مؤخرا تم اختراق منتدى BreachForums

و تم تسريب معلومات مستخدميه 😁

و اللي ما عاقلش، فهاد المنتدى فين تحط الاختراق ديال الCNSS

شكون حطو؟ مستعمل باسم Jabaroot

ايوا ها هوما معلوماته:

تهلاو!

Het Rommel en Rotzooi Treurvers

Rommel en rotzooi twee handen op één onderbuik ze zijn zeer gehecht aan alles wat je maakt en of gebruikt rommel en rotzooi ze zijn altijd in de buurt maken deel uit van alles wat gekocht is of gehuurd de beste vijanden voor altijd in de dagelijkse inkomsten strijd iedereen staat voor de eeuwigheid bij deze beide makkers in het krijt elke leraar voor ieder schoolbord en iedere scholier de slager, de consumentenbond en stichting lekker dier

rotzooi en rommel horen erbij, ze zijn je verplichte averij ze zijn de printer cartridge en het entree poortje voor de rij ze zijn het onvermijdelijke effect van het huidige bestaan de vaste onkosten en het inkomen behorende bij iedere kringloopbaan waar rommel is is rotzooi ook samen zijn ze het vuur en de rook het stoplicht en de stroom, de windmolen en het paneel ze zijn dat ene botje dat blijft steken in de keel en de kosten die je daarvoor moet maken bij het ziekenhuis ze zijn de winkel via golven of een kabel elk etmaal thuis

rommel en rotzooi komen overal samen in de grote afvalbak zijn de stropdas bij het nette pak, druppelen bij elk lek door ieders dak rommel en rotzooi komen in folders of met getekend briefpapier staan in rijtjes op het etiket en in de fles van elk merk bier waar jij bent zijn zij ook jij het vuur zij de rook of andersom jij de rook van het heilig rommelig vuur het is goedkoop of het is duur maar het blijft rotzooi hoe je het ook bekijkt waarmee je het driftige bestaan als uranium verrijkt rommel en rotzooi je raakt er nooit vanaf zoals de cover van het korenoogst boek hoort bij de extra kaf t

rommel is onderdeel van elke inzet bij iedere handeling het is zowel de uitgave, de lezing als ook de nabespreking rommel en rotzooi je wilt er het liefst vanaf maar als je poogt dat te doen komt het juist op je af waar je het ook dumpt het komt altijd weer bij je terug het is de vaste geankerde last op de schouders en de rug het hele lichaam bezwijkt onder het enorme gewicht het zit zelfs opgesloten in dit verdomde gedicht het is de plek en manier waarop het is gepubliceerd de gedane zaak neemt verdomme wel een keer en steeds dezelfde weg terug in de kop waar het is ontstaan rommel en rotzooi zitten in een vaste baan

ze leven als luizen op al onze zere hoofden huizen in ergernissen en in haarkloven komen aanhoudend tot ons via alle ingenomen stop contacten zitten als inkt op het papier van contracten rommel en rotzooi er komt nooit een einde aan als we blijven meegaan in deze zeer verstrikte ons omringende vaste baan tweebaans, drie, vierbaans, vijf baans, tijdelijke en zenuwbanen waar we geacht worden om ons in te moeten bekwamen door als waanzinnigen werkenden wonen we allen in overstromende huizen een plek vol lijsten, krukken, draden en daarom heen buizen voor de stichting van de bouw als ook de stichting van het gezin er in het zit besloten in onze met liefde aangeleerde als groot gegeven zin rommel en rotzooi zijn om het gat van elke stad de ring het ongeluk en daarna de verkeersopstopping de vervuiling is rommel's bijnaam de vergiftiging die van rotzooi maar het is en blijft dezelfde kooi al die vuile bijwerkende naam woorden drukken we in dat zelfde bodemloze meer maar het gedane neemt ook met andere woorden geen keer

rotzooi en rommel gooi je het in zee komt het weer boven of spoelt het weer aan wil je het voor morgen laten liggen zie je het onvermijdelijk al voor het opstaan ze kloppen je hart te snel op, maken je lever te zwaar verkankeren de cellen en verstoren vol enthousiasme elk goed bedoeld gebaar rommel en rotzooi blijven zitten om je als een tweede derde en zelfs vierde huid ze horen in iedere luidspreker, bij de klankkast van het afstandelijk opgenomen geluid ze zijn samen niet te kloppen eenmaal op gang geholpen niet te stoppen vluchten noch vechten is zinloos want door elke inzet wordt het meer wil je het kapot slaan doe je alleen jezelf en anderen zeer maak je de rotzooi klein wordt rommel juist groot rommel en rotzooi is dit huidig bestaan even onontkoombaar als de dood dicht je rommel dan gaat de rotzooi lekken de bron ervan laten ze iedere keer door zelf geproduceerd afval bedekken rommel en rotzooi een meedogenloos stel vergelijkbaar met kommer en kwel met tandenknarsen en geween rollen van steeds dezelfde op de piek aangekomen terug rollende steen rotzooi en rommel zijn onze allerbeste vrienden voor de eeuwigheid ze zijn het spul waarmee ieder kinderbedje tot datzelfde eindeloze punt wordt gespreid

en bedankt

I do not seek perfection. I seek truth, beauty and permanence.

Oh, JOY! What day was this I had? From suns first until the gong of midnight, I sought, and found—only joy. Only love, only ache of the most welcome and glorious kind. THIS is romance.

In truth, Wolf started his day quite low. But, the best way to lay down a heavy heart is to pour it out. So pour I did. And pour and pour and pour. I expunged myself of that energy with passion and determination.

I still felt (and feel) like an ill person who is healing. Not quite myself, but so vastly superior to before that it defies description.

Thank you to the assistive soul. Who listened and was kind and hurt because I hurt. And was loving but frank and pulled me from my bent, where I landed realizing that passion need not control us. It is an engine that must be tamed, used to great power, but never left to run un-throttled.

