Gnarls Barkley - Crazy

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind

There was something so pleasant about that face.

Even your emotions have an echo

in so much space

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And when you're out there

Without care,

Yeah, I was out of touch

But it wasn't because I didn't know enough

I just knew too much

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Does that make me crazy

Does that make me crazy

Does that make me crazy

Possibly

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And I hope that you are having the time of your life

But think twice

That's my only advice

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Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are

Ha ha ha bless your soul

You really think you're in control

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Well, I think you're crazy

I think you're crazy

I think you're crazy

Just like me

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My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb

And all I remember Is thinking, I want to be like them

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Ever since I was little, ever since I was little oh it looked like fun

And it's no coincidence I've come

And I can die when I'm done

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But maybe I'm crazy

Maybe you're crazy

Maybe we're crazy

Probably

Wise Words

These are the words from Benjamin Franklin.

These names of virtues, with their precepts, were:

1. Temperance: Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.
2. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.
3. Order: Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.
4. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.
5. Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing.
6. Industry: Lose not time; be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnescessary actions.
7. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
8. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.
9. Moderation: Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they derserve.
10. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths or habitation.
11. Tranquillity: Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.

Story Time

Once, there stood a scorpion on the bank of a river. Being a scoprion and therefore unable to swim, he was in somewhat of a quandrary as to how to cross. As it happens, a frog came hopping along. Seeing the frog, the scorpion, ever so politely, asked if the frog would carry him accross the river. “No”, said the frog, “for you will sting me and I will die”. Vehemently, the scorpion denied that he would do such a thing, for he just wanted to cross the river and to sting the frog would cause both of their deaths.

So, the frog agreed to take the scorpion accross. The scorpion climbed onto the frog’s back, and the frog then proceeded to swim accross the river. Halfway to the far bank, the scorpion stung the frog. With his last breath, the frog wailed: “Why did you sting me? For now we both die.” And the scorpion replied: “For it is in my nature.”

So, are we slaves to our nature, or to our nurture?

Leave taking

Since this is my last day in England, I feel it only traditional that I write a short summary on my stay here. You know, about the people that I met, the good stuff, the bad stuff and my thoughts on coming home.

So, firstly the people. Well, first and foremost there is Natalie. She was the one that took me under her wing and showed me what to do (and more importantly what not to do) here in London. She got me safely to my first interviews and she was the one that shared most of my exploration experiences with me. For this I owe her a great debt. And as we spent more time together, I got to know her better and to respect her. Most people view her as a flighty person, someone who does not focus long on one thing. Nothing can be further from the truth. Yes, she does hop around from one subject to another, but that is simply because there is so much in life that interests her, and she is trying to fit it all in. Also, she knows exactly what she wants. And she is going for it with all of her heart. But, she is not willing to compromise on her dreams. She will not simply come here to London and work at a dead end job for a couple of months just to survive. For her it is all or nothing. It is a hard road that she has chosen for herself, for it will be filled with amazing highs and crushing lows. But just think, when she reaches the end of her life’s journey, what stories she will tell.

Then there was Charles. Weird guy. He is absolutely brilliant, but not in a way that can be quantified by our ordinary standards. And he has the true fighter’s mentality. Loyal to a fault to his friends, willing to pitch in no matter the odds or cost. He is someone you want at your back in a fight, cause he will stay there. And I have great respect for his ability to work hard at a boring job. All so he can maintain his independence and square all of his debts. No matter what happens in his relationship with Natalie, I just hope she realises his true worth. That he is the kind of man that will be there through thick and thin.

