It’s 2:30 am and I am having a bad night. A short one, I admit- If it isn’t a working week, a productive sleep schedule is the first thing out the window. Good riddance.
But it’s been a while since those age old demons came to sit by me. I’m sure you know them by name: Those moments you regret, that like to haunt you when you let your guard down. They might be an awkward thing you said, an embarrassing thing you did, anything without much meaning but enough emotional backlash to stick by you until your death bed.
Considering the size of the gaps that grew between our family as it evolved, it’s a small miracle we all get along these days, let alone invite each other for barbecues and spend long, cozy evenings together in the tiny spot of Southern France that my father built in his back yard. It is during those evenings especially that sometimes, we reminisce about the times past and once in a while, a truth bomb gets dropped that puts our common history in a different light.
Little Krystof was there with us that evening, having the time of his short life with a little swimming pool and a hose that wasn’t even on. We were discussing the similarities and differences between our experiences as a parent.
There are many mistakes that my father made when I was young, that I vowed not to repeat. But other aspects, like his driving style or his seemingly effortless acceptance of my decisions as I grew up, I have taken to heart and strongly hope that I can uphold them as an ideal to live by.
My grandmother is in the hospital and I heard in the worst possible way: Over my friend’s phone speaker. I literally overheard that my mother’s mother, who hadn’t answered the phone the last few days, was taken in. The details were hazy and unfortunately, left much to the imagination.
I am a big fan of the mantra ‘expect the best, prepare for the worst’. It’s a great way to tackle any kind of challenge, so I thought it a good idea to stand there and picture the worst that could happen and how I could practically and mentally prepare for it. I fell apart where I stood.
She’s fine, thanks for asking. A cold that wouldn’t pass, meds didn’t seem to work so the doctor found it prudent to have her monitored. The hospital she’s in is brand new and they take care of her well, there.
Everyone has their addictions. While this is actually not true, it’s close enough for people to accept it as a valid way of telling them to mind their own fucking business when they bring up yours. We rarely have a valid excuse so any line of false reasoning that will help render the argument pointless, is welcomed warmly.
Me, I am addicted to the internet. Heavily. And music, but nobody but the worst of people complain much about that. No, its my time in front of a computer screen that is often up for debate.
And while I don’t have a smartphone that I whip out every few minutes, I suppose it’s true: I spend most of my waking hours either doing a specific job, or on the net. There is no time where I have nothing at all to do, that I don’t invest in my addiction. It’s bad.
And it used to be much much worse. (more…)
(Zero spoilers below)
I knew nothing of anime before I saw the original Ghost in the Shell, directed by Mamoru Oshii. The only exposure I had had was Dragon Ball Z right after school, on the huge flickering TV we had at boarding school. It was something we both ridiculed and loved, as with many things at that age.
I thought I’d be watching a movie, but what happened was, I got exposed to a wide landscape of novelty. On the subject of what an animated movie can be, but also what can happen if said movie has a philosophical underpinning on the scale of Ghost in the Shell. (more…)
I am in Czech Republic at this very moment (blame all the grammatical, clerical and moral mistakes on this qwertý keyboard) while my son is deeply asleep and his mother out to water the neighbor’s plants. I have permission to use her laptop because I already did the cleaning and the dishes. She knows me too well. At least I can shower afterwards, lest I drip on her keyboard.
This is the first time that I drove here with the new car, going 135kmph flat on the German highways, overtaken by Audis going 200+. I don’t know what madman came up with this idea of trashing any speed limits on the German highways or what kind of government supported the notion, but with today’s increasing traffic, this whole country is turning into a diesel-ridden powder keg.
And there was Light. And God saw the Light. And it was Fucking Rad.
I signed my contract yesterday. After 2 separate temporary contracts they officially hired me and though nothing changed outside the drawer of some worker at the HR section, it felt like a really big deal. On my way to the city hall, I remember thinking, “Last chance to back out, now. The choice is made right here.”
But really, there was no honest choice involved. This is the way things will go, the continuation of the events that I set in motion when I decided that I would be there for my son, and that have only picked up in speed as I set my shoulders behind them. Today, I can beat my chest and say that I am almost there- almost to the point where I can face myself and say without shame,
I am a father. I am a stage technician. I have done the things necessary to lay the foundation for the life that follows; my own and that of my son. What happens next, nobody knows, but I can face it with my head held high.
As predicted, I pretty much just ran out of time to write. Between the job, Czech Republic and the girlfriend, I pretty much have zero time for anything else and if some statistical anomaly would occur (usually triggered by me texting ‘I need to be alone for a bit’), it is entirely dedicated to building a factory in order to launch a satellite into space, or watching my friends take a bullet while saving the earth from alien inv- games, yeah. Computer games. I might elaborate on my internet addiction later once I get over the shame.
I am actually at work now, if you could call this work. The job consist of that of a single dad at his kid’s birthday party: Putting in a vaguely inappropriate dvd and running for the nearest computer for some mental escape while the kids sit and stare. Just upscale by about a hundred kids and you get the idea. I’m not watching the movie because it is literally about cancer. I don’t feel like cancer today. Or, ever.
What I do feel like, is telling you about the one time I got arrested for begging. (more…)
My grandmother asked for a picture of my son, and that’s how it began.
She loves him so much, it’s endearing. It would seem that with every passing generation, she loves the next one more. Since he is the first of the third one down that she can see growing up, she is absolutely smitten with him.
I chose 3 photographs and printed them out, forgetting to render them in AdobeRGB so the colors looked terribly faded and I chose too large a size to be of any practical use. But she had them at least, one in a picture frame and the others curling up on her living room cupboard.
As happens easily with photos of children, they are now outdated. He couldn’t even walk back then, and his face has changed. I figured she would need new photos soon, if she still wanted to feel that closeness that pictures can bring her. I was already dreading the whole process of getting that digital image on paper and delivered at her house in a timeframe small enough to not make me feel like a failure of a grandson.
Just how easy would it be to have one of those digital photo frames for her, I thought. But then I’d have to remember to carry a memory stick with updated pictures, and we all know how easily those get lost. The probability of her being stuck with the same old photos for months was still high. So how about one that updated over the internet? They’ve been making these horrible things for ages now, and although their popularity has all but faded, surely some clever little employee somewhere must have come up with the idea of putting a wifi adaptor inside one of them?
Perhaps one of the most risky things about getting a job is the fact that you become part of an organisation and represent its political tendencies and convictions. This may not be that important for your average concrete manufacturing plant, but in some cases this is a thing you might want to be aware of. The moment you sign your contract, you agree to work together for the profit of whatever thing you are employed by and you better consider your boundaries well before they are reached, lest you do things you’ll regret.
Again, for the average worker (like you) this is a pretty trivial thing. But what if you were asked to perform your tasks not just for, but with some party that you strongly disagree with, supporting their propaganda? Perhaps you can imagine that, as an employee of a city theater, you better have your principles in order or you might find that you crossed them in retrospect. (more…)