots of red and green. We would play with highlighters under black lights and we would read Aristotle and theorise about our lives. Sometimes we would read shakespeare and I would be juliet while you played romeo and we would kiss until our lips were bleeding.

Late night loving and sleeping in until midday on saturday because there was nothing more important than what we were doing and where we were. I remember when we went to concerts and the lights would skip across our faces,  the colours were blinding and no words were spoken because the music filled our souls. We would close our eyes and sway with each other until long after the music finished in a love affair we thought would last forever.

You would cook for me and we would eat french toast for dinner because that was our favourite. We would drink red wine and laugh because life was just so funny. Everything went by in a blur of free moments. And now all we have left to show for this, long after the bands have broken up, the lights have been turned off and our lips are healed, is the memory of us. They memory of how it used to be.

A weekend that memories are made of.

A champagne hangover is all I have to show from the best weekend of my life. I never want to waste those memories. 

All the lost friends, loves and time over the past 21 years, will never unbalance the happiness I felt this weekend as we laughed and talked and drank our way to a moment in our lives that we will never forget. 

We used to be friends.

A long time ago, we used to be friends. Maybe the Dandy Warhols did know what they were talking about. We Used to be friends. There was a time when I could tell you anything. I could whisper secrets in your ear and know that they would be safe forever. I listened to you cry and pour your heart out when no one else would, and we sat and talked all night, then we would hold each other like it was the end of the earth because if we let go, it felt like it may well be just that. Magnetic. It was love, it was laughter, it was the fun times and the sad. It was the kind of togetherness that you think you could never feel with another human being. 

So the part I don't understand is where all that went wrong. I wasted so many truths on you, only to get lies in return. A broken heart, in a way I never thought was possible. In a way that no lover could ever achieve. The monsters that haunt my nightmares are a better friend than you could ever be. And I just can't do it anymore. Our story ends here.  

Sneaky.

Well it's that time of year again! Orientation week take two. 

Having been dragged back from my warm, large bedded, deliciously purple bedroom at home, back to my shoebox dorm room I am not feeling 100% delighted about the idea of facing a whole new bunch of people and a new uni session. As much as I love meeting new people, and don't get me wrong, this lot is lovely, there is something almost prison like about studying, sleeping and working in the same place. I get all torn up about what I want. When I am out, I want in, when I am in I want out, and when I am neither I want one of them. How sneaky.

To the person who never fails to make me laugh.

The thing about you, is that you might not realise that you are that person. You only have to be there to make me smile. Your immature comments, your lopsided grin. You world of drugs and careless recklessness, your apathetic approach to life that leaves you completely guilt free. Your voice on the other end of the phone. The fact that I know when you pick up, your a 6 ft emo kid who belongs back in grade 10, and yet you are talking on a mini pink flip phone that used to belong to your sister. You say things that are hardly funny but because you are saying them, somehow they seem hilarious. You make me feel so happy. Refreshed. Like no matter how much time we spend apart, coming together is never a problem. There's no such thing as awkward and no moments that could possibly ever be dull. Your not a lover, and we are only sort of part time friends. Your just the guy who makes me laugh. And I really love you.

THIS IS MY F*CKING TABLE.

I study on the dining room table at my hall of residence every exam period. I always sit at the same table, it's close to the powerpoint, close to the heater, no cross breeze. It's the perfect location because I can see everyone, and they can see me and how much I don't want anyone to come near me. I have been told that when I get into studying, with my hoodie up, I have a somewhat menacing glare that radiates around the college, inspiring trepidation in others. 

Today, someone sat across from me. The nerve. 

STUVAC

SWOTVAC, STUVAC, SWOTTING. A non-teaching period for students to use for study. Yeah, that’s what happens. How do we go from leisurely procrastination to wound-up caffeine fiends?

“Oh yeah I will get to that in a few days”

It’s day one of SWOTVAC and a full seven days of ‘study time’ stretches out ahead of you.  You have notes to do but that’s what tomorrow is for, right? The first few days are for recovering and ‘organising’ your time.  Allocating work over a period of other days feels like work.

