Dear World,
I know it is hard to believe, but I do indeed have friends.
Like me, some of them blog from time to time. Though, after revisiting a blog written by my friend, Andrew (or Snefru7, as his blog name is such), it got me thinking.
In a certain post (which can be seen here, though, like the link above it does contain swear words, so you have been warned), he writes about his thoughts on war, and how the right wing media praises the armed forces that are serving in Afghanistan and other counties that Britain has gotten into war with.
And, for the majority of his blog post, he was right. It makes no sense to invade a country, topple the leader of said country and name this as 'defence'. As he says, Britain was the attacking party in the war. And even if, as the saying goes, "attack is the best form of defence", it is still an attack.
But, as I read through his blog, something hit me harder than anything else. It was the realisation of what war is.
I know, I've re-read that last sentence at least twelve times, and it does sound like a naive comment to… er, comment. But it's true. When I was young, a few years ago now, I thought that nearly every war was acceptable.
If one country was beginning to grow an army to overthrow another for no reason, then I used to think that it was fine to go to war with that country and to mute any threats there. I know, I had worse thoughts when I was young. But please remember, I was in the single digits age-wise.
Though I thought that, I knew death had its place in the art of war. I knew that, in a hypothetical war, hypothetically there will be losses on both sides.
It was when I read that post that I realised that war is not just death, it's murder. I mean, those who walk upon the battlefield aren't there for the want of it. They believe, somehow, that they are protecting Queen and Country (in the case of the British, that is). But in doing so, in signing up to the military, they are in a career that involves murder.
And that is the thing that got to me.
I used to think, like the majority of newspapers, that anyone that went to war was a hero. Everyone who survives the battlefield is worthy of praise. Though, as I grow up to be an unemployed man who will be in debt for the next 25 years (and the rest), I've realised that this is not the case in reality.
I knew, from an early age, that my calling was not with the military. The only way you'll get me in any faction of the military is if it was to design their website or something that doesn't involve me pulling a trigger against another man, no matter what his beliefs are. In saying that, I would probably feel awkward when it comes to speaking good of soldiers that are branded "heroes".
But, that's another thing that hit me. I don't think I could say this in person. Why? I can't be sure of why. Though it might be something with respect. Y'know, just because I don't totally agree with the choices of the 'heroes' might make me a horrible person in some people's eyes.
I know, it's not that healthy to worry over what other people think of you, but I for one cannot help it. That's why I usually keep my opinions to myself. Well, until now. Anyway, back on the subject.
Even though I agree with Snefru7's opinions for the majority of it, I can understand (kind of) the need for military. There is only one reason that there is a need for this sort of job to exist, and that is because we live in a paranoid world.
We all know of the worries about a possible nuclear war that could happen, that contains the amount of firepower that could eventually turn Britain to a fallout-seque manner (unless I've misread the situation with North Korea and Iran).
I'll be honest, World, I won't fully understand the ins and outs of why there are wars. Why can't we all just make tea and not war?
I thank ye, world.
Thursday 27 January 2011
Tuesday 18 January 2011
Dear World - Dirty Jokes
Note - The majority (well, all) of the links in this are videos from YouTube, with the majority having swearing or rather offensive in the form of what they say. Just thought I'd let you know before you click on them and scold me for promoting bad language and the like. Thanks.
Dear World.
I would like to pose a question to you.
Is it always wrong to laugh at jokes that are considered wrong? Y'know, like racist and sexist jokes?
Allow me to expand from what I've seen recently. I'm (still, somehow) in university, and I hang around with a guy who used to live in Iran. Every time I see him, he always says something about me being white, or me being Welsh.
An example of him saying something about me being white is when it snowed, and he began to call me "snowflake" and saying that I'd be a ninja at that time as nobody would see me. Another example is when I spoke Welsh to a lecturer, and he claimed we were being racist as the lecturer and I were the only ones who understood each other, as no other student in the class spoke the fine language known to all as Welsh.
Granted, you can hear in his voice that he was not completely serious. If he was, he hid it well. And if I, or any other person in our circle of people, told a joke or anything that could be consider racist against him, he replies in the same manner as I do. The only difference being that he returns back with funny reply, usually saying something much worse and targeted against himself.
