Category: Journal

There’s this guy I know, who is a really cool guy in every respect but one. He’s got a tremendous ego and likes engaging in little ego-contests. It’s an absolutely forgivable flaw of his, though it gets on my nerves sometimes. I know I’m guilty of it, too, but I try to keep it to a minimum, as it usually only leads to a bad atmosphere for those directly or indirectly exposed to it. It’s a game of domination, of “Who’ll be the Alpha Male!?” and I simply don’t like it. I don’t have that type of competitiveness to really enjoy it.

Some time ago he did something I was rather disappointed with. It was a little something, and the annoyance of it passed quickly. I asked him not to do it, he did it anyway and that was it. It was in retalation of a slight or insult (imagined or otherwise), I think, and I didn’t get mad because I understood it, though I really don’t agree with it. What he did was childish and more evidence of his fragile ego. As I write this I have the sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t have a big ego, per sé, but perhaps a very small and fragile one.

Anyway, today I was sitting on the train and something reminded me of that moment, where he decided to this little, annoying, retaliatory thing, even though I had asked him, politely, not to. I found myself getting so angry at his audacity that I started to think back to that moment, when it happened, and what I should have done – what I could have done – instead. It was all rather violent and domineering. I realise only now that it is me that has the small ego, it is me that is easily hurt, even though I try to rise above all of it, as I did then, I can’t help but be angry at what he did, and how he went against my request to stop doing what he was doing.

On the one hand it sickens me to think that I am that ego-mongering, alpha male wannabe, no better than he in the way that I’m constantly working towards establishing dominance in a group, but on the other hand I’m glad that I have a better grip on myself, and that I can put it aside, repress it, and burry it until I’m sitting on a train somewhere, months later.

My father’s father is dead. My boss has a new daughter. Cycle complete. Time flies. Story continues.

This weekend was rather nice. People were nice. The weather was nice. Conversations were nice. Time spent was nice.

Dealing with the Filth
On friday evening, while visiting my mother’s, I mentioned that I really needed to clean my house. You see, when you’ve just had six or seven guests stay in your house – the last of which left on friday afternoon – your house tends to be left more than a little filthy. Not that these guests were especially filthy people, or that they disrespected my house in any way, but if your living room has much in common with an Sudanese refugee camp, where you’ve got a living room in which you need to dodge sleeping spaces when crossing it from one side to the other, you tend to leave cleaning work until after everyone leaves, so that you’ll at least have some room to maneuver. It looked like it had been overrun by Turkish rebels, and I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find malnurished, brown children with bloated stomachs, carrying a cup of water and a handful of rice, while flies were making their homes in the corners of their eyes and mouths.

Yeah, shit was dirty.

The following day, when I returned from Kung Fu, I found my mother and sister slaving away trying to clean my house. Bless them. They had been at it for about ninety minutes, which, with my mothers no-nonsense work-ethic, meant that they were already almost done. Later on Eva joined us, offering us some necessay refreshments, as well as another pair of hands, and by the time she left to drop my mother and sister off and head out to her parents’ house, my house was as clean and spotless as it would ever be. It smelled nice. The stuffiness was replaced by the clear, crisp smell of cleaners and cleansers. Oh, and high-powered, concentrated cleaning spirits. You know, the type that’s flamable.

Yeah, shit was dirty.

Relaxing Evening
I headed out to Mark’s afterwards, where I resided in good company for a couple of hours, having really good burgers, and marvelling at house spirited their child is. Mark had arranged for some Mechwarrior game CDs through his friend, Peter, for I love the music of those games, which are on the game CD as normal audio tracks. Kuddos to Mark!

At around seven o’clock I headed out to Amsterdam to meet up with Eva and Sam to watch War of the Worlds. In one word, this film was amazing. Fuck what everyone says about Tom Cruise nowadays, he did an excellent job, and he was hardly the egocentric superhero that he was in, say, Mission Impossible II. I’m glad that he can alternate between masturbatory roles like that and simple, down-to-eart, showing his talent roles like the ones in War of the Worlds. Steven Spielberg is a genius. Between the steadfast consistency of Spielberg’s talent and some of the hit-and-miss talents of some up-and-coming, Hollywood, hot-shot directors, I’ll take Spielberg any day. He might not have the occasional umph and bang, and he makes crap like The Terminal, at least the direction leaves you with nothing but respect. War of the Worlds was no exception. It left me with good, measured build-up of tension, even though I know the story through and through.