GETTING IT ON

We finally stepped out of the house, midday, bound for Thyssen museum. Not ideal, but I wasn't worried. I knew we would have adventure regardless of the when or the where.

First stop: Correo! For post card stamps. More lines! The Spanish LOVE a good queue. In fact, I think that is a Europe thing. We are disappointed when the clerk admits they are out of stamps. We'll have to find a second.

Strolling down the main avenue, I spot a thrift store, modernizingly named 'Vintage'.

Inside, I find a most delectable coat. As winter drives in, I am in need of a warmer wrapper.

It is a delight; warm, stylish, a little snug (fitted). I have grown very fond of the cut and fit of most Spaniards. They look and no doubt feel beautiful. Green with wood buttons and an abundance of zippered pockets. This is important for an artist and writer to stick all his stuff.

Look out Indiana Jones, I think I'm going to out-adventure your look!

Newly packaged, we decided the rest of the day, we'd lose ourselves in the visages left by great artists. So it was:

TO THE THYSSEN-BORNEMISZA MUSEUM!

Bus-hopping has become second nature. And I am enjoying metro rides and buses here in Madrid. It's like a game to arrive without missing a window. And then there are the people. Genuine Spaniards living life. I stand out.

Some buses see tourists, though not many. I don't think I've seen any tourists on the Metro.

SIGHTS SEEING ME

We get a big picture window cruising down the grand avenue which is packed with people. In a place we were the day before, I see a street artist I intended to patronize the day before, with attention if nothing else. I take out my phone and take a few pictures, just to record her geolocation.

Weirdly, she stands up and blocks the view of her work. Then, shoots me the bird. It's odd and performative. Reaching down she holds up a sign that says:

ME HAN ROBADO, NECESITO DINERO URGENTEMENTE. (I've been robbed, I need money urgently.)

I get the desperation. But the reaction reads more like mental illness than desperation. I don't think I'll risk going back.

There is an accident and our bus changes routes. We jump off at the next stop and walk the quarter of a mile to the Museum.

HOW TO LOOK AT ART

Today is a great day to visit. It is hardly populated. In fact, I notice the city itself seems largely emptied of its pre holiday crowds. And I love it. I GREATLY prefer an empty museum to a packed one.

My most distracting experience in that regard was at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, where we saw a Magritte show. It was shoulder to shoulder—and not the way to see art.

Art requires the ability to take your time: step back, toe to the left and the right. See how the light penetrates some pigments but simply reflects off others.

And this modern and well-lit museum delivers. Plenty of room to roam and soak it in. And I drink for hours. Longed for favorites with Picasso and Degas, surprises from Okeefe and Remington. And so so many works by artists of little renown but amazing beauty.

THE TRAVELING EXHIBIT

Starting with Warhol/Pollock, it is an interesting experience. The curator is commenting on abstract versus figurative work. And I agree Warhol took figurative elements and pushed them until they are abstract.

His 'Oxidize' series is both appealing and off-putting. Warhol spilled body fluids on to canvas (sweat, urine and other undisclosed material) and let time do it's work. Weird but also kind of intriguing that he had the boldness to do it. The organic nature of it triggers my nose to run and on a second visit, puts in me into a fit of sneezing.

I read at the Banksy, 'The ultimate goal is to spend less time making the art than the public does looking at it.”

Warhol wins in this respect.

His shadow pieces manage to evoke a tear somehow. Something about they being empty places in his studio. And something about painting dozens of the same thing that is just vague shapes.

INTERMISSION

We break in the museum cafe. It is cold and we are tired. Worth the premium. I have a cream cheese croissant and water while my partner has a lintel soup.

I want wine, but I do not want wine. The evening prior saw me drink an entire bottle of brut and I do not want nor need the emotional or physical cost of more of the fruit of the vine today.

Post meal I do some drawing while she chats at me. Eventually, I am so tired I nod off. A welcome respite for 10 minutes. Until my slipping elbow knocks the plate to the floor.

TWENTIETH CENTURY MASTERS

We spend the next 3 hours discovering and rediscovering masterworks. There really is nothing as enriching a a museum. Maybe a library. But a museum takes less work! I love it. I want to spend every day here. I am just a tad envious of those who work at a place like this.

To spend all your time with these ghosts of delight. What stories they must tell the gallery attendants while they stand fast on their station. No doubt the reality is far less romantic.

Picasso mesmerizes me. I can see the craft and the care in what, upon first glance, looks like an effortless, childlike render. But there is so much tenderness and terror in his work. I especially love his rendition of women. The way the strips away artificialty, but we still see her beauty.

On my mind is the fears the women in my life have over getting older. And I imagine that though Picasso was a notorious womanizer, he was really quite tender in saying, 'hey, quiet your fears, let me show you your beauty apart from the standard you've been trained to expect. Be phenomenal in the beauty of your heart. of the parts that make you. The eye, the ear, the breast, the hand, wrist... that quiet source of life, the way the arm meets the breast. No, the physical beauty of youth is wonderful, but there is equal or surpassing beauty in an aging form.

I am smitten by so many works. My phone is filling up with photos I will forget. But, two pieces have moved into the lexicon of my memory:

1. Swaying Dancers – Edgar Degas
2. Woman with a Parasol in a Garden – Pierre-Auguste Renoir

The first because I have always loved Degas. If I imagined myself as Jack on the largest ship in the world, a vagabond artist drifting through the streets of Paris drawing prostitutes and strangers, then I was FIRST in love with the idea of being Edgar Degas.

His pastels and his dancers are simply fantastic.

When I look up at the modest sized, but incredibly delicate Swaying Dancers, I start to weep.

It—it reminds me of her. My dancer and muse. It recalls the gift I gave her I do not know how many decades ago. A poorer duplicate of a similar masterpiece.

My first medium and love is pastels. Nothing dries... it is vibrant the instant you press to paper. I love the dust, the smell and the drawing-like finish a painting has. To me, there is no greater master than Edgar Degas.

And this piece is fantastic. Delicate and expressive. Pastel artists must have good draftsmanship skills, and Degas has otherworldly ability to capture anatomy and pose.

