Seeing Clairly

red in the morning

2009-09-18T10:04:00.001+01:00

it was a light crisp morning. a girl in a red dress cycled through the quiet streets. occasionally crossing a smile on her way, a warm surprised smile at the red in the morning. occasionally holding her hand on her skirt as it billowed in the wind, a wind tunnelling through the canals, catching her as she passed over bridges and crossings. occasionally with a glimpse of a smile on her own face, as she thought of where she was headed, whom she was breathlessly journeying towards.

Betty and Ramsey Dunbarton

2009-08-29T11:19:00.005+01:00

"It (the Braid Hills Hotel) had been the scene of many important events over the years: weddings, funeral teas, Rotary Club dinners and so on; and many people had individual memories of these occasions which would be triggered as they looked up at the hotel from the road below. For Betty Dunbarton, for instance, relict of the late Ramsey Dunbarton WS, the glimpse of the Braid Hills Hotel afforded her as she drove out each Friday to lunch with her friend, Peggy Feggie, in Fairmilehead, reminded her of the evening when she and Ramsey had dined there after the last performance of The Gondoliers at the Church Hill Theatre. Ramsey had played the role of the Duke of Plaza-Toro with great distinction and had ordered a bottle of champagne to mark the end of the run. And then, just as they embarked on their meal, the doors of the dining room had opened to admit the rest of the cast, who had decided to have their last-night dinner at the same place. Ramsey had looked surprised, and then embarassed, and she had said, 'But my dear, did you not know that there would be a cast party?' Without hesitation he had replied, 'Of course I did, my dear. But I chose to dine with you instead.'

Later that evening, as they returned home, he had said, 'I have to tell you, my dear, that I have lied to you. I did not know that there was to be a party. They did not invite me. I did not want you to be hurt.'

It was only the second time he had lied to his wife - and on both occasions he had done so to avoid causing her hurt or embarassment. The first occasion had been when they were engaged and they had gone for a walk down at Cramond. They had seen the Gardyloo, the boat then used to take sewage out to sea, and she had asked 'What is that odd-looking boat carrying, Ramsey?' And he had told her that it must be gravel, going over to Fife, in order that he should not have to tell her its true mission. Two white lies - both of which had been confessed, and both forgiven."

From The unbearable lightness of scones, by Alexander McCall-Smith

I loved this part, especially the second time. Read it again.

away

2009-08-26T22:50:00.001+01:00

I'm moving into a place without internet for the next 4 weeks...so perhaps my entry into blog world was shortlived...or I'll be back in a while once the adventure really begins =)

Cliffs of Moher

2009-08-18T22:01:00.016+01:00

Kor came over and we visited Doolin, a little village in Co. Clare where they're famous for the sessions in their pubs, general folksy musical genius, and some mighty high cliffs nearby. Highlights of the trip, among others, were a rather sizeable cows bottom, 'who can take the best open mouth shot'-camera action, mysterious rock drawings, the massive chicken/mushroom vol au vent dinner and a couple of cliffs (though the natural majestic cliffs were somewhat spoilt by the crowd of tourists, ourselves included...). I left determined to someday pick up the fiddle like that girl who played so beautifully in the pub on Friday night, it seems you can take it anywhere and make any piece of music sound magical.

We met a curious amount of Americans, Germans and Dutchies, so it was a bit like a weekend at home in Amsterdam...except for the animals, hills and lack of public transport that is. The Irish in those parts definitely seem to love the Americans and viceversa. Met a lot of friendly older types in jeans and trainers, flags, and even the occasional sign post to America...

And of course there's nothing like an Irish cup of tea, with milk and half a teaspoon of sugar =)

And these are just funny...Kor definitely won the 'open mouth shot' competition.

August 12 - Celtic Daily Light

2009-08-12T20:22:00.004+01:00

Alone with none but Thee, my God,
I journeyed on my way:
What need I fear when Thou art near
O King of night and day?
More safe am I within Thy hand
than if a host did round me stand.

The child of God can fear no ill,
His chosen dread no foe:
we leave our fate to Thee and wait
Thy bidding when to go.
'Tis not from chance our comfort springs,
Thou art our trust, O King of kings.

~Columba

Beginnings

2009-08-10T18:36:00.004+01:00

Beginnings are scary, endings are often sad, but it's the inbetween that counts.

I stole that line from a cheesypeasy film, but there's something striking about it.

