Love in the Time of Corona

It has been way too long since I did this. Way waaay too long. With the constant stream of everyday life, I haven't been listening to my muse..but now...corona! Doesn't it sound like a pretty royal excuse to not leave the house and do something all by our lonesome?

All joking aside, the fears and dangers of corona have been largely discussed and mused about these past few weeks and I don't plan on doing a special on healthcare here, on this blog. What I'm more interested in is how to spend this newfound time we have on our hands - due to being housebound. To stay put can be a scary command for those of us who are used to busying themselves socially, in large groups of people.

I imagine, it can be quite awkward silently reading a book. Or staring at a wall, thinking, if you're not used to doing something like that. Philosophers supposedly do that all day, but these are a rare breed of people with really special needs. You may not see the immediate appeal, but I think being quarantined can be an awesome experience; it all depends on your expectations. And as a couch potato queen, procrastinative genius, lazy-boned blob myself, I promise you, if you just let it happen, you will have a blast.

There are no rules for procrastination in times of corona, except maybe to not let panic mode destroy your precious time of being in the moment. So I would not recommend on doing corona-related research on the internet. Mortality rates, nah. Stay up to date, yes, but pandemic crises reports? Only when directed by Roland Emmerich!

I have several ideas on how to spend the next few weeks. Gardening is high on my list, it would have been anyway, because it is the type of outdoors solitude I enjoy with the advantage of not having to sneeze into my crooks. I plan on reading even more, but that of course means I have to park my two kids, currently home bound with me, somewhere, where they, in turn can procrastinate all by themselves.

Shut up, you, I'm raising a new generation here!

I want to finally immerse myself in The Witcher 3, I want to watch the new season of Better Call Saul, I want to do some more illustrations, do nothing at all, paint a cabinet, declutter my kitchen. This time I will have, it's not all me running wild. I imagine it is much like life in a monastery. Solitude, a nice herbal gardening project, and lots of walking around in my robe, turning inwards for reflections and stuff.

Well, the reality will be, that I'll probably have to do a lot more kids stuff than I planned on, and I have a sneaking suspicion that solitude, when prescribed, will throw me into a reactant spiral of "You can't tell me what to do!" unrest. So maybe I'll start a rave or something, just to be a bit subversive. Other than that: greener pastures, my friends.

What are all of you going to do? Will you befriend yourself all anew? Will you practice being alone with your thoughts? That doesn't mean being asocial, you know. It just means that you, for a certain time in your life, are enough and content being around you. It's good. You're close family. Being you is one of the best things you have in your life. So, take care. Have a ball, you.

Activism Part IV

I now find it ridiculous, stupid, useless, even dangerous. Activism that is, --activism as in promote, impede, direct. As you may remember, I was quarreling with the whole concept of Activism through Parts ->I to ->III, trying to find the right angle to it, and dealing with people bustling around me. Now I don't anymore. This parental unit is proudly sitting on the couch, two cheeks fast asleep. Lazy. Still useful to some extent, but not in a world-changing manner, more in a "I'm watching you" kind of way. I'm eating while I write this. That's how useful I am. Sitting. Eating. Writing. Wow, that is some world-class multitasking, my friends!



Sometimes I think about what would happen if I weren't able to pay my bills - I imagine scenarios that result in me being in the gutter, and what I would do, that kind of thing. I consider that the everyday worries of human beings. DNA-wise, there's not much difference between a homeless person and Taylor Swift, besides varying degrees of busybodyness. I wouldn't call thinking about social decline as being stricken with sorrow, since those are concerns that move around aimlessly in (I'm guessing) everyone's head.

But now there's the extravagant stuff. Stuff, humans care about and put it in big letters on the magnet board next to the fridge, because those things presumably define them as a person, most of all a social media person of interest. Hah, and aren't those some wonderfully abstract things to worry about: climate change, pollution, sustainability, which by the way has quickly turned into my number one rage word. Things, world, possibly all that exists needs to endure. Because we want it to. Why does it always have to be so exotic?



