People would be shocked for a week
I’d take center stage for a few weeks
I’d be mourned for a few months
I’d be remembered constantly for a year
I’d be an angel for 2 years
I’d be a sob for a few years
I’d be a sigh in 10 years
I’d be a blurry memory in 20
I’d be a distant memory in 30
It’d be as if I had never existed in 50.

It’s become a small ritual of mine to walk the few hundred meters up the tiny hill to my flat after work on Fridays. During this brief walk, I always feel a strange and baseless satisfaction that starts like a soft hum and turns into a full blown symphony by the time I get home. It then disappears as abruptly as it appeared. It might be the warm weather, maybe the smell of spring, possibly even the simple knowledge of the impending weekend’s inevitability… or even… dare I say happiness?

Whatever it may be, it is good.

The scent of air fresheners in a toilet is, to my senses, no different than the odors that scent is trying to mask.

so why not immortality? Why not death being the exception? Genetics, medicine, diet, lifestyle…

would make for a pretty neat answer… bye bye god and such…

Buddhist to hot-dog vendor: “Make me one with everything”.

The Buddhist gets his hot dog and pays with a 20 dollar bill. He waits a few minutes, and then asks for his change.

Vendor: “Change only comes from within”

It’s the epitome of laziness when you take your washed laundry out of the washer and throw it in a pile to dry on the hanger.

It’s a sad state of the world when you see someone walking down the street, and it takes you a minute to figure out whether she’s just using a headset, or is utterly insane.

It’s pathetic when you promise yourself to blog about your trip to Rome last year, as soon as you get back from your trip to Paris.

The sea squirt has a very simple brain which is used only to find a suitable spot to root itself for life. Once it’s settled into a spot, it no longer needs the brain, so it eats it. This has been compared by at least one Researcher to a professor receiving tenure at a university.

(via michael hanscom, from Weird Animal)

Maybe I’m seeing things, but being a ‘researcher’ the past few months has somehow changed the way I observe everything. I tend to over-analyze - well, I’ve always done that, but now, I actually try to come up with a why and how, rather than the usual ‘mmm… that’s interesting’. Maybe it’s because I’m reading much more than usual. I don’t know.

So, here’s a pondering: 7235. 5302. 6872. 7906. 1975. 2234. 1969.

Which two numbers pop up? Why do I have the feeling that, unless you try hard to figure it out, we’ll end up with the same two.

In academia, you are constantly learning of a new effect, a new method, a new theory, a new model, etc… A lot of the time, you’d be already familiar with the concept, without knowing that there’s a name for it. Call me flaky, well, a flaky nerd, but those little pieces of information sometimes make my day.

The postman came visiting. I was here, but apparently the doorbell didn’t ring (right), and so I couldn’t sign for my new credit card. Instead, I found a note in my mailbox, informing me to go pick it up at the bank (this one organization serves as a bank, and as the central post here)… Anyway, at lunch today, I realized I was in the direct vicinity of the branch I had to go to, so I dropped by there to pick up my card. Except they wouldn’t give it to me. I didn’t have my passport on me, and no amount of talking and showing my various other cards, and Ids with my name on them would convince the post mistress, ingrained in bureaucracy and with a red-tape fetish that would make any government official back home blush, to just give me my mail.

I know, I know. She was doing her job. I needed to have my passport, and no other form of ID was allowed. I respect that. But it makes you wonder, is it really better to have such strict rules, and to have everything run in such an orderly, organized and controlled manner? Does that really improve our lives?

Back home, to conduct any bank business, i’d go in, they’d serve a coffee while someone took care of what needed to be done. No trouble. They know you, and they themselves can vouch for you. No IDs necessary. You’re valued, it’s a social experience. It’s what makes us human, somehow.

Here’s the cute catch.This form of business is definitely secure. People know each other, so no one could pretend they were me, but my brother could easily go to the bank and they’d have no problem taking care of some transaction that I’d asked him to do for me. Maybe a big difference is that there are many more people here, but still, the idea is fantastic.
It’s great living by rules, and not all of them are meant to be enjoyable. That’s absolutely acceptable. Between a society governed by unbendable, nonnegotiable rules, and chaos, I’d chose the former. Add the third option, a society where rules are a correct means to an end, and can be therefore be bypassed if another correct means were possible. I’m sold.

disclaimer: corruption, crime, man’s inexplicable tendency to do evil… yeah, I’d consider those if this were a thesis. As it stands, this is a rant - a much lesser form of didactic, and ergo, no science was involved, no hypothesis were formed, and none of the above can be negated. Except by another rant. Which is a manifestation of the third option anyway. So I’m still right.

