year in review

It's that time, when everyone celebrates a new cycle of the calendar and takes time to reflect upon a slice of time and all the events of various significance within that slice that they took part in. For me, 2012 was not by any measure an insignificant year, and I feel that a blog post summarizing the year warrants writing.

The year began with an introduction to a new community and a new interest. This alone revitalized my life when I was reaching a status quo that needed to be broken. This granted me new friendships and new past-times. Through this new community, I was introduced to other things such as, most importantly, Dota 2, a continuation of the story of an originally unassuming custom map in Warcraft III, which had enough unique appeal and innovation to herald a new genre and kind of competitive gaming.

I've also experienced a great deal of generosity, which reached its peak towards the end with the new PC from my dear friend Kasia. No amount of gratitude is enough - all I can offer in return is repayment in friendship and a passing on of that generosity (which I am struggling with currently - I meant to ship my previous PC to a friend in 2012, but procrastinated upon it - very guilty over this! First thing to do in 2013). As such, I begin 2013 fully caught up on every little material thing I desired in the past year.

Towards the last months of the past year, I've also rekindled some old friendships, one of which is with my neighbours - including a person who returned to Poland after a long time of studying abroad, and is currently sticking around here.

From negatives, one thing I've been dealing with is a downswing of negativity. Reminiscence on old doubts, regrets and failures has caused me to become reticent in some matters, but very harsh and aggressive in others. All the good I've experienced slipped away from my awareness, as I focused on hiding away and warding others off, afraid to disappoint or accept my disappointment, as others (and myself) failed to meet unreasonable standards I set for them.

I am not one to form strict resolutions for any specific timeframe such as the beginning of a year, but the above reflection is something to keep in mind, the one thing that, if improved upon, will make 2013 a better year than the previous.

Happy New Year - I really hope and believe it will be an improvement for us all.

dust

Inspired by talking to Kasia, a friend of mine, about the subject of experiences and memories. I often find the quality of my memory a little lacking. I value the 'now' considerably, because the second it turns into 'then', it begins devaluing until it's just a fact listed in my head. 
I'm not sure if I've already written something like that or not, but I don't think I have.

cold dust has settled
upon the stone floor
hidden from sun's light
memories rest

I sift through that debris
looking for anything
reflections appear in the shards
and vanish as I move them

the dust seeps through my fingers
and clouds form again
billowing, intangible, surreal

women and men
moments and places
brief images and sensations
moved by unknown winds

as quickly as they appeared
these shadow puppets fade away
and the dust settles again
still and quiet

the old man and the gift

I haven't had much to write about on this blog. To some extent, I suppose Twitter is consuming my mental bandwidth. That - or all my thoughts can actually be compressed very easily into packets of up to 140 characters each. It's like thought snacks, I guess. I'm not closing down the blog, though, because evidently I have an use for it right now.

My memory is terrible in general; my consciousness as a whole seems to absorb things very poorly. Every experience washes over it and very little residue remains in the creases and cracks - which makes it especially important to act quickly on a memory worth recording.
Especially if the memory is a dream. Those are quite slippery. That's why "dream diaries" are a thing. I guess, in a way, this blog serves that role among others.
So here's a dream which was transcribed by me directly after I woke up and realized I mustn't forget it.


I was at some kind of resort, sharing a room with some people, where I also had a PC on, with a brightly lit monitor which I kept checking (I believe mIRC was running on it).
It was near a forest, with a sea nearby.

I was out doing something (swimming)?, then I returned and noticed (I think it was on a porch or something) a box in which was a set of fairly nice headphones. I was looking at them when an old man showed up and told me that I can have them, if I want. I expressed gratitude. However, when I took just the headphones from the box, he was like "no no, have the whole box", and I realized that it was in fact a portable music player the size of a small radio set (it's the sort of thing you put on a table rather than carry in your pocket, but it's light so you can take it when travelling... yeah, a somewhat pointless concept, but it is a dream.)

I further expressed my gratitude, but I realized that something in what he was telling me is off... it was as though he was giving up on himself. Suicidal, perhaps. I inquired further mainly to learn that he had some nondescript disease (it was not cancer - it wasn't specified at all) which greatly shortened his lifespan and that his particular lifespan is very nearly exhausted.

I was quite touched by this. As the man left, I implored - perhaps the clearest part of my dream: "Please remember - in this day and age, we have the means to fight such diseases! Please do not give up." As he was already on his way to his next destination, I was not sure if he heard.

