Nickname of Afghanistan

The Graveyard of Empires

Click and think.

What We Must Sacrifice.

"Here, have some more of this swiss chocolate. Just the best for my plumpkin."
I broke off a moderately small piece and with feigned gratitude I put it in my mouth.
"Go on. Take everything. I want you to."
"No, thanks, I'm stuffed."
"Oh, just take it. Do you know how much we paid for that? And remember, we're doing it all just because we love you."
I didn't ask for any of it, I thought. Yet, since I was an obedient boy, I suppressed my urge to vomit and ate the rest of it.

My smartphone started ringing. 
"Daddy, would you excuse me, please?"
"There's no need for that, plumpkin. Whatever they want from you is not nearly as important as an evening with family."
However, I was curious. All men desire knowledge, right? At least that's what the hairy old person in my textbook said.
I carefully looked at my phone underneath the table. It felt like I was undertaking a great risk doing so. The screen read:  Missed Call (1): Timmy

Timmy was my best friend. He was the only poor kid on my school. He got a scholarship, because he was smart. A lot of people used to make fun of him, but I liked him. He was nice. I wasn't allowed to visit him, though, because he lived in a neighborhood that wasn't as nice as the one my family lives in. That's why my dad got a cellphone for Timmy. Timmy's parents couldn't afford it and my dad wanted me to be able to keep in touch with my best friend. We used to call a lot. When dad got him this phone, he allowed him to have only one number saved: mine. But why would Timmy call me now? I was very curious.

"Plumpkin, what are you looking at? Rather take a look at this, a documentary about dolphins! It's lovely and very educating. I'm sure you love dolphins."
I hate dolphins. Fuck dolphins.

xxx

Next morning I got up and went to school. Like all the good kids do. 7:53 and I was at my locker. Perfect, just like always. Except Timmy wasn't there. He's always there at 7:53.
He didn't show up in school at all that day.
Only his parents came in the afternoon. They were crying.
I never saw Timmy again.

Small talk is about people.
Academic discussion is about ideas.

For us to ever progress and evolve we need a steady supply of problems.
Solving of petty problems however is nowhere as fulfilling as the mere effort to solve those larger ones.

You could replace the entire subject of American History with...
...Comparative Politics that will teach you the "American" part of it
...and Philosophy that will teach you the "History" part of it

"Why would they behead Charles?! That's mean!!!"
-"He was a particularly creepy looking guy"

Are you civilized?

I was told that Eastern Europe may appear to Americans like the "biggest shithole"
Well, lemme tell y'all "civilized" Americans.
US may appear uncivilized to foreigners as well.
Most of foreign relations are mutual.
There's a strong look-at-those-miserable-capitalists regime in Russia. That made nations disrespect Russia just as much as Russians disrespect other nations.

It's hard to love someone who hates you.
(let me get real deep here: meanwhile most people would agree that aforesaid statement is true, what about: "It's hard to hate someone who loves you."?)

Also, I think, strict patriotic movements tend to conservatively depend on their own uncivilizedness. Global knowledge is almost unlimited. "American" knowledge, or "Czech" knowledge, or "German" knowledge are just pieces of the puzzle. We want the whole puzzle, right?

Also, is something civilized because it's stable?
Some would say the small European countries seem like savages, because the regime changes too often. Traditional countries like USA, where constitution and regime never really changed are way more "civilized".
Or are they? Well, constant changes even though they are potentially very violent, help responding to the most current trends.
Example: It was completely fine for everyone to possess a gun in 17th century. It wasn't even that dangerous; by far not everyone could afford it. However, nowadays, everyone's ability to get a gun  in certain African locations or USA is a major reason for violence. Our civilization simply overgrown the need for everyone to posses an automatic rifle. Whichever country changed since acknowledged that.

I'm gonna end this with a Philosophy textbook quote:
 "For Cosmopolitans diversity is just a fact."

Don't we all?

"I have this strange obsession with god. It's rather silly. I argue with him all the time. Problem is, he doesn't respond. But I'´ll kick his butt."
-Mr. Carson

I just found out that one person was linked to my blog by searching "art that makes you think" in google.

I feel glorious.

Converting text to music?

p22.com/musicfont/

Interesting idea.
Hey, now that we have a text to music converting website, we don't need any musicians anymore, right? Just a couple lyricists will do.

Please please me.

Happiness. The most elusive thing.
As I wander around the world I find out that there are only few people actually pleased with their lives, proud of what they've done, enthusiastic about what they will do.
Very few.
And I keep thinking; if conditions for live that those pleased individuals go through would be replicated for everyone, would the world be any happier? No. Probably, it'd be worse.
Part of being pleased with your life is having something to be grateful for.
People don't realize they should be grateful, when everyone has equal.
That's why god made us different.

