SOPA BAS SOPA BAD SOPA PIPA BAD PIPA BAD PIPA BAD AGAINST SOPA AGAINST PIPA.
Is it working yet?
Sooooo, the brilliant leaders have brought out, for the nth time, their Secrecy Bill, in the hopes that it’ll get passed and the citizens will be able to keep their noses out of their not-supposed-to-be-private business. It is indeed, as many are saying, a step backwards.
Let’s just forget for one tiny second that we are facing this guy and that South Africans, as people who end up paying for his absurd luxuries, have a real right to ask, just like the FNB ads, “Where does that come from?”
Let’s just forget about that example of abuse and corruption, shall we – it’ll just take a few minutes to sweep it under the carpet…
The government should be accountable for everything that they say and do and spend. Tax money goes towards (for example) funding roadworks. Now, if they shelled out 50g for fixing something, and it could have cost them 20g if they chose a company not owned by a family member… isn’t that something the people should be aware of? If a minister choses to use his or her government funded car to drive from Cape Town to Hermanus for a family weekend, isn’t that a form of theft? Taxpayers’ money going towards their private life?
Now, let’s bring the man with the house back into the equation. If he’s somehow getting his grubby little hands on millions of rands that he can’t explain, I do believe we all have a right to know.
Thank god for these people.
I have something called Raynaud’s Syndrome (or Phenomenon), which frankly is a pain in the butt. Or rather, fingers and toes.
Essentially if I get upset, cold, or experience a sudden temperature change in either direction, the blood vessels in my fingers and toes just shut down.
I’m incredibly lucky, because my attacks are relatively mild and at this point in my life more of an irritatant and minor discomfort than dangerous. You can see in the picture, as well as in the link, what a severe attack can look like, and I have never had any so severe. Even so, it’s incredibly frustrating, especially round bathtime.
I can’t put my foot into water that’s hotter than about 30 degrees, but my fingers doth protest too much if the water is much colder than 35.
my keyboard’s shift button doesn’t work properly.
neither does the ctrl button.
and often the alt button.
it’s very annoying, and makes editing and other small, normal tasks really difficult on my computer.
so excuse me if sometimes i write like this.
but if i ever write a bracket sentence 9like this0 you have total permission to hatemail me, because then i would just be an idiot.
People keep bitching about the weather.
A friend of mine lives in a town with the most hellish weather. Boiling in summer and miserably wet and windy in winter.
Do you think she moves?
I get emails about how blistering bloody hot it is and then six months later I hear about how terribly, terribly cold she gets at her computer.
I love summer, and we have amazing summers.
But I hate being cold. I really really really hate being cold, I cannot put enough emphasis on this fact. My nose and sometimes my fingers and always my toes are a ghastly shade of white-blue during winter. I don’t know if it’s low circulation but I can put my foot into lukewarm water and feel as though I am going to die from the pain. I can go on about how miserable I get but then it just becomes drone.
But, luckily, I live in a place that makes up for the cold by having lots of lovely winter rain.
Consider this post just some thoughts.
You’d think that always being on a computer I’d be doing useful stuff, unless you spend as much time on one as I do.
I discovered that the next game in my favourite game series, the Elder Scrolls, is being released later this year.
And I turned into this guy.
And finished my cap on the 20th of May. And I never – almost – get capped before the 29th, if at all.
(And allllllllllllllllll my friends asked why, if I watched the vids so much as to cap myself, I didn’t just download them.
It’s because I’m a girl.)
Anyway, so that’s one reason I haven’t posted.
Also, work is so busy that it breaks my brain. Which is really great, on the one hand, but on the other I was getting lazy and used to doing a lot less. So it’s still great, except that I am still adjusting. I indulge in a little pity party for the first twenty minutes of my day, when I wonder why I do it, and then I get there and start, and all the good reasons rush back, so I’m actually really lucky.
And I’m such a nerd. I learnt these lyrics from watching the vid, about two weeks before I realised they were on YouTube:
Holy shit, what is this?
Forged in God’s very flames.
Do mine eyes tell me lies,
A new Elder Scrolls Game?
Time is nigh, I must fly,
Venture forth on my quest.
Goodbye Ma, goodbye Pa
And goodbye Girlfriend’s breasts.
I’ll be off Azeroth, catch you later Hyrule.
I’ll be gone Albion, I’m no longer your fool.
Other crap filled the gap
While I waited to begin…
The adventure of my life
in the land of Skyrim!
SO! I think I’m ready to comment on the death of Osama. (Can I call the raid Obsama? Not that I’ll necessarily reference it but if I do, then we have Obama, Osama, Obsama… For funs. Yes? All righty then.)
Obviously the first moment was: WOW. Osama’s dead. Who’d’ve guessed it would ever happen? The man was becoming a legend for not being found. And everyone thought he’d be caught in a cave (because that’s where all the cool terrorists hang).
And then… Everyone was celebrating.
That actually blew me away. I could not possibly conceive of a world in which people danced in the streets because of one man’s death.
Osama was not a good man. He masterminded a terrible, terrible event. He ensured the death of thousands of innocent people and led hundreds into self-destruction.
But to celebrate his death as much as one would celebrate, say, winning the World Cup? No.
And it was not just soldiers or families of people affected by his actions, it was not citizens of a demoralised empire under his control… It was everyone. And – here’s the obligatory irony, though it verges more on hypocrisy – this included people who opposed the death penalty.
This one man, this human who is in many ways nomore or less than so many others, was through his actions demonised to an unrealistic degree. As I said, he was not a good person. But he was still only a human.
All of these thoughts actually follow from Moment Number Three, when I read an article (or comment on an article) which stated that families and friends of people killed by the al Qaeda will find closure.
It was a surprise to ME.
When I was fourteen my father was killed in Eritrea by a group originally believed to belong to the ERIJ. Terrorists. So I’m not affected by the al Qaeda directly. But I think it’s safe to say I am pretty much in the same boat – except apparently not, because I found closure by myself and they were lucky enough to have someone responsible so publicly “dealt” with (it takes a lot out of me to portray them THAT way but I’ll leave it…).
But the quibble is not the point – their closure lead to some celebration.
And “celebration” brought me to a discussion I had with a friend a few days ago about religious terminology.
She takes offence to the way certain groups speak of Easter as a “celebration” of the death of Jesus. She says she cannot find it in her to celebrate the death of such an incredible person. She would much rather celebrate the life he led.
Obviously many Westerners – and I’m using this term literally, to define people to the West of, well, the Middle East – would not compare the two people. But they will speak of celebrating both deaths.
My own personal feelings on any of this aside: patient reader, my question is this… How is it that we, as people who do not change that much between one day and another, can ascribe the same word and concept to two very different ideas?
(Hey, so I didn’t use Obsama. Oh well.)
So I’m a great one for eavesdropping. (By the way, it’s one of my favourite words. Mostly because of Samwise: “I ain’t been droppin’ no eaves, sir”.) Most of my dropping is actually done on Facebook. I have some terribly funny and incredibly inspiring friends. (There are of course the idiots but I like to think that they had redeeming moments. Or that I’ve managed to get rid of them.)
It’s perhaps not true irony as such but it’s funny, although it might have been better if N had said “This is right!”