The problem seems to be that anything that could yield a face-to-face consquence, i.e. someone I know in “real life” changing their attitude towards me, scares me shitless. Consequentially, I’m stuck unable to interact with some people. When asked, I’ll say everything’s fine. “I’m doing alright, don’t worry about me” – but really, am I?

My blog is read. That’s for fact. By the wrong (maybe) people, and thus, it yields face-to-face consequences which I’m very often unable to deal with.

Today I skipped school, I couldn’t help it. In a dream I’ve had last night, I was receiving a phone call from a certain person, whom I shall name Gary. Gary disappeared a while ago, no phone calls, no emails, no messages, his profile was deleted (actively by him, as it hasn’t been 90 days since his disappearance) – when I try to call him I get his answering machine after about four rings. I never met him in person, never went on a date, nothing. Nothing works, I don’t know where he is.  Disappeared, vanished into thin air. So the dream starts with my cell phone ringing, I pick it up still in bed, while staring at the ceiling. It’s him, I can’t see the name though on the caller ID, it’s blurry without my glasses.

No hello, no nothing. He starts yelling at me over the phone. I, being half asleep at that point, am not able to respond. I interject some approving groans and that seems to appease him, and so he moves to the next point. Great, I don’t know what you’re saying anyway.

At some point, I get tired of listening to him saying “look, I’m tired” and hanging up. He seemed upset over the phone, and soon enough, I regret having hung up on him and resolve that I should give up. Gary doesn’t call back, and I break into tears with regret and fall back to sleep.

I woke up at around 10:00. I decided I can’t go to school today, and that I have to sort things out between myself about this whole thing, it’s too important for me to just leave it like that.

A friend of mine from WoW insisted that he doesn’t want to hear about my dreams, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I suggested that he was flirting with me when he called me “furball”, but seriously, you have to admit it would make sense.

Moruku on the other hand was most helpful, though I simply couldn’t formulate it at that point, so we ended up not talking about it.

Something occured to me, was I really dreaming? I checked my call log, and Gary’s number doesn’t seem to show up. Looks like I was just dreaming after all.

Come back, Gary, please. I need you to at least tell me you’re fine, I’m worried about you.

This brings me to a couple of a interesting points.

1. So I got an IB diploma – and…?

Unlike my classmates, I’m not going straight to university. My future isn’t as certain as theirs. What if I don’t manage to get out of the army? In that case, there’s no point in applying to a university right now. And suppose I did have to apply, I’ll probably do it in Denmark, where the curriculum is probably going to be in Danish (unless I take the odd course in English or so), so in other words, I’ll have to learn Danish. I’ll take about two or three years just to get that to a good academic level. So, 2-6 years after graduation just until I can even think about applying.

So, suppose I waited 2-6 years, I might as well go do a shitty crash-course and graduate the untraditional way. I’ll go to that length, why shouldn’t I just keep going?

2. If I can hardly make it now – will I be able to make it through a (theoretically) more demanding course?

I’m struggling, torn between meds and mood swings, grades slipping. Why is it going to be any easier on me then than it is now?

3. Working as a waiter = more than enough to live. Working as an analyst = more than enough to live.

You guessed it, thanks to socialism, the minimum wage can actually sustain me. And you know what, waiters are overpaid anyway. So I can actually stay alive and buy me all the things I need. No problem.

4. Living on student subsidies isn’t that great, unless you have savings.

It occured to me that living on student subsidies probably isn’t much fun. I know people who live like that – either their parents support them or their partner. It’s livable, just a bit under the standards.

Conclusion

Please tell me I’m wrong.

I did quit coffee, correct, but I’m coming back now. Coffee is good, I don’t care. I got so much work done, I love it!

What started out pretty good, I must say – my first year in the IB diploma I’m not afraid to say that I was quite a good hardworking student, organized even. But then, after the holiday, I’ve been running dry, completely dry. So, what do I do, I ask myself, if I’m not producing any art, not producing any writing, not “producing” grades and not doing anything worth doing.

Maybe I should just do something robotic that requires little thinking for a while, just to get things right again. “I think too much.”

Just the other day, I was working on a certain work of art, the first one I like in quite a long while. My art teacher then caught sight of it. He liked it.

“Ah! I like this.” He said. Of course, he can’t just tell me it’s “crap”, and he didn’t say it’s very “conceptual”, so I think I’m pretty much safe.

“Just ignore the crop box, and everything outside it. It’s supposed to be fifty-by-seventy.”

“No! You got it all wrong!” he exclaimed and examined the messy “unfinished” product.

“But then it’s too messy, I need to change it, and I mean, the whole…” I went searching for words, “composition, and colors.”

