Cranky old man

So this was a little something I dug up in the depths of the internet a while ago... No particular purpose, just something to appreciate.  Author is unknown by name, but will be remembered for these beautiful words.

"Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?

What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?

A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,

Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.

When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.

And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another

A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet

Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.

A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.

A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,

But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.

At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,

Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.

I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.

And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.

It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.

There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,

And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells

I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.

And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.

And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.

Not a cranky old man .

Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!"

Free Speech - Angola's Elections.

 Angola: Stop Stifling Free Speech!

http://www.hrw.org/news/2012/08/01/angola-stop-stifling-free-speech

http://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/reports/angola0812ForUpload.pdf

The Angolan government in the lead up to the elections that are to take place on August 31st this year, have been initiating violence on peaceful protests and committing acts of political violence. In addition to this, those who have been arrested for protesting, have been made, whilst in custody to make incriminating remarks about opposing parties.  

The government has also been interfering with independent media and using state media for partisan purposes.  In essence, there has been absolutely no freedom of speech what so ever.

Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights specifically states that:

"Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers."

Although the declaration was just a statement of objectives, and therefore not legally binding, the International Covenant on Civil and Political rights, is enforceable at international law, and has been signed and ratified by Angola. Article 19 of this says:

1. Everyone shall have the right to hold opinions without interference.

2. Everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print, in the form of art, or through any other media of his choice.

3. The exercise of the rights provided for in paragraph 2 of this article carries with it special duties and responsibilities. It may therefore be subject to certain restrictions, but these shall only be such as are provided by law and are necessary:

(a) For respect of the rights or reputations of others;

(b) For the protection of national security or of public order or of public health or morals.

In this situation, Angola are clearly flouting this international law. Despite the fact that it is a domestic issue, many people are suffering from this. They are breaking international law.  Law that Angola agreed to follow. So should the international body step in, in such a situation?

Interestingly, the provision in Article 19(3)(b) of the ICCPR provides that there may be restrictions for protection of morals. Enforceability of this provision must surely be almost impossible on an international level given that almost every country has a different standard of morals. Or is it?

Image from activistpost.com

Saturday night at another little bar, across the other side of town...

And so it's Saturday night again, and everyone in this small town heads to anywhere where alcohol is readily accessible and where everyone else is going. Although I used to hate this kind of life, I admit, when I can't have it, I really want it. I want to be able to go out on a Saturday, with some friends, and just watch sport on TV, drink cocktails on couches and just be merry, enjoying life, or at least taking a break from reality. It's like a little corner of the globe where everything is happy and lit up. I don't know what's happening across the road let alone on the other side of the world, but I just know that here, now, everything is perfect. The olympics is on TV, and I watched Australia win Bronze in triathlon, I saw the boys win silver in rowing, and I saw the girls take out a hockey game.

I met up with people who I haven't seen in years, and I chatted to people I don't even know but who were happy to chat because it's Saturday night.

I ate some fancy fish and chips and I downed a couple of expensive drinks that had god knows what in them.

I go home feeling like I am satisfied, a bit rejuvenated, and ready for anything that next week  might throw at me. So bring it on world, I look forward to it.

I couldn't forget this one, even if I tried.

Today I met a boy. He was around 17, with a cute, round little face, and his hair was half cut, but with a big fluffy bit at the back because the haircutting equipment had failed. He told me that he used it as a pillow because the pillow he has isn't very comfortable.

He was solidly built, with the gentle awkwardness children turning into adults often have about them. He had a smile that lit up the room and a canny sense of humour. He was clearly very intelligent and knew exactly what I was talking about as I babbled away in legal jargon. When our conversation ended he thanked me profusely and smiled his big childish grin as I left.

This boy is in jail. He is a crystal meth addict. When he was four years old, he tried to kill his father by replacing his methadone with bleach so that his dad wouldn't bash up his mum, and when he was 10, his mother killed his baby sister when she mistook the methadone for babies milk and fed it to the 1 year old.

This story, is one that I will never ever forget.

A life of crime?

Crime... where have you been all my life? I don't want to go out and commit crimes. Oh no no no, that would be very wrong indeed. But since quite early on in life, I have taken an interest in the world of crime. I follow it in the news, I stalk it on the internet, I watch murder mysteries on TV and I read intricate books about the world of criminals. I also believe in liberty, justice and human rights.

I guess it is only natural then, that I have fallen into the world of criminal defence law. Protecting those who the rest of the world seems to be against, brings a strange kind of satisfaction. It's a little bit of a wake up call. A little bit of a kick in the guts to the justice system. Everyone deserves a fair trial, everyone deserves to have their rights protected. Everyone deserves liberty. Those who are guilty generally have a story to tell, and it isn't a pleasant one. It is sad, and long and it very often starts with a mistake.

So should one little mistake, cost you your liberty? Should a lifetime of sadness end with your basic human rights being taken away from you? Should one bad choice, leave you with no more choices?

I guess what knowledge I have gained in practising criminal law, is that everyone has a secret.

 I have learned to have some faith in the phrase "beyond reasonable doubt."

 I have fuelled a passion to fight for the voices that don't get heard.

You own the sky.

Every shooting star is a wasted wish, because you are never coming back. Every time I see your face I have to remember it can only ever be a memory. When we were young we were so carefree and somewhere along the way your world crumbled and before I could blink, you were gone. But here's the thing Alex...

I feel you in every heartbeat.

I see you in every dream.

I wish I could have told you that before it was all too late.

You own the sky.

Discovering Masterchef

It was a dreary Monday night when I turned on my television during prime time, for the first time, in a very long time. Normally I am busy after dinner doing important things like hanging out on facebook or getting high scores on angry birds. On this night however, neither of those things were appealing to me, and quite frankly, I needed a dose of trash TV. A dose of filthy, disgusting, time whore telly.

I turned on Masterchef. I haven’t turned it off.

Well I have actually, because it only goes for an hour between 7-8pm, but suffice to say, I love it. The food leaves images of sugar plums dancing in my head… literally. I can taste the succulent, juicy meats and the crispy vegetables. I can taste the milky chocolate goo oozing from the cakes and the fruit compotes dripping down my tongue as they seep from all things sweet.

In addition to the food, it has the added elements of suspense, drama, friendships, and an adequate twist in every episode. Is it cooked properly? Are we going to get it out on time? Who will have a nervous breakdown today?

This is pure addictive brilliance.