Justice

I don't know if anyone would ever describe me as a 'friendly' person.

At my best, I can be a bit of a socialite, making small talk with lots of people and getting to know everyone. Networking; getting contacts; whatever you want to call it.

Yet in my darker moments I can also be quite the introvert, and would be happier alone in the corner with my headphones in my ears.

First impressions can be pretty misleading with people like me, because until you actually get to know me, you wouldn't really know the full extent of my personality.

Recently back at university, political philosophy has been wreaking havoc on my mind and my conscience.

I used to think that I was a person who believed in justice; that all men got what was coming to them. In my eyes, karma was an all-powerful, omnipresent vehicle of justice.

But lately I've come to realise that perhaps 'justice' isn't quite as synonymous with 'retribution' or 'revenge' as I would have liked to believe.

Is handing out punishment to ones enemies really the definition of a 'just' man?

Maybe the vengeful streak I possess in the name of love and honesty isn't as justified as I previously thought, if it involves hurting someone else, no matter how deserving of their punishment I might consider them.

It's also rather conflicting with my religious views and the Wiccan Rede; is there really any situation where causing harm is justified?

These questions of justice and the ethics of revenge were spawned from an earlier question I asked myself: am I really a nice, or 'friendly', person?

Like anyone, I have my own idiosyncratic personality flaws, but for the most part I have a strong moral fibre, and I tend to treat others how I'd like to be treated (there are notable exceptions to this rule but by my standards I consider them justified).

Even if I don't particularly warm to someone, I try to treat them with due human civility, even if it's a little on the cold side.

What scares me is that once upon a time, the non-reciprocation of these actions would have bothered me.

These days, I'm just too tired to care.

Maybe 'friends' are over-rated, or maybe I've just always had a skewed definition of the word.

Sooner or later, people who don't want to be in your life will leave; kicking and screaming, or silently slinking off into the darkness.

Either way, take some solace in that you'll never go unnoticed.

"There's a danger in starting a fire; you'll never how many bridges you'll burn" - A Day To Remember

Change

This life is full of changes. Some of them good, some of them bad, most of them inevitable.

They say that the first year after high school is one of them most exciting, unpredictable, turmoil filled times of your life.

And they're weren't wrong.

Most high school sweethearts break up within that first year. Hell, my Summer fling couldn't even survive the transition to university.

No matter how you loved all your friends at school, you'll never see them as frequently as you used to, and the relationships suffer. In this day and age, there are dozens of 'I haven't seen you in ages, let's catch up!' Facebook comments, but they're hardly ever acted upon.

It's the sad truth that people just grow apart: both emotionally and physically. By the end of this week, the two people I consider my best friends will be living on other continents.

It's due to circumstances beyond their control, and I don't doubt that the strength of our friendship will remain intact even over thousands of miles and several time zones.

But it's a reality that I have to face: my life will go on without them.

I've fallen in love, and I've had my heart broken.

I've soared to brand new heights, and I've sunk to all time lows.

But I've picked myself up off the floor each and every time.

I don't want to take any of these changes for granted, because as terrifying as they are, there's nothing more a fear more than a life of stagnancy and discontent.

I've met some incredible people and done some crazy things, and who knows what the future has in store?

Maybe one day we'll all meet up, and it will be like nothing has changed at all.

Maybe we won't even recognise each other when we walk past each other on the street.

I honestly can't say I hope for either scenario.

I don't want to cling to the past because I'm scared of the future, but I don't want to create a whole new life where my past never mattered at all.

One thing I know for sure is that broken hearts don't last forever.

And I think I'm ready to love again.

But I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

"when all you wanted was to be wanted,

wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now" - Taylor Swift

Laughter

Today on my commute home, several things happened:

- A man stood up on the train, and hit his head an the slanting roof. I was unable to repress my snorts of laughter.

- As I was walking up the stairs at the station, which were crowded with passengers getting off, a man was pushing his way through the people, angrily abusing everyone for being in the way and causing him to miss his train. Such colourful language among a sea of boring suits inspired me to giggle just a little.

- Crossing the road, I saw a boy drop his chewing gum in the bin, and turn around and walk promptly into a telegraph pole. He wasn't too hurt, but when he saw that I'd seen, he gave a sheepish, embarrassed smile and hurried away. I actually laughed out loud.