So, what is my point here? There is a certain level of racism here. Him saying that nobody could see me when it snowed is a prime, but not a good, example. But is this racist?
It's the same with women, though in the form of sexism and not racism. If you go on certain websites, such as Failblog, Sickipedia or something similar, there seems to be a rather sexist view about women. The prime one is something on the lines of "if a tree falls on a woman in the middle of the woods, why is the woman not in the kitchen?"
But why?
No idea.
Granted, most of these sites are around entertainment of jokes, so not all of them are meant in a viscous manner. Though, when does it cross the line?
I can't answer that, as everybody is different. Take that joke about women that I wrote above. The first time I heard that, I laughed. I can't deny that. Though, I thought it was harsh. Now, every "woman, get in the kitchen" joke I hear, it makes no sense. On rare occasions, I hear a sexist joke that makes me laugh, sexist against both men and women, but if it's just a joke that mentions kitchens or lack of ability to ask for directions when lost, then it's just a dud.
One thing is for sure, everyone has a different tolerance level when it comes to these types of jokes. As one person will feel the need to burst out in hysterical laughter at a joke that involves Hitler and what he had done to those who believe in the Jewish faith, another person may quiver in horror and disgust as they've recently been offended by a joke about the Welsh.
With me, I can laugh at just about anything. And, for some reason, I'm not really at ease at saying that. As you watch the episodes of Mock The Week on YouTube or Dave, you will, soon enough, hear Frankie Boyle say a joke. Usually, his jokes make light of dark subject matters, the biggest example of this being, during a "lines you wouldn't hear in a superhero movie" part of "Scenes We'd Like To See", he strolls up to the microphone, he says "is it a bird? Is it a plane? Whatever it is, it's heading straight into the World Trade Centre."
The audience laughed. Well, not straight away, mind. The studio was filled with gasps. But I will tell you something, after I had my fill of gasps, I laughed. Does that make me a horrible person? Does that mean that I find those people who died in 9/11 humorous? Personally, I wouldn't say so. But then again, you might see me as a heartless person with less sympathy than a cat to a legless mouse.
I've just realised that I've left out homophobic jokes now, and Frankie Boyle is a nice link to this subject. I don't understand why people belittle or discriminate against homosexuals, in fact, as Jack Whitehall once said, "I guess I'm homophobic in the same sense that I'm arachnophobic. I'm not scared of spiders, I'm not scared of gays, but I would probably scream if I saw one in my bath". Yet I find the majority of the jokes funny. Not because I think that way, but like racist and sexist jokes, I understand why they are funny. Or is it?...
Oh, I don't know, world. Why can't we all just get along and laugh at ourselves as much as we laugh at other people?
I thank ye, world.
Dear World.
I would like to pose a question to you.
Is it always wrong to laugh at jokes that are considered wrong? Y'know, like racist and sexist jokes?
Allow me to expand from what I've seen recently. I'm (still, somehow) in university, and I hang around with a guy who used to live in Iran. Every time I see him, he always says something about me being white, or me being Welsh.
An example of him saying something about me being white is when it snowed, and he began to call me "snowflake" and saying that I'd be a ninja at that time as nobody would see me. Another example is when I spoke Welsh to a lecturer, and he claimed we were being racist as the lecturer and I were the only ones who understood each other, as no other student in the class spoke the fine language known to all as Welsh.
Granted, you can hear in his voice that he was not completely serious. If he was, he hid it well. And if I, or any other person in our circle of people, told a joke or anything that could be consider racist against him, he replies in the same manner as I do. The only difference being that he returns back with funny reply, usually saying something much worse and targeted against himself.
So, what is my point here? There is a certain level of racism here. Him saying that nobody could see me when it snowed is a prime, but not a good, example. But is this racist?
It's the same with women, though in the form of sexism and not racism. If you go on certain websites, such as Failblog, Sickipedia or something similar, there seems to be a rather sexist view about women. The prime one is something on the lines of "if a tree falls on a woman in the middle of the woods, why is the woman not in the kitchen?"