He just shook his head and told me the strangest thing, coming out of him that is: “You create something good, and then you start thinking about it, intellectualizing it, and then you just start going wrong.” That’s it.

Yes, theory does destroy you, sure, but as long as you can disconnect from it, fine, go ahead, I figured. Back in the day, before I had the whip of the IB Visual Arts curriculum and examination, I would just “do” what I felt like and not think about what I need to write in my stupid developmental workbook. I’m one step closer to the bonfire, this time holding the developmental workbook.

Suppose I went to see concerts, eventually reaching a state where my hearing will degrade to the point at which I can’t really hear much. Suppose Would I keep going to loud concerts? Well, my hearing will degrade even further, or possibly, there’s an alternative. Earplugs.

In search of earplugs.

I would have to find a clever solution to my problem, something to do with being able to disconnect myself. I decided that the solution will have to conform to these basic criteria:

1. It must not develop a dependence.
2. It must not be illegal.
3. It must not corrode my brain, limit my capacity or undermine my future.

I do realize that I’m facing a major challenge here, and I really don’t know what to do, but here are some possible problems I could suggest as to why I’m in this awful “creative block”.

The IB curriculum itself. Could it be that it’s causing this crippling condition? Could I be unable to deal with some of the obstacles it lays in my path? Unfortunately, a solution will

Lack of positive stimulus from “good” academics and creativity, plenty of positive stimulus from unproductive, “self destructive” habits. I haven’t quite had anyone tell me what a good job I did, nobody tells me to keep working. The kind of person I am, I always attempt to work “for” others. I could be a great secretary, as long as I get tasks sent in my way all the time, and they’re for other people who expect me to do them, not from a vague organization, and not “for myself.” Perhaps I “need someone” to put some pressure on me and pat me on the head every time I do some good work. It worked last May, it’ll work again.

My current creative outlets and inlets are fine, but I how about the old ones? How about I try returning to old creative outlets in inlets. Maybe I should go back to creative writing, make myself do it. Or maybe even coding? One thing for sure, I better start reading literature again (that’s what I mean by “creative inlet”, don’t bother looking it up – I made it up). Perhaps the beauty of their complexity will get my gears going again and make me productive, just like in the good old days.

Diet, sleep and lack of caffeine. If I wasn’t short on cash, I would have considered buying a pack of coffee tablets today. I need to bring the coffee machine in the lounge back to an operating condition, and begin consuming caffeine in hopes of it improving my academic performance (pffft!) and creativity. Additionally, my diet’s been all wrong, and with little sleep, I think it’s a dangerous mix. Fixing these might be a good idea.

Meditation. I was told it could potentially help, I don’t know though. I’ll have to do some research.

Sessions with a psychologist. Yes, I’m pushing towards that – I’ll get it at some point, I’m sure.

I might as well just do all of them, ah?

“Oh no, I have an essay tomorrow… and then I have my math homework… and then <something else>”. I hear that every now and then. No, sorry. All the time. People keep telling me just how “stressed” they are. They complain, whine, tell me how miserable they are. O NOEZ IM STRESSED.

Me, personally, I’m subjected to more or less the same amount of work. Am I stressed? Not really. How come? Easy:

I don’t let it disrupt other areas of my life.

If “stress” going to make me even more suicidal than now, maybe I should do less work. Yep, I do that.

I have hobbies, sure, and I don’t want to give up on them, and I don’t. On Xfire it says I played about 30 hours of World of Warcraft in the past 7 days. Note, I don’t feel stressed and I get about as much work as anyone else around here. How come I’m not feeling any stress, let’s see.

I’m naturally calm, I’d say. My cousin has this really awful dog, still does probably, and I remember how I was pretty much the only person around who’d get the damn thing to calm down. This anti-stress energy is just radiating from me. Yes, you could say I’m hypoactive. Note: Nowadays I try not to think about this dog, her hair is amazingly similar to that of an ex of mine (whom I had previously mentioned in the blog)

Tip 1: Skip the fucking readings

Nobody, nobody cares if you read the stuff you’re supposed to. Sure, it’s generally a good idea, but my social anthropology and English teachers talk about the material so much that there’s no real use in actually reading it. They’ll talk about it anyway, so you don’t have to read it.

Tip 2: Audiobooks

Me personally, I have a serious problem. Even if I did read something, I would very often not understand it, not be able to spit out raw facts from the text, not be able to process it, etc. It happens very often, don’t even know why. Audio seems to work much better with me. So what I do is pirate audiobooks and “read” those instead. And that works for me.

Tip 3: If it’s “good enough”, it really is, good enough

Don’t perfect everything! What are you, a Chinese sweatshop worker? Just do something rough that gets you an acceptable grade. Perfection is too much for anyone. No, don’t do a half assed job, just do something acceptable.