Emma. In Emma I found a good listener. Form the start I found that I could talk to her, and that she would listen without offering the usual platitudes that people do when you share problems with them. Even when things started going wrong in my relationship, I felt I could share my fears and concerns with her; and always she listened and gave her honest opinion. And on the day that it was finally over, I walked into the kitchen and told her it was over. And in her eyes I saw empathy, not sympathy or pity. And all she said was that she was sorry. Just that. But it meant the world to me that someone understood how I felt. My best conversation with her was the one where we shared our dreams and aspirations for the future. That was when I realised that even though the future was uncertain, I had nothing to fear, not with friends and family there to support me. The worst conversation I had with her was last night. She told me some hard truths about relationships, based on her previous experiences. The things she told me shook my world, and I had to spend the next hour and a half walking the streets of London to digest everything she had said. When most people offer you there advice, you listen, but there is always that little part of you that thinks it knows better. Not so with Emma. When she talks, you listen. Ignore her at your own peril. I truly hope that all goes well for her during the next five months. And that when she comes to SA to start her business, that she will contact me so I can provide the support for her that she provided for me here in England.

Lastly there was Martina. Nice girl, but she scares the living crap out of me. I do not know why. But as soon as she walks into a room, my hackles rise and I have to leave. She has always been friendly with me, and I’ve always returned the courtesy. But I can not stay in the same room as her for more that 30 seconds. I wish her the best of luck when she starts her studies in August.

There were other people that I met during my stay here in London, people like Jeff, Rob and Mussad. But they were just passing acquaintances, and had no real effect on my life.

Now, to list the bad and the good experiences of my stay here in London. Firstly the bad things:

• Sharing a flat with smokers
• Sharing a flat with people who do not know the meaning of the words cleanliness, order or personal space
• Not finding a job, skilled or unskilled
• Missing the one I loved
• Missing my friends
• Having a meltdown
• The two weeks prior to the break up
• The day after the break up, when I had to pick myself up off the ground after curling up there and sobbing my heart out
• Bursting out in tears in the national monument that is Westminster Abbey, in front of hundreds of people

Good experiences:

• The day Nicky from Big Brother wailed: “I just want to have fun!”
• The day I heard Rozario from Dragon-half say: “I go”. Then he picked up his dry ice and left the room.
• Watching Eddie Izzard and falling asleep
• Completing a journey by public transport, without once having to stop and carefully make sure that I am taking the right tubes.
• Seeing the Rosetta Stone
• Seeing the Gilbert Collection at Somerset House
• Seeing the Tower of London
• Seeing the crown jewels
• Messing about on the international timeline
• Learning that my brain is 100% female
• Learning that I have lost nearly a tenth of my body weight
• Running in the rain
• Running on a moonlit night
• Running till I dropped
• Playing Frisbee and doing the tricks I only dreamed about
• Bursting out in tears at Westminster Abbey, and realizing what I had to do
• Having Sunday lunch in Hyde Park
• Playing PS2 till the wee hours of the morning
• Walking to Putney
• Charming the ladies in the library to give me more time to spend on the computers
• Getting drunk and singing karaoke
• Learning that the English do not read and that the local library has an unsurpassed collection of fantasy books.

When I look at the lists above, I am glad that the good experiences of this trip outnumber the bad ones. But that was all my time here was, a trip, a holiday, a period of exploration. I have learned what I wanted to learn and I am now ready to start building on my future. I feel now as I should have felt when I left for England. I do not feel fear, because I know that whether I end up in the Cape, or in Jo’burg, I will have around me friends, family and people who love to do the things I love to experience. I feel excited, with that little burst of adrenalin that gets the heart pumping.

I have often wondered what it takes to reach manhood, not adulthood, but manhood. I think that part of that question has been answered by my journey here. And no, I can’t tell you what the answer is, because part of the answer is unique to each man. So, now it is time to roll up my sleeves, make my decisions and get down and dirty. I can’t wait.

Thus ends my last post here in England

A Moonlit Run

Last night was a clear, cool summer night. And at 23:00 the full moon rose over the city that is London. Again, I decided that this was too good a chance to let pass, so I dressed in my jogging kit, and off I went. A good plan in theory, but the execution got a bit wonky. How was I supposed to know that at twelve on a Tuesday night there would be so many people on the high street of Southfields; and that they would look askance at a half naked man running through the streets. Sheesh, these Londoners are just not used to anything.