It would be nice to get beyond the scary unknown part please.

Despite the difference between myself and those I described in the last posts, I can't help but feel a bit sad and miss home, and I am not entirely convinced I am ready to leave it for such a long time.

Gift of God

2009-08-09T23:27:00.007+01:00

I went to a church in the centre of Limerick today
Dieu-Donné had been there
And saw me walking down the street afterwards
He offered to drive me home
He is also from Congo
His wife and five children are in Zimbabwe
He hasn't seen them for seven years
The youngest is nine
So merely a two year old when they were seperated
Dieu-Donné led the offering
And read about giving eagerly of what is within your power to give

I also had an encounter with Albert from Burundi,
Who arrived 2 years ago
And "very friendly tea, milk and sugar-guy" from the Ivory Coast,
He has been here 7 years
How many stories like these have I heard or read about?

Yet these are the first to make a real impression. To cause my eyes to tremble with tears as I see a quarter of a church filled with people forced from their homes, far away from their family, living in a cold country where they are not allowed to do anything but sit in a hostel. Or once moved along in the process, come out and attempt to find work in a place where there is none, to support their loved ones who think they are in the land of milk and honey.

These are some of the first eyes I have truly looked into
The first I have known personally, to live through hell
And make it to the other side still standing

Alone

With a strength to continue
A hope which I cannot fathom
And a voice which sings with deep conviction

"You are my Rock of Peace".

Florence

2009-08-08T22:05:00.012+01:00

It has become a trend for me to write on my blog for one month at the start of a new adventure in a new place (Dublin September 2007, Brussels October 2008, now Limerick August 2009), then proceed to make friends, get busy, and disappear. I cannot promise it will be any different this time, but here's something at least for now and we'll see where it leads.

Today I got up at 6:30, was dropped off at the airport by my daddy, said goodbye to my hunky boyfriend with a few secret tears once he could no longer see, walked around the airport with a ridiculously heavy piece of hand luggage stuffed with the world and its friend (including a hairdryer which looks a lot like a weapon but was not picked up on by the unsuspecting security guards) and got on my flight to Cork. I met some friendly Dutch people on the plane who asked if I had ever been to Ireland before...this, of course, made me feel extra good about my 'spotless' Dutch. We discussed the weather, which was good practice for them as it is topic numero uno here, only to be outdone occasionally by discussing which Irish motorway is Ireland's largest parking lot or 'the crisis'.

I arrived at Cork airport, and true to form there was no sign whatsoever as to where the bus I would take might stop, what time it comes or where to buy a ticket. I wandered back inside and (also true to form) a friendly guy came up and asked whether I needed help, and told me the bus always stops right over there next to that white van close to the zebra crossing. From then on everything went smoothly, a nice lady who I got to know via-via picked me up from the bus station in Limerick and brought me to my house and even bought me a salad and wrong coffee on the way. I settled into my room with my things, and then went to meet some other via-vias.

One of those people was Florence, whose young sad eyes and big smile removed and put to shame any trace of self-pity I may have been feeling of having had to 'leave my friends and family behind'.

Florence arrived last year, on a flight from Uganda. After walking and walking through the bush, leaving people behind who were too weak to keep going, she fled the Congo (DRC) with her family and managed to reach a refugee camp in western Uganda. The camp was attacked by bandits and she was seperated from her family. Florence has seven siblings, and does not know where any of them or her parents are. She described her arrival in Dublin as being 'sadder than sad', crying and crying. After a few months she moved to Limerick, where she now lives in an asylum seeker hostel. No guests are allowed into the hostel, so we had to wait downstairs for her as she collected her sweater. She said it would be nice to be able to invite a friend up to her room sometimes. I think she is roughly 18 years old.

I know its ok for me to be a little bit sad about leaving my home, but Florence really put feelings of missing others and being loved into perspective.

