A Common Denominator btwn Terrorists and Escalators

This is gonna be jumpy, rambling, and pretty heavy stuff, dotted with periods of ignorance, so bear with me.

I am struck more and more these days by the implications of rising terrorist actions. Apart from being a response to the Bush-launched offensive on the latest -ism of the day (and really, what did he expect? that they would just lie down and roll over like fluffy terrorist kittens?), it occurs to me that these individuals are the product of the foibles of our society -- on the one hand, they believe whole-heartedly in that mantra that is adamantly promoted where I come from, "One person can make a difference," (but which I have trouble accepting without giant leaps of my absent faith). And on the other, they are singularly lazy about their methods to that effect. But is it really any wonder? Isn't it just written in our nature? Laziness -- it's the one true patron of humanity's technological advance. So combine these two, laziness, and faith in an individuals power to change the world and what do you get? Has anyone ever specified whether the difference one person can make is a positive one? It seems to me more and more these days that the differences made by people - the really big ones, that make us sit up and take notice - are negative, and any good to be done is just trying to clean up some one else's mess. The evil in this world is always one destructive step ahead -- leaving humanity perpetually in the red. Black is a Utopian ideal, I think. But again, should I be surprised? Indeed I am not. THe evil difference is the one that is easiest to make, and therefore the more frequent. It's little wonder, in a world where there's a line up for the escalator, while the single flight of stairs beside it is desreted. There is an misconception here -- what is easiest is not always what is most expedient or efficient. If you're hale and hearty, walk up the goddamned stairs and you'll get there faster, and maintain your H&H-ness.
Human beings, I believe, are basically, perhaps not evil (though everyday they give me more evidence of this), but certainly (overwhelmingly) lazy. I'm not sure which is worse. I may be borrowing biblical ideas here but you know what they say about idle hands, and it's a good point. Only in a world of such supremely lazy creatures could such a thing as terrorism exist. Eventhough, so far, so very few of their ultimatums have been met, countless groups persist in their campaigns, although it must be obvious by now that their way of conducting themselves is not working, is not bringing them closer to their goals, is not paying off (unless we can count here ransom money given for released hostages -- do we really believe they were given up out of the goodness of the terrorists little puppy hearts? yeah...). It makes no sense unless you look at it from a lazy person's point of view (which, having lived with my brother for nigh on 18 years, I have a pretty good grasp on) -- grabbing someone at gun point and holding them in return for prisoners released, laws abolished, occupating countries pulling out, whatever -- it's a hell of a lot easier to increase the chaos than to help to contain it, as every preschool-aged child knows. Tidy-Up Time everyone, sing it with me.
You may accuse me of giving advice to terrorists but come on guys, you want positive change? Get off your asses.

Disagree with me -- see COMMENT link below, and bitch me out, whatever.
Now that we're all thoroughly depressed, I'm working on a mini-sketch of the market place in Kiev for my next installment... I've decided to move away from such gripings as above, and get a bit of a grasp on the place I'm living... or rather, since I've got a pretty good grasp by now, let you have a grab at it too. I'm sure you'll all be the better pleased for it. Haha.

Cheers

Internet Pundit

In the Kyiv Post this week, in the employment section, my dad noticed this "mini-resume" I will reprint it for you here:

Friendly editor-translator with solid knowledge of Internet strategies and IT. Can read, write, communicate, see the forest beyond the trees. Strong analytic skills. Highly trainable. Perfectly sane. Resilient. Most neurons fully operational. Contact ... etc.

Hell, I'll hire this guy and he can forthwith write for me, and I'll sit back quietly extolling my thoughts to him while knitting pretty mittens to sell on First street under St. Andrew's. Screw all my hard work in the library with little to show for it. Haha.

In other news, there are at least ten brand spanking images in the Kyiv photo album for you to check out. No pictures of me yet, I know you're all dying to see how I've drastically changed in the last month. I'm actually three inches shorter and have died my hair blond, you know me, always trying to fit in with the rest of the populace.
Anyway, once I've gotten on the otherside of the camera to my satisfaction I'll be up there with the rest of the family goons, grinning away. But for now I'm concentrating on my composition... Brad would be so proud, I might actually be getting better. No longer just a point and shoot no sir.