But, as I reached Wimbledon Park, everything changed. It all became quiet, with only the steady tread of my feet on the path to accompany me. That was when I noticed that even though I knew the path and surroundings I jogged past, everything looked totally different. The world around me was basked in a bluish glow, with all of the edges of objects smoothed out. And I thought to myself; isn’t that how life is? We have our little safe routines, our comfort zones, but all it takes is viewing our lives in a different light for everything to be turned upside down. And like moonlight blurs the sharp edges of objects, so does time blur the sharp edges of pain.

Later in my jog, I had to stop to answer the call of nature. As I stood there in the darkness, I suddenly heard rustling noises in the bushes in front of me. Here was man’s worst fear: standing in the dark, with unknown dangers surrounding him. Of course one’s first reaction is to flee. But I thought no. For fear is the mind killer, the little death. I will face my fear and let it pass through me. And only I will remain. So I stood there, listening to the sounds around me, and the fear passed, only caution remained. Because I knew that whatever came out of those bushes, I could handle.

During the last part of the run through the park, one has to pass beneath lanes of trees. And in those lanes, all light is cut off, total darkness reigns. Those are the times that one has to have faith. Faith that the road you are on is there. And faith that one will safely reach the light at the end of the tunnel, because you can literally see the light at the end.

So, even though my jog started of a little bit iffy, in the end I took away from it more than just the joy of running on a moonlit night. And that night, it was with a much lighter heart that I went to bed.

Mimic

As I was lying on the couch on Sunday, letting my thoughts drift, I realised something about myself. When I spend a lot of time around people, I start to mimic their behaviour. I start to imitate things like body language, hand gestures, facial expressions and voice inflections. All of this I do subconsciously, much like the character Graham from Red Dragon. I do not know why I do it, maybe it is to say: “Here I am, do not be afraid, I am like you, I will not bite … yet”. I would really like to know what the psychological reasons are for my behaviour.

But the more time I spend with people, the ‘worse’ it gets. Recently I have been spending a lot of time with Natalie. And I have noticed that we are also starting to think along the same lines, or maybe I am thinking along her lines; I do not know. All I know is that it has happened at least five times that I said something and then she was about to say the same thing. Also, it has happened thrice that she made a suggestion, just as I was about to make the same. And it has happened twice that we have said exactly the same thing at exactly the same time.

The Last Supper

Seeing as this was our last weekend in merry o’l England, Natalie and I decided that we would go all out on Saturday; no holds barred, postage returned style. The day started off with me sleeping late. Now this may not seem like much, but if anything, my stay here in England has rested me out completely. These days, I rarely sleep past the crack of dawn, which in England is between 03:30 and 04:00. So when I found myself waking at 08:00, I knew the day was off to a good start.

I spent the morning quietly; eating, reading and doing the last of my grocery shopping. I also bought myself a four dvd set from Eddie Izzard. Eddie Izzard is a brilliant comedian. His turn of wit and outlook on life and its hazards has had me laughing so hard that I still have sore stomach muscles. So it seemed only right that I buy his dvds, instead of pirating them as per usual. As I said, I also went grocery shopping, where I made the first mistake of the day. Note to self, do not ever go shopping on a empty stomach, especially in price crazy England. Among other things, I bought myself a bowl of raspberry trifle.