“I am studying because I have a word document open”

Your notes are open in a window on your computer. Problem is, Facebook, YouTube and Survive Law are too. This is like the warm up lap. The lap were you realise just how long the pool is and how much work you have ahead of you. SWOTVAC looks a whole lot shorter right now, doesn’t it?

“LEAVE ME ALONE”

Around day four the gravity of a semester of procrastination hits you.  Let the frenzied fun begin! Loved ones tread into your space with trepidation.  Food gets cautiously left for you on the corner of your desk, eating with everyone else would mean spending precious minutes doing anything that is not law related. But somehow Facebook still finds its way onto your computer.

Coffee or Red Bull-induced psychosis

70% of your notes are in order and the preparation finish line is in sight. Too bad you have hooked yourself up on an unbelievable amount of energy drinks – sleep will be a long time coming.  Chances are you’ll complete your notes at 4am after about 36 hours without sleep. Then you’re lying in bed staring at the ceiling and getting frustrated about not being able to sleep.

Aren’t exams fun?

(Law School Survival Guide)

Bender

There were dresses that sparkled

as girls were spun around

There were shirts unbuttoned 

and lights obscured reality

There was coloured candy being thrown into the night

and teeth shown in flashing smiles

My clothes are so dirty

I can hear whispering that scares me to my bones

I can smell the alcohol on my hands

the dirty squelchy smell

I stumble through the iron bar gate and it crashes behind me

Collapsing into the sheets

Where I can forget everything that happened

And remember everything that didn't.

Of Mice and Men

For the first time since Harry Potter, I almost cried today while reading a book. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck is so simple. It follows two friends through the 1930s depression as they try to find work on ranches, so that one day they might own a little farm of their own, where they can tend to some rabbits. George is the brains, Lennie is the strength.  I thought since it was older, and a classic that I might not be able to relate to it particularly well, and I read it after having it recommended to me by the trusty old stumble upon. 

*Spoiler*

It started out so simply, but as we got further on, and Lennie can't control his behaviour and his strength, it becomes heartbreaking. He kills a puppy because he doesn't realize how it happened because he was only trying to pet it, then later he kills his bosses wife accidentally when she asks him to touch her hair so he can feel how soft it is. He accidentally breaks her neck. If this isn't tragic enough, the ending had me whimpering softly into my pillow, though I won't tell you what that ending is since you really ought to go and read this for yourself. 

What did I learn from this book? Well, I learnt that life isn't simple. Sometimes it might seem like it is, but even the simplest of dreams are hard to grasp. I learnt that friendship is about more than just being there for someone, it's about loving them enough to be able to lie when the truth would hurt them more. I learnt that sometimes there is no way out of that friendship and I learnt that having no way out can be really scary. 

Commentary on arrest of Ratko Mladic.

This is something for the soul. A bit of filthy old human rights law commentary by one of my greatest heros. Geoffrey Robertson. I recently acquired his biography, from a random box of books outside a random house in my hometown when I was out walking with my parents. Isn't that just delightful!? 

Anyway, this is a good read. Enjoy! 

Geoffrey Robertson: Mistakes the Mladic trial needs to avoid- The Independent May 28 2011

The capture of Ratko Mladic is a signal moment in the delivery of the Nuremberg legacy that political and military leaders must eventually pay for their crimes against humanity.

He could – and should – have been taken into custody between 1996 and his disappearance in 2002, but diplomats then did not trust international justice: "The capture of Karadzic and Mladic," said a Nato spokesman, "is not worth the blood of one Nato soldier". Today, with Karadzic on trial, General Gotovina (Croatia's fugitive general) convicted, the verdict on Charles Taylor imminent and Colonel Gaddafi under indictment, there is more confidence that Nemesis will strike those who mass murder their own – and other – people.