I find that people are on a mission of self-denial. They're thinking big and I find that disturbing. Why can't you start small, damnit? It is quite arrogant to want to save a whole planet. What kind of a narcissistic ass starts with the big one? Don't you work your way up towards the big dreams anymore? Go clean up your room, do your taxes, whatever, and if you're still thinking big, why not try not to die of cancer next? That's pretty big, too. That should be a main concern on your way to saving everything. If the whole Lemmy-Bowie-Rickman incident has taught us anything, it is that our number one concern should be our immediate survival. Not on a large scale, but on a very small, singular scale. Don't die, you! Everyone's ass is on the line here, so please make yourself sustainable. The world may not need you, but you need you. What else is there to worry about?

Among Mad People

Humans are a mad species. Mad in the sense that they are crazy, like mad scientists, Mad Max and MAD magazine. Every one of those mads describes one aspect of being human. Insane, post-apocalyptically distraught and nuts. But in terms of "being angry" we are even madder than mad. We always did have the capacity to get really really furious at stuff. Broken TV - damn you!! - slow driving people holding up the lane - you idiot! Our "mad" is a blow out, a detonation, like a thunderstorm, quick and painless.

These days, everyone is able to witness everyone else's madity (don't be mad it's not a word) on social networks, and our angriness has become an everyday condition. The madder - the better. The madder - the more we care. Like mad magicians we're in the business of abstractly spreading unfocused anger bolts at the world. And if you're not sharing those sentiments and hop the anger train, you're accused of either being a placidly naive lamb, on their side or you just don't give a damn. So, it's easiest to follow the invitation to be outraged. There's something going on every day. Nestlé, Homophobia, Amnesty, Hunting, Religion, Health, TV shows, Summer. And that was just in one week.

The good thing: we're not bearing grudges it seems. Maybe we have evolved to be a more forgiving species. No more feuds? Giggles, no. More likely that with this large a variety of annoyances to pick from, we forget what we were mad about yesterday.

Why I care? The abundance of red flags everywhere made me lose the will to rant. And that makes me really really mad. But seriously, in all this time being spent angrily, the ability to be critical, to go look for information beyond the bias we seem to lack. We think we're more enlightened than we actually are. There is so much information. We just don't take the time to get it. All of it. Too busy being mad.

Go play with your kind, Kitty!

In life, most things we do are pretty much self-explanatory. We are born, we go to school, we work. Eventually we get married, have kids, and some time after that we die. Somewhat anticlimactic, I agree. Yes, but there are certain challenges to encounter and our bookstore's self-help section to deal with things that are slightly out of our reach. How to get that job (that we're not qualified for) or how to get a partner (we don't deserve). And those books contain more or less fishy techniques to justify our desire for social climbing. As primates, we always want the biggest piece of cake, and as humans we're convinced outwitting instinct must be the way to go. But all in all we'd probably be appalled if we knew how much of our decision-making in life is driven by pure instinct rather than calm consideration. I can hardly tell why I do certain things, and why I don't do certain others, but I get the distinct feeling the reason must be found somewhere on the opposite end of "free will". Is it "right" though to live like that? I don't know. It certainly feels right, but that doesn't have to mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

Well, I don't have any point of reference here, since I know no other way of existing than my very own. But I imagine, since we're all human those must be similar, with survival being the most elbowing instinct of them all. The fear for survival can take many different forms and sizes, mostly ugly ones. Actively killing our kin for food, luckily not so much a commonplace in the Western world anymore. But since we all own a lot of shit and feel like we've accomplished something, passively fearing for one's place in society is much more prevalent these days. Racism being the operative word to name that fear. Yet we always seem to be surprised by news of racism, riots, police brutality or the sad German trend to burn down refugee hostels. Well we shouldn't be. We shouldn't be surprised. It's the oldest fear there is. It may even predate spiders and heights. The fear of losing cultural identity, belongings or jobs is a natural part of existing within a community of diverse beings. Just because it's there doesn't mean we can't do anything to counteract that fear. We should and we do. The fear itself has to do with a lack of information (or wrong sources of information) rather than stupidity. Just so you know you're not immune, all you smartie pants! Information is a good way to work against that, most of all some form of political education, so we may understand the source and reality of such fears. How are those foreigners stealing our jobs again? Oh righto, they don't. Of course, the media are an untrustworthy companion in this endeavor, being deeply afraid for their own survival, they play into the hands of our fears like a horror movie plays into the pants of small children. But there's other ways of enlightenment.