When I got back home, I made myself some coffee and ate the whole bowl of trifle. I admit, that was a mistake; I should have known better. I should have remembered what happens when I ingest copious amounts of sugar, especially on an empty stomach. What followed was one of the most intense sugar rushes ever. Fortunately I recognized the warning signs when my hands started shaking, so I decided to run it off. And run I did; and run, and run and run. Basically I tried to see how many times I could run around Wimbledon park before collapsing. The answer as it turns out is six, double the number of laps I can usually manage. Finally, 2 hours 19 minutes and 2 seconds later, I arrived back at the flat, totally knackered. But I still managed to climb the six flights of stairs to our flat, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Unfortunately, I did not have much time to rest. The day was getting along and it was time to put into motion the next part of our master plan. Namely buying booze and peroxide. Back home, I did not have long to wait for Natalie to get home from work. As she stepped past the door, I handed her a double vodka and lemonade, and the bottle of peroxide; time to get down to business. Earlier in the day I had shaved ALL of the hair on my head to the same length, namely 6 mm. Now, for those of you who do not know Natalie, she is quite artistically inclined, so when I handed her the peroxide, I gave her free reign to express her creativity on/with my hair. In the end, we did not do all that much, but I have to admit, the results have been quite pleasing.

At about 19:00, Charles got home and it was time to get the party started in earnest. While every one was getting ready for our night out, we got out the karaoke equipment, and for the next hour we sang lustily to songs such as the Rolling Stone’s Paint it Black, Blur’s Song 2 and Hole’s Celebrity Skin. Then it was off to Piccadilly Circus and the clubs there.

After sitting down in the club, we all ordered another round of drinks. And seeing no reason to change the way things were going, I ordered another double vodka and lemonade. Mistake number three. The price tag attached to that little drink was £8. Which was enough of a shock to nearly make me sober again; nearly. After finishing our drinks, it was time to dance. What followed was … agh, after two days I still cannot find the words to describe what I experienced. The best I can do is describe the events leading up to the event and have you decide for yourself.

During the last six weeks, I have lost nearly a tenth of my body weight, which had two effects. After four double vodkas, I was more than a little drunk. Also, with each passing year, one tends to gain a bit of weight each winter in the form of those nigly little fat deposits that never seem to go away. But during the last couple of weeks, those fat deposits have been scoured off of my body and consequently I now have the upper body definition that I have always dreamed about. So it was with more than a little boldness that I stepped onto that dance floor. As I stepped onto the dance floor, I could feel the music vibrating in every fibre of my body. And as I looked around, I noticed the boldness with which people on the dance floor were checking me out. That was when I decided, that for once in my life, I was going … to … let … go. So I closed my eyes and let the music subsume me. It is hard to describe what happened during the course of the next three hours. It felt as if the persona that is me was replaced by something more, something less, something basic and primal; something that knew no boundaries like race, creed, nationality or sexuality. As I danced in my own little world, I just was.

But, sooner or later, the postage gets returned. After being on my feet for 16 hours, I was starting to get tired. Since Charles had already left for home and Martina had met another black guy, it was only Natalie and I that got on the tube home. Of course, after we got home we had the after party munchies, so we ordered Daisies. With the last of our strength we ate and then went to bed for some much needed rest.

And so ends this post.

Shopping at Harrods

Today was designated as SHOPPING DAY. Since I am leaving England in a couple of days, I decided that today I would visit the vaunted shopping establishments of England. Some famous person once said that: “The English are a nation of shoppers”. Too true, as there are millions of shops here, catering to all possible tastes. The plan was to first visit Harrods, then Covent Garden and then Soho Covent Garden. But things did not turn out quite as expected.

I left the flat this morning, minus my partner in crime since she was feeling a bit under the weather. First stop was Putney, where I cashed the last of my travellers’ checks and transferred another R2700 to my local bank account. And with money in hand, off I went. Getting off at Knights Bridge Station, I had my first view of the world famous Harrods. And plastered along the walls, every shoppers dream: SALE, SALE, SALE! Yippee, a shopping we will go, a shopping we will go. Hi, ho, the merry-o, a shopping we will go.

Harrods is huge. Think Friedman and Cohen, only five times as big and ten times as posh. They have everything, from children’s toys to the most delicate crystal-ware the human mind can conceive. And do not get me started on the food court. After 5 min I had to run away so badly was I drooling. Basically there are six floors, with nearly half of available floor space dedicated to women. The men have in total about one floor which contains clothes, cologne (by the way, after today I smell really good, even if I say so myself) and various manly accessories. Then nearly 3 floors are dedicated to the creature that is woman. High fashion, lingerie, jewellery, one whole floor dedicated to fragrances and cosmetics, accessories and shoes; lots and lots of shoes. Then there are sections for children, food, books, electronics, cd’s and dvd’s, indoor design, outdoor design, carpets, crystal ware and antiques.