While the Mladic trial will be an opportunity to see justice done, it must be seen to be done rather better than it was in the case of Slobodan Milosevic, who died before he could present any defence to a prosecution case that had lasted an intolerable three years. The expense and delay in The Hague contrasts starkly with justice at Nuremberg, where a convincing verdict on 23 Nazi leaders was rendered within 12 months. There are greater obligations now to disclose evidence and afford time, facilities and appeal-rights for defendants, but there is a problem with prosecutors and judges who think they have a duty to write history rather than to adjudicate specific allegations. They seriously overload their indictments – Milosevic, for example, was charged with responsibility for three separate wars spanning 10 years, when he could have been convicted simply and expeditiously for the ethnic cleansing of Kosovo.

The Mladic indictment charges genocide (difficult to prove and open to endless technical legal arguments) and numerous war crimes throughout the Balkan conflict. It should be replaced by just one charge, the crime against humanity constituted by his command responsibility for ordering the worst war crime since the Japanese death marches of POWs at the end of the Second World War, namely the slaughter of more than 7,000 prisoners of war – the Muslim men and boys killed at Srebrenica.

Limiting the trial in this way will enable some justice to be done before the inevitable claims of illness, old age and unfitness to stand trial. These are already being voiced by his lawyers in Belgrade, but the EU must insist that they be decided only in The Hague, after independent and carefully scrutinised medical examination. We have had too many international criminals escape justice for bogus medical reasons – remember Pinochet waving his stick happily after he landed in Chile, courtesy of Jack Straw's mistaken assessment that he was unfit to stand trial? Remember the convenient escape several years ago of Megrahi, the Lockerbie bomber, when a credulous Scottish justice minister was led to believe by doctors that he would die within three months?

Focus on this war crime will discomfort those who might have prevented it – especially the UN which refused to authorise the air strikes that would have stopped Mladic's advance, and the Dutch government which insisted on vetoing them to protect its cowardly battalion which was meant to be protecting the town but which immediately surrendered to Mladic and handed over to him the thousands of Muslims who had sought refuge in the UN compound. The moral nadir of UN/Nato "peacekeeping" where there is no peace to keep is the photograph of Mladic blowing his cigar smoke in the face of the spineless Dutch colonel while in the background those his battalion should have protected were taken off to the killing fields.

Nothing should detract from Mladic's command responsibility and he must not be indulged by a court which bent over backwards to help Milosevic at a time when international justice was under attack – especially from the Bush regime, which in a fit of puerility approved the "Bomb The Hague" Bill allowing the US president to use force to free any American under indictment there. If Mladic insists on defending himself, and then seeks to disrupt proceedings, he should have a capable team of lawyers imposed upon him, whether he likes it or not.

As to Serbia, it has some more atoning to do before EU membership can be assured. Karl Jaspers pointed out that the German people did not bear collective criminal guilt for Hitler, but they did bear collective political responsibility. So it remains the Serbian government's duty not only to send Mladic quickly to The Hague but to investigate and prosecute those who have harboured him. It has a particular duty, wrongly dodged by Hague prosecutors, to clean out the Serb orthodox church, whose priests blessed the death squads at Srebrenica. Without their blessing, I believe that some soldiers would have disobeyed their orders to shoot defenceless, hog-tied, men and boys. It is widely known that the church has harboured Hague fugitives in its monasteries and has been deeply implicit with the murderous aspects of Serb nationalism.

Some of Mladic's victims are upset that he has been free for 16 years, but his life on the run has been increasingly miserable. They should be grateful that the Serb police captured him alive instead of executing him summarily as the US did with Bin Laden. He will now appear as a reduced and demystified figure in The Hague dock – an inhumane serial killer rather than a hero. They should remember and take heart from the fact that the wheels of international justice grind slowly but they grind exceedingly small.

Geoffrey Robertson QC is author of 'Crimes against Humanity: The Struggle for Global Justice' (Penguin) and a former UN war crimes judge

Something a little bit special.

Something Special.

