Middle Eastern Debates

So, the beginning of the Middle Eastern Debates were today. I gave a rough-edged, sketchy, and somewhat rushed speech, but I can blame that on the way Chris controlled the television camera to pan away from me. Whatever. I'm optimistic about the next few days of debate. But first, some time off for the weekend. If anyone wants to hang out, call or IM me; I got a relatively full weekend but I can shuffle stuff around easy.

I'm a little worried about Sharif. He says he has something on me (Olmert) in the debate which I apparently don't know about. It involves nuclear weapons...and me giving them to someone. Plus he wrote a 70 page paper to prep. But I can play psychology well enough too. We shall see what happens.

Today, after school, a couple of friends and I walked downtown to the Commons. After grabbing the obligatory coffee, we...no joke, we hacked a sack for I swear like two hours. Something transcendental about it; I definitely improved mad skeeelz today. Granted, we did eventually leave and chill over at Sasha's. And then saw 300. It's my 3rd or 4th time seeing it, but it doesn't get worse, it just becomes more...internalized. Unfortunately, it came at the cost of coming home at around 12:30AM.

It's strange, but I have a sudden urge to listen to Japanese-German techno music. What's it with those two countries, producing the cheesiest shit ever? Maybe it's a post-axis-of-evil syndrome of some sort...perhaps one day, North Korea and Iran will come up with their own versions of disco-house. Oh god, I'm so politically incorrect.

The Israel-Palestine conflict sucks.

I'm losing friends faster than I make them.

This whole Arab-Israeli conflict thing which I'm supposed to be researching is really getting to me. I didn't realize that I would lose so much of my normal life outside of being Ehud Olmert, but I find myself putting off my friends, trying desperately to stay rooted in normal life instead of worrying about the conflict every day. I'm so physically unattached to the conflict in any way, but in some perverse little way, it's become a dismal part of my life.

And I can't even claim to understand the conflict. All I can claim is that thinking about it so much is making me angry. It's made me denounce religion to the point of hatred. And at the same time, my mood swings and depressive tendencies have led my mom to tell me that I need to stop placing my friends in such high regard and I need to start believing in something. She clearly insinuates religion. I'm only mildly offended because I know she has good intentions.

But at the same time, why should I ever place my friends in such a low regard? I felt particularly horrible yesterday night when I realized that I had maybe 5 real friends and no explanation why. And her response was that people tend to end up with only one real friend as they age. So I thought to myself, what the hell is the point of life?

Maybe that's what happened to the Palestinians and Israelis. Maybe they couldn't deal with the prospect of having no friends so they started to believe in nothing but hatred towards the enemy...they live for nothing else! Religion aside; this is no religious war anymore, or even a geographical war. No, I am almost convinced that the Arab-Israeli conflict is a war of ethics.

And today I became so frustrated with my state of mind that I ended up bitching about nothing. I complained about nothing...about the prospect of being unhappy for the rest of my life and the lack of real friends. When she told me I was being self-centered, vain, and unrealistic, I panicked. I panicked because firstly I was scared she was right. She was right, though. I do think of myself too much. I also panicked because I had the notion that she would forever know me as the self-centered, vain, unrealistic kid that can do nothing but sit on his ass and complain.

But that doesn't keep me from complaining about nothing. Oh, look at me! Right now I have everything I'd ever want! I have a house, clothes, food, and most of all, I have opportunity. I thought of the Israelis who feel so physically insecure that they keep M16 rifles in their trunks, or the Palestinians who are so engrossed in their own hatred that they would be willing sacrifice their own life to annihilate others. And I'm complaining because there's something wrong with my life that I can't even identify.

Something tells me that when these debates are over, I'll feel a lot better.

___________

Star-crossed lovers quit West Bank

By Matthew Price BBC News, Jerusalem

The couple married three years ago after meeting in Jerusalem

She is a 26-year-old Jewish Israeli. Her name is Jasmine Avissar. He is a 27-year-old Palestinian Muslim, Osama Zaatar.

Jasmine and Osama's is a love story, and it tells you so much about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. They met when they worked at the same place in Jerusalem, and three years ago they got married. First they tried to live in Israel, but the Israeli authorities would not allow Osama to join his wife there. Then they tried living in the occupied West Bank, but some Palestinians made life difficult for them. Now they've given up and are moving to Europe.

