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Jules S.


Posted Wed Sep 16th, 2009 6:29pm Post subject: Rant of September the sixteenth of 2009

Small note before I 'start' and 'finish' this writing: this has been posted about an hour ago on the Dutch website, just as it is written down here (only the title is in Dutch: "Klaagzang van 16 september 2009". I hope you will forgive me for doing this, but, quite frankly, I think I'll get more meaningful reactions here then on that blasted website. Also: I make an apology for the swearing in this piece of written work.

Now, here I go (again):

Hello, good afternoon, 'oi, hi and boomshacka.

Now that we've got all those lovely introductions behind us, well, left behind me, I'll just throw out my rant for today: I'm feeling quite useless.

As I don't expect any of the people that visit this Hyve-page (and certainly not the people that just happen to be browsing around being more useless than me) to read any of this, this might be some kind of place for me to continue to rant without any form, shame, use, structure and, perhaps, motive.

Right now I'm supposed to be working on all that lovely work school has so nicely given me and my fellow students. But I simply can't. In some way there is not a single bit of motivation in my body to keep reading those fucking books and answering question after question that has absolutely nothing to do with the book I just read or the purpose of me reading it. I'm a learning kind of person. I like to read and learn from my readings. But the kind of questions the 'study-help books' contain or the questions teachers ask the class simply have very little to do with the contents of the material. Sure, some of those questions have you reciting some passage or using some theory or method. But do I learn anything from it?

The more I see those kind of things - and it's the second year for me to see these monstrously frustrating things -, the more I want to throw my books on a big pile, pour some gasoline over it and then light the motherfucker. In the movie "A Beautiful Mind" (yes, that horribly cliché film starring Russel Crowe), the main character says the following when a fellow student (they're well in their twenties for fuck's sake, why the hell isn't there a word less demeaning to describe a grown-up person 'learning' difficult things to get a decent job in this wretched society) asks him why he doesn't attend classes:

"Classes will dull your mind. They take away your creativity."

And he's right. He's right. All those classes hardly teach you anything. The learning is what you do. Teachers shove you some books in front of your nose and make you accept theories of people who lived hundreds of years ago to make sense of todays society, economy, language and social behavior. The thing students (and I mean people between the ages 12 and 19) are supposed to do then, is to ask questions about those theories if they don't understand some part of it. The thing they ought to do is to use their own minds, their own wit to make sense of it all.

The greatest discoveries were done by people who used previous ideas and expanded them, I don't deny that. I greatly admire the work of a person like, let's say, Sir Isaac Newton. The guy explained the law of gravity and made sense of our Solar System, but the latter he did by expanding what Galilei (or how you spell his name) wrote down hundreds of years earlier.

Most people my age, and a GREAT FEW don't belong to that group of 'most people', aren't interested in learning a fucking thing. They see everything as something that's just there, without a reason. Nothing stands out of the ordinary, nothing bewilders them. The only thing bewildering to them is the amount of alcohol and cannabis coursing through their veins as they look around for the next person to woo. And even the wooing of today is nothing compared to how it used to be.

It's just a guy walking up to a girl, making a silly remark, order them a drink, make the most fuck-like movements imaginable that are named 'dances' and then kissing them on the lips and grabbing their bottom. There's no flair in any of it. Anyone daring enough to write a love letter or giving a rose with a nice note attached to it, is found silly. Anyone using a different kind of language, and I mean language that has been toyed with, than the ghastly "slang" of today, is labeled pretentious and elitist.

There is no way people that try to stand out using anything other than pop-cultured bull crap are found interesting. That is just something of the past, and I hate that. I'm lucky enough to have friends that see my occasional silly writings, exclamations or rantings as something thats 'just me', but anybody else just seems to find me a silly, stupid and elitist git. Well fuck you.

I'm fucking redoing this year of school because last year I couldn't cope with a lot of things that happened to me the year before. It took me a long time to get to a point where I could see what had happened to me, and it's still taking a long time for me to adjust to them.

And now here I am, finally back at the centre of this rant: me feeling quite useless. The fact that I've written all this crap in no-time at all while my dog is crying beside me because he wants to lick my dad until he's out of saliva, while I should be doing a lot of work to do get me through this year, just makes me a bit angry about myself. I'm just writing into space and thinking about useless things like this fucking website and people I want to get to know better.

I'm fucking seventeen years old, thinking serious about my future, my present being and my past, while others are having the time of their lives. And they should. I wish I enjoyed all the nonsense, too. But I don't. I wish I wasn't this pretentious. I wish that I could make me forget about wanting to be as smart as I can be, as good as I can be and as just as I can be. I wish I was like anybody else.

God, I hate stating this. Just by saying this I'm implying that I'm different and perhaps better than the other people from my age. But maybe I'm not at all different. Everyone is an individual, even the gits continuously clinging on to social groups like those idiotic gangster-wannabe's with their caps placed on their scalps instead of over their heads AS THEY SHOULD. So in a sense, being an individual I am being normal. But maybe I'm different in the sense that I'm aware of that and of the pretentiousness that goes with stating that.

But right now, I think I've written and ranted enough. I don't really want to make a habit out of writing things like these while probably no-one is ever going to read this shit. It takes time and energy and I get little in return. Ah well, perhaps when I finally get out of this place I'll find a place to live where I'm not thought of as pretentious or gitty, but just as a person that tries to express originality in a different way than just wearing some whore-like, gangster-like or gay-like clothing to stand out of a crowd.

Blast, blast and some cunting blasts for the rest of the week. I'm done. Good afternoon and thank you for reading this far. I can only hope I didn't bore, offend or irritate you, that'd make me quite unhappy. Or maybe not. Cunt.

I'm pretentious, I'm a git; I'm way to young for all this youknowwhat.

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Posted Thu Sep 17th, 2009 4:15am Post subject: Rant of September the sixteenth of 2009

FWIW, I don't think you're pretentious, nor what you've written.

Is that pretentious of me to say?

Being 'different', whatever that may mean to anyone, sometimes means being a misfit. Even amongst misfits you might be a misfit. There's no escape, in other words, sometimes from just knowing the way you think is likely going to be with you forever, because it's who you are. Which anyone has as much right to be as anyone else.

'Pretentious' to me, means someone who is false; a rube, or a pretender. Referencing Bach, for instance, not because they love Bach and know his music and love it for what it is, but because they think it might impress the listener(s).

But, you may come across a bartender in a seedy dive in a nowhere town who truly loves Bachs music and may even know it so well they can speak of it in historical context. This bartenders mentioning Bach isn't 'pretentious'; he's being real to himself and authentic to others. If a barfly accuses him of being pretentious, it's just an accusation and the barflys perception well forever be beyond the barkeeps control. The tragedy would be, if in an attempt to 'fit in', the bartender stopped listening to Bach.

I have more than two cents in my pocket right now so I'll say that's "just my ten cents".

Really? Wow.

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