The painting is such a surprise after so many Picassoes, Pollocks, Kirchers, Groszs. The dancer is mid pose and her tutu is like gossamer with magenta beading. The background figures all have stories of their own and the colors talk to me. They say, 'we've been waiting, Wolf, and so glad you've finally found us.'

I can't look away.

One of the BEST parts of the museum is the real color you see. Not reproduced or managed. the same vibrancy, or muting that the artist intended. Or at least tried to. Their voice straight into your heart without mediator. Degas painting sing when you see them in real life. Reproductions just don't do them justice.

This one is an aria.

I stay a long time with the piece. And a few others by Degas.

The second work I find that blows me away is Pierre-Auguste Renoir's Woman with a Parasol in a Garden. The initial hook is the color and texture. What shocks me is how similar it is to Path Leading Through Tall Grasses that hangs in the Musee d'Orsey. I check to be sure I am not crazy and find that Parasol and Tall Grasses are very similar. It is very self-satisfying to make this identity.

I feel smart.

But, though I would love to be the kind of patron that gets to spend all night with these unique experiences, 7pm comes fast and with only 15m left, I am sad that it is time to go.

My stomach does not have the same desire to stay with the masterpieces.

And so, go we do. Suiting up in our winter gear, we head out into the evening looking for what I describe as 'Spaghetti an' meatballs!'

There are several Italian places close to the museum, but as we've been living in the Latin neighborhood for the last month, I have come to sort of resist the tourist areas for meals. They are more expensive, crowded and usually not better by any measure.

DINNER TIME

Thanks to a very clever AI, I learn there is a place about a 20m bus ride away called 'My Pasta, My Art'. And so away we fly.

It is in a new part of the city. One we haven't traversed. A little further way in a new direction. I am immediately drawn. It has the population load of the Latin quarter but the old world charm of the most popular part of the city. In short, the best of both worlds.

It seems we have discovered the Bohemian part of Madrid. Shot full of artists, galleries and music halls. It is wonderful. Every few buildings is some new creative energy. I realize: I have found where I need to explore next before we leave next week!

We spot 'My Pasta My Art', but are immediately drawn to a small bookstore with black cat. We cannot resist bookstores, and cute bookstores are just mandatory. This one, whose name escapes me, appears like a glowing white gem in the night with it's huge window showcasing books in the lower half, and giving an inviting view of the shop.

Stepping in, my eye goes to a small basket of old books. At top is a pulp fiction novel by Erskine Caldwell 'A Swell-Looking Girl'. I see it was originally published in 1931 and this is a reprint from 1950. The cover has a demure-looking blond girl with red lips and a power blue peasant dress. It is the kind of book that immediatly pulls me in. The cover illustration is heavy with shadow leaving plenty of negaive space for the ample text.

Since we are in Spain, I decide to purchase a small copy of Spanish poetry. It is good to practice my Spanish and will be a good opportunity to see how another culture thinks by translating them line by line.

The latest find is a 7th printing of Heinlein's 'Stranger in a Strange Land'. I read the opening paragraph:

Once upon a time there was a Martian named Valentine Michael Smith.

Yes. Please.

Since the store is buy two get one free, I am out the door for a paltry 11 euros. That is until my lovely finds the postcards, and I find the stickers and magnets. So much for 11 euros. We leave 55 euros lighter. But a pocket full of books and swag. No one is complaining.

Stepping into My Pasta, My Art, it has charm. Warm and tiny. Tiny is normal for Madrid. But this is the right balance of squeezing us in. We settle at a high top table and start gawking at the decor. It's clearly swinging for the Roman fences. And winning. Rich detail without being gaudy. Plenty of mirrors in the right places to make the space feel bigger than it is.

I note that the place is FULL of attractive you college age women. Dress is varying levels of casual dressy. One young woman catches my eye when she struts up to her table across the aisle and peels her coat off to a comply nude back. She is wearing a tube top very well. Her skin is even and smooth, unblemished with age or too much sun damage. Muscled and soft in the right balance. Her long dirty blond hair alternately hang over her right, then left shoulder to the front, then when the 6' 2' swarthy server comes, it is tossed back to swirl across the landscape of skin.

I see beauty in women of any age. But it is hard to deny the incredible power of the very young. How we all long for those bodies we had those many years ago. But I remind myself, that the costs that gave us the form we have in middle age also pay the dividend of wisdom and experience.

It is the paradox of this life to want both our youth and beauty but also the wisdom and massive heart that come with experience and age.

The staff here is outstanding. They feel fun and friendly and genuine. It is so refreshing to have this level of engagement. It reminds me that at one time people called this the hospitality business. Now they just call it job.

The meal is beyond excellent. Tremendous, even. I want wine. But since I've already been too loose with the vino, having drunk a full bottle of brut the night before, I opt for modesty. My body thanks me.

We linger and chat and I draw. The waitstaff is always complimentary of my draftsmanship. It is fast and sloppy, drawn in pen, the way I like it. Not perfect, but done. I always suspect they are just fishing for a nice tip. But I think about dancing in front of others. No one past puberty has anything but the utmost respect for those who perform in public. It is entertaining even when it is not very good.

I know what I am. But I also spent the day looking at drawings by my predecessors and know that you don't get in a place like the Thyssen by sitting still. Do the work, good bad or otherwise, it compounds and one day a magnum opus is complete and everyone thinks you just materialize as successful.

As we wrap with coffee and shared tiramisu, we realize it's time to make the trek home. My wife is in rare form tonight, never suggesting either taxi or uber, preferring instead to wander the streets until we find a metro or bus terminal.

Now that we are through the major holidays, the streets at night have that romantic quality I recall from Porto just a few weeks back. Damp cobblestones, neon signs and small clusters of comrades drinking coffees or beer. The mass of people that are ubiquitous further south are absent, having spent their holiday buying a million things.

Feeling amorous, I pull my partner in close and hold her hand. Stealing a kiss makes her laugh.