Strangers

"We ran out of choices of finding any solution to live in either Israel or Palestine," says Jasmine as she packs her bags.

"We were naive and thought we could win this fight but we can't. So we have to go abroad and start a new life."

Jasmine We were naive and thought we could win this fight but we can't Osama The moment I decided not to be part of the mainstream I was told that I was not a part of my country anymore

Jasmine already has permission to go. Osama hopes to follow her soon. We go up onto the roof of their village home. The sunlight is so harsh you have to squint to look at the view. Stone walls hold earth terraces onto the hillsides, olive trees hundreds of years old are dotted across the landscape.

"I feel like a stranger here," says Osama. "Even in my homeland. This place is a holy land, but they're killing each other. It's like it's already a lost cause."
"Here there's no chance. I just want to start again."

Under investigation

They are an almost unique couple. Neither Israeli nor Palestinian society has accepted their marriage. On official Israeli documents, Jasmine tells me her marital status is described as "under investigation".

"Our marriage was a human thing. We just fell in love," says Jasmine. "The society around us is making it political."

"I feel like a refugee. The moment I decided not to be part of the mainstream I was told that I was not a part of my country anymore."

A taxi turns up, and Osama helps Jasmine with her bags. The drive takes them through occupied Palestinian lands. They pass a tall grey Israeli army watchtower. They drive through army checkpoints. Israel has been in control here for almost 40 years.

Given up

"Even here in Osama's homeland I am superior as an Israeli," says Jasmine, as she looks out the window.
"It's easier for me to move around. The soldiers let me through checkpoints. They don't arrest me like they might arrest Osama."

A final embrace at the Israeli checkpoint Osama is banned from crossing

Jasmine has given up on her own country. "Jewish people were abused for thousands of years, but my nation has switched from being victims to being abusers.

"That's hard for me to acknowledge. The Jewish people are occupiers now, and we are racist."

The car arrives at a final checkpoint. We stand next to it, and Osama tells me why he has also given up on his own people.

"There were threats. People said if I brought my wife here we'd be in danger. Even my friends said that. They say I am a traitor."

"It makes me wonder whether I want to be a Palestinian any more. Some see me as some sort of Israeli envoy. It's a shit feeling."

Seeking safety

They turn and walk the short distance to the checkpoint that leads out of the West Bank and into Israel. They put down their bags, and hug one another. There's a short kiss. I ask Osama what he hopes for from his new life.

"I want to be able to walk in the street and not be stopped by the Israeli army or police. I want to feel safe. I have never felt that."

Jasmine smiles. "I just want to be a normal couple, with normal problems about rent, and money. I don't want to have these huge gigantic problems interfering in our marriage."

Even now though they are not quite free. Osama cannot go through the checkpoint with Jasmine. They don't know when he will be able to join her in Europe. They are still a couple caught in the middle of the Israeli Palestinian conflict.

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Soul at the Hands of Confinement

Edit: We just dug the postman out of a thick snowbank. Makes me feel alive.

__________

look at yourself;
trapped with your coffee and your biscotti and
your chocolates
sitting by the fireplace you wish you had
look at yourself;
turning the cellophane on an architecture magazine
keys on a board
watching the outside turn from blue to gray to white
look at yourself;
wrapped up in a fleece blanket in
yesterday's old sweater
have you ever been happier being trapped?

__________

I believe I've just had my first sleepover in a long time yesterday. It wasn't going to be, but by midnight last night, the roads became unnavigable and my parents declared that they were staying home. So Yuval and I stayed up until 2AM until she fell asleep on the couch watching Marie Antoinette. At three she woke up and decided that the couch was probably not the best place to spend the night so we went upstairs and woke up at 7. Amounts to...4 hours of sleep?

Upon awakening, it's a white and blustery Valentines Day in Ithaca, New York. Temperature is 20 degrees Fahrenheit, accumulation is close to 24 inches, and the world as we know it has come to a standstill.