Afterwards, Frank joined us and we had a quick drink at Harry’s Bar. It’s a small bar that do incredible cocktails. I wowed everyone with my knowledge of Iced Teas, knowing that A Hollywood Iced Tea came with Champagne instead of Coca Cola, and I had the wonderful Tokyo Iced Tea myself. During this I had a really good conversation with Sam about films, and the bane of being a well-known actor, while Eva and Frank were busy loving eachother. After the one drink I decided to go, and said goodbye to Frank and Eva. Sam was going to walk me to the station, where I got a big bag of french fries because I was very hungry. I said goodbye to Sam, ate my french fries while I waited, and went home.

I finished the evening off by talking to Moulsari for a bit. She’s been feeling ill almost all weekend, and like me, she doesn’t deal well with being ill.

Getting to Know Yourself
For a while now I’ve been meaning to strengthen my right ankle. For those of you that aren’t aware, about two years ago I ruptured some tendons in my right ankle, and it has been a very slow recuperation. My ankle is getting stronger now, but it needs to be even more so in order to compensate for it’s permanently weakened state. The fysio-therapist had told me to go running, but not on the street, or in a gym, but to go running through dunes, un-hardened wooded areas and the beach. The uneven ground would allow my ankle to start developing it’s (long-lost) fine motorskills, and strengthen it even further.

Dennis II – Dennis the Lesser, Dennis mkII, or however you want to call him – had shown an interest in shaping up just a little more, so we had devised a plan to go running in the woods near the sea. We’ve got woods, dunes and beaches to traverse, so it seemed like a really good idea. And it was, but it was tougher going than expected. In total we went about 12 kilometers, of which we ran about 7, I’m guessing. Especially the dunes are an ass kicker. The loose sand is such an energy-sink, and the up-hill battles are pretty gruesome. The woods were really nice. We had shade, which helped a lot, and we had some nice paths to bound down. Not hardened, not too uneven, but an interesting challenge for my ankle especially, but also for our stamina.

On the way back we got some food and went to join Richard and played an interesting game of Shogun. It’s an awesome game. I am not very good at strategy games, to be honest, but this one I really enjoy. I can’t wait for Edwin to get back from his archaeological trip to Italy so that we can play it with the four of us. It should pose for some very dynamic game-play.

As the day before, I finished the evening by talking to Moulsari. Her illness was still kicking her ass. Poor girl. I hope she feels better soon.

I think the birthday that has just passed was quite possibly one of the, or even the coolest birthday celebrations I have ever had. Traditionally, I’m not really bothered by birthdays very much. I don’t celebrate them, I tend to forget those of others, and I don’t expect others to go out of their way to get me a present or to commemorate the day. This time, however, it was kind of out of my hands as a bunch of people showed up from all over the world, coincidentally in the weekend of my birthday, and took it upon themselves to get me to celebrate it.

First off, there was the birthday cake. Kuddos to Megan for getting me a birthday cake. I’m not sure how long, but it’s been at least years since I had a birthday cake.

Secondly, we all went out dancing on saturday night at a club (if you could call it that) called Winston’s Kingdom. Frank said that it was kind of like Noah’s Ark, because the crowd was so incredibly ecclectic that it seemed like they had taken two of everything and thrown them all together. Good times were had as we danced for a good five hours.

I want to make special mention of Frank for being there even though Eva wasn’t feeling very good and had opted out of the party. Very cool.

The party could’ve only been better with the addition of the following people (in no particular order); Moulsari, Eva, Marco, Mark, Wai, Edwin and Richard. If they could’ve been there (which, for some, either because of their interests or location, was incredibly unlikely), it would have been perfect. As it stands, this less than perfect birthday celebration was still pretty damned good.

Thank all of you for making this birthday a very special one.

So yesterday I told Jim that the swallows were flying low. He looked at me with an incredulous look, thinking I had taken a hit too many from the Bong of Existentialism. I told him that the reason swallows were flying low was because the static electricity in the air, caused by the friction between two pressure fronts was driving the insects they feed on to a lower altitude, and that said static electricity would most likely result in a thunderstorm. He thought I was bullshitting him, but this morning, around 5am, I smirked as I was woken by probably one of the worst thunderstorms to hit the Netherlands in a long time. :)