On Craziness and Caring

“This hill though high I covent ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend;
For I perceive the way of life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let's neither faint nor fear. ” 
-John Bunyan


I could probably pen a few thousand words on everything that has happened in the past week, from the dreadful attack in Paris to the state of siege Belgium currently finds itself in after a series of arrests and shootouts two days ago. As I am writing this, well-armed policemen are just finishing their patrol of the Oude Markt in Leuven--truly a sight I had never seen. Media coverage of the ongoing operations are continous; people don't seem to care all that much.

What happened in Paris was terrible, but I don't feel like getting into it. To be frank, I'm tired of writing down everlasting monologues on morality. The world is a f*cked up place, and if the first two weeks of 2015 are any indication, we're in for a rough year. When journalists are being targeted over satire, you can't escape the feeling you may have reached a point of no-return.

But what bothers me even worse is the reaction so many people in the West appear to have. An assault on freedom of speech is answered by a proposition to limit what one can sya on the internet, seemingly to the joy of all who hear it. The major of Antwerp, or the self-professed saviour of conservative Flanders if you prefer, is answering the elevated terror threat by mobilising the military in the centre of one of this country's populous cities (let's face it, it stopped being my country a long time ago). Openly racist marches are being organised on my bloody birthday (since moved to the 26th, thank you very much), with the organising committe made up of 40-year-old housewives whose favourite slogan is "what of the children" and whose 13-point program contains a literal assault on "political correctness," a term that, as my colleague King Kaufman adequately stated, "is what people accuse you of if they don't like it when you aks them to respect other people."

But like I said, I don't feel like getting into it. I don't want to get preachy or launch an extended rant in a desperate effort to convince one or two of you of the fact that I am right and everybody else is stupid. Because in the end, that's all it is. And if those Pegida motherf*ckers can mobilise thousands to march, who am I to tell them they should refrain from reproducing for the betterment of our species?

Of all the pains this world has thrown at me, one of the worst I've ever felt is the knowledge someone I care about is struggling. Knowing someone you love is in a place he or she would rather not be in and scarcely having the opportunity to help them just plain s*cks. Whether it's because you're not nearby or for any other of a million reasons, the emptiness you feel when you can't help someone you truly care for can be overwhelming, instantly drowning out whatever personal cr*p it is you have going on. I don't have that many people I truly, deeply care for. Sure, I'm generally a kind person whose friendly to just about anyone, but (and I'm sorry to say this) the vast majority of you are people I like, but care very little about. When you come to me with your problems and issues (which for some reason you do all the time), I'll glady listen, smile, tell you how awful that is and have the smooth sounds of Daybreak playing in my mind the entire time. There's also the select few of you who are dead to me, who generally receive a similar treatment to a different song (take your pick).

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. The point is people around me aren't so well, and it feels terrible I can't seem to help. In a twisted, selfish way that rightly pisses me off, because I want to be there and show those people I care. My general state of mind is one of semi-depression, stuck in a rut in a country I'd rather not be in and having pressed the pause button on the only future I still foresee. Forgive me for wanting to help someone else from time to time. I can't wait for January to be over and my social life to somewhat resume.

I still haven't booked my tickets for London at the end of this month (the cost has likely trippled in the process) as I wasn't sure whether anyone would actually accommodate me and I still had some stuff to take care of here in Belgium, but it now seems like I actually have a place to stay and at least two social appointments I should follow up on (look! These people love me!) so I'm pretty sure I'll be coming down there anyhow, if only for the Mr. Kipling cakes you guys have ordered me to eat. They do look delicious. Women in Boston are apparently easy, according to Wannes, so April can't come soon enough either. Unless they haven't forgotten about the Revolutionary War yet, my British accent should serve me well, so to hell with Wannes' ridiculous 36-point record.

Just kidding, obviously.

Be safe everyone, and take care. Violence and terror can be frightening when you think about it (which is what I tried to do every day as I walked over the site of the 2001 BBC bombing near my home in White City, or came across Shepherd's Bush station), and I'm glad to see just about no one here in Belgium is actively thinking about it at all. I hope my compatriots currently residing in the USA are great (you both make the list of people I care about, Elise and Wannes. Rejoice!) and enjoy as much as they can of the time they have in good 'ol 'Murica. I'll see you guys soon.

And remember, if you ever feel sad, you can counter that emotion with better ones, like sugar or drunk (2 points for whoever catches that reference).


Song of the Day: Mama Cas Elliot - Make Your Own Kind of Music
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbSM02_1k34

PS: This is the greatest website ever. Apologies in advance: http://shipyourenemiesglitter.com/