Nazi Nonsense: Part 2

The art of convincing someone who lives in close proximity with you that you’re a secret Nazi, needs to be like fine wine being made. It takes time. We decided to start off with subtle comments. Ones that perhaps she won’t even notice at first, but will make her retrace them in her mind as signs she missed. She’ll probably delve back further to things that were completely non related to this project and see them as missed signs.

While working out this plan, we already had a few things that worked in our favour. Were in possession of an old photo of JP with a shaved head. Of course this was just another one of this bad fashion errors, like this first tattoo (sorry!) but it obviously works in our favour that he has a photo of “those dark days."

Another is that Carol has never seen American History X. While most people have, for her it will be a first, which means she will have a fresh reaction when she sees it, and a discussion we will no doubt engage her in. I will start adding dates, times and pictures if available to this, but for now, the timing isn’t exact so lets say were going back to about two weeks ago.

Indication one: JP is sitting watching TV. And of course what is on but American History X. This was the same say we decided upon this plan, and it seemed liked a sign that it must go fourth. So as Carols leaving the house, she asks what he’s watching. He tells her, to which she says she has yet to see this movie. He then suggests they should watch it together some night. He casually throws in “it reminds me of a very hard time in my life” now carol may not have seen the movie, but I’m sure she knows damn well the basis of it is Nazi gangs. As expected, this is the first indication and she doesn’t seem to think much of it.

Indication 2: Carol, like most people, has some gay friends. So do I, and so does JP. However I don’t think she knows about his friend, as I don’t think he’s visited the house as of yet, which works in our favour. Now the 3 of us have been drinking on a few occasions with both her and my gay friends, and all had a good night. Now, JP has started subtlety dropping comments when the opportunity arises, that seem anti-gay. The first was when carol invited him for drinks at her gay friends house. He asked who would be there, and she went, me, him and his boyfriend. JP then pulls a face of distaste at this and says “no, that just doesn’t seem like my kind buzz” Carol notices this, and makes a face of her own. And slowly we start to plant the seed.

Indication 3: 25/1/2012

So three of us sitting in the apartment and something come up about JPS tattoo. He recently bought a tattoo voucher as the one he has now is not completely finished. This also is good for us, as it brings up the subject for it. Me and JP are having food and while Carol is wandering about and in earshot (the place is tiny and every conversation came be heard in the shared area) I ask JP while talking to him about the tattoo “so what was the old one anyway?” the then proceeds to say I told you Rita I can’t tell you that. Carol then joins the conversation and me and her proceed to probe him for information about the old tattoo. He then starts to say, he has lost all his friends bar one over this tattoo. (It greatly helps that his friend is particular, while a lovely guy is quite morally bankrupt) me and carol then start to say we don’t see anything that could be so bad that we would fall out with him or dislike him. He smartly says, it’s what the tattoo represented, and it’s about the person he was at the time which he’s not proud of. Carol then jokingly says “maybe if it was something like I love raping people, I can see why” i had to stifle a laugh at this. If she thinks that’s bad, then she probably won’t react well to what were planning it to be. We continue to rib him a bit about this, but the conversation goes no further. Carol is probably now wondering what was so bad on him, that he can’t even tell me, and lost him friends. J

Future plans will be documented, and I would be open to gathering suggestions also. We will definitely let her stumble across some Nazi related items. The dryer is situated in his room that she uses, which gives us the perfect opportunity to allow her to stumble across something accidently, while it’s in his private space. More to come.

Nazi Nonsense

In attempt to generally have some fun at the expense of someone else, me and a friend decided to freak the fuck out of his housemate and have her believe he’s a crazy ex-nazi. Sure why wouldn’t you?

So let me set the scene, my friend JP lives in a very nice, yet very small apartment, and after his friend had to move out, he needed someone to move in. And of course went to the internet in a quick attempt to find a replacement. And he did, a girl named Carol, who lives there currently with him. I’m sure due to the circumstances he was a little concerned that perhaps he would end up living with some nut, or a bitch. But Carols actually really nice. She however, might start to question the decision to find a random guy on the net to live with when she slowly starts to unveil his secret violent Nazi past. That’s what happens when you find people online, they could be rapists or Nazis. Unlucky, Carol.

