People Are the Problem

I think that Douglas Adams had the clearest understanding of the world when he wrote that the problem with politics, and thus with life, the universe, and everything, is that anyone who possesses the desire and ambition to run for elected office should absolutely, under no circumstances, ever be allowed to occupy that office. And I'm thinking about this on the heels of the installation of Mexico's 'alternate' government following a botched election, early disputed results of an election in the Congo, the French media's fascination with the Socialist presidential candidate, and the clamour for Tony Blair's resignation. So much for democracy saving the world. And communism's had its fling. I think the world's been too quick to condemn the best form of government. A dictatorship. The problem though is that its just always the wrong dictator. Hitler was the problem, not the system. We just need to find a benevolent dictator and catapult them to the top of our government. And then I can stop being frustrated with the flaws of our system.

My Gran should rule the world.

This Is All True

D'I ever tell you I don't like chocolate? Or soup. Or ice cream, unless it's melted. And I wish I'd have been a marine biologist. Or a folk rock singer. Or a talk show host, 'cause I really am a good listener. And that Thursday is my favourite day of the week, but only when it's followed by Friday. And if I could go anywhere right now, it'd be just left of the middle. And if I could play any instrument, it'd be the cello. Oh, and red really is my favourite colour. Likewise, fall is my favourite season, and yes is my favourite answer. And Fuzzy Navel will always be the best flavour of sno-cone. And spring days in November make me smile.

But I think I might have told you that.

سلام عليكم

إسم دافد. ذهبت إل المغريب في الصيف الاخير. و هي جميله جدا. بعد أعمل فى فرنسي، سأسكن فى المغريب. و سأتعلم كل لغه العالم. أحب اللغه، و أحب انت. إن صادق. أحب انت

It's not that I don't have anything to say in English, it's just that I don't feel like saying it.

I'm a One Man Band

Somebody told me yesterday as I was walking into the library that my sandals had good rhythm. I think though that they were just passive-agressively telling me that the flip of my flops is too bloody loud. But I'll take it as a favourable critique of my musical talents. I'm a good whistler too. Especially through my teeth, so no-one knows it's me. Remind me, I'll show you sometime.

I can play you any song you like.

Yo Soy Sauce

So I just spent ten minutes steaming rice and making a stir fry, and then twenty minutes searching desperately for some soy sauce to accompany said stir fry. And utterly failed. So instead I ate dry white rice and vegetables, packaged the remainder in a tupperware, opened the fridge, and casually glanced in the door to see a bottle. And I slowly turned this bottle to see the label, and there, plain to see, was the soy sauce. Frustration? Shyah. Whoever said 'better late than never' had obviously never finished dinner without the single most important accoutrement to that dinner, and then found it afterwards. But then, there're prob'ly a lot of things they've never done.

And I don't even like soy sauce.

Abu! Abu, This Is No Time to Panic!

So graduation's barely a month away. And I still have no idea what I want to do. And have so far resolutely avoided applying for any jobs related to architecture in any way. So what to do? There's the thrilling lure of the Peace Corps and a couple of years spent in a wholly foreign place, the more placid lure of Teach for America and the like, the fairytale lure of a year spent travelling the world, the immodest lure of writing the 'Great American Novel,' the altruistic lure of volunteering for salvage operations in New Orleans, and the intangible lure of floating in the purest sense of the word, living in a golden place and working whatever odd job appears. No rush for the real world right? Tell me that's not simply wishful thinking. Oh please say it ain't so. I need more than a general soulless existence as a part of the corporate machine. Any ideas where to look? Or where to acquire a soul? 'Cause I need help.

Start panicking...

Say What You Really Mean

I hate the phrase 'Have a good one.' Passionately. It's so absolutely meaningless it cuts. I mean, have a good what? Day? Night? Life? And it's not like it could even be claimed to be a condensed version of some traditional farewell, 'cause you never say 'Have a good one day,' which would naturally shorten to 'have a good one.' It's just a lifeless, non-committal phrase; one more step in the devolving of language. Someday we'll all speak some banal language like Esperanto, devoid of all colour, all grammatical complexity, all nonsensical sentence structure; all in an effort to bring the world closer together. Well forget it. I dont' want a reduced, streamlined language. Give it to us raw and wriggling. With a dash of salt to enhance the flavour. And so, to prevent this ignominous fate, my new life goal is to become a linguist and move to Australia to record dying aboriginal languages for posterity. And learn to speak with wallabies. And race kangaroos through the outback. And then I'm moving to Tahiti.

Have a good three.