For more info on DRC (my professors would cringe if they saw me use this as a reference, but it looks like a useful article):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democratic_Republic_of_the_Congo

The encouraged activity for Lent

2009-02-21T22:16:00.002Z

Facts:

1.1 billion people on this planet do not have access to safe, clean drinking water, that’s 1 in 6 of us.
Dirty water and lack of sanitation causes 80% of all sickness and diseases, and kills more people than any other form of violence, including war.
Women and children often have to walk more than 3 hours per day to collect water that most likely will make them sick. This prevents them from working or attending school, and puts them at greater risk of sexual harassment and assault.
Children are especially affected, 42,000 deaths occur every week from unsafe water and lack of basic sanitation, 90% are children under 5 years old.
Think about it:
$1 is enough money for 1 person to have clean water for 1 year! It’s that simple.
(Information taken from Charity:Water)
What can we do?
By giving up what you’d normally drink in exchange for the water from your tap you can save that money to help build clean water projects for communities in need.
So ditch the morning kopje koffie and juice, leave out the lunchtime cola, and cancel the fine wine and biertjes at night. You may need a large dose of self-discipline, but we know you can do it, because you know who you’re doing it for. Make the choice! Think about and identify with those 1.1 billion people in our world who don’t have the choice.
(Adapted from Blood:water mission)
How and when?
For the time of fasting known as Lent from 25 February to 11 April 2009 give up all drinks except for tap water. Make a note of what you would have spent on other drinks. On Easter Sunday give the total of what you saved to a (water and sanitation) charity.
Who? Suggested charities:
Charity:water: www.charitywater.org
Healthy Vine: www.healthy-vine.org
Nuru: http://www.nuruinternational.org/
Blood:water mission: http://www.bloodwatermission.com
Please consider joining us through giving water this Easter and tell your friends!

When I was in Paris with my friend Patricia...

2009-02-17T23:21:00.003Z

la petite cler

mmm...fondue

Superduper Fundraiser!

2009-02-12T17:43:00.003Z

I'm doing a gig for the first time in almost 2 years...twill be most wonderful! Hope you can make it!

Released

2009-02-12T17:29:00.006Z

Philip was released yesterday morning. But there are many more still being held...

Freed Egyptian Protester Describes Ordeal, but Fate of Seized Blogger Is Unknown

By MICHAEL SLACKMAN

Published: February 11, 2009

CAIRO — For more than four straight days, Philip Rizk said, he was blindfolded, handcuffed and interrogated around the clock by Egyptian state security agents who abducted him on Friday after he took part in a march in support of Gaza....
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/12/world/middleeast/12egypt.html?_r=1

Support and Prayer for Philip Rizk

2009-02-11T07:40:00.003Z

I have asked some of my friends whose blogs I regularly read to post on this, so I thought I better do the same, though I am not sure how many people actually read this, seeing as I am one lazy blogger-woman.

At about 8:00pm on Friday the 6th of February, journalist and activist Philip Rizk was abducted by Egyptian national security during a solidarity march to Qalubeyya (north of Cairo) as part of the "To Gaza" campaign. 14 other people were also detained, but everyone except for Philip was released.

I understand some of you are not political activists and may not want to start the Israeli-Palestine debate. However this is about a guy who works for peace, non-violent protest, and has been illegally detained without charge by the Egyptian police.

Philip is a very good friend of Rachel Ostergaard's (a very good wonderful friend of mine who worked at the Cleft with prostitutes in the red light district for a few years and is now studying women's studies and human trafficking in Chicago).

If you can please forward this to everyone you know asking them to sign the online petition. Protests are being organised at several locations, including New York, San Francisco, Ottawa and Washington.

For more information see the Facebook page and these news articles:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#/group.php?gid=62997328834&ref=share
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/10/world/middleeast/10egypt.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7878067.stm

Online petition:
http://www.petitiononline.com/prizk09/petition.html

Philip's blog on Gaza:
http://tabulagaza.blogspot.com

2009-01-15T22:37:00.000Z

African proverb:

"When you pray, move your feet."

I like it, time for some action.

The day before my first day

2008-10-02T08:15:00.005+01:00

Slightly nervous the day before my first day.

Fortunately there was some distracting entertainment.

Wat een hunkyerdtje =)

Coffee with the Ladies

2008-10-01T17:38:00.016+01:00

So I'll start my second attempt with some photos of coffee, mmm. My friends Marco and Naomi inspired me to start actually using my camera again. It may be a little rough at the edges, but I'm going to get started and hopefully continue! Here is a typical Saturday morning at the Derde Helmers in Amsterdam. If the pretty ladies object, I can remove these immediately, but I for one think you look wonderful =)

The look of coffee contentment.

Second try...