In closing kids, I've got some postcards! So anyone who wants one had better send me their school address, or it may well end up at your home-home, or you may not get it at all *gasp*! E-mail is the respect of the internet, give it and get it, as we say at good old adjectival Johnny Ross. i.e. Replies are guaranteed.

Cheers, and tune in next time for my thrilling diatribe on why Terrorism is just plain lazy. Effers.

This is not my day for computers

... or my week for that matter. Oh how I miss my high speed cable... All I get here are blank stares and internal server errors. Boo.
Anyway, the jig is, I've got some pictures up finally (FINALLY), although I had to resort to Fotki to do it, and could only put up 7 pictures. boo again. I guess they're too big, so from now on I'll have to make my pics into teensy files that are no good for printing. Thanks very much. oh fotolog, why have you forsaken me?
So, for those of you actually reading this who DIDN't for some reason get the mass e-mail I sent out this morning, click the link called Pictures *NEW* to my right, and be magickally transported to the land of the onion domed churches.

Cheers

100 and what?

Well apparently my blog has ceased to count the posts.... they are inummerable, and so I have absolutely no idea when my centennary was... that's not the right word. Never mind, you get the idea.
On with business.

Sept. 6th
Leave it to the Americans to have their fingers in every pie. I have found here, among this country's querrulous nationalism, the "American Library," a thoughtful donation of the United States Governement. A small but broad selection of works such as "Cost Management in the U.S." and "A Day in the Life of California." How these volumes could possibly be of any use here escapes me, but perhaps there is a hidden purpose to this dot, which seems dubious in everything but its pomposity to me. Hypocritically, I feel at home here, in this low-ceilinged hall. Possibly it is the one place in my whole world right now where the US is still the centre of the universe, and ironically (or not) that steadies me, brings me back from my off-kilter stance.
It is a Monday, and according to the round little woman in charge, it is their day off (bizarrely, they still have to work...) and they are only open for the students of the University of Kiev wher my dad is working. She is kind and eager to speak to me in English... I wonder how many North Americans they actually get coming in here. She lets me stay, eventhough I did specify my non-US citizen status.
Hearteningly, the page working wears a TO Blue Jays t-shirt...

Since that day, I've been back there 3 times. They leave me alone and let me work, and it's nice to have somewhere to go that is away from the funky little apartment we're staying in (read, one bedroom, 4 people). Anyway, the point is, every time I've been in there, the girl has been wearing the same B-Jay's T... She must be quite a fan...
It occurs to me now, that more likely, it is her work uniform... maybe she thinks she's wearing something American to work in... The TO shirt makes her blend in with the books titled "Impressionism in the United States"... right... this might be a stupid question, but -- WHAT Impressionism in the United States?

Oh I'm so mean, and evil, and I just... really, really, don't like Bush. But thanks, GW baby, for the quiet place to work, and the English words to read.


-- I wish I'd brought a garlic press.

Cheers

SL's Big List of things she wishes she'd brought - or - Who Knew?

1. GIGANTIC bottle of deep woods off. *not for the deep woods of the Ukraine -- for my apartment. To make a long story short: open basement, flooded with stagnant water, huge breeding ground, infestation, and strangely, allergic reactions to mosquito bites...

2. Mosquito netting. I'm guessing that this might also be useful in places like Australia or Fiji... but who knows? I may need a whole new BIG LIST when I arrive there...

3. One of those Raid insecticides that you plug into the wall that makes mosquitoes spontaneously drop out of the air, mid dive-bomb. Are we noticing a theme? We've been on the track of one of these babies for 2 1/2 weeks now, and all we can find are the inserts.... apparently there's been a run on the actual electronic aparatus... big surprise. The apparent mythology of this item has resulted in my running from corner to corner in the living room, jumping on furniture, brandishing a bottle of impotent insecticide like holy water in an excorcism.

4. A switch blade. Not for my hand luggage obviously, and not actually for practical use. I was thinking more RWAC (rebel without a cause) Toreador bravado. That's right, it's threatening. I want to feel more threatening.