We are afraid, and that's a fact. No point in complaining about it. And the country that came up with Nazis should know better than to ignore those tendencies or feel like we have means to control them. Fears can't be controlled by an intellectual elite. And what a horrifying concept that would be..
That being said, now what do we do about these fears?

For his first birthday, someone gave my son a book about a cat looking for playmates. The cat asks dogs, ducks, pigs to play with her, and they all refuse due to the cat's lack of dog-like, duck-like and pig-like qualities. So in the end the cat finds other cats to play with. D'oh! The moral of this story? Happiness found with your own kind? I'd say the moral is being aware that the concept of racism is omnipresent, validated like that, through allegedly harmless story patterns.

"Go play with your kind."

There's Spiders on the Interwebs

I had a blog on the interwebs at the foot of the Ngong Hills...well, duh. I still have a blog, though deserted at daytime, I'm always close by at night, never far from putting down thoughts in writing. And I seriously realize I need to do some spring blog cleaning before spring turns into summer, and summer makes me want to do everything but clean, even on and between those dusty interwebs.

So, how have you been doing lately - she asks - casually. Are you OK? Have you been shaken by the various crises of this earth or did you just stop caring? I mean, seriously. Horrific news, every day. We are being sold, our private lives being spied upon, our data being inflationary goods for intelligence worker drones and the nations that employ them. They doodle on our love letters, and draw funny faces on our porn collection. The guy with the mustache got an even bigger mustache. Funny stuff. They rated our naked holiday pictures from 1 to 10. If there has ever been a moment to uprise, that moment is here, staring us in the face. Unfortunately, we let it pass. We just shake our heads in disagreement if we're not too busy having insignificant thoughts about nothing. We're all fresh out of disappointmental energy. And anger is that much harder to come by. We feel as though we're the smallest link in the celestial alignment of our existence. We're just too damn unimportant. I have to ask this of me, of everyone: are we? Are we the insignificant ant in this equation? Let's see: human - check. All limbs and brains intact - check. Human Rights being beaten with a stick - ding ding ding, jackpot! Hey there, you with the sad eyes, we do have some power. Confidence, please. We have all the power. It's not us and them. It's only us, and we control what we do. This idea of big nobs separate from us, it is an illusion.

You could hold the view that we had it coming. We got lazy, we let things run into the ground. But I'd like to think there is a slight ticking noise going on in the background, and it gets a little louder every day. At some point, there'll be an explosion. It's what happens when people are undermined, cornered. People and wolves. It's what needs to happen, so we can be free for a while. Until the next election, take-over takes place, coup, whatever you want to call it. Because wolves will remain wolves, and the balance between freedom and security will always be fragile and fleeting. And nature will catch up with itself eventually.

Time Traveling (To The Present)

It's an oddity, this growing-old thing. When I was younger, the possibility of some day being old rarely ever crossed my mind. Old and dead were interchangeable expressions. Then, as I was steering towards half-old (or middle-aged), having outgrown the cub stage, I felt somewhat lucky to be able to look down upon the children running around me. I had hated the time, not long ago, being one of them myself. I couldn't wait to be middle-aged. Hah. And now, as I have been in the oven for a little longer than "al dente", I wonder where the off button is. I'm not as much growing older, as I'm rotting away. Brain cells lose their sizzle, memories begin to blur. Things that used to tickle my insides only touch me so-so. No energy for discourse, no time to be well-informed about pretty much anything that goes on in the world around me. And us oldies supposedly are the ones in charge, the generation laying the ground work for the next one to come. Shouldn't we better abdicate and relinquish the throne to childless people? I mean, apparently we have no time to be in charge of anything but ourselves. And it's a beautiful sentiment, and a magical time in my life: the time when my brain is on vacation. The time to be content, and mild and happy is clearly not the time to start an intellectual career!


Sad to say, "no time for other things but diapers" simply means we just can't care. It's a thing parents use to say while they're looking down their nose upon the striplings dancing around them with their underwear wrapped around their heads. What they mean to say is they simply have no brain parts to spare at the moment. Imagine two glass jars, one of them is on the floor, broken, with the content spilled all over the floor, while the other one is standing dangerously close to the edge of the table. The one standing at the edge represents politics, external interest, the outside world. The kid is a spilled jar. And if we don't do something immediately, the spill gets worse. It's mere damage control. There is nothing we can do about these priorities, except accept the task for the time being. Is my kid's health more important than equality, religion or whatever topic the world mulls over these days? Probably not. But it's the one that keeps me up at night. And tires me all day. So it's the one closest to my own life and in need of all of my attention.