Tip 4: Ungraded homework = unimportant

Just in case you didn’t realize it yet, you are at university/school for one reason: a number (or letter in some places). Don’t do ungraded homework! What’s the point?

I hope this guide helps you accomplish the minimum possible. Have fun, take some ritalin, and just really, do the minimum. It’s better for your mental health, I guess.

But wait, if I’m here, and the classroom is theoretically in “class mode”, but there’s no class going on. Why? The teacher’s busy checking homework.

Yes. Checking homework. I’m on my second year of IB, and my standard level biology teacher, believe it or not, gives and checks homework, ungraded homework. Being ungraded, they do not enter our records, they do not count for my internal assessment, the IBO does not know about them, the Vade Mecum does not mention them. In other words, by doing the homework, I’ll be pushing a rock up a mountain for no reason.

Isn’t the whole IB diploma supposed to make me an independant learner? Well, in that case, why am I being guided like an eight grader?

Instead of doing the usual lecture type presentation, with a few slides in the background and me writing notes and possibly asking questions, I’m stuck sitting in a room with a frustrated teacher treating a bunch of kids like they don’t know how to tie their own shoelaces and need guidance. They of course, refuse to be “guided” this way and instead end up not doing the homework. In turn, the teacher becomes frustrated, the students become frustrated with the teacher, and precious time is wasted.

How about that, my own learning should be in my hands. The teacher should provide me with information, which I will review at my own pace.

Oh, look, I’m 30 minutes into the lesson and no lecture, no presentation, only old questions! Great! No sign of it starting any time soon.

I really don’t get it. All I want is just to get this piece of paper, not work my ass off for no reason.

What really worries me is that there’s a play I’ve been trying to write. Or, tried to. Three times. I have it all planned out in my head, or thought I did – three times. I re-wrote it 3 times. Each time I didn’t want to come back to the older copy because I didn’t like it, so I made another one.

But then I came back another time and did the same.

I wrote “a thought on a monday morning” in one sitting. I wrote tons of haikus, again, in one sitting.

I wrote every single blog entry (with the exception of a few) in, yes, one sitting. I had about 7 drafts, but I never got myself to go back to them.

I did Heat in, you guessed it, one sitting. I did Butter + Life in… Hmm… two sittings, though practically it was one, the other was was just photos lying on my harddrive.

I’m very worried about my extended essay. Very worried because I am unable to stick to one topic no matter what I do. That’s exactly why I failed my personal project the first time, and just barely passed the next year.

I often wonder what I’ll do without an IB-anything. Sure, I have that MYP diploma, what’s that good for anyway? But… I’m worried. I’m very worried. I can’t stick to one subject, which makes my long term assignments into disorganized blobs.

I made a plan my extended essay. Revised it 4 times since then. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to mean now, I don’t like it, i don’t want to follow it.

Again. I’m worried.

Why is everything I write so awfully bland?

Brainwash, oh, sorry, indoctrination, is of course everywhere.

The only way to really get over it, I would say, is by a change of context. Possibly the best thing that could ever happen to anyone is to be torn away from where the were born and move somewhere else, I’m not kidding. To grow up one place and mature someplace else, just to get a proper perspective.

I was in 7th grade back in September 11 2001. A day known for one thing which will in turn change things as we know them – in the mind of the average republican anyway.

The average Israeli worships the US, anything to do with it, anything with the slightest relevance. Of course, after that day, it would seem to them, that the US became just a little more like Israel. To be honest, it probably did a little bit – hey, the conservatives did stay in office.

And so some teacher, I think, said something rather awkward in retrospect. “There’s been a conspiracy that the Jews sabotaged the world trade center,” she said, “but the reason why they were absent that day was because they all went to a certain funeral.”Wait a second, what? Citation needed, don’t you think? Of course there’s going to be conspiracies, but what kind of a crappy excuse is that?

Reminds me of something my history teacher at the time said, that “Jews were hated in Europe because they were” according to him, “better in every way.” It all just clicked in my mind: I was being very obviously brainwashed constantly. That’s education for ya’.

Among other things, this awful brainwash (that is, education) included: The bible (the old testament of) was taught as factual and true.

That polytheists are primitive. Give me a break, it’s all the same. Who am I to tell others that their religion is defective?

That circumcision is not only good, but it’s also required and does not reduce sexual pleasure; uncircumcised males will have problems at some point, it’s disgusting, etc. But of course, it’s not really endorsed by urologists (anymore, as far as I know) and is only done is certain cases of infection if anything – it’s rare anyhow and easily treatable.