PC. This is what’s wrong with the world.

The “Washington Wizards”, an NBA team, used to be called the “Washington Bullets”. Apparently, that name was found to be politically incorrect, and it was decided to change the team’s name to “Wizards”. The old name somehow seemed to induce images of violence. Now, when I think of wizards, I think of fireballs and ice blizzards. Dragons and shockwaves… But that’s just me.

At the core of this is our constant attempts to blame someone or something for society’s failures. School kid goes crazy and shoots his classmates? Heavy Metal. Blame Marylin Manson. Teenage pregnancy on the rise? Blame TV.

So, the word “Bullets” is going to induce people to go out and buy bullets and shoot people as… a sign of support for their team? peer pressure? wtf?

If put to a vote, I’d vote ‘cut the crap’ over ‘political correctness’ every time. There’s a thin line between PC and BS (blind sightedness, or bullshit… as you like it)… In our quest to say the right thing, and act the right way, we’re willfully stepping over that line, and rendering our efforts (honorable as they may be) useless.

[Procrastination * (Uncertainty + Overload)] + Longing = Self-Loathing.

A couple of Evangelist churches have published a politically correct version of the bible. Apparently, they paid someone 400.000 euros (a little over 500.000 USD) to turn the bible into something more in tune with the 21st century. “Love thine neighbor” becomes “love thine male neighbor and thine female neighbor” (in German, nouns are male, female or neutral… so neighbor is male, sort of)… God becomes neutral, and sometimes female, and so on…

“In the name of the father/mother, and the son/daughter and the holy spirit/ess”

On a different planet, I’ve started working out again. Why does ever gym in the world have an overweight trainer? And why does every gym in the world have an older member with a huge beard, who’s fighting time and his sagging skin by pumping iron?

4 hours, 12 minutes ago, at midnight, I turned 24. The small party, good wishes, and drinks are now just a near memory, some marginally alcohol-tinged breath, the lingering smell of smoke pervading my hair. 40 minutes from now, I’m heading to the airport to catch an early plane to a day-conference. That’s life catching up with me. I’m not sleeping in and spending the day lazy and spoiled tomorrow, 4 hours into my 24th year, I’m packing to go to a conference, to discuss life-altering issues like cost-benefit sharing, incentives, and supply chains.

(in keeping with tradition,) Happy birthday moi.

I had two rules for people who wanted me to “let them in”. Don’t lie to me, and don’t take me for granted. Shorter, simpler and better than the ten commandments. However, I’ve recently decided to add one.

If you drink, drank or ever plan to drink coffee from McDonald’s, Burger King, Pizza Hut or some other such place, fuck off. Stay away. Seriously. I have neither time nor patience for someone willing to do that. Why would you drink colored water treated with sewage? And why would you expect me to want to be near you again?

Also, If you say something like this: “Damn it. I want to suck your tongue in public. If they don’t like it, let them go back to their own countries. Seriously.” You’ve won me over already. Period.

Me, I rant, and I philosophise, and I complicate stuff. I think too much. Kreuz…. well, Kreuz just CarpeDiems his way through it all.

Ok. It does not get lamer, sadder or creepier than this!

(ps: click on the image for a larger version! You need to read this through!)

I deleted all my porn. 80 gigs of it. I wanted to clear up some space on my external hard disk, and then realised that actually going through and filtering my porn would be a pathetic thing to do. So, it’s gone. ha. like a sneeze, but nicer.
I ordered another charger for my camera. This is the second time that the charger goes bonkers. The last time, I bought a relatively cheaper, generic charger, this time I ordered the original from the company. It seems that it will be a while until I can actually afford to buy my dream digital camera, and I can’t afford to rely simply on my SLR. So, yeah. There’s that. How Interesting.

I was waiting for the tram yesterday, and this girl walks up to me. This ridiculously hot chick, ultra-stylish, and very hot. Did I mention she was hot? A veritable bombshell. Actually, she sort of drifts towards me while talking to her friend sitting outside the coffee shop. She reaches me and says, barely even looking, “I’d like a cigarette”. She didn’t asked, she placed an order.