Until some night, you know, someone in a strange uniform knocks at my door, informing me that there's a change in leadership, law, state religion or whatever. Then I'm really gonna look like an idiot. Because besides clean diapers and something to eat, what our kids really need is a place to live and thrive, a friendly environment. And that is what we all need above anything else.

Activism, Part III

Dealing with problems in life, instead of climbing mountains wouldn't we all have more fun walking around them? In case you're wondering, today, this is not furious, but lazy old me speaking, the one who likes to occasionally complain about stuff, but doesn't actually leave the house when people are rallying round the flag. This is quite the departure for me. I don't know if you read my posts Activism, Part I and Part II. I still admire anyone who sets out to change the world. Sometimes though admiration turns into pity. And that's when you know you're old, and no longer a part of the solution. Eventually everyone stops trying to change the world, because life is too short to place it on hold.

I have to quote myself here. This is an excerpt from Activism, Part II, dated roughly one year ago:

Everyone knows that the way wealth is distributed amongst people is far from fair. Our personal financial state doesn't necessarily represent the things we earn, even less deserve. There is some obscene prosperity accumulated by a privileged few, in many places all over the world. In the USA, the top 20% of Americans owned 85% of the country's wealth and the bottom 80% of the population owned 15% (year 2007, source Congressional Budget Office). How does that not scream revolt in loud and bloody letters? How does that not make you want to kick in some doors?

The facts are still true. And while I understand the reasoning behind the propensity to outrage, nowadays I just as well relate to phlegm. Most of us start out as hyperactive fetuses, foolishly fighting an unjust system. Later on, we realize, there is no gain in fighting a set of rules that by default will make a few people very very rich. That's when some of us turn to the dark side, and decide to outsmart the system rather than abolishing it. How about doing what the rich do, if only to prove a point. That's what a society of hairy primate grabbing hands does to us...

And at a certain point then, BAM! Greed suddenly turns into a perfectly reasonable moral position. Because the innate feeling - the world is horrible I better look out for myself - comes so natural to us. Once that justification makes perfect sense to you, it's all over with you and "world" in terms of solidarity. Look at what happened to Walter White in Breaking Bad. Yes, he's a fictional character, but in terms of moral intentions, reality set the parameters for the narrative.

The powers that be keep us down and we buy into what they tell us. We'd rather believe that the rich worked long and hard for what they have. That they started from nothing, same as we did. That we, if we work long and hard, can be one of them some day. It's all a big bag of lies. They had a head start in being born with some privileges. They may have worked hard, and cheated even harder, but they didn't tell you about the selling of soul which has to be done as well. That's were the real money is buried. Because they have long passed "being wealthy" now, since it's all about being filthy rich. They know how to get it. They know where to take it, and who to take it from. And hide it. Another bonus this year, just for being 'you'! Congrats!

In hindsight it does sound childish of me to complain about the rules of Monopoly. It's an old game. Although we can't seem to change the rules, we can all choose to play another game anytime we want. There is checkers, there is parcheesi and rock-paper-scissors. Unfortunately we all want to win at the game with the big cash prize. The most important reason why we play is the jackpot filled with security. Or whatever you want to call the placebo feelgood thingy. Strong concept. Empty word.

We need to reach a certain point to realize that there is no life credit, no such a thing as security for any of us. I don't want to sound all grinch-y, but world economy, and ultimately personal health, these are the ones to spoil the game for all of us amateur gamblers. Those suckers don't care what the pool is, to them we're the stakes. And the steaks.

There is only one solution. Stop playing. Cut the ties to security. It's an illusion anyways. Be a proud owner of nothing but your bare existence. That's the thing that counts for all of us equally.

Problem is that if you're like me, and you enjoy the comfort of a roof over your head, warm water and food other than the one you find in a dumpster, you'll be having a hard time with that kind of resolve. I like my life. The idea of having less than I have now terrifies me. And much to my embarrassment, yes, there is still a part of me that wants to kill a queen to become one myself...

This makes me sick. So sick, in fact, I think vomiting could become a chronic problem for me. I proved myself wrong. There is some use in activism. I just don't think judging the guy next to us for his lifestyle choices is where it should begin - or end. We should take out the ones that cause the real damage. Let's go now, you take the banner, I'll get the axe. Let's head out and make a statement, red on white.