2008-10-01T17:09:00.010+01:00

September 2007 saw the commencement of my epic one month of blogging craziness, the highlight of which involved a story about sheep...hopefully it will last longer this time and be slightly more exciting, though I am once again in a similar position; living in a new country, new city, starting a new internship (well last year was a Masters, I suppose I should say 'new activity'), not knowing that many people and quite a bit of time on my hands. Once I morph into a social-slash-businesswoman-butterfly we'll see what happens!

Counting sheep

2007-09-28T16:00:00.000+01:00

(I don't know how you do the whole -I'm using this picture but it's not mine thing...I got it from here)

I haven't had trouble sleeping lately, yet this topic of sheep counting persists so I have decided to write an exciting piece on it. Perhaps this will wreck the tactic you have always used to get to sleep, however I am not sure that it has ever really helped anyone. Perhaps it is just a myth, an easy solution to offer someone who can't sleep. Or maybe this little piece of writing is already inducing sleep, which may mean there is something to be said for even the idea of counting sheep for sleep inducing purposes.

My thoughts on sheep counting are these. How on earth does it actually help you sleep? When I am awake in the middle of the night and my brain just refuses to turn itself off, I watch the sheep jump over my imaginary brick wall (the type you'd find in the West of Ireland, Connemara, Galway close to Roundstone to be more specific, beautiful walls, stones carefully placed one atop the other without anything to hold them together except for the way they were piled up, perhaps the wallbuilders really enjoy puzzles or giant Jenga?! ...but then I suppose Jenga would be the opposite so perhaps they really hate Jenga. I should really stop talking about Jenga, I've never even played it myself, looks fun though). I watch about a hundred sheep jump over. But in the mean time, my brain gets bored and inquisitive rather than sleepy. I wonder, first, where the sheep go once they've jumped over the wall. Do they just pile up on top of each other till you get a big bleating mess of wool and little black paws poking out at all sides. Or do they jump into formation like the pyramids of people you see on waterski's, the sheep neatly poking their paws in the same direction wearing tiaras on their heads. That also turns into a big bleating mess eventually, because the sheep just keep jumping over and sheep really aren't that good at waterskiing, so they all fall in the water and then you are actually stuck with a bleating mess of smelly wet wool, ugh.

I wonder what people from other cultures are told to do when they can't sleep. Count lamas? Elephants? Monkeys? Or penguins flopping into the water? At least penguins wouldn't have the smelly woolly piled-up bleating mess problem.

My granny told me today that she tries to recite poems and psalms to herself.
Maybe I'll try that next time...

Police under orders not to save drowning victims

2007-09-26T16:36:00.000+01:00

A friend from my global justice class drew my attention to this article from The Sunday Times (UK) today. For those interested in the morality debate around saving drowning children here or saving starving children far away, in this instance they seemed to fail even to do the saving here, let alone having to think about the next continent. I have just posted parts of the article, but click on the title if you want to read the full fledged ridiculousness of it all. It seems the world has actually gone barmy.

From The Sunday Times, September 23, 2007
Police under orders not to save drowning victims
Daniel Foggo and Jack Grimston

The emergency services are being told not to attempt to save drowning people because of health and safety restrictions, it has emerged.
Amid a growing row over the failure of two police support officers to try to save a boy from drowning, both the police and the fire service disclosed this weekend that their frontline staff are instructed not to enter the water in case they put themselves in danger.
Officers are no longer required to be trained in swimming or lifesaving. One police force closed its training pool five years ago for health and safety reasons after an accident and it has not reopened.

An inquest last week heard how two police community support officers (PCSOs) had stood by while a 10-year-old boy drowned in a pond in Wigan. Senior officers with the Greater Manchester force, which employed them, said they acted “correctly”.
The boy, Jordon Lyon, died despite a fully qualified police officer subsequently plunging into the water in an attempt to rescue him. His force made it clear this weekend that the officer was acting on his own volition and contrary to advice.

The case has ignited a debate over whether PCSOs, who receive only a few weeks’ training and do not have full police powers, should be scrapped.
Ann Widdecombe, Conservative MP for Maidstone and the Weald and former Home Office minister, said: “In the last decade we really have got so bogged down in the compensation culture and procedures and fear of being sued that we’ve lost sight of the bigger picture completely.
“It’s barmy, we’ve lost sight of what the emergency services are for. They are there to help people. I am quite emotionally angry about this. "
“Damn being a PCSO, what about being a human being? For the senior officer to say this was appropriate is unbelievable.”

...