I returned to my room. It was set up in a strange way, permitting a water spout to be left open above a pillow. I made to turn it off, quite bewildered, and then met the person currently using the bed. He explained it was intentional - some way to cool the pillows off.
I set the gifted music player on my table beside my bed.

This is all I could remember.

intersection

Recently, I have become a part of a small sub-community that makes its home on TeamLiquid forums and in an IRC channel: TLPonies, a group of people who are fans of both eSports and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. This has reminded me of a certain observation I have made.

My favourite type of community is, after all, a small one. While it is quite inspiring to be a part of something greater much like indeed eSports, I mostly find myself having the best times in small social circles.

Such tiny sub-communities are often either defined by more than one interest or are simply less common (Aikido). As such, the people who do, in fact, seek out such sub-communities are often shaped by the interests they pursue. 

This creates a filter for shared traits, the amount of which rises as the filter narrows. As such, while in a huge community there will be all kinds of people, in a small one the people you get will often share additional interests beyond the few that define their sub-community. It becomes much easier to find that middle ground, that common language which is so important in binding societies large and small alike.

I even have a few examples to give you an idea of what I mean. I have met among TLponies some people who are aware of Isis, Cult of Luna or Neurosis, some who have raided in WoW, a person who knows Aikido somewhat closely. This may not seem that special, especially the WoW example, but the truth is that I find it rare to find so much common ground with others in any community. 

Another great aspect of such small communities is how they're a lot more personal. You generally recognize everyone, everyone is aware of you and this creates more familiarity and makes interactions more interesting. The size aspect alone is why I preferred 10-man raiding once it was a thing in WoW.

That is why I enjoy hanging out in the TLponies IRC so much and that is also why I mostly chose roleplaying servers and kept to my guild more than I posted on the realm forums (although I did use to post a lot more in WoW Vanilla/TBC).  That is also why I rarely post on forums in general (such as Reddit or TL outside of the pony thread). 

And yeah, this post is basically one huge shoutout :D I tried to make a point with it, at least. You guys are completely awesome.

in fiction

Talking to Gergana, a close friend of mine, has reminded me of something incredibly awesome.

We can manifest fiction in our heads - entire worlds and universes, filled to the brim with fantastic creatures and possibilities. We can build these worlds up from a creative nothingness, write their histories down in books, define the laws that govern these new realities.

howl

It's 6:30 AM as of writing and I am destroying my sleep schedule, but with good reason. My friend, who I am wasting the night away with - Kasia - the same friend who had recently visited me, has just now told me a story that I simply found interesting enough to share.

EU Battle.net Invitational 2011

I know it's been about a month since the European Battle.net Invitational happened, but I've actually never made a decent attempt at telling the full tale and recounting most of my experiences there. Why shouldn't I? After all, I had one of the best times in a long while - it was my first live eSports experience - definitely worth talking about.

ghost key II

There is an ancient post of mine containing a link and a brief reflection on that link, in which I note I have never had what could be considered a "supernatural" encounter, something that would cause a skeptic to grin mockingly as I recounted the tale, something that could not easily be explained without reaching some peculiar conclusions.

I've been exposed from early on to various recounts of encounters with the paranormal, the unexplained, signs from a realm unknown and hidden from our sight. Raised in a spiritually open household (which, while not complying with conventional Christianity, never eschewed any form of spiritual expression completely), I was ready and hoping for something to happen.

Nope.
Nothing.

Recently, I've been paid a rather long visit by my best friend and her boyfriend. Said boyfriend - who once used to be a die-hard skeptic - changed his mind after having experienced a few unnatural encounters himself. My best friend herself is not skeptic, but occasionally has to deal with a form of anxiety where she fears oblivion after death.
During our second night, when we finally got around to breaking out the drinks, there was a moment during the night when my friend reportedly saw something - rather nondescript, but with a height attributed to it - outside the window. I did not have the same experience - I saw no unfamiliar or unwelcome movement anywhere beyond the windows.
This segued from us warily guarding the living room, prepared to fend for ourselves, into us sitting down on the couch or the cold floor and sharing various odd tales. Both my friend and her boyfriend had plenty to share.
I had nothing.