Hey, but that’s education, I guess? Or is it just the horrible crushing majority of Jews in Israel? Pluralism will not exist for at least another 2-3 generations ahead.

I’m off the bandwagon, lucky for me. See you then, Israel.

He does legally hold two nationalities, and yet neither of them is in fact related to his current position on earth, or maybe just by a broad definition – “European.”

He makes attempts to learn the local language and fit in, presents himself as a local, or a “citizen of the world”, but hits the same brick wall – he does not fit exactly, but merely some of the time. He may hold two passports, but not want to have much with one nationality, and being very distant from the other.

His previous experiences in life, the language which he had acquired mean absolutely nothing in his current surroundings – a recently planted tree, significantly smaller than the rest in the forest. Will he ever bear fruits or repay society? That’s most certainly his plan, whether or not

Thanks to involuntary military service, a large Jewish orthodox sector, extreme weather, lack of respect for the environment and the beaurocracy’s helplessness facing these issues – I decided to take the plunge and be this proletariat drifter scum.

Luckily, I managed to get a hold of a German passport. Since Denmark is in the EU, I’m pretty much set. I am able to receive free tuition and even subsidy. Arrangements are being made, and the day slowly nears that I will come back, in 2009, or maybe even late 2008 and become a proletariat drifter scum.

To be honest, my life as a proletariat drifter scum can’t possibly be worse than my life as a local would have been in Israel. It’s just not going to work with me and Israel, we’re too different. Too different, and indeed, we must therefor break up, peacefully and quietly.

Socialism is definitely the way to go. Israel isn’t really my thing. The issue’s pretty much solved.

So that’s it, I’ll be living the next few years in Denmark, that’s for certain – most likely even the next few decades. And me, I couldn’t get any happier. I’m not alone as I am now, and knowing Danish (properly at least) would be even better.

May 2008, I finish IB. August 2008, I’m going to fight for my freedom in the battle against the involuntary military service in Israel. Then later in 2008, or even at late as 2009, back to Denmark.

So I won’t have the right to vote, like anybody cares. So long, Israel.

Organization is not a learned “skill.” It’s not a “skill” to begin with. It’s about spending time dealing with bureaucracy and the paper-hell in advance. In my experience, it saves practically no time whatsoever.

Unfortunately, I seem to have this self destructive tendency to work great under pressure. If Dushkin works great under pressure, Dushkin will try to push self to edge, Dushkin will create stress for Dushkin to finish work. In other words, I procrastinate on purpose.

“Know thyself” my ass. It’s obviously self-destructive, and mazochistic. One of my incompatible wishes somewhere down in my id, to only work under pressure.

Organization detached me from the rest of the world. You start reading self improvement books, working on things in pieces, and the next thing you know, there’s a distance between you and the rest of the world and you just can’t do anything about it. A thin membrane will seperate you from your peers, parents, “community” and friends. “Sorry, can’t talk now, I’m busy.”

By decompressing your work, you leave yourself practically no time to do other things which are, probably, more important. When you do have the time, you will realize that your “friends” have already gotten into the habbit of not inviting you to social gatherings (of whatever nature.)

Reversing the situation is theoretically impossible. For instance, my birthday “party.” I invited various people, out of which two people came, and one uninvited guest, another one arrived an hour and a half late and insisted on leavingbecome midnight for a total of about 1 hour of actually doing anything. The other three decided it’ll be a great idea to go smoke pot, although I made it very clear that I have no interest in it. The whole thing ended at around 11:40 pm.

I timed it, phoned all the parties that needed to be phoned, passed emails around, begged, and wrote everything down. When it came to the practical stage, nothing went as planned.

It crossed a certain line when I began planning social interaction and trying to make sense of my world using the calendar. After two very long phone calls with BlueCoffee, I finally began to snap out of this organization-overdrive.

There is, I would say, no correlation between organization and saving time. Some of us just work slower, some are less able to isolate themselves from their environment.

It basically became very clear to me what I really wanted to do with myself and how to stop this organization madness. Unfortunately, without it, my grades are starting to slip. I might be a “better person”. I do find myself facing my incompatible wishes and slowly my super-ego dissolving and making less descisions. The former view, which accepted self-help books, now rejects standards, ideas, laws and roles and substitutes it with something else.

At the same time, I can’t convince myself of all sorts of things. The result of less self discipline. I also find it much harder to read, listen to records all the way through and stick to a single task.

My advice, don’t “get organized”! Your superiors are going to go nuts, but at least you don’t sell yourself to the whole bureaucracy.

Actually, I’m quite sick of organization. All I really want is just to run around aimlessly in grassy meadows and not think about anything. Society is all about normalization. Not very pleasant.