By the way, Pascal's wager ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pascal's_Wager ) is completely fallacious and simply not true. Think about it.

I only smile when it's complicated

Aristotle said that a sign of an educated man is that he can keep 2 contradictory thoughts in his mind and let them fight for truth.

Interesting.
Somehow, to me it sounds also as an attribute of a loving person. Tolerant one.
However, there's an alarming number of hateful educated bastards.

If my hypothesis is correct, does it mean Aristotle is necessarily wrong?
No.
Depends on how we define an educated man.

Education is not a textbook thing. Czech dissidents learning latin in prisons come to my mind. Did they have the best teachers? Textbooks? Unlimited resources of study materials? Not by far!
Yet some of them wrote poems in latin. Others kept their notes in latin, so the prison officers couldn't read them.
There was a certain passion. Desire. Or perhaps necessity?
We could argue about that, but I am certain about what has motivated them this way: their experience.
Being in a prison isn't all rainbows and puppies.

In fact, though this may appear extremely deviated, we could say it helped them. Their crisis led them to understanding.

However desirable and comforting may life in wealth, peace and overall welfare be, it is thoroughly uninspiring to do great deeds. There's no reason to make world better, if it's okay already.
Only truly great men stand up to do something in this kind of environment.
Compared to political prison, where everyone wants to stand up against the evils.

That might render the world of welfare better, right?

Well, I think, on the contrary, that the simple deed of trying to make the world better anyhow you can is absolutely fulfilling, satisfactory.

There's probably something very wrong about this, but I enjoy things being fucked up. I can fix them, then. Also, it brings me closer to reality - there always are flaws, better to see them than to have them hurt you from cover.

"Some people think too much and some just get it."
-Ninja

Grief, smallpox, and poetry

"Broken spears lie in the roads;
We have torn our hair in our grief.
The houses are roofless now...
And the walls are splattered with gore...
We have pounded our hands in despair
Against the adobe walls."

- An Aztec wrote this.
That's one of the most civilized ways of expressing oneself.
It might even make a nice poem nowadays.

What does it say about Aztec?
What does it say about us, Europeans?


As one historian cleverly pointed out, it takes something else for every student to become interested in history.
Honestly, this little piece of writing made me care about Aztecs way more than anything else ever did.

Figurative banging

Fire burns within me.
I wrap my arms around you.
I shoot!
Oops; now they're firearms.

Just some music a friend of mine composed.

ZEBRA

Read

Don't read.
Do read.

Choose carefully.

Immaculate empathy

I         stroke         her         soft         white         hair
She       smiles        and         grabs       my       hand
Licks     the     sweat     off,     kisses      it      tenderly
I   stroke   her   her   breath   jumpstarts
Sparks in eyes shes burning so hot
webecomeoneforabriefmoment
onesoultouchesanother
passionatebloodrushesthroughmyveins
neverhaveieverseenapersonsoclose
iindulgemyselfinhershessoindulging
halt
We         embrace         and         we         fall         asleep

In and away.

I'm happy she didn't ask me with whom I had my lunch today.
I'd be ashamed to say "no one".

Since I came here I seem to be falling down, imploding into the labyrinth of my own mind.
And it's not only a maze; it's also a safehouse, just as any maze is.

Indoor, inbrains, in never rains.
Weather is always the same.
Things change less inside.

If the house owner dies, or moves away,
The house still stays.

And so it is with a man and his world.
When the world moves away,
We're left with nothing but our minds.

Minds that shine as bright lighthouse.
Lighthouse that warns you; you would crash, if you ever approached the coast,
coast of reality.

A stumble.

I have discovered StumbleUpon.
It fascinated me; the content it found for me fascinated me.
However, It made me feel much less special about myself.
I don't think that's a good thing - not now.
When all my self-esteem fizzles away, like it did during past few days,
-when I fully realize the distance from my world, when I realize social awkwardness doesn't just disappear as time goes,
then I'll hit rock bottom.

Some humbleness is necessary for me.
Self esteem is like grass; it's beautiful - if it weren't present, there would be just mud. But as it grows, it grows ugly. It needs to be trimmed. Yet trim carefully - you still want to have something when you're done.

Trust me, if you will, on this one.
There's one thing I need more than a beer and a walk through the night.
A hug. The most advanced weapon to tell the bad guys "go fuck yourself".
Yet never, never would I regard it as a weapon.
Just the very opposite.