I stumbled up the stairs, hard and concrete and smashed glass to the side

Ran my fingers through his hair, like I did to a boy I used to love

Stench of alcohol and vomit on our lips

Sheets unwashed and and beds unmade, it isn't even cheap love. It's completely free.

My head is empty and light as my eyes undress him

There is nothingness seeping in all around 

as he grabs me round the waist and pulls me close

and pulls the clock out of the wall by the plug.

Failure.

I hate failing. I hate feeling like I have failed. Like I have royally fucked up. Like Everyone is going to be resentful, or laugh at me or just be plain mean about it. I want to just fade into the distance and pretend I am not really here. Mistakes happen, but I usually don't make them and when I do, I don't easily forgive myself. 

Sunday

I woke up this morning and despite being significantly behind in my uni work and life in general, I had to just take a moment to savour the fact that it was Sunday, and there is something just a little bit different about that day. It's a little bit slower, a little bit stranger, a little bit happier. It doesn't matter what is happening this week, because I know I don't need to deal with it until tomorrow. People are doing things they like doing rather than things they have to do. The sun seems to shine just a little bit brighter, and the garden outside of my window looks a little bit more like wonderland than it usually does. I wish Sunday morning could last forever. 

Food Porn

Are they not just absolutely adorable!?

It's little things like this that make you want to get up in the morning. 

glorified pain.

That's what winning is you know. Glorifying pain. Embracing the ache of your muscles as they contract with hatred for what you have done to them. Embracing the pain in your legs, the heaviness you think will never go away, each step a painful reminder of what has been and what has to come. Feeling the blood drip solidly down your face and your knees and tasting its warmth. Feeling the knife wound like pangs of achievement that only a winner can feel. 

It's the kind of pain that makes you tip your head back in triumph, grit your teeth together to take your mind of the deplorable state of your body, and think... I fucking did it. 

Quiz in my pants.

Who would have thought that right across the way, there is a little place known affectionately as "The TC". 

On Wednesday nights they do this trivia night where you grab yourself a 10 buck steak, sit around drinking club price beer, and quiz in your pants. Although we came away as... well lets just admit it, the losers, it was one of the happiest spontaneous nights I have had in some time. 

In fact, the whole week has been happy. I feel like I have actually accomplished something other than laziness. I keep trying to come up with ways of keeping myself busy and not just sitting in all day attempting to complete uniwork, and failing miserably.  I have been exercising, and working, and writing and socialising AND I have decided to try and come up with a new blog. One that could actually be about something other than my selfish little life. 

I shall think about this. 

(Image from weheartit)

Lets run away and never come back.

(image from weheartit.com)

Sometimes things happen. Things that make you want to run away from everything. From responsibility. From problems. From life. 

Today I sat through a solid 3 hours of meetings. It's my responsibility and I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is conflict. I've always been terrible at it. I dont like upsetting people, or seeing people upset even when sometimes things need to be said. 

Honestly, after so long, listening to negative takes on negativity, despite a possibly positive outcome, it made me want to cry. I wanted to curl up in a corner and just cry until it all went away. It made me want to get in my car and drive. Drive away to somewhere warm, where I dont have to feel constant responsibility and pressure from others. Where I dont have to think about the past or the people from there. Where I could sit and stare over the water or the mountains and think to myself "Fuck, this is beautiful. This is life." The problem is though, I can't do that. It's not a possibility. There is no way out of this one right now. Sometimes you have to suck it up. 

But is it worth the sacrifice that I make to myself, every single second, of every minute, of every day? Ask me in November. 

This probably sounds utterly pathetic and very uncreative, but my thoughts are so jumbled right now, that I am having trouble just reading back what I have written.  I hope it doesn't sound like a "dear diary" entry. If it does, you know the shits really hit the fan.

Because I can't muster the energy to get up today.