I’m sure the question would come to mind, why are we randomly gonna freak out this all round sound girl, whose never been anything but nice to us? Well maybe were bored, maybe were a just assholes, but in fairness, it has great potentional to be funny, and let’s hope when it’s all over, she’ll eventually talk to us again, from her no doubt boarded up bedroom. (also this blog will probably do good as insurance, to prove to her at some point, that this was all a joke, when she’s scared to go the bathroom in case he beats her to death)

So this idea all came about because of a tattoo JP has. He has a half sleeve down on his arm, and has made no secret of the fact that’s its there to cover up and old, shameful past secret. In fact it was just an incredibly bad tattoo from his youth, both hilarious in artistic style and meaning. I’m not allowed to discuss it, but when he relents and lets me, it will be another blog in itself complete with pictures. He never really tells people what the old tattoo was, mainly because it’s a general embarrassment, and he was an idiot to get it done in the first place. So carol casually asks one day what the old tattoo was, and he immediately makes it clear he’s not going to tell her. Understandably this sparks her curiosity and she asks a few more times, to which he repeatedly says no.

While telling me this one day, I suggested he should tell her it was something mad, just for a laugh. The reason I even suggested this, is cause he has a knack of telling completely outrageous and fabricated stories and just running with them, and he actually comes across fairly credible. I don’t know how we came to this, but while throwing around ideas we decided it would be funny to pretend the old tattoo was a swastika or some form of Nazi pride. Of course, they have lived together for a while now, so he wouldn’t outright say this to her. We decided we would slowly build up a foundation, dropping hints and suggestions to entice her to believe he has some sort of shady past with Nazis. By the end of it, she’s going to think he was a full on violent member of Nazi gang, who’s trying to reform his ways. Were trying to incorporate some kind ofsub plot to tie in myself. I’m going to feign no knowledge of this either, and when she finally knows the “truth” he’s going to tell her a story in which I was affected in my life by some kind of hate crime (the details of this have yet to worked out) and how she must never tell me, least I leave his life forever. We’ll see if she does. We decided to document this whole procedure, in order to see in writing how it builds up to her crying herself at sleep at night, knowing there’s only a wall separating her and an angry Nazi. More blog's to follow read on the see the first instalment for what will now be known as: The Nazi project.

The rant from the agony aunt

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extended happiness.

“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree,
I won't grow up, never grow up, never grow up, not me. ”
― Peter Pan and the Lost Boys.

Peter Pan depicted the story of a never-ending childhood, Peter leading an army of lost boys in a world called Neverland. He coaxes a bunch of children into this world alongside him, with the promise of something elusive and grand, the promise of never growing old, or more importantly, never growing up. The notion of such a faith would surely arouse a tidal wave of relief in the current generation of 20-somethings.

In the backdrop of a rapidly moving society, where the economy is poor and the expectations still vast, it’s no wonder my generation of piers are feeling pressure. It has been said the generation of my age group are now in a transition, known as extended adolescence. To label it, is actually slightly humorous, as I for one, still consider myself to be a young adult. Don’t we all? Let’s face it, society is always changing, and while we all hate to hear the ancient man in the corner spouting dusty tales of “in my day..” maybe we ought to listen.

The expectations of our youth today is certainly greatly opposed to what would have been considered the “norm” in our parents generation. And whether the players of this truth regard this as fact or not, us pawns can see the evidence of this on a daily basis. Let’s start with the fearful old faithful:

Love: we have all know it to be true, now a days, teens as outrageously young as 14 start to form intimate relationships. They fall into what they consider passionate love, and it usually ends in deep heartbreak and confusion for one of them. This does not concern grown-ups. How many times have you heard some variation of the following statements?

“Your too young to understand love.” “you cant be in love at your age.” “its only your first relationship, it was never going to last” “ you need to get out there and meet new people” “you are only young once, don’t waste it”

One of my favourites is when the older generation roll their eyes knowingly amongst each other while commenting on the fact that we are or could be, in love. Yet this is hugely hypocritical, because for the vast majority of us, our parents were married as young as 18. Somehow I doubt they knew exceptionally more than us about what it is to love another.