It's not the case that I am guarding myself actively with a shield of cynical skepticism. I always listen intently - I have a love for the mysterious and unexplained (as opposed to cheap scares and any kind of horror) and I always find myself somewhat envious of these people and their experiences.
Is it perhaps my brain subconsciously defending itself? The closest I've come to an actual thing happening is an acutely strange feeling, a tense atmosphere created by deeper darkness and starkly contrasting nightlight - a feeling, in fact, which just inspired me to write this post. And yet I end up catching myself thinking these typical, "adult" comforting thoughts - it's just the contrasting lighting, that was just wind or whatever. I find something firmly real to blame. I find an explanation - where perhaps the story would've been a little better if there wasn't an explanation to what just happened.

I'm still holding out, in any case. I just hope it's nothing needlessly scary or horrifying. I hope to one day gather an experience that I cannot explain by rational, physical means.

To close out this post, there is a story I might have never shared. I can't recall it all too well, but it's short and it happened sometime not too long after Father's death.
We received a random call, which was attributed to an internal number, on our stationary phones. I believe the number was, in fact, 261 or 262 - one of the internal lines my father once used. My mom answered it and heard nothing on the other line. We double-checked with the entire house and confirmed that there was absolutely no one who could've been calling from that number, from that location in the house. No one was on that spot in that time - everyone had an alibi.
It happened twice.
My mom was not hasty to conclude anything. She simply chose to say she cannot explain the calls.

p.s. Talking to my friend today, I have been reminded that she actually can't be described as "not a skeptic" truthfully. Her own explanation is that, while she is intellectually convinced by the stories and accounts she hears, the conviction is not absolute and, in her words, does not reach the heart.

no middle ground

Thinking about rating systems on the Internet (YouTube, Reddit come to mind), a lot of "rating" comes down to a simple "Like/Dislike" system (up/downvotes on Reddit, likes on FB). Is this perhaps a consequence - or a small part of the reason - of a tendency for strong opinions?

Opinions and reactions on the Internet often get incredibly polar - it's hard to see the middle ground between love and hate for someone or something. Though in that case, it's also the fact that people with more balanced or neutral opinions don't tend to voice them as much as those with extreme opinions of either kind.

This is something I've seen a lot of examples of on Reddit and some especially in the SC2 community. Sometimes those are gathered around subjects that are polarizing in themselves (IdrA, iNcontroL and EG in general come to mind). The common trend is that very few people just dislike someone or feel negative about a topic in a vocal, but calm way. It's a lot more common to see people flip the fuck out - wishing death upon others, insulting them for everything and actively trying to make them feel like shit. It works on the other end of the spectrum, too - if you don't hate someone, you probably love them instead in a rabid, fanboyish manner, unwilling to hear out or accept criticism towards their favourite person.

It's probably the rule of the vocal minority, honestly - but this only means that people of the middle ground shouldn't be afraid to speak up more often, offer criticism for those they like and not overlook the good things about those they don't like.

No wonder I couldn't fit this thought in any of my social media!
In other news, MLG Anaheim has made my weekend absolutely amazing. My sleep schedule is dead as shit, but, y'know... totally worth it. Can't wait for the finals.

buyer's mixup dream

Some dreams make for mildly amusing stories. This one felt like a rather subtle advertisement...

I was browsing stores with video games in the nearby Centrum Janki mall, starting from the local Empik. I considered for a while a Command & Conquer complete set of games, then decided against it. I kept peering around, then I went to the Real supermarket to see what games are there. Strangely, in the dream the available games spanned a wide range including really old titles (I recall seeing Fallout 1 and the Quake series). I eventually settled on buying Fallout 3, but somehow never actually did...

The dream skipped forward to when I was at home. I think I had asked Dad and Mom to pick the game up, they went with me and it turned out Dad chose something completely different - which I only learned of at home. I was very unhappy with this. I stormed off to ask the store's customer service for a swap. They were unwilling to make the trade, they listed complex conditions under which they would agree.

This concluded the dream on the note that I would have to spend more money to get Fallout 3 and make up for the mistake. The regret lasted until I woke and realized I had dreamt of all that - the thought brought me considerable relief.

I guess my subconscious is advertising Fallout to me for some reason...

ghafla

Sometimes, a sensationalist story is born somewhere. Something utterly wild, something ridiculously audacious in its claims. It grabs everyone's attention. It provides a distraction.

This time, it's a prediction of the Rapture made by a random spokesman based on very shaky Bible research.

Every joke and every post regarding this sensation, sadly including this one, has time and again irked me for one important reason. It is hypocrisy of me to talk about it, since I am lending myself to it as well - the only excuse I have is that I want to make the following point.