"Fat Charlie was thirsty and his head hurt and his mouth tasted evil and his eyes were too tight in his head and all his teeth twinged and his stomach burned and his back was aching in a way that started around his knees and went up to his forehead and his brains had been removed and replaced with cotton balls and needles and pins which was why it hurt to try and think, and his eyes were not just too tight in his head but they must have rolled out in the night and been reattached with roofing nails; and now he noticed that anything louder than the gentle Brownian motion of air molecules drifting softly past each other was above his pain threshold. Also, he wished he were dead."- Neil Gaimen


That's a very accurate description of how I feel today.  The question is, was last night worth it? Ask me tomorrow. 

Take me back to the 1960s.

Autumn days, lazing

Listening to some Bob Dylan

Eyes closed, drinking, having a cigarette

Writing something life changing, realising who you are again

Realising it's not who you thought you were, puts a smile on your face

and you know that everything will be okay.

Writing.

Writing is something I used to do. I used to pick up a pen and I used to write and write until there was no more ink, nothing else left to say. I used to release the build up of emotion then build up more. I would let the pen dance across the page effortlessly, an expression of myself and of the love I had of writing. An overflow of my thoughts, the ones I couldn't keep inside anymore.

Playing the piano is something I used to do. I wasn't that great but the sound that the keys made at just the slightest touch made me so happy. I would sit there and listen to music in my head then realize all of a sudden that I was playing. I could feel the music on my fingertips and I could feel what the composers were feeling as they wrote.

Swimming is something I used to do. The water sliding over my body, my body slicing the water. Blowing bubbles, my hair flowing loosely. Opening my eyes underwater and seeing everything blurry and beautiful. I used to hate that I couldn't go any faster. I felt like a mermaid. I felt not real.

What happened to all these things? Where did they go?

Goodbye Summer.

It's always this time of year, when the summer winds turn cool, and the sky turns a little bit grey, and the rain feels a little bit icy. The warmth is no longer in the days and the leaves are turning a little brown. You just wake up one morning, and it isn't summer anymore. You wonder whether you will need a light jacket to get through the day, or whether perhaps you should put some jeans on. 

There are no mangos in the stores, and people arn't quite as cheery as they were a month ago. The beach doesn't seem quite as inviting and apparently everyone else thinks so too because its deserted most days. It's dark in the morning when you wake up and it's dark before you want to go to bed. The light is gone, the warmth is gone and all thats left is the cold.

It makes me a little bit sad. 

Fence Sitter.

I am a fence sitter. I won't lie. I don't like offending people or making assumptions before I am fully informed of the complete set of facts.  I am not afraid to share views if I have one but I feel that no matter what you are arguing there is validity on both sides. There has to be, otherwise it wouldn't be an argument. I joke about never being wrong but really, it's all just a matter of opinion.

This session, I am studying international human rights law as one of my law electives.  Its what I have always wanted. People ask me what I want to do and I say "I want to be a human rights lawyer." When I was little, the response would be "my my, that's very ambitious!" and laugh. Now, they ask me where i want to work and what I want to specialise in. What I find interesting though, is that my fence sitting is finally coming in handy. We looked last week at the issue of female circumcision. Now on a personal level, I believed that this was wrong. It should never be allowed, and the woman that think they want it are clearly disillusioned. I did however note in the textbook, that while there are definitely elements of it that are unacceptable, it is hardly, if done properly, any worse than having a boob job. A boob job means that you may never be able to breastfeed, you will be permanently scarred, you are disfiguring your natural self.  In fact the only difference between the two, is that female circumcision when done in hygienic manner and under civil circumstances is done purely symbolically. It is a deeply religious and significant exercise, that represents the liberation of a woman, and is something which men have little or no input in. When someone has a boob job, it's because they want to look hot. It's purely superficial (in most circumstances). Do I agree with either of these practices, no I do not. Can I see the validity of these practices in todays society? Yes I can.

The bottom line, is that people need to stop making assumptions and judging. We need to rethink what is right and wrong and at least begin to explore the possibility that rights are not necessarily universal. We are all different people, from different cultures, living in different places, and at some point, someone needs to realise this.