Even the television reflects the mood today; there's cooking show after knitting show after cooking show after woodworking show, after cooking show. That's the thing about blustery winter days. Everyone wants to cook. Including me. The heat of the oven, the radiance of the stove, the comfort of biting into fresh blueberry muffins...it's what we all desire. Succumb to your appetite and you will be rewarded. It's nothing but an extension of human survival.

And yes, it is indeed Valentines Day, but I can't help but muse on how many couples are really on their fur rugs under their crystal chandeliers by their fireplaces, getting it on, on a day like this. Call me a pessimist in a loveless world, but I'm pretty sure the number of those couples right now...is coherent.

I hope you all have a wonderful Valentines Day. ♥

Lunatico

http://www.sophiakokosalaki.com/ - Sophia Kokosalaki, an emerging New York designer with inspiration from ancient Greek fashion sense. With the draping jackets, oversized jackets, and flamboyant colors, it's more pretty than hot, more cute than sleek, more coquette than sophisticated, but it's still fashion and it's still worth a look.

I realized that I've never taken enough time to thank my friends for providing over half the music in my music library, all of which I listen to. I don't know what I'd do without you guys; I'd probably still be listening to Matthew Shipp and William Parker over and over again.

Thanks to Kai for sharing the Gotan Project with me. This is quite honestly the third sexiest music I know, coming in just after Haddaway and Bjork. I'm joking of course. It actually pulls in at number one sexiest music, and Bjork comes in fourth.

This bears continuity to everything I was saying about French electronica...even though the lyrics in the majority of the songs are in Spanish. (The video below takes place in Buenos Aires.) There's still that little extra that the French do to their music that makes it so much better than say, Italian, Egyptian, or even British electronica.

As for Haddaway, um, don't ask...



Gotan Project - Diferente (Promo Video)

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____________

I'm a little intrigued by WordPress over Blogger. Blogspot could learn a thing or two from WordPress's design schemes and options. Moving over there could be an improvement, then again, it could also be a little messy given the integration my computer has with Google software.

I'm also a little intrigued by this whole concept of multiple authors on one blog. Within that scenario, posting would all show up on one page, but that would also eliminate the need for multiple users. But at the same time, it's nice retaining a little individuality, until I learn how to trick out Blogger to look like something I made.

Untitled

I thought she was one of my best friends. I thought we knew each other.

But when she asked me, "How are you?" I began to question myself.

I thought for a moment, how was I? She asked me a second time and when I was ready to respond, I was scared. Not because of what she said, but because of what I said.

"I'm fine."

__________

Unappreciated art has the same effect on the artist as unrequited love on the lover. It eat, it destroys, and when there's nothing left to destroy, it moves on to the next victim like a parasite. You want to keep good art alive? Then don't make the distinction between good and bad.

Vicky's Birthday

Telepopmusik - Love Can Damage Your Health (Promo Video)

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That last video was Love Can Damage Your Health by Telepopmusik. It's not a spectacular plot or anything, and the premise of the scene is a little sketchy at the least, but the video itself is truly a work of art. Plus the music's kind of addicting, as is all good French electronica.

And this picture to the left is Barcelona. A juice bar on the street corner, which is a common sight in Spain, supposedly because of the ridiculously hot summers. It makes me really hate this gray, "lukewarm" Ithaca that we have to put up with these day. There's not even snow on the ground, and I was thinking of riding tomorrow with Sasha, but the temperature's dropping again.

________

You know...for someone who hasn't ice-skated in years, I was pretty proud of myself today. I used to figure skate quite a bit. I was pretty good, actually; I've always had good balance in the sports I did, and I caught on to things very quickly. It was disappointing to me to realize I didn't have the skill I used to have, but it didn't surprise me that I could stay up on the ice and only fall once at the beginning. It did surprise me, however, that I remembered how to move. I'm definitely nothing compared to Vicky when it comes to skating, of course. She's pretty damn good. But regardless, I was pretty proud. I think I should do that more often.

It felt a bit weird. Danny and Amir and I were the only guys wearing figure skates. I wonder where the "figure skates are gay" thing came from. My educated guess would be that it stems from the relationship between figure skating and dancing. Dancing can be a beautiful thing. Hey, if we've got the dignity to do it, it just means we're just very secure with our manhood, right?