The situation with fully trained police officers is similar. The spokeswoman said: “The officers are advised not to go into the water. They are not trained in water rescue.”
Officers like Sergeant Craig Lippitt, who attempted to rescue Jordon by stripping off and diving in of his own volition, were acting against instructions, although they would not be disciplined for rescuing someone, the spokeswoman said.
Firefighters who attempt the same are not necessarily so fortunate. In March a 42-year-old firefighter, Tam Brown, saved a woman in the River Tay. He was later informed he could face disciplinary action.
Roddy Robertson, executive council member of the Scottish Fire Brigades Union, said most firefighters had absolutely no training in rescuing drowning people. “We don’t think the responsibility lies with us, we aren’t trained and we aren’t funded. We think it lies with the police but we don’t know if they are funded for it,” he said.

...

a house a home

2007-09-20T20:17:00.001+01:00

yaaaaaaayyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have found a house, well actually a flat, soon to become a home, so anyone who calls themself my friend, I hope to be seeing you soon for a visit to this fair city where the girls are very pretty. doei!

Irish Soda bread

2007-09-20T12:03:00.001+01:00

Irish soda bread is the best bestest most wonderful bread in the whole entire world ever and I am so happy that I get to eat it every single morning. It is full of goodness and strength and beauty and goes especially well with Marmite or homemade marmalade or honey or jam or cheese...I have yet to try it with Nutella and that might be its weak point...but you never know, I'm sure it must go well with peanut butter, especially crunchy peanut butter, what doesn't go well with peanut butter.

toasted Irish soda bread and English breakfast tea

a better breakfast there could not be

so soon you may see

a preview of how I think the world ought to be

every morning

in song

:-)

Feel free to tell me about your favourite breakfast food...

Singer's story II

2007-09-20T10:08:00.001+01:00

hmmm...well since my last post I have in fact had a seminar on Singer's article. His story about the drowning child seems to be taken from Godwin's ideas (some philosopher - I am new to this world of philosophy). Singer's views have been criticised for being too crude and over-demanding, but with that should come the acknowledgement that a theory on morality or 'doing good' must in some way be demanding of the person required to do this good. Also, it appears he gives 25% of his income and still indulges in some luxuries and he states now that people are required to give at least 10%, as the earlier requirement to give all you don't need may be too hard on people psychologically...I try to love others as I love myself, a very very high and unattainable standard, one that I am clearly not reaching and this was highlighted to me when reading Singer's suggestion that I should give all I have down to the bare minimum that I need and I didn't want to, this meaning that I must love myself a little bit more. Yet still I believe it is worth trying, one step at a time, and 10% can be the starting point, but over and above would be better.

In class discussion came up about proximity. It seems to me, the closer we are to a situation or person, be it physically or in our involvement, the more inclined we are to help them, to give to them in time and money, to 'develop' compassion towards them and want to relieve them of their suffering. This may be why we do save a child we see drowning in a pond as we walk past at some small cost to ourselves, but with the physical and emotional distance between us and starving children far far away, we are not so concerned with relieving them from suffering, though it would cost us little. So, perhaps the way to solve this is to investigate, get closer to the situations far far away and develop more compassion towards those 'around' us (in the world) who are in dire need, this could be next door, or in the country next door, or on the continent next door. Maybe we think everyone else should do their bit and it seems unfair for us to have to do more when others are doing nothing, but this does not take away from the fact that we should do something. hmmm...

Singer's story

2007-09-18T22:58:00.001+01:00

I have only been doing my course in development studies for a week and already I am filled with guilt and confusion and questions. Things in the world are so horribly unfair. How could that ever be reversed. One step at a time or complete overhaul of the system?!

I read an article by Peter Singer this evening "Famine, Affluence and Morality". Anyone in the field probably knows all about this already, but for those that don't I thought it may be of interest. He argues that "if it is in our power to prevent something bad from happening, without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance, we ought, morally, to do it."
He illuminates the principle by using the following example:
"if I am walking past a shallow pond and see a child drowning in it, I ought to wade in and pull the child out. This will mean getting my clothes muddy, but this is insignificant, while the death of a child would presumably be a very bad thing."

He then goes on to compare this to children in Bangladesh who are starving due to a famine (article written in 1971). If you were to give some money it would not be of great significance to you, but would save a life and it is irrelevant whether the child is next door or in another country and irrelevant whether there are millions standing next to you watching the child drown in the pond or you're alone. Either way, Singer indicates that if it is of no moral consequence to yourself, you should help.