'What's gotten into you.' she giggles and nudges me away.

My affection isn't play, it's real desire. But we're on different levels tonight, so I redirect it to energy for kindness and head to the bus terminal down the street. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is just being there with someone. Her love language is quality time. So tonight, this is how I honor her.

I wrap my scarf a little snugger against my face. It's a protection against the cold and the rebuff.

The day has not been perfect in the sense that there were no flaws. We started late, sometimes got aggravated with each other, ran out of time, got cold... etc. clunkiness of being human beings. But in the sense that it was exactly I needed: perfect.

The absolute hilight was the emotional gift Degas gave me. It is a moment I will carry with me for a long time, if not all my days. Deep moments with art stick with you in an indelible way. A stain on the soul of the very best kind.

---

#travel #essay #madrid #europe #art

There is a strange sentence that keeps echoing in my heart lately, and the more I sit with it, the truer it becomes. There has never been a worse time in history to be a problem. Not because problems have disappeared, but because they can no longer hide. We live in an age where everything is visible. Everything is shared. Everything is documented. Everything is debated. And for people of faith, that changes something fundamental about how we see the world.

For most of history, brokenness lived in the shadows. Suffering was localized. Injustice was hidden behind geography. Disease went unnamed. Ignorance went unchallenged. People could pretend that what they didn’t see didn’t exist. But now, in this strange and overwhelming age of global connection, nothing stays buried. Pain travels faster than ever. So does truth. So does opportunity.

That can make the world feel heavier. It can make problems feel louder, more constant, more exhausting. But it also means something else that is easy to forget. It means that the light is brighter than it has ever been. The moment you shine light into darkness, it feels like the darkness is growing, but what is really happening is that it is being revealed.

Faith was never meant to exist in a dimly lit world. Faith was designed to operate in full exposure.

The Bible does not portray God as a God who hides from problems. From the opening verses of Genesis, God steps directly into chaos and speaks order. He does not wait for the confusion to resolve itself. He does not sit back and hope things improve. He moves into disorder with clarity and purpose. That pattern is not an exception. It is the story.

When humanity fell, God did not abandon it. When Israel was enslaved, God did not ignore it. When empires oppressed the vulnerable, God raised prophets. When sin fractured the world, God sent His Son. Over and over again, the story of Scripture is not God retreating from brokenness, but God advancing into it.

That is why despair has always been the enemy’s most effective weapon. If you can convince people that nothing can change, they stop moving. If you can convince them that problems are too big, they stop trying. If you can convince them that the world is beyond repair, they stop loving.

But faith is not built on outcomes. Faith is built on obedience.

One of the quiet lies of our time is that because problems are complex, we are exempt from responsibility. We talk endlessly about systems, structures, histories, and forces. And yes, they are real. They matter. They shape outcomes. But Scripture has never allowed us to hide behind complexity. God always brings the question back to the person.

Who will go?

Who will speak?

Who will stand?

Moses had every excuse. He was afraid. He was insecure. He felt unqualified. Gideon hid. Jeremiah protested his youth. Esther feared for her life. Peter doubted himself. Paul carried guilt that could have crushed him. None of them were chosen because they felt ready. They were chosen because they said yes.

Faith is not the absence of fear. Faith is movement in the presence of it.

We live in a moment when problems are no longer distant. They appear in our news feeds, our conversations, our communities, our families. And because of that, many people feel overwhelmed. They grow cynical. They grow numb. They grow tired. They start scrolling past pain instead of stopping in it. They start treating brokenness as background noise.

But the gospel has never been background music.

It is a call.

When Jesus walked the earth, He did not avoid the places that made people uncomfortable. He went to lepers. He went to the rejected. He went to the grieving. He went to the sinful. He went to the poor. He went to the marginalized. He went to the broken. He did not sanitize His ministry to make it easier to consume. He made Himself present where things were hardest.

And then He turned to His followers and told them something staggering. As the Father sent Me, so I send you. That means faith was never meant to be a private refuge from the world. It was meant to be God’s presence within it.

One of the most dangerous things a believer can do is confuse awareness with obedience. We live in a time when we know more about the world’s pain than any generation before us. We are informed. We are updated. We are connected. But knowing about suffering is not the same as responding to it.

The parable of the Good Samaritan still cuts through our excuses. Three people saw the same wounded man. Two walked past him. One stopped. The difference was not knowledge. It was compassion in motion. It was willingness to be interrupted. It was a refusal to let convenience override conscience.

God is not asking you to fix everything that is broken. But He is asking you not to walk past what He places in front of you.

There is a reason Jesus compared the kingdom of God to seeds rather than explosions. Seeds are small. They look insignificant. But they contain life. They contain potential. They contain futures we cannot yet see. And they only become what they were meant to be if they are planted.

Our age is obsessed with big solutions. We want sweeping change. We want dramatic breakthroughs. We want instant transformation. But God has always done His deepest work through faithful, ordinary obedience.

One conversation.

One act of kindness.

One moment of courage.

One decision to tell the truth.

One refusal to give up.

History is shaped by people who kept showing up when it would have been easier to stop.

Noah did not know how the flood would end, but he kept building. Abraham did not know where he was going, but he kept walking. Ruth did not know what her loyalty would lead to, but she stayed. David did not know how his story would turn out, but he stepped forward. The early church did not know if it would survive, but it kept preaching.

Faith does not require certainty. It requires trust.

One of the most dangerous myths in modern Christianity is that faith is supposed to make life easier. It does not. It makes life meaningful. It gives us a reason to keep going when things are hard. It gives us a foundation when everything else is shaking.

Problems do not mean God has failed. Often, they mean God is calling.

Calling thinkers.

Calling builders.

Calling healers.

Calling peacemakers.

Calling people who refuse to believe that darkness is stronger than light.

There has never been a worse time to be a problem because problems are exposed now. They are named. They are challenged. They are confronted. And that means there has never been a better time to be someone who carries hope.