And come to think about it, a lot of cool things in this world are pretty "gay." Like Myspace and scarves and cranberries in your sandwiches. Not so much the quiches.

Being on ice is an odd feeling. It's not quite the same as rollerblading on the street, yet it utilizes more or less the same motions. The primary difference here is really the sensation you get when you glide. On rollerblades, you get this rough, asphalt sensation that kind of rattles you up to your knees regardless of how much you might have paid for them. Whereas on ice, the feeling's very airy, very carefree, as if one stroke of your legs will take you for a kilometer, if you had the room. It's always colder in a rink too, and it shows. There's something enjoyable about being surrounded by white and bundled in a sweater.

So after the skating escapade, we chilled at Vicky's, which was fun. Dinner, chocolate-coconut cake, and a rather odd pirate movie all preceded the present-thing. And unfortunately, I didn't bring my camera into the rink, since I sort of forgot to take it out of my bag. (Additionally, it didn't have a battery anyway, so what good would it have been?) Speaking of which, I was without one today. I ordered mine online on Monday, so it didn't have time to ship. But I think she'll like it. She's needed it for a while now.

Rommia needs to shut up during movies. :-P So does Mikayla, but Rommia's much funner to pick on.

Happy Birthday, Vicky. <3

Have a lovely New Year. ♥

[Am I the only one confused by the lack of snow?]

January 1, 2007. Two-thousand-seven. I'm not going to get used to this. Didn't it just seem like yesterday when it was the year 2000, and the world was preparing for Y2K to come along and eradicate all technology on the planet? But in fact, it was almost a decade ago when we filled up our bathtubs to supply and closed all the windows and doors and did everything we could to keep radioactive fallout from entering our Tokyo apartment.

Before I begin, I need to apologize in earnest for anything dumb I might have said here. I may have been a bit drunk writing this post. Champagne doesn't mix well with exercise.

And here you go. First post of 2007.

____________

This year, dinner at my place was quiet. But the conversation over dessert was not only animated, but rough. Here we have guitar players and here we have coffee-shop philosophers, and here we have calligraphy artists and potters, all doing their thing at the same time. I personally engaged myself with the philosophers, bringing up an age-old theory that the Greeks tackled and could never solve:

Everything we do is in our own selfish interest. Pure altruism is nonexistent.

I felt awkward talking philosophy with other people four times my age. I felt a little dwindled, even (dare I say) intimidated, but I realized I'm no different, I simply have less experience. So it came as an ego boost when the conversation turned into a debate. I noticed a large divide between mothers and fathers. Mothers believe in pure philanthropy, while fathers seem to agree with me.

I don't know how it got started, but it was an interesting subject we dwelled on for at least an hour. Don't ask.

____________

So after filling up on cappuccinos and coffee beans, Kai and I were out biking and we pulled into Sunset Park in time for the fireworks and the changing of the lights this year. We rolled in as we heard the voices cheering in the lights. We chilled with Shelby for a minute, and soon the park filed out and we were the last two sitting on the stone railing.

It was time for us really just to reflect on the year past. It's been a pretty rough 10th grade, I have to admit, but now that I look back on it and see how much good has come out of this school year, I think...maybe it's just relative. Maybe it's just because 9th grade was simply the best fucking year I've ever had and that every other year to follow will never be the same. But in any case, I can only hope that next year goes smoothly.

Resolutions? Oh, yes I didn't have any until I rolled out of the park. I resolved to continue the tradition of going out to Sunset Park next year to chill in the cold and welcome the lights. I resolved to keep complications out of my life; make it simpler. I resolved to stop caring so much about society and to live the way I want.

____________

Kai and I made our way up to Simon's house, where he was watching the Real World: Denver with Zach and trying to get wasted. I don't normally like beer, but I applaud his taste in a Greek brew whose name I can't pronounce.

When they came out to greet us, Zach got us all locked out of the house. He wasn't even drunk. By the time Simon and I worked out an arrangement about whose shoes to wear, he went to get the backup key, but couldn't find the door it would open. I felt a little bad for Zach, who was the target of every joke for the next hour, but at the same time...that was a pretty dumbass thing to be doing.

We entered his house and chilled for a bit. By that time, the focus of the joke had shifted over to Kai. Poor guy didn't know how to react, but he got through without breaking down, so I respect that.