While this might seem like I'm being a horrible person, laughing at everyone else's misfortune. But the more I thought about it, I felt noticeably happier after witnessing these small calamities.

Sure, those people weren't having a great day, but for once I felt like I was thoroughly enjoying my train trip home.

And it got me thinking: is there really anything wrong with finding amusement in other people's minor misfortunes or accidents?

[I say minor, because there are obviously some large scale tragedies that shouldn't be funny on any level.]

There is an entire TV show dedicated to video clips if people doing stupid things and getting themselves hurt.

And the intention of that TV show is to make people laugh!

The lesson I've learnt, and the message I'm trying to get across here, is that no matter how shitty a day you might be having, your miserable experiences might be giving someone else a little bit of joy.

It may be at your personal expense, but you're giving back to the world, in a sense, aren't you?

I'm sure one day you'll laugh at someone else tripping over on the footpath, or running like a spastic to catch a bus that they've obviously already missed.

There, on that day, you will feel a little happier.

And so the karmic cycle continues.

Magic

As I come to the end of my first semester at university, I find myself a little at odds with the one scientific unit that I studied.

Though many people would have you believe that psychology is a borderline pseudo-science, there was a subject within the course that heavily stresses the importance of empirical evidence, and only really accepting things as fact when there is grounded, testable, falsifiable (yet still correct) proof.

Which is all very true: you wouldn't find me living exclusively off herbal remedies, or visiting a homeopath over my doctor.

But the blind denial that some of these scientists have is simply frightening.

I've realised I'm not a very scientific person.

The whole 'if science can't prove it then it doesn't exist' outlook just doesn't sit well with my world outlook.

There are some fanatics in the world who have committed some amazing atrocities through blind faith, and in the name of religion, and it's given the scientific community a bit of an ego, in my opinion.

I very much value the research and knowledge we have today, but the cold, factual view of our world such knowledge has given us can be quite disillusioning at the best of times.

There's no more mysticism, no more unexplainable.

People don't 'believe' anymore: they simply 'know'.

I have my own beliefs though, about things that exist in our world, which we will never be able to explain.

Science would tell me I am illogical, and that there is a rational explanation for everything I believe. But sometimes, I don't think I really want to know. As someone once said to me recently, "What's wrong with living in a little bit of ignorance? It helps me sleep better at night."

The miracle of life itself is explained away by evolution and biology.

Now, I'm certainly not denying evolution.

But I'm not so opposed to the idea that maybe it didn't completely happen by chance: the idea that somewhere out there is a force more empirical than science itself.

You may think me a fool for having faith in my magic, but the way I see it, I have the best of both world: faith in knowledge, and knowledge of faith.

"You think that it's not magic that keeps you alive? Just because you understand the mechanics of how something works, doesn't make it any less of a miracle; which is just another word for magic. We're all kept alive by magic." - Bill Compton, True Blood

Strangers

Do you know what it's like to be in love?

I used to think I did.

That sense of security, that feeling of appreciation, knowing that there's someone out there who means the world to you.

Someone you can share yourself with completely, who knows every inch of your body like the back of their hand, who can sense what you're thinking with a mere touch of their fingertips.

But as the saying goes, 'all good things must come to an end'.

So what of falling out of love? Is it even possible?

Did I even love him in the first place, or was it a ghastly prank my consciousness was playing on me?

Do I even know what love is?

Some would tell me I'm foolish to think I'd find true love so young.

But what is 'true love', anyway?

Is it a long-term, committed relationship, in which there is one person who you would love to spend all of your time with? Who makes you feel right when you're with them, no matter what, and hurts when you see them go?

Because I've been there, and despite the giddy feelings, it ain't all smiles and sunshine.

Who says love was built to last?

In my recent bachelor status, I've danced with many a gentleman in the dark underground lairs where we all congregate in the hope of finding 'love'.

And while I'm far from finding anything with the solidarity of my previous 'love', I'm finding my experiences no less aesthetically pleasing, exciting to the senses.

Who says 'true love' can't be stumbled upon and appreciated amongst the sweat and glitter?

When all is said and done, what is the difference between a short-lived moment of passion and energy, and the strung-out emotions of a relationship.

Really, who says you can't fall in love for a night?