Hope is not optimism. Hope is not pretending things are fine. Hope is the stubborn belief that God is still working even when we cannot see the outcome.

The world does not need more outrage. It needs more people who are anchored. It needs more people who think clearly. It needs more people who pray deeply. It needs more people who love sacrificially.

It needs people who will not give in to despair.

Keep thinking. Not because you are trying to be clever, but because God gave you a mind to discern truth. Keep learning. Keep questioning. Keep growing. Faith is not fragile. It can handle inquiry. God is not intimidated by complexity. He created it.

Keep solving. Not because you believe you can save the world on your own, but because obedience matters. Because love requires action. Because faith without works is dead.

There are people who benefit from problems staying unsolved. Power often thrives on chaos. Fear is a currency. Division is profitable. But God has never built His kingdom on fear. He builds it through love, truth, humility, and courage.

You may feel small. You may feel tired. You may feel like what you do does not matter. But Scripture is filled with stories of small acts that changed everything.

A widow’s oil.

A boy’s lunch.

A shepherd’s sling.

A carpenter’s obedience.

God does not despise what looks insignificant in human hands. He multiplies what is surrendered.

You are not here by accident. You are not a mistake. You are not too late. You are not powerless. You are part of a story that is still being written.

This world is loud. Problems are everywhere. But so is God.

And He is still calling people who will listen.

He is still calling people who will think.

He is still calling people who will act.

He is still calling people who will not give up.

There is something deeply comforting about realizing that God has always done His greatest work in the middle of chaos. We often imagine that God prefers calm, clean, organized environments, but Scripture tells a different story. God shows up in storms. He speaks in deserts. He births movements in oppression. He brings resurrection out of tombs. In other words, God does not wait for the world to become safe before He begins to move. He moves so that the world can become whole.

When you look at history through that lens, our time makes more sense. We are living in an era where everything feels unsettled. Political systems are strained. Social trust is fragile. Technology is accelerating faster than our wisdom. Many people feel anxious, disconnected, and unsure of what to believe. But that does not mean God has lost control. It often means that old structures are being shaken so that something truer can emerge.

The Bible tells us that whatever can be shaken will be shaken. That sounds frightening until you realize why it happens. Shaking reveals what is real. It strips away what is false. It exposes what cannot hold weight. And when the shaking is done, what remains is what can be built on.

Faith is not about clinging to what was. It is about walking with God into what is being born.

One of the hardest things for believers in any age is to recognize that discomfort is not the same as danger. We often confuse the two. When familiar systems collapse, when old ways of thinking stop working, when comfortable assumptions are challenged, we panic. But Scripture consistently shows that God uses disruption to bring renewal.

Israel did not enter the Promised Land without wandering. The church did not grow without persecution. The gospel did not spread without resistance.

Growth always feels destabilizing before it becomes beautiful.

That is why God calls us not just to believe, but to trust. Trust is deeper than agreement. Trust means you move even when the path is unclear. Trust means you obey even when the outcome is unknown. Trust means you continue even when the story is unfinished.

In a world filled with problems, it is easy to feel like your contribution does not matter. But that is not how God sees it. God works through individuals who are willing to be faithful where they are. He does not need you to carry the weight of the entire world. He needs you to be faithful with the piece of the world He has placed in your hands.

Jesus never healed everyone He encountered. He healed the ones He was sent to in that moment. He never solved every injustice in one lifetime. He planted a movement that would outlive Him. He never eliminated suffering in one act. He showed people how to love in the middle of it.

That is how God works. Through seeds, not shortcuts.

You might not see the results of your faithfulness right away. You might not know how the story will end. But you are not responsible for the ending. You are responsible for the next step.

Every time you choose truth over convenience, you push back against darkness. Every time you choose compassion over indifference, you bring light into the world. Every time you choose courage over fear, you move God’s story forward.

None of that is wasted.

One of the most beautiful truths in Scripture is that God remembers what we forget. He sees what no one else notices. He honors what looks small. The world may measure success in numbers, visibility, or influence, but God measures it in faithfulness.

And faithfulness changes things.

So when you look at the world and feel overwhelmed by its problems, remember this: the fact that you can see them means you are being invited into the story. Awareness is not meant to lead to despair. It is meant to lead to prayer, to action, to love.

There has never been a worse time to be a problem because problems no longer get to pretend they do not exist. But there has never been a better time to be a person of faith who refuses to give up on the world.

You are living in a moment that needs clear minds, soft hearts, and steady courage. You are living in a moment that needs people who will think deeply, love boldly, and act faithfully.

So keep thinking. Keep learning. Keep praying. Keep serving. Keep believing that even when the world feels loud and broken, God is still at work.

He is not finished.

And neither are you.

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube

Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

It's been awhile since my last entry. I was hoping to write something for this series more frequently, but things got really busy and so here we are. A number of notable things happened in between that I wanted to write about.

Starting off with... I have a new rule for this series of blog posts; all journal entries should be written impromptu or on the spot. This means not copying previously written down notes or entries from my digital or bullet journal.

This is how I originally started writing journal entries in the past by the way. I would login to write.as at night and write a journal entry based on what was in my head at that time.

More of a brain dump, versus a routine that involved going over previous journal entries, then compiling them into one big journal entry/blog post.

Over time, as I got more into bullet journaling, this practice of writing a journal entry on the spot went away. It was replaced by writing a journal entry based on entries I've written down on my bullet journal or daily logs in Obsidian.

At first it was great. I had so much material, so many thoughts and ideas to write about. But as time went by, I noticed that blogging this way became more like a job for me. I lost that excitement that you get with writing something on the spot and then immediately sharing it online. Not to mention, it was a chore having to go through and filter previous daily log entries to find something I can copy or write about.

I'm not saying this method of writing is bad. It's just that for me, it was no longer working. It was no longer keeping the spark for blogging alive that is. And so that's why I'm going back to more impromptu writing with this series.

---

My eldest son joined the Sport Team at his Taekwondo school. I am of two minds about him joining.