Simon (half-drunk): "So...Kai...what's your resolution? How's [Sonia and Beal], eh? You still gonna tap that? Huh? Gonna get 'em wasted?"

Personally, I was horrified by the thought. But maybe everyone else wasn't. I had to save Kai by assuring Simon that Kai's through that phase. Later on, he revealed to me that he wasn't over it.

But I can't say I blame him for holding on to his uhm, "old flames." We all have friends who we, even when we claim that they're nothing but good friends, can't help but, euh, keep the door open for exploration. (I'll be blunt. Every teenager on the planet has close friends who they'd be willing to fuck in an instant.) I'd have to admit to one myself. Come on. We all do.

And whether we like it or not, it's not going to change anytime soon. As long as they're your friend, you're always going to have to hold on to your hormones.

____________

On our way out, we got stopped.

I didn't feel angry. I wasn't pissed off. No, I felt guilty. Guilty that I was having a nominally good day and frankly, he wasn't. I felt bad for the cops who had nothing better to do than stalk the streets of suburban Cayuga Heights looking for people to pull over and take blood alcohol tests or whine about being out so late. I felt bad for those who did nothing but ride around in their cop cars when New Years came around. Who did they toast to? Who did they celebrate with? Who were they gonna get wasted with?

So if you're having a shitty day, just think of those poor souls. They're probably having a blast...

So have a lovely New Year, everyone. ♥

- Mirko

Gifts

So my parents have given me a couple FREAKING AWESOME holiday gifts. I feel obligated to return the favor, but I don't have that kind of money, and I didn't realize I was getting any. I don't celebrate these holidays...at all. Break is really just an excuse to get out of the country (our first plan was Morocco, but it didn't go too well because my father's in D.C. for most of the break).

________

Giordana Sydney Cycling Jersey - Long Sleeve (For Men).
Giordana's Sydney cycling jersey adds a layer of warmth to a cool morning ride. Canete fabric is soft like cotton with the superior breathability and moisture-management of polyester.

Creative Zen Vision:M 30 GB MP3 and Video Player (Black).
Smaller and better than ever before. The ZEN VISION:M does more than play your videos, photos and music. It displays them in their true glory on a vibrant, large full-color screen. Perfect for road trips long or short, carry your entertainment in the palm of your hand. The deal is I pay for $100 of it, but...

Nashbar 2007 Adjustable Fluid Trainer.
Our Adjustable Fluid Trainer is what you need for additional resistance levels to effectively do interval workouts. This model provides 5 levels of resistance from the smooth, quiet fluid resistance unit and the internal flywheel smooths pedaling action for a more natural feel.

________

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm really happy that my parents would do that for me, and I love them so much for everything they do for me. But (maybe it's wrong for me to do this) I realize these are all presents my family gave me. Family is an obligation. I didn't choose my family, but I chose my friends.

And for that, I really want to thank Vicky so much. You didn't have to but you did. You're such a good friend. Thanks so much for thinking of me. And I love the ring.

<3,>

We're not losers...

I feel the need to point out that there is a difference between erotica and porn. Seriously people. Stop asking. They're not the same thing. Erotica has a higher artistic purpose than just aiding the release of sexual tension. I have little taste for porn.

I dare not call it a busy day, but the week is already putting me into a uhm...quagmire. Three more days to go before the busy weekend. Who's not psyched for the break?

After school, I joined Chris and Dylan for the brisk little walk downtown. Then Parker and Mo. I was rather tempted to watch people do their shit again like I did yesterday, but I realized I was only here until five; I wasn't really stranded this time. Psh, there goes a legitimate rationale.

I spent some time snapping photos, though. I also snagged two cups of coffee and hung with some friends for a bit before chilling with Kono and giving him decent Myspace pictures.

I sympathize with him. Mhm, indeed the title of this disjointed post isn't representative of its contents. Because truthfully, it's safe to call us losers.

Funny story, actually. Hate to get sidetracked, but this morning, I opened my email to find 22 Myspace messages waiting for me. You don't understand how much of a loser that made me feel. Seriously, I don't think that site is doing any good to anyone's self-esteem.

That means you, Nelly.

Love,
- Mirko