I spent about 45 minutes in the crystal ware section. Holy cow but it is amazing what people can do with sand. Then it was off to the book store, where they had a 3 for 2 sale. Agony! So many books, so little money and even less space. AAARRRGGGHH! Then I made the mistake of walking into the men’s clothing department. Very snazzy stuff, with all of the big brands represented. And then you see the prices. Take for example the simple wish to buy a scarf. Firstly one has to find the bloody piece of clothing. After being sent from the first floor, to the fourth floor, back to the first floor (but different part), to the basement and finally back to where I started, I was starting to get hot under the collar. At least after all that trouble I had found the damn things; in the basement and on the first floor. The basement is dedicated to brand name men’s fashion. So when I saw the price attached to the scarf I was shocked, but not surprised. Guess how much it cost. £109.95. For a bloody scarf! I mean, how big a piece of material is it?!? So I walked back to the 1st floor, where the more common men’s clothes hang. After all, I reasoned, it should be cheaper right. Ha ha. The scarf I found there cost £189,95. That is more than R2000 for a piece of material that won’t even cover my nakedness; on a cold day. So the scarf idea was dropped.

One good thing about hunting for the scarf is that I got to explore Harrods from top to bottom. I must admit, the staff is very friendly and helpful. They will go out of their way to help you find stuff. Also, I got to see the really, really posh, hob nobby expensive jewellery. The kind that at first you think, R6730? For such a necklace, that is reasonable. Then you see, no, the prefix is not an R, it is an £ sign. And there is a different vibe that you get if you walk into an area where the average price tag is that of a small country. Especially if you don’t really belong there. Most people don’t know this, but I have recently let my facial hair have their way, and consequently I look a bit scruffy, but in an adorable sort of way. Also, I was wearing jeans and sneakers, while most people there have trouble bending over so stiffly pressed are their suits. But you know me, oblivious to the world, mouth hanging open at all the pretties. Only when I got to the exact centre of the room did I notice that stiff silence that the people in the room were NOT giving off. But, seeing as I was already half way in, I had to stick it out and walk halfway back out again. Although I did do it a bit more adroitly.

All in all, my visit to Harrods was very satisfying. I got to buy a lot of stuff, although the weird thing was that although there was a sale on, I still managed to buy everything that was not on sale. Unfortunately after walking 6 floors up and down several times, I was bushed. So I decided to postpone my visit to Covent garden and go home to write this blog. Plus, when I go to Covent Garden, I want to take Natalie along because she has been there before and she has to show me all the cool shops that I would normally be guaranteed to miss.

Ah, but the best part of the day came as I was walking home. I noticed across the roadway that a new shop had opened. A shop dedicated to South African goods. So I walked over and lo and behold. With angels singing quietly in the background and a ray of pure light illuminating it, I saw a packet of Eat-sum-mores. No matter that it cost £1.45, I immediately bought a packet. Went straight home, made coffee for Natalie and myself, offered her some of my cookies and I showed her the stuff I had bought at Harrods.

And so ends this post. Tune in tomorrow as Natalie and I visit Battersea dogshome.

A Good Day

Yesterday I had the coolest site seeing day of my stay in England thus far. The day started really cool with a brisk run, then we went to watch the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, followed by a visit to the crown jewels, and ended the day by visiting Greenwich.