"once upon a time there was light in my life

now there's only love in the dark" - Total Eclipse of the Heart, Bonnie Tyler

Values

Last night, whilst tucking into my KFC, I received an anonymous phone call.

I thought it might be a job of some sort calling, so I didn't think twice before answering.

The following conversation ensued...

Me: "Hello?"

Caller: ...

Me: "Hello?"

Caller: "... Is this Robert?"

Me: "Yes."

Caller: "... You're a faggot."

Me: "Um... yeah, cool?"

Caller: "No, it's not cool. There's something wrong with you."

I tried to think of something witty to come back with, but I decided there wasn't much point and I couldn't be bothered, so I just hung up.

Okay, so God knows I've had my fair share of gay rants.

I have no idea who the caller was; it was a man with a heavy Mediterranean accent, but it was no one person whose voice I could recognise.

I just don't understand what calling me up and reminding that I'm gay would achieve, for anyone.

No doubt he had a bunch of other dim witted remarks up his sleeve, but that's beside the point.

It's really sad that in this day and age there are guys out there who have to reaffirm their masculinity by randomly harassing homosexuals.

It's taken me a little while, but I am completely comfortable with who I am, and who I have sex with, and frankly couldn't give a damn if somebody out there, or anybody for that matter, thinks it's "unnatural".

It's rude and utterly naive to deny someone of a way of life purely because it's not in complete alignment with your own life or your own beliefs.

Homophobia is slowing becoming a characteristic of the minority, thankfully, but it doesn't discount the fact that there still is that minority.

Being homosexual, I know what it's like to be part of a minority, and have your values challenged.

But our values are based on love.

Their values are based on hate.

We seek peace and co-operation in a civil society.

They want to destroy us.

And he thinks there's something wrong with me?

"oh, but one day you'll understand

a girl on your arm won't make you a man" - Bayside

Empathy

Today I had quite a surreal experience; something not too far from an epiphany, I believe.

In the true quirky nature of all things me, it happened while I was clothes shopping.

For quite some time, I've had an irrational fear of salespeople.

Every time I walked into a retail store, I waited for the inevitable "Hey, how's it going?", "Are you alright there?" or (my personal favourite) "Can I help you?"

I can't honestly say what caused me to have such unfounded fear - but I can take a guess.

As a child I had problems fitting in socially (some would say I still do), and I suppose I've always seen clothes and fashion as a means of conforming or fitting in; in a sense, being accepted.

I suppose I always thought these people who worked in clothes stores were 'cool' or 'trendy', since they knew how to fit into the social scheme of things. I felt they would inevitably be judging me as the social outcast who didn't know how to properly dress himself.

Some would argue today that I still don't know to dress myself, but I like to think I've picked up a tip or two about modern fashion.

Yet until today, I thought I still harboured the anxiety that was unleashed by friendly, over-enthusiastic salespeople.

Today, in a retail outlet whose name I shall not disclose, I was shopping for jeans.

Shopping for jeans is like choosing subjects for an Arts degree; the abundance of choice becomes almost overwhelming. I soon realised that, despite my terror of being approached by an employee, I actually did need help.

Ironically enough, not one of the salespeople in the store batted an eyelid my direction, let alone ask if I needed anything.

After standing awkwardly for a few minutes, next to the piles of jeans stacked high to the ceiling, I found myself approaching one of the staff to ask if I could use a changing room.

Tell me, what's wrong with this picture?

To my surprise, the woman simply replied "Sure", and continued with her business as though I'd asked her "Would you like fries with that?".

Too bad for her, I'm migrating out of the hospitality industry.

And I suppose my aim of getting into retail, somehow, has made me assess the role of a retail salesperson.

They should have the ability to recognise a customer who obviously has no idea what they're doing, and be able to offer them the required assistance.

The fact I was barely acknowledged as a person at all made me very irritated. I felt I could have done a better job at attended to a customer, even with my lack of retail experience (which is making it quite difficult to obtain employment in the area).

And with that realisation, it hit me.

I'd become what I had been terrified of for the better part of my adolescence.

Just the ambition of working in retail was enough to change me.

It was enough to change my entire outlook on those people and their abilities of empathy. And just people in general too, I suppose.

But then, a lot of people would probably say to me: "It's the perfect job for you; acting like you're friends with people in order to get their money".