I was hesitant about him joining, because of the financial expenses that came with joining a TKD Sport team. And yes, I can confirm that it is expensive. There's training fees, competition specific TKD gear (like the Daedo foot gear with the electronic sensor) you have to buy, competition registration fees, USATKD registration fees, etc... Not to mention, the increased transportation expenses from having to drive him back and forth to his training sessions.

On the other hand, seeing the training that he has to go through, I can only see it benefiting him as he grows up. Not just to make him better at sparring per se, but also to forge him into a person that is mentally tough and can handle anything life throws his way.

My son was so timid and shy by the way before he started doing Taekwondo. Now he's confident and willing to try out anything, well except food that is. We still need to work on that LOL.

And this is because the master he is training under is very strict. He's what I would call a “terror teacher” when I was growing up. He shouts and screams at you if you do the wrong thing. He expects the best out of his students and pushes them to their limits. He's not being unreasonable though. He is not training students to win a few local competitions here and there. No, he's training them to win competitions at the national level, with the ultimate goal of getting his students into the USA Taekwondo Olympic Team. The parents who let their kids join the Sport Team knows this. I know this although this is not the reason I let my kid join the team.

I let my son join the Sport Team because I feel like this is the best way for him to get more sparring training. They do sparring in their regular classes, but most of the sparring done there is pretty mild. I want my son to be able to handle someone coming at him aggressively, someone coming at him with the intent kick him in the head. I want him to be able to fend off an attacker like that. I don't really care about him winning national competitions, if that does happen then that would be just icing on the cake.

Now I know what most people will say. Taekwondo is not that good for self-defense. Hmm yes and no. Yes, there's a lot more to self-defense than just kicking and punching. Yes they punch in Taekwondo too. You score 1 point if you do in a sparring competition LOL. But I would dare you to take a roundhouse kick to the head from one of the more competent black belts, and then tell me if you think it is effective.

Anyway, Taekwondo as a martial art to me qualifies as one of the three self-defense skills he would need; namely striking. The other two skills being grappling and weapons training. You could substitute Taekwondo with any martial art that has striking, like Boxing, Karate, Muay Thai, Kickboxing, Krav Maga, etc... It just so happens that he does Taekwondo now and he really enjoys it, so why not help him really get better at it.

By the way, if you want to see a movie that showcases Taekwondo used in a self-defense setting, check out the movie “Officer Black Belt”.

Although the trailer above shows more Judo moves than kicks, there were a number of scenes in the movie where I thought Taekwondo was put to good use. There's this scene specifically, where the protagonist faced off against a guy with a knife. He used his Taekwondo skills to fight him off and subdue him.

It must be noted that they do teach the kids takedowns in my son's Taekwondo school, but they don't focus on it as much as they do with kicking.

Judo by the way, is the other martial art that I would like my kid to learn, but he's not interested, so I won't force him. Maybe I'll try to get him into BJJ. Either one will satisfy the other self-defense skill he needs, which is grappling.

So anyway, going back to talking about his master. He's old school like that and I have no problem with how he teaches. Honestly, I think everyone should experience a “terror teacher” at least once in their life. It toughens you up. Makes you more resilient. Helps you deal with pressure at work and in life in general.

I've had a number of “terror teachers” myself growing up. And while their classes were not enjoyable at times, I credit them with helping me develop the ability to think quickly and handle pressure at work.

---

Anyway, I wanted to write more but this post has gone long enough and the environment I'm in right now is no longer conducive for writing. Let me end with one pet peeve of mine: people talking loudly on their phone in speaker mode.

Talking loudly on your phone is bad enough, but in speaker mode, in a public setting, with people around you, that should be a crime. This is happening right now as I type. I can't imagine what the guy beside her is feeling right now. Must be using up all his energy to try and ignore her. Like seriously, invest in some headsets. Or you know, you could also turn off speaker mode and put the phone on your ear.

Jeez. Anyway, if you've gotten this far, I appreciate you for taking the time to read this piece. Hope you have a great year ahead of you. Peace!

#Journal #Blogging #Writing #SelfDefense #Taewondo #MartialArts #PetPeeve

Temptation brought me back to Twitter, and I left after seeing this.

I'll admit it: I missed Twitter.

Last year, I jumped ship from Twitter after Elon's on stage salutes. It just didn't feel right to me to be on that platform given his actions. It was sorta sad for me since I spent a decade or so on the platform and used to enjoy it quite a bit.

I gave into temptation in December last year and started to poke my head around. My home feed was pretty good! Zero politics (because of my filters) and only entertaining content.

Until I saw this...

I was quickly reminded why I made the decision that I did. The guy is a weak, pathetic, drug addict who has created nothing of his own. He just exploits the intelligence of others.

Besides, I've been enjoying LinkedIn way more anyway.

#personal

Looking back, I realise I wrote much more than I remember! 182 blog posts, mostly session reports, news about new releases, crowdfunding campaigns, and sales, and various challenges (Character Creation Challenge and RPGaDAY). Regardless, I am still a bit shocked by the volume.

I blog for fun, and write what I want when I want. Turns out I like to write more often than I thought! Looking at analytics, I see that the blog was visited 23 000 times. Five most visited blog posts in 2025 were:

1. Goodbye to Alarums & Excursions APA. Legendary RPG APA ceased publication last year, and this was my humble farewell. The post was picked up and re-shared in the blogosphere, resulting with many views.
2. Swords & Wizardry: White Box Editions. It seems that differences between various white box editions remains a popular topic.
3. Swords & Wizardry: Which Monster Book to Pick. A comparison of all major S&W bestiaries, including a monster index, is still bringing in traffic.
4. Swords & Wizardry: 400 Pregenerated Characters and 288 Equipment Packs. I love sharing useful material, so I am happy to see pregenerated characters and equipment packs used.
5. News: Ever & Anon roleplaying APA launched. Following the demise of Alarums & Excursions APA, we started a successor APA named Ever & Anon. The same focus, same contributors, and same dedication to do it for years to come.