At 06:00 sharp, thunder pealed across the skies of England. And since I was already awake for the past hour and a half, I thought that it was just too good a chance to let pass. So I put on my jogging kit, well, as little as is decently possible, since I was going to be running in the rain. But would you know it, the moment I stepped outside it stopped raining. Bugger. But seeing as I was there, I stepped onto my starting plate, pushed the “Start” button on my Polar twice, and of I went. It must be said that there is something about running on a brisk English morning, with the mist swirling across the park and other mere mortals huddled beneath umbrellas, afraid to get wet while they wait for the gates to Wimbledon to open. And as I run past them, with moisture glistening on my naked torso, I can not help but pose as I run past them (evil grin).

The next highlight of the day was witnessing the changing of the Royal Guard at Buckingham palace. Two words. Fuzzy hats! Each time the guards march or stomp, their hats ripple in this really cool way. At the start of the whole procedure, a platoon of guards take up station in front of the palace, while their officer marches to and fro. Then, suddenly, one hears music in the distance. As you turn around, you see another two platoons of guards marching towards you. The front one has various musical instruments, while the men in the rear one carry automatic assault rifles. I must admit, there is something that speaks to a man’s martial nature when he sees soldiers marching to the beat of drums. For a split moment, you whish to join their brotherhood of arms. Anyway, these two platoons march past, and take up station on the left side of the front gates to the palace. Then, another two platoons come marching past, same makeup as the first lot; only, they stand to attention on the right hand side of the gates. Finally, a platoon of horse guards arrive, mounted on these beautiful black stallions. After everyone has taken their places, the two platoons carrying musical instruments merge into a single unit in front of the gates, and start playing various pieces of music. Very, very, very cool. While they are playing, the officers, com officers and flag carriers of each of the companies march to and fro. It looks weird, but I guess there is some tradition behind it all. At about 11:50, the band stops playing, the platoons split apart again, and then go marching off to where they came from. All in all, it was an wonderful experience to watch.

The next stop was the Tower of London. Which, incidentally is not a single tower at all. It is this huge castle, consisting of many towers, each with its own name. Names like Bloody Tower, Traitors Gate, White Tower, Tower of Sir Thomas, and many more. Walking through each tower is quite an experience, especially the displays that were in the White Tower. These displays ranged over everything martial in a castle. There one can view knights in armour, horses in armour, swords, lances, guns, blunderbusses, mortars, culverins, various other forms of artillery, and one suit of Japanese armour. But face it, we did not come to the Tower of London for the damn armour. We came to see the crown jewels. And my oh my, where they stunning. There is this mechanical walkway that runs past the display cases; and Natalie and I got onto it three times so amazing was the experience. The crowns and sceptres are true works of art, and the globe thingy that is put in the monarchs hand at the start of the crowning ceremony is a sight to behold. And of course, we got to see the two biggest diamonds in the world. Star of Africa 1, which is mounted in a sceptre, and Star of Africa 2, which is mounted in King Edward ???’s crown. Star of Africa 1 is 500 carats, while Star of Africa 2 is 300 carats. Both were cut from a huge diamond (thousands of carats) called the Hope diamond, which was strip-mined right here in South Africa. And then there was the golden platters and cups. Gold, gold and more gold. There was one punch bowl as big as a bath, with a ladle that could hold at least 4 pints. And the golden plates were truly stunning, with the intricate designs etched into their surfaces.

After finishing our tour of the Tower, it was off to Greenwich and the GMT. It was so cool. I got to stand in one place at two times. And Natalie did a handstand on the timeline, of which I must remember to send the photo to her gymnastics team. And come on, we just had to do it. I’m standing on the east side (hop), I’m standing on the west side (hop), and I’m standing on the east side. The day ended with us going down to the harbour at Greenwich. There we found a pub called The Gipsy Moth (spelled like this) and enjoyed a strawberry beer while laughing about the day’s experiences.