But why?
No idea.
Granted, most of these sites are around entertainment of jokes, so not all of them are meant in a viscous manner. Though, when does it cross the line?
I can't answer that, as everybody is different. Take that joke about women that I wrote above. The first time I heard that, I laughed. I can't deny that. Though, I thought it was harsh. Now, every "woman, get in the kitchen" joke I hear, it makes no sense. On rare occasions, I hear a sexist joke that makes me laugh, sexist against both men and women, but if it's just a joke that mentions kitchens or lack of ability to ask for directions when lost, then it's just a dud.
One thing is for sure, everyone has a different tolerance level when it comes to these types of jokes. As one person will feel the need to burst out in hysterical laughter at a joke that involves Hitler and what he had done to those who believe in the Jewish faith, another person may quiver in horror and disgust as they've recently been offended by a joke about the Welsh.
With me, I can laugh at just about anything. And, for some reason, I'm not really at ease at saying that. As you watch the episodes of Mock The Week on YouTube or Dave, you will, soon enough, hear Frankie Boyle say a joke. Usually, his jokes make light of dark subject matters, the biggest example of this being, during a "lines you wouldn't hear in a superhero movie" part of "Scenes We'd Like To See", he strolls up to the microphone, he says "is it a bird? Is it a plane? Whatever it is, it's heading straight into the World Trade Centre."
The audience laughed. Well, not straight away, mind. The studio was filled with gasps. But I will tell you something, after I had my fill of gasps, I laughed. Does that make me a horrible person? Does that mean that I find those people who died in 9/11 humorous? Personally, I wouldn't say so. But then again, you might see me as a heartless person with less sympathy than a cat to a legless mouse.
I've just realised that I've left out homophobic jokes now, and Frankie Boyle is a nice link to this subject. I don't understand why people belittle or discriminate against homosexuals, in fact, as Jack Whitehall once said, "I guess I'm homophobic in the same sense that I'm arachnophobic. I'm not scared of spiders, I'm not scared of gays, but I would probably scream if I saw one in my bath". Yet I find the majority of the jokes funny. Not because I think that way, but like racist and sexist jokes, I understand why they are funny. Or is it?...
Oh, I don't know, world. Why can't we all just get along and laugh at ourselves as much as we laugh at other people?
I thank ye, world.
Monday 10 January 2011
Dear World - Another Day
Dear World.
May I take you back to August last year? I may? Oh, you're too kind.
On the day before my A level results, I was reading my Facebook feed only to be welcomed by the same status update by many of my friends. I cannot remember what it was, but the majority of my friends were panicking over their results, either losing sleep over their unknown future, or just feeling jittery over the whole situation.
And all I can think of is one thing.
It's just another day.
I know. I will have those four words on both my business card, my CV and my gravestone. I've said it about Christmas, about my birthday, and now my A level results.
Okay, some things in my lifetime won't be just another day. I might get married, that won't be just another day. Neither would the birth of my children (ha). Or, and I hate to say it, the death of someone close. Other than those potential events, with only one of those situations being escapable, every other day is just another one that we have to live through.
But, at this point in time, staring down the gun of three barrels. In one, the bullet filled with the odd chloride. The other, a bullet filled with electrons racing around it. The last one, a bullet filled with the sweet sound of failure. Or, if you haven't guessed it yet, the chambers and bullets represents what I took in A level - Chemistry, Physics and Music Technology. If I passed all with flying colours, all three chambers would dissolve in a cocktail of colour and sound. If I failed, all bullets will fill my body with despair and doubt. Happy thoughts for an eighteen year old boy.
On the day, though, it turned out to be a triple dose of deluded disaster, as I discovered that I earned three D's in the three subjects. That meant that all three bullets fired, only to miss me by a nanometre, and I was safe to walk into my course of choice in university. My friends? Well, they worried for nothing as they flew to good grades, though a minority had trouble getting into university for some reason or other. But that's not the point.
What the thing is, am I wrong to think that every day that happens is just another day? I mean, a more recent example is New Year's day. Everyone, from Sydney to Moscow, celebrated the birth of a new year. As the news graced my television, I gazed at the fireworks. Only one thought filled my mind.