Three of the above are posts from 2024, and I am happy to see they are still useful to people. Two were about big news and were circulated and picked up by others, which I believe contributed a lot of views.

After going through all the last year's posts, I would like to highlight the following five as my favourite posts of 2025:

1. Convention: Preparing for the Cauldron 2025. I pull the curtain on how I prepare for an OSR-focused con, from choice of adventures to why I choose OD&D to preparing supplemental material for players.
2. Convention: Cauldron 2025 Reflections. I share my thoughts on all three games I ran at the con—including the six hour marathon session with 24 characters and 17 players—as well as general impressions of Cauldron con. Spoiler: it was awesome. Get on the wait list for this year if you can.
3. 2025 Character Creation Challenge Day 31. 80 fourth-level OD&D characters ready for play.
4. Wilderlands Hall of Fame 2023. Wilderlands Hall of Fame represents the most legendary gaming situation of the year, as voted by the players in our Conquering the Barbarian Altanis campaign. This one was illustrated by FSF-INK.
5. Seventy Magical Weapons for Old-School Roleplaying Games. In 2023 year I rolled 70 magical weapons as part of the RPG Blog Carnival: Wondrous Weapons and Damning Dweomers. Since then several people asked me for a print-friendly PDF versions. So I made them!

What about this year?

I have decided not to participate in challenges as usual. I will focus instead on finishing old projects—Dragon Magazine reading list, S&W supplement, and two adventures for Fight On!—as well as supporting good people like Rob of Bat in the Attic Games, Matt & Suzy of Mythmere Games, Calithena & Iggy of Fight On! zine, and Jim of Ever & Anon.

This will be an exciting year.

#Blogging

Van Voorbijgaande Aard & De Elite Zonder Contract

treden vandaag op in het op afstandbestuurbare cultureel tele visie centrum

Mijn begeleiding stond vroeger bekend onder klinkerende titel amateur ex groep van liefdeswerk en oud papier, een beetje hipper ingekleurd maar tegenwoordig is mijn begeleidingsband stukken handiger verpakt ik noem deze horde mij getrouwen inmiddels “De elite zonder contract”

Ze komen keer op keer opdagen voor allerhande degelijke bijdragen nemen deel aan het strijdperk voor overwinningen en nederlagen in de hete harde wedde strijd voor kwaliteit en winnaarsmentaliteit maken ze zeer bondsgetrouw deel uit van mijn oorblog bestuursbeleid

Elitair en Zonder Contract godzijdank niet meer bestempeld als amateur ook al is het hetzelfde merk parfum maar met een heel andere geur Het kan allemaal dankzij de vreselijk ingenieuze mix van ingrediënten spelen met woorden gaat namelijk niet ten koste mijn overdosis centen

Je krijgt niks meer dan weinig tot niets ja alles is en blijft feitelijk gelijk maar ze hebben een heerlijk welluidende naam klinkend als het aardse slijk De elite zonder contract spelen voor mij bij de vele optredens de zalen plat terwijl ik een beetje op het podium blijf cirkelen rondom mijn enorme gat

Ik strijk met alle eer, doe later de leuke dingen en krijg cultuurlijk alle lof en als ik het alweer niet naar mijn zin heb kruipen zij door mijn stof Het is niet anders, 't heeft zo moeten zijn, het is door het lot duur betaald zij geboren om te spelen in het perk door mij en de mijnen zo bepaald

De elite zonder contract is een geweldige inwisselbare begeleiding de luchtige vulling van mijn steeds toenemende persoons vereer ring die amateur status ondertussen omgeruild voor een wat modernere naam en als dat niet meer voldoet noem ik ze De discipelen van het bestaan

of De meesters van het luchtledige, misschien De helden van de tijd Kranigen van de stroom, De hoogwaardigheidsbekleders van het tapijt De toonbaren van het bejubelde, De koningen van het ontroonbare, Tovenaars van het onverklaarbare, De heilige geesten van het ingevarene

Zo lang ze maar zonder zich te beklagen elke oorlog komen opdagen voor hun bijdrage aan de metersdikke stapel van onder en neder lagen noodzakelijk voor het innen van een eeuwige stroom aan geldbedragen die de toeschouwer schare met alle contractuele verplichtingen moet betalen

P.R. (Post Rijm)

...dit weer nodig voor de instandhouding van een kunstige schijnvertoning waar winst en verlies hetzelfde moeten voorstellen als de schat voor een koning strijden in het perk voor als slagroom opgeklopte eer zonder werkend geweten een uniek kijkspel aangemaakt om door je beschermheren te worden bezeten

Today is complex with cross-currents, so hold on to yourself. There are flows of openness and spiritual mastery running into draining thoughts, physical tension and self-suffocation. The seas are rough but the truth is that we are each at the centre of our experience and can stay right with the world if we stay open to it and remain calmly in our deepest sense of who we are. If you can't get there mentally, relax your grip of whatever you are holding too tightly or start a new routine that is more flexible than rigid.

Key emotions: touched, quiet, pessimistic, worry, guarded

GO HOOSIERS!

Later this morning I'll tune in to The Flagship Station for IU Sports ahead of this morning's NCAA men's basketball game between the Nebraska Cornhuskers and the Indiana Hoosiers. Start time is scheduled for 11:00 AM Central Time, but I'll listen earlier to catch pregame coverage as well the call of the game itself.

Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Good

A splice decurrent of time at rest Fingers riding ring and cross A golden good of refuge at war Maked in friend to speak and cherish Others seek- and this is will A time of gentle good Nary peace on that wall but willing here Men at rest, and some deride Why our days succumb as such But faithful good A prowess seen Daylight to day and witness from the home In errant light- refend our days- and this is war A morning deep and dressed as Mom Greatest hue- Sixteen of the walk and choosing day Fright to a play of men- Who are killing here Melee as stood to well and right Good to logic and tear the night Purpose apart defending day And young to wellness repose Right of death and East of dawn Sixteen of war and living breath Squanders be Solemn at entrance year Every entrance done and to unpoem Good is greatest And Woman be A neighbor finds the path The respite hour in silence Parked to war- ending war The purpose finds a Heaven To us below and camping here Good of street and men The daybreak calls Good is at sovereign rest above Accounts of day and nice Peace, solid day Ends of land and work repose Every dawn unto- Reward above For all, and Dove Through unto A picture calls a home Let us tire Seeks beyond recuse And there at last Solid will in pain To cause at last- A difference seen and made.