Activism, Part II

There is this other form of activism, the frightening kind. It has nothing to do with holding hands in protest or shaking heads in silent disapproval. It's the only statement that sets out to take a drastic step: the violent kind. Violence is the voice of the powerless, as life is a value to be threatened anytime, by anyone.

It's the 1300s. Picture peasants with pitchforks in front of the house of a landowner. He kept them under for years, oppressed them as he got richer and richer. Now they are knocking on his door. Him being afraid for his life is the only leverage they have and it's the making of a good and clean revolt right there. His head may end up on a pike, or his body, hanging from a lamp post in the course of events. Someone loses his life in order for someone else to get a new house. In ECON, we call this redistribution. In politics, it's coup d'état. Let's mingle human loss and reset our finances. This is the kind of activism I can get behind.

Peasant's Revolt: any day now

Everyone knows that the way wealth is distributed amongst people is far from fair. Our personal financial state doesn't necessarily represent the things we earn, even less deserve. There is some obscene prosperity accumulated by a privileged few, in many places all over the world. In the USA, the top 20% of Americans owned 85% of the country's wealth and the bottom 80% of the population owned 15% (year 2007, source Congressional Budget Office). How does that not scream revolt in loud and bloody letters? How does that not make you want to kick in some doors?

The powers that be keep us down and we buy into what they tell us. We'd rather believe that they worked long and hard for what they have. That they started from nothing, same as we did. That we, if we work long and hard, can be one of them some day. It's all a big bag of lies. They had a head start in being born with some privileges. They may have worked hard, and cheated even harder, but they didn't tell you about the selling of soul which has to be done as well. That's were the real money is buried. Because they have long passed "being wealthy" now, since it's all about being filthy rich. They know how to get it. They know where to take it, and who to take it from. And hide it. Another bonus this year, just for being 'you'! Congrats!

This makes me sick. So sick, in fact, I think vomiting could become a chronic problem for me. I proved myself wrong. There is some use in activism. I just don't think judging the guy next to us for his lifestyle choices is where it should begin - or end. We should take out the ones that cause the real damage. Let's go now, you take the banner, I'll get the axe. Let's head out and make a statement, red on white.

Activism, Part I

We are getting old and we are void of problems. We sail on smooth sines and cosines towards the bright light. How do we pass the time until we make our last exit? Most of us fuss with growing up, paying the bills, finding ourselves and a partner, having kids. According to the laws of nature and society, that's what has to be done.

The old Witch Procrastinia on the other hand says, we should hang out and relax more, enjoy ourselves, let arms and legs dangle from a giant beach chair while having a sip of Woo Woo. Yes, we may do that. In fact, we are doing that. Unfortunately, it's not enough, it's never enough to only do that. We need to get out of that chair and do something productive.

Bear with me, this is going somewhere.

We have to get up. Take a look through the spy-glass. Then complain. That's what we do and do best. Complain. There are people and they are doing things wrong. They are not living life according to plan. Maybe we can see someone who doesn't care about the environment. He drives two cars, sometimes three. He buys airplane seats, like others do tickets for the merry-go-round. Just because he can. He is one decadent human being. Eating meat with a side of meat, tossing back inorganic wine with a tea cup. One iPad for every room, maybe two. Electricity bills must be skyrocketing with this guy. Does he not care that nuclear power is irresponsible these days? He sure does have the money to run his own hydroelectric plant. Why doesn't he switch? Why does he not care that he ruins this planet?

Let me tell you what is wrong with us people. We judge others, constantly. How they live life, assuming, that we know how to live it - and they don't. We are all guilty of it, it's a human crime. Why would we have a better idea than any other person on how to live life? Why would our expertise count more? We are the same self-absorbed apeheads as they are, and we know exactly as much as they do.

It's fine that you don't eat meat, do not smoke or the thought of genetically modified food makes you sick. Don't do it then, don't eat and inhale. But leave other people out of the equation. It's their right to do what ever they want. It's their right to not get sick by all these things. They don't have to answer to you. You are the ones to make a political statement here, not them. Feel free to not do all the things you don't want to do. By all means, I'm not stopping you. Why are you trying to stop me?