What was that thought? Well, isn't it obvious?
Why? Why all this?
I knew perfectly why. People want to have the chance to put the past behind them, and look forward to the future. And what better time than when a new calendar graces the walls of your home? Well, I'm guessing that's what people want to do, I haven't really met everyone in the world.
For some reason, I saw that day as just a reason for everyone to get drunk. Which it is, isn't it. But I'm not going to bore you with all that, since you probably already know what I think of that from my other letter to you. Ho hum.
Anyway, I will pose a question to you, how can I rid myself from this ideology that has taken residence in my brain? How can I stop thinking that every day is just as normal as the next (bar a few examples)? Answers will be greatly appreciated on a postcard.
Though, the problem might not be the fact that I see every day as just another one that we must endure before our final slumber. Maybe it's the way I see the days that is the problem. I can't help to see that the world is a cruel place for some reason. A place that gives little hope or kindness. I have no idea why I do, but I do.
Maybe, if I saw every day as a blessing, a good thing, maybe things would have turned out differently. Then again, if I did, I wouldn't be here writing these things. So it's swings and roundabouts then.
I thank ye, world.
May I take you back to August last year? I may? Oh, you're too kind.
On the day before my A level results, I was reading my Facebook feed only to be welcomed by the same status update by many of my friends. I cannot remember what it was, but the majority of my friends were panicking over their results, either losing sleep over their unknown future, or just feeling jittery over the whole situation.
And all I can think of is one thing.
It's just another day.
I know. I will have those four words on both my business card, my CV and my gravestone. I've said it about Christmas, about my birthday, and now my A level results.
Okay, some things in my lifetime won't be just another day. I might get married, that won't be just another day. Neither would the birth of my children (ha). Or, and I hate to say it, the death of someone close. Other than those potential events, with only one of those situations being escapable, every other day is just another one that we have to live through.
But, at this point in time, staring down the gun of three barrels. In one, the bullet filled with the odd chloride. The other, a bullet filled with electrons racing around it. The last one, a bullet filled with the sweet sound of failure. Or, if you haven't guessed it yet, the chambers and bullets represents what I took in A level - Chemistry, Physics and Music Technology. If I passed all with flying colours, all three chambers would dissolve in a cocktail of colour and sound. If I failed, all bullets will fill my body with despair and doubt. Happy thoughts for an eighteen year old boy.
On the day, though, it turned out to be a triple dose of deluded disaster, as I discovered that I earned three D's in the three subjects. That meant that all three bullets fired, only to miss me by a nanometre, and I was safe to walk into my course of choice in university. My friends? Well, they worried for nothing as they flew to good grades, though a minority had trouble getting into university for some reason or other. But that's not the point.
What the thing is, am I wrong to think that every day that happens is just another day? I mean, a more recent example is New Year's day. Everyone, from Sydney to Moscow, celebrated the birth of a new year. As the news graced my television, I gazed at the fireworks. Only one thought filled my mind.
What was that thought? Well, isn't it obvious?
Why? Why all this?
I knew perfectly why. People want to have the chance to put the past behind them, and look forward to the future. And what better time than when a new calendar graces the walls of your home? Well, I'm guessing that's what people want to do, I haven't really met everyone in the world.
For some reason, I saw that day as just a reason for everyone to get drunk. Which it is, isn't it. But I'm not going to bore you with all that, since you probably already know what I think of that from my other letter to you. Ho hum.
Anyway, I will pose a question to you, how can I rid myself from this ideology that has taken residence in my brain? How can I stop thinking that every day is just as normal as the next (bar a few examples)? Answers will be greatly appreciated on a postcard.
Though, the problem might not be the fact that I see every day as just another one that we must endure before our final slumber. Maybe it's the way I see the days that is the problem. I can't help to see that the world is a cruel place for some reason. A place that gives little hope or kindness. I have no idea why I do, but I do.
Maybe, if I saw every day as a blessing, a good thing, maybe things would have turned out differently. Then again, if I did, I wouldn't be here writing these things. So it's swings and roundabouts then.
I thank ye, world.
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