And that is what made the day SO cool; I got to share it with a friend. In all of my previous excursions, it was only me and my camera. And believe me, I have taken a lot of photos. But at the end of the day, when I show those photos to friends and family, all they will see is places and things, they will know nothing of the experiences and emotions that were felt when I viewed said places. How do you explain to someone the feeling of being moved by the music of a marching band, or the thrill of pulling the wool over a ticket officer’s eyes as you hoodwink him into selling you tickets for cheaper, or the experience of eating lunch in the shadow of an actual big as life castle, or the joy of goofing around across the international timeline. There is no way to explain such things. But when you have someone to share those experiences with you, it does not matter. Because you know, somewhere out there, there is someone who shared the experience, and has just as much fun as you had.

And thus ends my post.

Westminster Abbey

Today I was supposed to visit Buckingham palace to see the changing of the guard. But due to the fact that Wimbledon is currently in progress, access to Southfields station is slow. Consequently I only arrived at Victoria station at 11:35, so I decided to skip the guards for today, and go directly to the other sites that I wanted to see, namely Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.

As I came out of the tube station at Westminster I could not seem to find Big Ben. I mean come on, how hard can it be to find an oversized clock tower? Then I noticed the people in front of me pointing at something behind me. Sheepishly I turned around, and there he was. Golden clockwork and all. I must admit, Big Ben and the surrounding buildings of Parliament are truly impressive. The English sure know how to build big.

Then it was off to Westminster Abbey. The church where kings and queens are crowned and buried. After standing in the sun for 30 min, I finally got to the front of the queue and the blessed coolness of the abbey. As one walks into the abbey, your breath is taken away by the sheer size of the place. The glass stained windows are magnificent and the roof soars above ones head. And then you look down and all magnificence is lost. The place is cluttered with memorials, busts, statues and tombs. Hardly a wall or piece of floor space does not contain some memorial to some or the other English hero. Don’t get me wrong, the statuary is beautiful, but it is just too much. It is as if each king and queen thought they could immortalize themselves with by buying a spot of earth in Gods house. And the worst is that each statue stands with hands clasped in attitude of holiness and each face has this pious expression. But still, the experience was enlightening, if only to see what beauty the human hand can sculpt.

It took quite some time to walk through the abbey, due to the fact that one has to bob and weave through all the clutter. But then I got to the nave. A nice open area, with banks of candles along the sides. As I stood there, with the light and warmth of the candles bathing my face; my thoughts and emotions suddenly started swirling. I do not know why, but I stepped forward then, and lit one. I lit a candle for a broken heart and a lost love. And then I prayed. I thanked God for the bounty that he had given me. For three months in my life I had known such joy and happiness as no man has a right to. I also prayed for strength, strength for the one I love, strength for myself and strength for doing what is right. And then with tears streaming down my face, I said goodbye.

Let it not be said that God does not work in mysterious ways. Even through all of those negative feelings towards the local statuary and the pompousness of the church, God still managed to reach through to me and lay a hand on my life. Makes one think.

And so ends my third post.

Lessons of Life

When I look at the past five weeks and the life lessons that I have had to learn, I am amazed that I am not insane. It has been a period of intense emotional turmoil and I can not remember the last time that I have had a full nights sleep. These are the life lessons I have learned. Heed them well, young grasshopper, for you will experience the same; and when you do, remember these words and know that you are not alone.

Lesson 1: Dealing with missing your loved one. There is no easy way of doing this. Many a time people had to shake me by the shoulder to break my reverie as I sat lost in my own misery. Worst was when I would sit and chat with my girlfriend, with tears streaming down my face, hoping to God that no one in the library would notice. Or maybe the feeling of emptiness afterwards was worse. All I can say is try to stay busy. It does not really help with the loneliness, but it does distract the mind. Unfortunately, I do not think that I learned this lesson well, for fate got tired with me just sitting around, and introduced me to lesson number two.

Lesson 2: Idle minds. If you have nothing to keep your mind occupied, you tend to wake up at three in the morning and start wondering: what if. And then your mind starts feeding upon itself. Throwing up scenario after scenario, each one worse than the one before. And before you know it, you have freaked yourself out and you feel like screaming and running into a wall. Or worse. In your mind you start building up the person you love into this mythical being. Fortunately, this is one trap that I missed, only to step slap bang into the one beside it. I started fantasizing about the live my girlfriend and I would have together when I returned to her. I went all starry eyed and gaga. And when she asked me where I saw us in the future, I made the mistake of sharing with her this star studded future. And lo and behold, she did not share these flights of fancy. So the lesson, keep busy or you will be introduced to lesson number three.