The whole thing is an obvious farce, in my opinion. A distraction that serves to turn heads away from more important thoughts and issues, clogging people's brain RAM and CPU time for nothing (as it is doing with mine, unfortunately). And every single moment of time we spend propagating it is time that, in my opinion, is wasted...

This is not the first time our society is given such a delicious morsel by the media to distract itself with. A lot of sensations are like this. Sometimes, there is a piece of importance in there. I don't feel the exact same way about Osama Bin Laden's death, for instance. He was a dangerous man, devoured by dangerous ideas. However, the Rapture noise has no real importance. All that's going to happen is a bunch of people feeling a little embarrassed about themselves for having fallen for it.

Once you start talking about such a distraction, your approach towards it doesn't matter much. Some of the jokes are amusing, but even joking about the whole thing still propagates and increases people's awareness of the topic, thus further spreading the distraction, the ghafla, turning our eyes away from more interesting or important matters for a moment, blocking out our valuable mindspace.

I think we should be more mindful of the harm those distractions cause and more cautious with the choice on whether to discuss such news at all or not bother. A distracted mind is the easiest to deceive, to control - its energy is redirected elsewhere, its eyes turned away, allowing something important to be slipped past without it being noticed.
Turn your eyes away from the gadfly.

the division bell

According to my definition of what constitutes a day - from good morning to goodnight, regardless of such mere things as dates and times - it's Day 29, the second-to-last day of my 30 Day Song Challenge undertaking. The theme for this day is "a song from your childhood".

As soon as I saw this position on the 30 Day Song Challenge list, I knew it would be an opportunity to share with you not just a song link, but something much more - a small part of me, a memory and a tale, an example of how music is an integral part of my life.

So, let me tell you a story.

It was a warm summer evening. My parents and my grandmother were packing for a trip to my grandmother's cottage in a distant village by the name of Pogorzelec. Our house had a humongous satellite dish and assorted TV equipment. In a spare moment, my father was scanning the horizon with said dish, hopping between TV satellites and looking for interesting transmissions. Eventually he found a very curious transmission, indeed - a live stream from a concert. He thought it was merely a fragment, but it was in fact the whole thing.
It was The Division Bell Tour.
My much younger self was there to see it - and reportedly, it caught my full and undivided attention. Yes, indeed - the attention of a normally fairly spastic kid, completely centered on the lights and the music. I sat down cross-legged, resting my head on my fists, thoroughly entranced.
My parents were quite amazed by the intensity of my focus. They didn't wish to interrupt me. In the end, they chose to not go and instead watched the concert with me, much to their pleasure.


Pink Floyd's music was always there when I was young. My parents listened to them frequently, inbetween classical music and other rock artists from the same generation as Pink Floyd. Even now, a few of my favourite bands cite Pink Floyd among their inspirations and indeed the music I listen to is much in a similar trend, filled with melody, spacious, entrancing, rich and dripping with sound.
I still recall those long roads we've traveled with my family, playing music on the car audio. I would occasionally have a wish in regards to music - in particular, I remember frequent requests of mine for a certain CD which I called the mottled or spotted CD ("plamiasta płyta" was the exact Polish phrasing).
High Hopes stood out in my mind, a song about nostalgia and the passing of time, as touching and powerful now as ever - and every time I hear these buzzing flies and that tolling of iron bells, my mind's eye never fails to summon an image of those warm sunny days spent travelling with my family. Trees, water... that rich, warm, yellow light...
The grass was indeed greener and the light was brighter, then.

wake

It's high time I said something, here, that has more substance to it - something more communicative than a shitty poem written before sleep (somewhat like this note) or transcribed from my university notebooks.

I think it's time to wake.
I've been spending long days doing very little even in the things that I claim to enjoy. Beset by Facebook and Twitter, surrounded by simple content that I absorb through my eyes and ears. Starcraft 2 makes for a good example of what I'm talking about. I did claw my way into the Gold League, once, wherein I stood my ground as a potent Zerg force... and then I just stopped playing.

Recently, I found myself drawn by watching countless SC2 games as a form of pasttime. Much like the man who sits in front of a TV, sipping a drink and watching a football game, I would stare at my monitor in awe as world-class players battled for dominance in a sport that only occurs within a virtual space.

It eventually occurred to me how passive I have become. Most of my thoughts are short enough to squeeze into a 140-character tweet. The words stopped spilling out of my pen. Even as a "gamer", I only really watched - the only game I actively played is World of Warcraft, raiding with my guild.

