Man, under-destruction?

 I have a personal belief regarding humanity. Everybody’s ugly when they’re 13 years old. Now, this isn’t based on science, although I could cite adolescence and the effect of which it has on the human body, but it's based more on personal experience, both my own and those of others that I’ve encountered along the way. Personally, puberty was a suckfest for me. I spent all of high school looking weird to say the least. If I were to describe myself, I would say that I was exceptionally skinny. Of course, that would be an understatement of the highest caliber. An appropriate description would be that I looked like an extra from “The Walking Dead”. In fact, if I had been in high school during the initial casting of the show, I’d probably have been casted for the role of a random zombie, for which I really don’t know how I would have reacted should that have actually occurred.  Anyways, a dear friend and fellow blogger posted something a little while back to the same effect, bu...

If I had to describe my childhood, I would say it was a conventional period surrounded by unconventional people. Granted, my family are hardly some eccentric group of blood relatives that would give one pause for concern, but we were hardly ordinary. However, what we lacked in convention (and a degree of impulse control (but that’s another story for another time)), we made up for with genuine sentiment and love for one another. We’re loving and caring, even if we tend to prefer unusual and often extreme methods of conveying said love.  When I think of my dad, a lot of words come to mind to describe him. Above all, however, is wise. The man is wisdom personified. In fact, his definition of wisdom pretty much describes him to the letter. He would always define it as “knowledge that you get from life”. If that’s not an apt definition, then I defy all ye who are reading this now to provide me with a better one. We didn’t have a lot of bonding moments. Although I wish I would pinpoin...

 Anyone who knows me knows a fun fact about me. I’m a comic book nerd. Granted, I might be generous in using that term, considering that I barely have time to indulge in that now nor did I have the means to indulge in it when I was younger. However, it didn’t stop me from conversing with my friends about it actively and often. My favorite hero was Marvel’s Daredevil. I suppose if I had to give a reason, it would be due to him overcoming blindness (one of many fears I had as a child) with his other enhanced senses, his superb physical conditioning, martial arts prowess and notably his catholic faith (which I subscribe to, although once again, I might be generous in claiming that). So, you can imagine how many backflips the boy inside of me did when the Daredevil series came out on Netflix and (oh sweet Joseph) I wasn’t disappointed. Just looking at it made me wanna jump up and give Mr. Stan Lee (creator of Marvel comics) a standing ovation.   During the first season, there w...

Growing up as a comic book junkie (or as much of a junkie as a boy living in Easter Africa could be), I habitually fantasized about the idea of heroes. Not simply individuals of unprecedented abilities who would lead humanity into an age of enlightenment and peace, but individuals who would actually inspire us to aspire for greatness. Having reread what I just wrote, I admit to how borderline delusional it sounds. Still though, we all need heroes.  These past several years have been murder on my heroes. Within this span of time I’ve discovered that individuals that I looked up and revered were in fact quite flawed and frankly criminally liable for their actions. While I won’t go into any details (primarily because it would be a moot point but also because given the celebrity status of these individuals, you probably already know them). While these damning revelations have done nothing but to piss me off to no end, I can’t help but remember a random quote....”teachers of morality,...

 A cup of coffee. That’s what my post graduate education boils down to. Vague and random though it may sound, it’s as apt a description as any. Of course, to fully grasp this, I would have to have to start from the beginning and from the beginning I shall.  This journey began 2 years ago, as a freshman at a prestigious Scandinavian university, where I sought to better mysef through education. In order to size up the enormity of this, we would have to go back even further. Said freshman had arrived upon the footsteps of said Scandinavian land with nothing but the clothes on his back. From these humble beginnings, he rose and grew, gaining knowledge along the way, seeking the means by which he could better himself for the eventual future where he would be at the mercy of the ever so cruel world.  I’ll forgo the aforementioned ambiguity. This is me, this my story. For years, I sought to continue my education, but for reasons that I shan’t get into, it wasn’t a viable opti...

 Does anyone remember Josh Hartnett? Whatever happened to him, I wonder? Sure, Hollywood being as fickle as it is, one would assume that his star all but fizzled and died, but that can’t be true for everyone? Anyways, I was channel-surfing, in the midst of nostalgia one night when I came across “40 days and 40 nights” and I just couldn’t help but peep that piece one more time. For the benefit of those impartial to cheesy flicks, it was the story of a man who attempts to recover from a bad break-up by first engaging in a series of unfulfilling one night stands and then abstaining from any form of sexual activity during lent, the 40 days and 40 nights leading up to Easter.   Why do I start off with that? Well, I suppose it was because I thought it was a clever sedge way into the topic of Easter and if it wasn’t….well hey, you swing and you miss. Anyways, Easter was here. Well, for some it was technically the week before, but for us of the orthodox faith, we celebrate a week lat...

 Ah yes....... it's that time of year again, time where we break out our best clothes and booze, go out on the town and find someplace memorable to celebrate the closing hours, minutes and seconds of the fated year. It's time to look back on the year, assessing the major highs and lows, all in the vain attempt of figuring out where our lives went wrong (or right) and correct the course. It's time to grab our nearest and dearest and thank whatever deity we pray to for the 365 days given to us to spend with them.  This time of year is a crock of shit! In the words of Chris Rock, "THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT"!!!!  No no, this is not me indulging in another tirade of the inanities of the holidays due to some isolation-induced dementia nor is it some retrospective on the futility of planning.  This is acknowledgement, pure and simple.  New year is not supposed to be some grand promise made to ourselves and those around us. A resolution is not a proclamation of our ...