Lesson 3: The meltdown. When you give your mind the chance to feed upon itself, you are going to start having doubts. And of course it is only natural to take these doubts to the one you love, only to have them reassure you that they are groundless. But when you cannot keep your mind busy, then these doubts start to multiply, and you start to get clingy. And of course your partner is going to pull away, which will only make you more paranoid and then: MELTDOWN. Now you can do this in one of two ways. You can have you meltdown and share it with your partner, and hope they pick up the pieces afterwards. Or you can attempt to go at it alone, and hope you come out alive on the other side. I chose the former. And I think it was a mistake. I felt absolutely crap afterwards, because I felt that I had subjected my girlfriend to a side of me that should never have existed. The result: me walking around in the streets of London after dark for hours, not giving a rat’s ass. The best I can say about this lesson is don’t let things get so far that you have a meltdown.

Lesson 4: Lies and betrayal. When there are secrets in a circle of friends, the inevitable conclusion is that someone gets hurt, either for being lied to, or having their trust broken. Therefore I swear this blood oath; never again will I lie to a friend. Friends can tell me their secrets, and I will keep them. But if someone asks me about the subject I will tell them that I do not want to talk about it, or if they keep pressing my answer will be: “Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies”. And I they keep bugging me, I will tell them to go away. In this I suggest you follow the advice of Queery, keep your side of a friendship clean.

Lesson 5: Women and men are different. This is an undeniable fact. Woman and men view the world and situations differently. Woman through emotions and instinct, while men assess and use logic. And woe to the man who tries to understand emotions through logic. For the inevitable answer will be: “If you do not understand what is wrong, I am not going to tell you”. The best advice I can give is to realise that you are different, and to love each other because of that difference. I think in this, gay and lesbian couples have it easier.

Lesson 6: Love after love. One of the hardest things to learn. I once jokingly told my girlfriend that she has ruined me for all other women, because she has shown me such joy. But the question now is: HAS she ruined me for other women? My ex-girlfriend was my first real love. And consequently, I loved her with every thing I had; body, heart, soul and mind. I loved her completely and without reservation. And in my naiveté, I never thought to put a guard on my heart, or to limit my love. For I thought, if one feels like this, why put limits on such love? In my naive ness, I loved like a child; and now I have the broken heart of a child. But my question is: what happens when my heart is healed? Will there be scars on my heart? And in future loves, will I be unable to give my whole heart to a woman because these scars hide part of my heart? And worse, what if that woman loves me with everything, and I am unable to return such love? Or, will my heart heal without scars and poison? I hope so. Because I still think one should love without reservation. Love without reservation, but in moderation. If you give all of your love to a person at once and they are not ready for it, your worst nightmare is going to come true. You will lose that person and you will not know why. Unfortunately, there is no way to know what will happen with my heart. Only time will tell.

Again, heed well these lessons I have learned.

And thus ends my second post.

My ex-girlfriend sugested that I start this blog. Ex-girlfriend, now there is a world of hurt. I must admit that it really hurts when the one you love tells you that you can not give them what they want. But since I love her and respect her, what is a man to do? Simple, run. I find that there is a kind of clarity that one achieves when one's body is gasping for oxygen. It is something akin to what the American Indians experience when they deprive their bodies of sustanance. And what dit I see? The future. For the first time in my life I am free. I owe nothing to anybody, I am not responsible to anyone, I am not responsible for anyone and I am not beholden to anyone. I can choose to make my life great, or flush it down the toilet, although I would prefer the former :-). The future is now before me, and if I can find the courage to make the decisions I will face every day, and take responsibility for those decisions, I think the future holds great rewards.