Rest in Heaven, Renee Nicole Good

The music section is the one with the most categories in the #JujuAwards! We did the Track of the Year, now we are doing the #AlbumOfTheYear, next we'll do the Act, the Ambient track, the Dance track and finally the Gig! (Apparently, this is some kind of teaser.)

Interestingly this year I listened to a lot of French musicians. Is nostalgia hitting me that hard? Is my midlife crisis reaching a new stage? Am I homesick?! I don't know but there is a lot of good stuff coming from my birth country.

Here are the 5 nominees.

Poèmes Pulvérisés by Léonie Pernet

I really liked Léonie Pernet's previous album, Le Cirque de Consolation. She is keeping the momentum, delivering the tunes and ever better lyrics – seriously good writing, actual poetry. She mixes electronic beats with African drums or classical instruments such as the piano and strings. She also diversifies the emotions between dance music, nostalgic ballads and chants from protests. A real trip. I especially enjoy the tracks Réparer Le Monde, L'Horizon Ose, Paris-Brazzaville and Nymphéas.

Contre-Temps by Flavien Berger

I'm so late with this, this album was released in 2018, I had briefly listened to it years ago but rediscovered it this year and it's full of good stuff, whether it's instrumental flights or lyrical puns, Flavien Berger shows his talents for a full hour on it. He also has duets with two other amazing French artists: the fiery Rebekah Warrior and the enticing Bonnie Banane. The tracks I would like to single out are: Brutalisme, Maddy La Nuit, and the title track, Contre-Temps.

Ultratonics by Ryoji Ikeda

Japanese multimedia artist Ryoji Ikeda came to Melbourne for the Now Or Never festival and graced us with his Ultratonics show which plays this album fully. It was a great experience in itself (I will talk about it further in the Gig of the Year section) but the music is just so amazingly well crafted. The level of detail, the experimentalism... A electronic masterpiece. My favourite tracks are the soberly named Ultratonics 01, Ultratonics 07 and Ultratonics 13.

Watt by Bertrand Belin

Don't you love a mononymous album title? Björk always names her albums with a single word. In fact, she even has an album called Volta, a name linked to electricity, like Watt. I barely knew Bertrand Belin before, I had heard a wee bit of his music ages ago but hadn't been charmed because I thought it lacked modernity, as in, it wasn't electronic enough to my taste. With Watt, he is definitely embracing the times while still keeping in character. He has aged since his big 2010 breakthrough, Hypernuit, and his voice is featuring something more vulnerable and it just makes it more raw and personal. I love being positively surprised by an artist's evolution. On this album, I especially enjoy the tracks Berger, L'Inconnu En Personne and Ni Bien Ni Mal.

Dance at Oscar's by C.A.R.

French and Canadian musician Chloé Raunet is back with a new album and is as good as ever. It's still her great electronic, almost brutalist self but she doesn't hesitate being downright funny or emotional this time. I'm very curious to see what she will do next. My faves are: The Pageant, Shyana and Anzu.

And the winner is... Poèmes Pulvérisés by Léonie Pernet! Wow! Woohoo! Aya! Yay! Etc.

#JujuAwards2025 #BestOf2025

Trump møter María Machado, hun lovpriser ham og gir ham Nobels fredspris. Som takk installerer han henne som president i Venezuela. Eventuelt kaster han henne bare på båten. Uansett har han «fått» fredsprisen som belønning for et militært angrep. Dette er ikke et usannsynlig scenario, det fremstår faktisk som det mest sannsynlige scenarioet akkurat nå.

I så fall vil nok tildelingen av Nobels fredspris 2025 stå igjen som en av de dummeste beslutningene Nobelkomiteen noen gang har gjort. Nobelprisen blir misbrukt til å legitimere USAs overgang til naken imperialisme uten noe skjær av legitimitet. Selv om Nobelkomiteen har formelt rett i at prisen ikke kan «gis videre» på denne måten, så burde de ha forstått at risikoen for et scenario som dette var stor.

Det var flere som advarte mot nettopp dette. Som påpekte at Machado både hadde støttet Trump-administrasjonens vilkårlige bombetokt i Mexicogolfen og oppfordret til militær inngripen. Det var også godt kjent at USA hadde stasjonert en stor militær styrke utenfor Venezuela da prisen ble utdelt. Kritikerne fikk rett.

USAs angrep på, og de facto maktovertagelse av, Venezuela, vil stå igjen som et skjebnesvangert øyeblikk der USA gikk fra å være en global hegemon som, i alle fall på papiret, garanterte for demokrati, menneskerettigheter og en regelstyrt verdensorden, til å bli en regional bølle som bruker sin stormaktsstatus til å underlegge seg andre land, og dermed også legitimerer mer krig og imperialisme i resten av verden. I dette mørke øyeblikket gjorde Nobelkomiteen det som i for ettertiden vil fremstå som det dummest tenkelige valget, nest etter å gi prisen til Trump selv.

Dagens komité har skjemt ut både fredsprisen og Norges omdømme i en skjebnetid for både fredssaken og demokratiet. De gjorde det sikkert med de beste intensjoner, men fadesen er like fullt et faktum. Det er på høy tid at Stortinget tar grep her, og sikrer høyere kompetanse og mer uavhengighet i prisen. Nobelkomiteen bør ikke bestå av politisk utpekte personer med til dels sterk ideologisk slagside, men av uavhengige eksperter med tilstrekkelig innsikt i fredsarbeid og relaterte felt, som faktisk er i stand til å bære denne viktige og stolte arven videre.