The Syrian Civil War – remember?

Posted: December 8, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Matters that Matter | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I wrote recently about these times being the times to write, and to write about.

We can pause, briefly, and quickly we realise these are just about to be the ‘good old days’.

In 20 years, when this world is a new one, will we look back and wonder what we were thinking? In 100 years, will other looks back and try to understand not only what we were thinking, but also what we had for breakfast (this is a blog after all. Toast, by the way.)?

It’s odd to consider myself a very distant bystander to world events and only as involved in them as I am with Countdown (barely, and eager for less).

But I am.

Seeing it on a plethora of screens, on the radio and even, yes – still, in print…these are the times to write and write about; but also to keep one’s distance from.

The Syrian Civil War is a conflict which, I expect, will come to be known by new names in time. Preferred terms of the victors, either romanticised by traditional historians or made technical by other historians eager to sell books by clarifying that everything is in fact very dull.

Maybe a more romantic name would have kept it in my memory.

I can’t be alone in the West in realising I’d forgotten it was happening.

There’s been lots of wars and conflicts in my 35 years of life, and throughout each I’ve slept well with a fully belly and total expectation of waking for the next morning.

This war, like so many others we’re made to know of, doesn’t seem to be of effect in my life.

Would I like it to be of effect? No. But it would make it real.

Is it not real already? Yes of course, for those living it.

But for me…I’d forgotten about it. Or at least, I was surprised to understand it was still going on.

S’cuse me while I quickly go Googling.

Best part of a million people have died in this war since 2011. It is hard to fathom how extraordinary that number is over that amount of time. It’s a lot of violence.

Maybe too much violence, but not ‘too much’ in the way it should be.

It is too much violence after too much violence. Too samey. Repetition is not good. Repetition is not good.

And that’s not good for viewership.

And I expect that’s why the war and it’s hundred of thousands of deaths fell out of my mind.

Recently though, we have an odd celebrity/fraud scenario in which ‘Hawk Tuah Girl’ became popular following a street interview regarding oral sex, coined a phrase, became a viral sensation (the Syrian Civil War was still happening prior, during and after all this by the way) began a podcast (apparently hard not to) and released a form of crypto-currency in a manner broadly considered to be fraudulent to investors.

Out of the two, the scam and the Syrian Civil War, I prefer the scam as general news. Whilst tempting to say it is depressing too, I think it’s actually affirming.

Not of the fact people will genuinely invest vast amounts of real money into vast amounts of no money, but that the girl provided something with which people could elect to be stupid.

And it’s my right to select something stupid to do.

Other people would have done that for free, but this young lady has made real money from the nothingness (nothingness with a catchphrase).

All the top people are calling for justice in this case, all whilst – I can’t stress this enough – the Syrian Civil War is still going on.

Although, I now understand the Syrian President, Bashar al-Assad, has gone missing whilst rebels occupy the streets of Damascus.

How and when did this anti-government push come about? Was it via a sudden injection of fictional-funds in the form of HAWK dollars?

Would the government forces have faired better if they’d had an obscene catchphrase?

I don’t know.

Repetition is bad, but I don’t know.

Ultimately, I suppose all this – the war and the scam – could have been continuing on their respective timelines. It’s just odd that one seems to have become so prevalent.

Maybe that catchphrase idea isn’t a bad one. I know if the ‘Post Office Scandal’ didn’t include the words ‘post office’ – it wouldn’t have deterred so many from wanting to know about it.

And of course, I’m glad to be at a distance. I just don’t think I should be forgetting about the history that’s about to be.

These are still the times to write, and write about. I think we need to know more about the Syrian Civil War and the experiences of those living it, and the lives of those who no longer are.

I’d invest in that.

Sam

My son is my lightbulb

Posted: November 4, 2019 | Author: | Filed under: Matters that Matter | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My son is my lightbulb.

It’s not his fault, but he exceeds in illumination and has effect on my life in which I feel as though I’ve had a bright idea whenever I’m in his presence.

He’s like being on a diet.

When dieting, I’m perpetually stuck with the ingenious prospect of keeping at it, head down and mouth hollow and shut, or to indulge in that enlightening option of gorging until I realise the need to diet again (which is a brilliant solution as dieting is should really be encouraged).

When I hold my son, or when I come through the front door, poke my head around the corner to see if he’s there, to be met with the inquisitive tilt of the head and resulting smile of a little fellow who loves me, I have the idea of making everything perfect, just for him.

It’s a good idea, no?

I thought so anyway, and so I surveyed the globe for things that need tidying.
It seems, I’ve quite a task ahead of me.

It occurred to me that religious people have been looking to correct the wrongs of the world since the dawn of things like dawns being given names, but to no long-term success. Considering they had God on their side (according to press releases), and bearing in mind that I’ve distinctly less divine powers than the average kids party magician, I feel any ability to introduce a white rabbit from a hat is unlikely to see things peacefully concluded in Syria.

Certainly, I could overload each opposing force with white rabbits until all combatants were incapacitated with the drowsiness brought on from gluttony of a certain delicious stew, and all armies were made unidentifiable from one another owing to the shockingly speedy new trend of all clothing being made from cosy white fur, but despite my being a carnivore, I wouldn’t want to send a billion bunnies to their war-ending ruin.
Just imagine the emails I’d get.

Rather more, if I were to engage the electives from either side in a simple magic show, I think I’d be amongst those shot, my wand being nothing more than not really a wand.

There would be those who would argue that despite all my previous promises of world-revolutionising changes to the planet in the name of my son, this is all clearly bollocks as I wouldn’t send a billion rabbits to die in the Middle East.

To which I’d say: “fair enough, I guess I’ll have to then”, and would proceed to load myself comfortably into the back of the latest air-strike capable bomber and then go about vomiting white rabbits from out of my hat at the speed of magic.

Why doesn’t God do this, I don’t know, and neither do you.

Either way, I’ve still an urge to improve the world in every manner I can.

I feel that will include fighting for changes and fighting for traditions, which are all going to be according to what I deem best for my boy anyway.

I’d produce one rabbit perhaps, from a pet shop rather than from one of my hats (which I’m actually going to wear later and don’t want smelling of a rabbit with stage fright), and give this to him so he can hold it and smell it and feel little life in his little hands.
I think that would help him in some way.

We’ll stay clear of Syria until it gets too close, at which point we’ll go away from it, because I don’t ever want him to go through what children and the children-grown are suffering over there.

I’m not divine, and can’t change too much around Earth. I’ll love my son until I’m gone, hoping only that he’ll have known how much I loved him, tried to keep him happy and safe, and to remember that when the times like those in Syria come to him, he remember the preciousness and wonder of life before he takes his next step.

He is my lightbulb. On.

Sam