That moment when...

It's that moment. Where you too excited to sleep, because you have so much in life to look forward to, when sleep seems like your wasting precious time, when nothing and no one can possibly make you unhappy and when time seems to stand still just because you want it to go faster. You want to fast forward to the good bits. Just like in all the movies. Except this isn't a movie, it's actually happening.

Cheap thrills and herbal tea.

Unexpected thrills are the best kind. The kind that make you realise who you are you. I realise now, that I am a water girl. I need water to function. I need waves and sand and sunrises over the horizon to function. I need black. I need to wear it, look at it, embrace it. I often see things in black and it's how I can cope with the things I don't like. I need to have a gothic undertone, not a visible one, but just one that I know is there, and that I can turn to when I feel like it. I am creative. I like to take photos and drink herbal teas and write things. All the time. I like learning. I like thrills. The unexpected. Cheap love and meaningless relationships, just sometimes. I like watching movies that challenge me and I like lying under the train bridge when I know theres a train coming, after a can of redbull. It's harmless, but its thrilling. I like who I am. I don't want to change myself. I like that I am just a little bit complicated.

I lied.

Okay I didn't lie, but I did underestimate camp. It was pretty damn fun. Especially the canoeing. I actually really like canoeing.

Alcohol free? Shit.

Leadership camps. I won't hold back here, I have done so many of them in my time. Don't get me wrong, team building is good, and working as a team is a skill that must be harnessed and practiced, however, this years camp, sounds like it's going to be agonisingly, passionately painful. I am 20 years old and being shipped off to a student leader training camp at a sport and rec centre. This is the same place my brother went for his year 5, 6, 7 and 8 camps. That's... primary school and junior high. I am in third year at university. There is a rotational washing up system and it's alcohol free. Shit.

They will do team building exercises like... building rafts and high ropes. Then they will do a bush walk where I shall pretend to be positive and happy and part of the team, when in fact bushwalking is on my least favourite things to do list. There's animals and trees and generally no ocean. It's not out of my comfort zone, its just in my "This is nature. I hate nature" zone.  I hate trees, I hate bugs, I hate birds if I can see them, though they do sound nice if I cant, I hate snakes, I hate things that bite and if it were passably tolerable in mid winter when everything is dead, in the middle of summer it's perhaps my worst, screaming, sweatiest nightmare.

I should add to this, that while normally college food is decidedly crap at the best of times, camp food is decidedly deadly and might actually kill you if consumed in large (or small) quantities. The fact that I will be washing the cutlery is also a concern for the people who will be eating off it given that my washing up skills stretch as far as placing the dishes on the bench, and sometimes tipping scraps into the bin. So is this atmosphere creating a positive team environment for me? No, it's making me want to resign from my position.

I see now why Winston Churchill was an alcoholic.

twenty eleven or two thousand and eleven?

Okay. There is a question. An overwhelming, overpowering, all important question that I feel I need an answer to. Do we now say twenty eleven, or do we say two thousand and eleven? Now I won't lie, I am obsessively pedantic over such frivolous grammatical headaches. I feel that it is necessary to use the longer of these phrases for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it sounds more proper. Like we actually respect the era we are living in. I liken in to when people nickname me "JC". My name is good. I like my name. My nicknames are even okay. My mothers love names don't bother me, but when people can only be bothered to use my initials, well that gets to me. I too, can recite letters of the alphabet without regard for what they represent and stand for.

I feel that this modern and delightful era of 2011, needs the utmost respect. It may be remembered for war, or peace or because someone famous dies. It may be remembered for for a scientific breakthrough or one day given as a date when somewhere, something important happened as I am sure it will. For this reason, I want it to be spoken of and referred to, in a way that reflects the intelligence and modernity of those who live in it, and not sound like another boganized phrase that someone has thoughtlessly blurted out.

So on that note,  I advise you to choose wisely how you will refer to this year. You never know where words can lead you, and what will happen once you get there.