Complacent and passive, how would I ever move forward? I have no right to complain about mediocrity and complacency if I myself am not doing anything with my hobbies, with my ideas or indeed with my studies.

Personal development and self-betterment is not something applied directly in singular, discrete spots. The fact I'm bringing up hobbies is because I feel our hobbies - all of them - have a much greater impact than what we notice. Gaming trains the mind and its connection to the body, whereas Aikido trains the body and its connection to the mind. Understanding the world through the various sciences also allows us to get closer and closer to very important answers.

I shall wake up the mind and body, lift myself out of slumber. Go forward, create or do something every day. Lose those SC2 games and learn the hard way.
It just feels good when you realize you're doing and not just watching things being done.

nothing new

The crushing weight of a pen resting idly.
The paper decaying, slowly drained by time.
These strings are quiet, gnawed by creeping rust.
Words of the wise restlessly flail in closed books.

Old yellow light paints the wall
The falling dust does not stir.
The unbroken spell of silence
where once a sound so warm echoed in air.

Nothing more left to write.
Old drawings of the past, moments locked in amber
fade away on yellowing paper.
No presence, no soul, no vibration.

The memories glow in the fading sunshine.
Movements, places, moments, words...
And as night falls, something moves.
The pen is lifted, the page is turned.

silence and echoes

prowling those dreary halls
a dark mansion of twisted stone
the silence is overwhelming
nothing moves in the still daylight
except dust, slowly settling...

I crept past the creaking gate,
following your trail of warmth,
but I cannot sense it anymore.

how long have I been here?
the light is slowly fading,
the last moments of the day.

what of the night, then?
what strange things could rise
from these cobwebbed corners?

a sense of urgency...
I need to find you
before the night falls,
before it's too late,
I want to deliver you
from this dark and cold place.

so I call out your name...
the silence shatters loudly
the sound reverberates
from stone to dark stone
repeated in a nightmarish cacophony.

I dare not speak again,
I barely move after the echo,
paralyzed by fear of the strange things,
lurking deep within the silence.
I dare not wake them from slumber.

I creep forward,
how long has it been?
I still cannot find anything.
the sun is already setting...

the spring

a soul drifts on northern winds
suspended in darkness it barely moves
frost crawls along its useless limbs
and what little warmth remaining drains away

yet a voice escapes its dry lips,
movements from an old memory,
an ancient process still active
a whispered prayer for the light.

"oh Sun, endlessly burning,
find and release me.
oh Sun, beloved warmth
free me from the ruthless winter."

a moment and a chance,
a movement into light.
and something stirs, something wakes
in the empty shell of a man.

a spark in his eyes,
words cease, prayer is answered.
and life creeps once more
thorough the waking forest.

warm light seeps through branches,
an ember is lit in the shade
a fire fed from within,
resonating with the radiance.

blood flows faster,
breathing in the fragrant wind
rich with renewed life.

silence is shattered.
words escape his throat,
far louder than prayer.

"oh Sun, endlessly burning
you found me and released me.
oh Sun, beloved warmth
the winter gave way to spring."

victory of the sun

When you hear Last Christmas for hell knows which time already, when you watch with weary eyes yet another bloody advertisement with Santas and reindeers telling you to be jolly and buy someone their product as a gift, when people whine about Kevin not being on TV, when your bus crawls through streets muddy with abused remnants of snow and you're already 15 minutes late to whatever place you're heading off to...

Stop for a while and remember one important thing.

This is not the true nature of Christmas.
I would not be hasty to condemn the ENTIRE Christmas time. There is a very important reason for which we gather in the warmth and safety of our houses - for this one moment in time we are together again, feasting and wishing each other the best.
We are, in fact, celebrating the winter solstice. Christmas occurs several days after it, also for a reason. The winter solstice is the longest night in the year, when the Sun stays in the sky for the shortest time. And a few days after, the days start getting longer again. This is exactly what we are celebrating - the Sun's victory against the growing darkness, the point in time where a new hope is born, the light that will yet save us from the cold, dark winter and bring Nature back to life.

I can't think of a culture that did not celebrate the two equinoxes and two solstices. It is important, especially in such a depressing season as winter, to cultivate this spark of hope, the memory of a warm light that will yet return to save us all.