All I could say was “hummunahummuna…”

An image came to my mind while discussing prostitution.

Food is a perfect simile for sex. Prostitution is like eating out at a restaurant. Everything is set for you. You go in, you make your pick, you eat your food, you pay and you leave. The restaurant is grateful for your business. The customer is always right, and if you don’t enjoy the meal, you don’t need to come back (or you could try something else the next time you’re there).

Sex with a non-professional is like making your food. You have to be in the mood for it. You have to go grocery shopping, possibly to more than one store. You need to get all the ingredients, take them home, clean and prepare them. You need to set up the kitchen, mix everything, check out the cookbook, set the table, and occasionally, “toss the salad” (for some people!). Your food is prone to criticism. After that, you always have to do the clean up.

The effort you put into it might be worth it, but there’s always the chance that the rice will be sticky, the meat will be burnt (ouch!) or the soup will be frigid… I mean, cold. On the other hand, if you get the right groceries, you can be as creative as you want, and making the food might be a lot of fun.

I had this gnocci with spinach, tomatoes and mozarella at this restaurant once. If I’ve tried to copy it once, I’ve tried to copy it a dozen times. The chef there has magic hands, I tell you. (And I’m actually talking about food, here…)

disclaimer: This blog and its author do not promote sex in any way. Pre-marital, marital or post-marital. Men, women, animals or socks. Sex is a vile, animalistic act. The next time you’re in the throes of passion, think of this: The allmighty is watching. He’s judging and taking notes. He’s omnipresent, that means he’s seen it all, and chances are, your performance is sub-par. You wouldn’t want to be nicknamed “minuteman” for eternity, would you?

Happy Saturday night hunting.

you realise you’re being assimilated when you run out at 22:07, pass by the store quickly to get a couple of beers, and run to catch the 22:10 bus. two beers,running after bus, and sipping on the beer. You reach the bus and jump in as the driver closes door, hitting you in the head. A few seconds of staring him down later, you say: “I’m ok” to which he responds “yeah… no spilled beer”. You wonder if that is an examle of racism or simple priorities.

You get off the bus and come crashing down to Earth. The two beers the cute store assistant handed you were Alcohol-free. A German would have picked up on that miles away. It took you 10 minutes. Your friends spot you walking with Alc-free beer and recognize the beer almost before they recognize you!

Lesson learned: There is NO alcohol-free Whiskey.

So, I caved. Yesterday was very stressful, and I ended up drinking half a bottle of Jack and smoking a whole pack.

This doesn’t mean that I’m smoking again… just a momentary lapse. I’m afraid, though, that when I move into my new flat (best friends, awesome street…. smack in the middle of town)… I won’t be able to resist. Half of our daydreams involved smoking at one point or the other. We’ll see.

Jimmy, I’m not giving up drinking… who do you think I am, Mother Theresa?

Crap. It’s been over three weeks since I came back from Rome, it’s about time I told you guys about that… and uploaded some photos. Maybe later. Suffice to say, there are a lot of things going on around me right now… work, PhD, plans, romance, etc… and me being me, that means I’m oscillating between ecstacy and self-loathing at fairly regular intervals. It’s so annoying that I’ve gotten used to it.

I hate being proven right sometimes. I always held out hope that being decent will eventually reap you rewards. But I said that it’s the assholes that win. At least when it comes to ‘relationships’, that seems to be true. Being the nice guy had me pussy-whipped and appologizing regardless of the situation. Ignoring her, her calls, and her text messages for just a few hours got her worried and made her realize that she couldn’t take me for granted. Ugh. Things should be simpler, but they’re not. Simply ignoring someone I care about annoys me like hell, the cool player in me from three years back seems to be hibernating… I’m not sure I can (or want to) (or can deal with) waking him up again… but it sure as hell would make things simpler…

Ah whatever… Photography. Crazy Romans with their crazy lives… up next on the rollercoaster realm of r.

Happy easter. This is a veritable easter egg that was dropped into my lap… very enjoyable… thinking of doing the same, actually… since blogging is losing its’ flavor, and I do have my own domain just sitting there!

Welcome to my home page ! Kiss you !!!!!!!!!!!!