I try to avoid being cynical, because as a girl, I feel the need to hang onto the idea of genuine and true love, however the bleak facts stand for themselves: our parents stayed together out of expectations of society, lack of choice, oppressed views..many factors. I will not tar everyone with the same bitter brush, and I retain faith that some are genially in love and made it work, but most had no choice but to make it worth, despite unhappiness. It wasn’t heard of to quit life. The truth is this: young love that is not tainted by the pressure of life is the purest kind you’ll ever find.

Which brings me to my next point. Self indulgence, or if you will self preservation. Our generation have gotten lazy, we’ve gotten sloppy. We are more selfish and confused than the previous generations, and all of this ironically is linked with the gift of freedom and choice. The youth of today change relationships and sexual partners as often as their underwear. There is a consensus that if someone treats you bad? Dump them. Someone have a problem? Loose them. Someone carrying baggage? You don’t need that. Did someone fuck up? Plenty more fish in the sea. This fact is a very sharp and dangerous double edged sword for us. Yes, this now means that we have the freedom to choose what is best for us. It means we have ability to experiment and see what we want out of a partner and more importantly, discover who we are, therefore understanding what we want from somebody else. However, this can often be confused with a sense of loyalty. People are not perfect. Relationships are far from perfect, and while they are amazing, it almost guarantees in itself they won’t come easy. This view of the world has been distorted as is passed down through generation. One of the more fortunate traits our parents can not pass unto us is the drive to work hard at something, the time to see that rough patches pass and the devotion to sometimes see the bigger picture above our own shallow needs.

Has any else noticed the huge rise of young adult books among the age group of 20-30 year olds? It’s a huge phenomenon currently, and not a surprising one at that. It’s common that at this age one would be ridiculed for reading teen paraphernalia , but I cannot understand why. This I feel is how the simplest level of extended adolescent can be seen, clear cut in society. These young adult books, whether fantasy or fiction revolve around the same topics. 1) Finding yourself.: figuring out who you are, and embracing that, trying not to be afraid of what you want and more importantly, understanding that you’ll NEVER fully know and that IS okay. 2: Love: falling in love. Understanding what makes you fall in love with someone, the feeling it captures to understand someone else and how they compliment you. You’ll also always notice a theme of love triangles or confusion amongst two lovers. This is breaking the stereotype, showing this age wasn’t supposed to be when fall for one person and never question anything else, these books helps explore that and know that it’s okay to constantly question this. 3: learning to take responsibility for your actions, and what you want your actions to be.

Walk into any bookshop this week, and find the teen/young adult section. It has quadrupled in size since we ourselves were teens and extended adolescence is the reason for this, they are being read by people in their 20s and even 30s and want to know the most interesting thing? They are all written by men and women in their late 30’s and 40s. Never by a teen themselves. This is because extended adolescence lives inside all of us, and the media and society are finding ways to explore and nurture this.

Life is overwhelming. And never black and white, we all live in 40 shades of grey and will adamantly question what shade were ourselves are shadowing. What’s changed now is that it is okay to express this. This is attactehd with an element of sorrow, sure. The idea of spending your life from 18 onwards with one person is practically eliminated, and golden anniversy’s won’t be seen in our day. But I would rather be with the right person for ten years then the wrong person for 50.I would rather work the wrong job, and live in the wrong place, but question and breath in life than have blind faith. Give me modern society, not George Orwell’s 1984. We don’t have all the answers, and I certainly won’t if we ever become a parent. Some of the most interesting people have already got “lives” but lives do not equal possessions. Or who we marry. Or what we do.

“Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin can openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. “

I say choose everything else. Choose to indulge in thoughts that are scary and explicit. Choose to think recklessly like a adolescent. Choose to act the way you want that is not limited to a certain age bracket. Question everything, judge nothing.

Adolescence is a time where we are a bunch of raging hormones, impulsive, unpredictable, passionate, and most of all unsure.

To all the lost boys out there. I salute you.