I've had recurring nightmares that I was loved for who I am
and missed the opportunity to be a better man



par šo būs jāpadomā, ko es par to domāju.

pateicoties last.fm es uzzinu daudz ko jaunu. piemēram, ka visādas lieliskas grupas, ko klausos izrādās, ir no skotijas

The terrain of women’s bodies is seen as a battlefield over which the identities of the other can be destroyed. Rape at once pollutes and occupies the territory of the nation, transgresses its boundaries, defeats its protectors. Degrading the nation’s symbol of fertility and purity, it physically blocks its continuity and threatens its existence. Such rape thus promises to “cleanse” the territory of the other and make it ours. In a war in which major goals are articulated in terms of map-making, it follows a frighteningly logical strategy. (..) As symbols of national tragedy and reasons for national revenge, women who were brutally raped in the Bosnian war have continued to suffer more abuse in the service of nationhood. These women, whose suffering was so well documented by the press, became pawns in the power struggles of national politicians and strategists. Collectivized as raped Croatian, Muslim, or Serbian women, their individual stories were merely offered as examples of damage to the nation. Yet, the Croatian press publicized rapes of Muslim women much more than it did those of Croatian women, perhaps to keep the image of “their” women chaste or uncontaminated. (..)
During 1992 and 1993, local political activists and journalists went looking for raped women who would tell their stories. Foreign journalists joined in as well. One of the jokes circulating among residents and volunteers in refugee camps in Croatia and Serbia was as follows. “What does a journalist ask when he comes to a camp?” Answer: “Is there anyone here who was raped and speaks English?

marciana krauze ftw. pirmo reizi mūžā man kāds no pasniedzējiem uz e-pastu atbildi TRĪS minūšu laikā. satriecoši.

That which is now and that which is to be hath already been.

For the first time in the history of the world a young girl climbed into a tree one day.
She climbed down from the tree next day. God bless her.

Something is happening that is not happening.
Something is happening which is not happening at all.

There is no remembrance of former things. There is no new thing under the sun.

man riebjas, kad mana ziņkārība netiek apmierināta teju nekādā mērā. labāk būtu, ja mani interesētu tikai cilvēki, kas ir man tiešā sasniedzamā attālumā. bet pasaulē ir tik daudz interesantu cilvēku. vilšanās, greenland.

bet vismaz varu sevi mierināt ar domu, ka es neesmu viens no cilvēkiem, kas var citiem izraisīt šādas vilšanās, jo par mani ļoti viegli var neprātīgi daudz ko uzzināt. something written, left behind, search a little and you shall find.

gribas gulēt, nevis iet uz mēģinājumu, pēc māmiņdienas aizmigu, un pamodos naktī, kad arī sāku darboties, un rezultātā pie miera atpakaļ devos ap 12dienā, tagad galīgi nav sajūtas, ka būtu jāceļas

b.darba seminārs arī nokārtots, lietu anthro 9, par spīti feilīgajam vidussemestra testam, bet nu it kā jau es šo gaidīju pēc gala esejas, kam klāt bija komentārs ar 3 izsaukuma zīmēm. tagad tik jāsagaida rītrīts, kad savu verdiktu būs lietvedei piešķīrusi arī marciana, bet nu tur nekam sliktam nevajadzētu būt. plus, aija Lulle man piedāvāja pati uz aberdīnu nosūtīt to referenci, un ieteica vēl kaudzi universitāšu. ja es uzrakstīšu norm b.darbu, man nekas nedraud. bet pagaidām vēl ir bailīgi. un negribas celties.