5. Conditioner. Need a good conditioner. My hair is spazzy. Good thing I mostly find myself BEHIND the camera.

6. An extra prescription for Super-power antihistamines... I haven't been here a month and already I've had an episode of hives. Note to self, the topical antibiotics are now off the list of applicable medications.

7. Mustard. This country has no mustard... what up? they do love their mayonnaise though.

8. Peanut butter. I suppose I really could have called that one.

Okay, I can't think of any more, and they're becoming lame and un-entertaining... even to me... I can't believe what you guys must experience reading this. For my 100th post, I have a nice little description of the "American Library" that I've found... as you might expect, it's worthy of this blog and its premise.

Qlink, if you don't start working soon by damn I will smite you...

Cheers

Good news about the pictures kids!

If you can't beat'em? Submit and sneakily find a way around the controls they have implemented. That philosophy may not work for many things in life, in fact, in some cases could probably get you killed, but thank the lord it works for computers, heh heh.
So, here's the deal: I'm about to add a wonderful new link to my side bare called "Pictures" or possibly "NEW! PICTURES!" depending on how I feel. I have created a fotolog, to supplement this weblog, and hopefully (because I'm told that the fotologgers are working out a few kinks at the moment) it will be operational in a few days or so. At this moment (Monday morning) if you were to click on it, most likely it would give you an error message. But not to fear, I'm sure this lovely service will be up and running and displaying my dreamy visions of Kyiv in no time.
I'm on it.
Hopefully this will be a nice little solution to my software problem, and although I would love to have my pictures readily displayed here, I guess I will have to settle.

Also, in other news, this is post # 99! Big plans for 100, big plans... I just haven't made them yet.

Cheerio

Brokedown Palace

...well I haven't quite given up on the pictures yet. They will come, oh yes, they will come... it just might be a question of when?

Well, where to start?

Kiev is really... well... it's really weird. That sounds terribly narrow minded of me, speaking of another culture as I am... but it is... to me.
Think of it like this:
Take all the pretty, made up, model/actress wannabes (we'll talk about the impromptu Ukrainian idol competition at the end of my street later...) from say, L.A., or possibly Montreal? if we want to compare closer to home, but you know what I mean; add to that the pretty boys from Queen's and Western; mix it all up with deteriorating (well, let's say, "not-yet-restored") Eastern European religious and architectural splendour; and a dash of discreetly-placed, left-over communist symbolism (read hammers, sickles (sp?), and stars lining the marble caverns of the underground, and don't you dare take pictures of it, because that's not what they're about anymore, don't forget); and just a hint of true poverty.... and what do you get?
Boys in imitation crocodile boots with pointed toes that point up slightly at the end, à la Turkish slipper. Girls who wear their cell phones on silver chains around their necks, like talismans to the techno-gods. People who still only say thank you in Russian; and people who still only speak Russian. People who short change you out of 50 kopecs (about 12 and a half cents, cdn). Workmen who are refinishing the outsides of buildings -- who work from 6 am, to 7 pm, seemingly without stopping. Gypsies holding babies and cursing you when you turn away. And a woman standing at the front of the grocery store who seals your backpack in plastic before you can begin your shopping.
I could go on... and on... It seems to me this sounds overly negative... it's not meant to. In truth it's fascinating, but overwhelming. They have a way of looking at eachother here... studying everyone around them, which in North America would make us constantly feel as though we had a sign stuck on our backs. It's unnerving, and hard for me to get used to -- paranoid as I am.
Anyway, it's all very hard to explain without visual aid. And I haven't got my camera out yet, because I'm much too nervous still. Walking around with a video camera and all the trappings will make me more the centre of attention than I already feel. But I'll work my way up to it. And then if no one objects, I'll take surreptitious close ups of they're pointy shoes and cell phones, heh. I don't think I'll make it to the Subway commie bronze though... I think I might get yelled at... and believe me, being yelled at in Ukrainian is an experience close to spiritual.

Okay... enough for now... now that I've given you all utterly the wrong impression... you have to see it to understand I think.