He calls into question the distinction between duty and charity in our Western morality. Giving money to charities aiding victims of famine is seen as charitable or generous. A charitable man is praised, however it is not thought that there is something wrong with not giving. Someone who doesn't give is not condemned. Singer states "This way of looking at the matter cannot be justified. When we buy new clothes not to keep ourselves warm but to look "well-dressed" we are not providing for any important need. We would not be sacrificing anything significant if we were to continue to wear old clothes, and give the money to famine relief. By doing so, we would be preventing another person from starving."
His conclusion is, if we relate back to the starting principle: "we ought to give the money away, and it is wrong not to do so."

Though his thoughts are contrary to contemporary Western moral standards, he looks to other times and places to show that his stance is not that radical. Relating writings by Thomas Aquinas (in Summa Theologica from Aquinas Selected Political Writings):
"Now according to the natural order instituted by divine providence, material goods are provided for the satisfaction of human needs. Therefore the division and appropriation of property, which proceeds from human law, must not hinder the satisfaction of man's necessity from such goods. Equally, whatever a man has in superabundance is owed, of natural right, to the poor for their sustenance. So Ambrosius says, and it is also to be found in the Decretum Gratiani:'The bread which you withhold belongs to the hungry; the clothing you shut away, to the naked; and the money you bury in the earth is the redemption and freedom of the penniless.' "

Now I am no saint and buy clothes for "well-dressed" purposes rather than warmth and could give away a lot more before I am down to the bare minimum necessary, but I suppose Singer's point is that you need not be a saint, it is your duty as a human being...so where does this leave me, and all of us...

Cinderella skirt

2007-09-18T20:30:00.000+01:00

I wrote this about 3 years ago. It was supposed to be a song, but never became one, just couldn't find the right melody and maybe it's too wordy to be a song, or who knows it may become one someday. My housemate in Leeds used to borrow a black skirt of mine, she called it my Cinderella skirt, she wore it to a ball. I hardly ever wore it and now I think either my sister or the Salvation Army has it. But it did make me feel fancy wearing it the time I was a posh rich woman with many a my-fair-lady-marble in her mouth at a murder mystery party...Anyway, though I wrote it 3 years ago, it seems to describe my present state as much as it did 3 years ago. Maybe I'll never stop moving, it's fun for now, but I hope I do eventually.

Cinderella skirt

dropped her eyes and let her see
faces of people far and gone
and the friends that passed her by
in stages of life she was beyond
herself with sadness she missed
the life where she belonged
but alas those waves have passed
braces herself for new ones to come

the curtains have been closed
stages have changed their decors
third act to the second part
starting, different to before
some characters still the same
supposedly, a little more mature
and new ones rolling in with the tide
that took the others out before

she wanted to go away
drop out of this play
didn't want to miss them anymore
so she wore the skirt
the cinderella skirt
and did go to the ball

autumn colours wafting in, changing things
more beautiful than before
yet others withering, shriveling,
dieing on the floor
but change of scenery makes the heart
grow a little less sore
new dreams of wintertime, snowwhite
and so much more

dropped her eyes and let her see
she knew this life that she belonged
so she wore the skirt
the cinderella skirt
and did go to the ball

Hello

2007-09-18T18:48:00.000+01:00

I have toyed with the idea of writing a blog for a long time, but it scared me. A place where everyone can see me or at least anyone who chooses to have a look. But then, I have just moved, moved again away from my friends and home and the places familiar. So, it is time to take the leap into this strange place of nothingness where everyone and no one is or could be looking.
I sat on a plane to Brazil earlier this summer and while my friend next to me was asleep (I tell people he was drooling and snoring, which would make this story more interesting but less true) and I wrote down the word Clairity and decided that if I was ever brave enough to write something in public, this would be the name at the top. Of course, original ideas are few and far between and I found there are other brilliant minds out there who have come up with this name...websites, poets, air cleaner, a DJ, so for now it is called seeing clairly instead, which seems a lot of silliness...but I suppose they are my thoughts and poems and songs and the way I see things, my views, which may change as I am quite good at changing my opinion on things the more I learn. There's always so much more to learn, it's hard to have an opinion on anything, because when are you ever sure you have all the information?! So this blog will be quite removed from clarity, but somehow straining or squinting towards finding some. Either way, here my ponderings will be.