Someone said: "All poems are about love or death."
I thought; and now I ask you. Aren't these the exact opposites?
I hope I'll get to develop this idea sometime. It's very important to me.

Hey, is this the other way?

"Were you warned"
I hear in my head these words play.
"When you came to USA?"
I hate today.
I pray I could lay.
Say, is ceiling gray?

Imma shoot y'all down. Because I can.

I find this rather fitting the situation I am finding myself in.

America is a country that loves itself.

Most European countries like to make fun of themselves, or simply hate themselves.

Sure, you'll find a couple ol' patriots and nationalists in every country. But the national pride just works the best in USA.

That is in a way a great thing. People need something to be proud of.

However, there is a problem to it; it prevents them from seeing the actual issues. There are some very fine things about USA, but there's a lot of bad stuff too. Particularly, almost everyone owning a gun is one of those problems. 

I mean - I get it. You need a gun to protect yourself. It makes sense for you to be able to get a gun because of that, right?
Well, NO.

If you make getting a gun easy, every other criminal can buy it now absolutely without problem. And shoot people with it. And so increasing the demand for guns - so people could defend. But they go nuts and attack someone. It happens all the time here. It's a vicious circle. Back in CZ you can stab someone. It's a very violent yet effective way of dealing with problems. That is pretty much the same like guns. However, there's a lot smaller chance that you will kill someone by stabbing them than shooting them. If a person with a knife gets into a choleric rage and stabs someone - ok, they're badly injured. When the knife-holder realizes what a terrible thing he's done, he'll call the ambulance and there's very solid chance the victim will be cured perfectly. With a gun - if the victim is not dead on the spot I'd say they can call it a lucky day.

Now there has been some medial buzz around that recently (shooting at Batman premiere, remember? Well, there's been a lot of other shootings you may not have heard of), but it will fade out when the news is not hot. There's not so many activists that would fight for making gun laws more strict. People just don't care about the wrongs around them so much here. They either choose to ignore them or accept them as they are. Which, again, might be a good thing (you can find an activist for every little piece of bullshit in EU), but it may also prove to be crippling any political or social development.

Deserving; a capital or a capital punishment?

The strangeness of this world overwhelms me at all times.
There's only one reason I can think of.

The values of society, personal values and hopes and dreams of people - it's all set in a wrong way.

And the problem is - it's set nationwide, backed up by laws, not possible to change.
back in Europe I know people who value success, education, art, content life, happiness, experience, and money. It's the healthy mix that makes the world go round.
Well, it's just not like that in USA. The capitalism is omnipresent and it contains everything else. You want education? Pay up! Art? Nothing is for free, dove!

It just shouldn't work like that. No one here would ever look at themselves and say: " Do I deserve all of this? What have I done to deserve it?" that is, of course, unless they're poor. Which is, ultimately, a simple equation.

Poor = bad.
Poor person = bad person, not valuable at all.

I've seen many poor doctors, skilled teachers, some chemists, most artists back in CZ. I don't think I'll find much of that here. And I don't consider it such a great thing. Money spoils people. I've simply seen too many poor and happy people to ever believe in power of capitalism.

You could call me naive, but that would essentially only prove how limited your view of the world would have to be.
There are some things I'm certain of.
And as much as there are advantages to having the "American dream", which is basically a certain value that is pretty much standardized, still the diversity of Europe with its closer connection to both reality and the world of dreams wins my heart. And now I don't think that is just personal. I imagine - if all the world realized this, wouldn't it be a much better place?

Fade out, fade away. I wish I'll fade in once again.

Things won't ever be like they were, isn't it so?

I have to say; I've never had a greater time like the last half year. It must've changed me for good.

I know now that there are no evil people.
I learned that things actually can be perfect.
I will never be ashamed for what I create again.

I have realized that the world is actually very sad. Only a small and limited number of people are happy. And why, how, do I deserve to be one of such few?
I don't really care.
I'll still try to do my best, to live to the full. And feeling that you do the best you can is way better, than to be told you do what you should.

There is much absurdity in the world. But when you feel loving arms around you, it seems so distant, not important, not real even.


Not much that I have before me. So much that I will miss. Just the people I've met lately. I am so lucky, yet so unfortunate. I got something and made it mine, just to leave it afterwards. And if it were my choice now, perhaps I wouldn't leave here at all.

It's "only" half a year, but it feels like leaving for ever. As if I never was to return.
And never being able to return would be probably the most painful thing I could live through. If something happened to me, something bad, then the perpetrator would be the most villainous individual in this space and time.

Because loving is just as important as being loved. Or even more important, even.