Do not listen to these demons, peddlers of useless wares, do not listen to these insane people who sold the soul of Christmas for gold. Listen instead to your traditions, gather round in your families and sit by the table, reminisce of the past and hope for the future. Christ will be born again, if you believe that kind of thing - after all, Christians have the same idea, they just nicked it and put it differently.
The Sun will win.

personal note #99

A friend of mine, Marek Mateusz Narożniak, writes a blog which I follow quite closely. He frequently shares bits of wisdom, short or long, that I read with great interest. Recently, he posted this note and I felt strongly compelled to translate it into English - I thought it should be shared with more people than it would be otherwise if left in its original Polish language.

I am somewhat uncertain as to whether I can add anything meaningful with a comment. After all, the matter discussed by this note already eludes any possible words.

The original note in its original language can be found at this location.

First, he decided to limit the power of his will, surrender to his ego, forsake his divinity and perfection for futility and illusion, and all that remained were tears, despair, everything else is silence. Constantly lost, still far away from his true self. Addicted to naming and terming. Isolated and lonely.

Who cares whether God exists, what does it matter how your country is called, whether you eat rice or bread, whether you have normal or slanted eyes, how your skin color is called and whether it is similar to others or not. Who cares about politics, a bunch of liars and fools, totally and helplessly attached to their brief identities. What's the difference if someone else is the president? The prime minister?

You have no idea how much of a speck of dust you are, a blink of an eye in the face of what the universe is. All you care about are elements of your microscopic world, completely unnoticeable from the perspective of all that is due to its insignificance.

You are afraid that you'll disappear, that you will stop being. You are a slave, but you do not serve any secret brotherhoods, any secret (or overt) monarchs, you don't serve your parents, your boss at work, you don't serve your teachers or friends.
Your ego is your master. You give in to it entirely. You can oppose anyone, you can free yourself of anything, but you are only truly afraid of losing your identity. This is the only step you will never find the courage to take, the only step you are too weak, too small to take.

You are so asleep and unaware. You can have beautiful cars, a perfect life partner, you can visit the most beautiful places on this tiny planet, you can own anything, others can serve you, you can never have to do anything by yourself again, but even all those things put together cannot be compared to one second of feeling your own heartbeat, to one true, alive breath, the one you will never feel, because you're a slave to a master that you cannot see, that exists within you without your knowledge, that has convinced you that you are him.

Being truly alive and free, being one with the universe, that is something no word can describe. That is a feeling that drives the painter to tear apart his canvas and burst into tears, unable to paint it, aware that he cannot share it with anyone, since other slaves cannot perceive it.

Noone can give you this, you cannot earn this through hard work, no blessing can help - the wisdom I speak of cannot be written in any book, cannot be even shared through words. The truth is so slippery that no word can grasp it. This whole false civilzation is based upon words. Law is everywhere, you have so many dictionaries, body-builders can train their muscles with them, dictionaries are useful only for that.

I am powerless as well, I can talk endlessly, I can't convey anything to you, you won't understand a thing anyway, slave. You won't understand anything until you disappear, until you vanish into nothingness, you won't see anything nor feel anything. You are a living corpse, your biochemistry reeks, you disgusting abnormality of evolutuion, grow up to that which exists, look up to the stars instead of looking into your worthless books which are about to turn to dust.

dance with the devil

and I dance with the devil
and prance and sing with him
to the primal beat of my heart
our frantic steps bring us close
and then apart again
he cannot corrupt my soul
he cannot bring me down into the abyss
he knows and he must dance
for I know his true name

but I must not miss a step
I need to balance on the line
I cannot waste this chance
to prove the devil wrong
I must keep dancing
until the music ends
then I will walk away, free

I need to post more here...
so here's something I wrote on a bus trip to work.

sexuality again

It's a topic I return to way too often, maybe. I think I actually wrote about this before, but I've found new ways to describe the problem that I keep sensing so often.

It's in the way we talk about sex, it's in all those euphemisms, all those descriptions, you know - sexual thoughts being dirty or even wicked, for example. Discussions or laughs about sexuality being perceived as crude, low-brow.

At the core of this lies some ancient notion that sex is wrong - and it's wrong to delve too far into our own sexuality. Isn't it high time that we began to consciously purge this notion from our lives? Open our eyes and see how it has been creeping for ages into our ways of thinking, our vocabulary, planted firmly in these strange corners of our minds through a sort of societal gestalt.

Of course, in these days human sexuality is becoming a far more open topic, but it's still not something completely natural to us. There are still inhibitions in place. The topic still demands some respect due to how special love and sex are (or, at least, should be) in our lives, but respect should not be confused with fear.

Here's something that touches on the subject as well, a compilation from Bill Hick's sketches.