Goodbye, Sweet Youth

A Young Sanya, Back In The Day...

Another year older and supposedly wiser, I crawl steadily closer towards my death...

Well, actually, despite the doom and gloom I thought I'd be experiencing on this special day of days, I'm in quite a chipper mood. So I'm 21, today: whoop-de-doo!

Although I can no longer use the excuse "I'm just a child", there isn't anything to stop me from enjoying life like a child every once in a while. As one fairly intelligent Time Lord said, and I paraphrase, "What's the point in being an adult, if you can't be childish, sometimes?" Doctor, you are so right.

Besides, I'm experiencing only one of the first few "milestone" birthdays in extraordinary circumstances: I'm living abroad, I'm in a relationship, and I'm surrounded by new friends, all of which adds up to a happy Sanya. Of course, I miss all of my best people from London and Brighton (too many to mention), but even they have made sure I know I'm not forgotten, back home. Who knows, by the time I reach thirty, I'll have had even more wonderful experiences to weave into my rich tapestry. And, at the risk of sounding like a schmultzy Christmas film moral, isn't that what life and growing older is all about?

So, as I wave goodbye to the last vestiges of youth, I will shed no tears, and I shall not have any regrets. In fact, I say "Bring it on, life! I'm only 21!"

It Feels Like...

"My knees are shakin', baby;
My heart, it beats like a drum..."

As the great singer/songwriter, Kelly Marie, confirmed, the feeling of finding romance can be a dizzying experience. One can suddenly lose control of one's senses, equilibrium, balance, even how frequently one's own heart will beat.

However, I'm going to come right out and say it: that's bollocks. In the words of the Harry Enfield character, "Marie - NO!"

In finding, and maintaining, what has become my first "relationship" (ie. the first time I've been seeing one person exclusively on a regular basis), I have felt calmer, more reasonable, and, dare I say it, more normal than ever before. I'd always wondered if my slightly manic personality had something to do with the fact that I didn't have anyone close enough to me who could calm me down, and improve my dress sense. Apart from my best friends, of course...

For a whole month, now, I've been enjoying the company of an intelligent, like-minded, politically intuitive young man, whose enthusiasm has reminded me of exactly why I came here. Meet new people, experience a foreign culture first-hand, and have fun in the process. Of course, one month is not very long, but it's the longest I've ever managed (not for want of trying, I might add); and I have actually surprised myself, as well as being surprised by my new boyfriend, by managing to be a considerate, compromising, even nice person - not just to him, but to people I've never met before!

Am I in love? I don't know - it is probably too early to tell. Whatever it is, it does feel nice; and although I'm not prancing about on HMS Belfast with a couple of gay-looking sailors (see above post), I'm having a lot more fun getting to know him, and, who knows, this could be he start of something beautiful...

"Ooh, baby"...

Where the Heart Is

A Green and Peasant Land, Yesterday

45 days exactly. That's how long it's taken. It struck me a couple of days ago, when I felt a strange discomfort in my general demeanour. I paid it no attention. "I'm having a bad day", I thought, "it'll pass." It didn't.

Then, on Saturday (08/11/08), I received an email from a friend. I won't be so indiscreet as to divulge the sender or contents of the email, but it was from one of my favourite people, and I hadn't heard from him in quite a while.

Finally, on Sunday, It happened: I discovered why I'd been feeling so restless, lately. I'm homesick.

Now, I'm not talking the kind of homesick which changes one's personality: moping about at home or in my room, barely eating, bursting into tears whenever I hear something which tenuously reminds me of a vaguely British institution (e.g. Boots, Sainsbury's or the BBC). I'm talking about the kind of homesick which involves poring over friends' facebook pages, desperately trying to discern every last movement of theirs in order to feel up to date with their lives. Somewhere between "taking a keen interest" and "stalking". More towards the latter, though.

Don't get me wrong, I love being here: a different "botellón" every week, pork galore and chatting at length in the street without fear of losing one's testicles to the cold. I just wish I could share my newfound pleasures with those nearest and dearest left behind in Old Blighty. You know who you are; and if you aren't, that phrase was vague enough for you to think you are without being disappointed...

So, what, apart from hair-raisingly risky low-budget flights to Gatwick, episodes of Doctor Who on YouTube, and calling the speaking clock, is the only remedy for this ailment? I either GET OVER IT, or finally fling open my doors to the masses. Yes, the Edict of Grace is over, and the Inquisition shall begin.

In simpler words, visit Sanya. Come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough...

The 40-Year Itch

The Man Who Would Be King

Forty years ago, the successful candidate for the Presidential election managed an outstanding landslide win against his generally disregarded opponent. The electorate's main gripes were the state of the economy, the failure of a mistrusted outgoing president to deliver his promises, and a pointless war being fought thousands of miles away, of which a victory was looking more and more unlikely. Unsurprisingly, the candidate promised a change, a restoration of national pride, and unity. He won with 43.4% of the popular vote, with 31 783 783 individual votes in his favour, gaining 301 votes in the electoral college.

His name? Richard Milhous Nixon.

How did he win? He appealed to a "silent majority" of voters, disaffected by the social upheaval of the 1960s: the assassination of a hugely popular president, the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights and Hippie Movements. According to Nixon, this "silent majority" consisted of "socially conservative Americans", who couldn't concieve a liberal takeover of their country, but felt unable to change it. Sound familiar?

Two days ago, the successful candidate for the Presidential election managed an outstanding landslide win against his generally disregarded opponent. The electorate's main gripes were the state of the economy, the failure of a mistrusted outgoing president to deliver his promises, and a pointless war being fought thousands of miles away, of which a victory was looking more and more unlikely. Unsurprisingly, the candidate promised a change, a restoration of national pride, and unity. He won with 52.5% of the popular vote, with 64 413 006 individual votes in his favour, gaining 364 votes in the electoral college.

His name? Barack Hussein Obama II.

The difference between Nixon and Obama (OK, there are FAR MORE than just one) is that Nixon's idea of what made up the "silent majority" was a demographic group consisting of individuals who may not have all been priviledged, but certainly didn't feel discriminated against for their beliefs, political positions or race.

President-elect Obama (I love saying that) mobilised black people, white middle-class liberals, latinos, native americans, universty students, and disilusioned cynics alike. For he and his followers, the "silent majority" consisted of individuals who wanted to see the course of US politics to change.

Over forty years ago, even when the President-elect was born, members of certain minorities didn't even have the right to vote in general elections. Over the past forty years, there have been five presidents from the Republican Party, and two from the Democrats. For forty years, voter turnout has been lower than 55% (and never higher than 60% for a century). And forty-five years ago, one man laid out his dream for the future of his country - with special reference to race-relations - in the hope that "little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers".

Now, these are just facts and figures, and a whole lot of inference on my part; but it cannot be denied that history has been made, and a lot sooner than I had expected. I don't expect Mr Obama to fulfill all of his promises: after all, he is still a politician. However, as he has repeatedly pointed out, he could only even consider carrying them out with the help of the American people; or his insistence on not the Red or Blue States of America, but the United States of America. He wouldnt be who he is without the power of a vote, and those voters expect him to continue the spirit of citizen empowerment for four more years, maybe eight, maybe forty, or possibly even forever. Symbollically, this has been the most important election in US history.

All I can say is that I feel a mixture of relief, pride and surprise that I witnessed it early on in my adult life.

http://www.comcast.net/articles/news-politics/20081105/Election.Rdp/ - AP News Article, 06/11/08

http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm - Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" Speech