#society's passion is to spread plague. I saw someone say this time period is the Find Out phase of colonization

[youlittleduckhouse]

now why was I on the bus this morn and the man across from me w child said his other kid was positive in the house and he hope they don't get it. no masks just highly-likely presymptomatic breath and vibes

[uriahzakuani]

&&. announcing his royal highness, ( uriah filipe zulu ), the ( 33 ) year old ( crown prince ) of ( mozambique ). he is often confused with ( charles michael davis ). some say that he is ( short-sighted & whimsical ), but he is actually ( passionate & just ).

okay so this is uriah, he is the son of the king of mozambique and the grandson of the king of south africa. b4 u read our intros u might wanna open this pic.

uriah was born in 1985 when restlessness in mozambique was at its worst.the situation could almost be considered a civil war --- really depends on your point of view. but there was a lot of fighting and two political ideologies just clashing constantly. simply ugly.

mozambique got its independence in 1975 but the political party that rose to power failed to truly seize power of the whole country. a lot of people had a lot to say, some agreed, some didn’t. so the following years mozambique was a very restless place, a fighting ground for a left-wing nationalistic party and a right-wing traditionalist party. the former supported revolutionists in neighbouring countries, and the latter supported apartheid governments which were very inclined to stay in power. the right-wing party got a lot of money and support from said governments. 

so flash forward ten years: the country is most certainly torn, civilian are just tired, so much blood has been spilled over, well, important issues but indifference has spread through the country like plague. in 1985 came a great change: the south african king, whose family had sat on the throne since the early 20th century, placed his second eldest son in power in mozambique. it took a lot of political play from him, skillful calculating --- but according to his words “ a lot of heart as well “. the war-torn country needed someone to look up to, even if it were yet another foreign ruler. at least this time it was someone who knew the people, the culture, the absolute beauty that the country held. 

there most likely would have been a greater backlash if it wasn’t for the fact that the same thing happened in mozambique’s neighbouring country zimbabwe as well as in botswana. roughly 42 million people suddenly had new rulers. some didn’t mind the change, some minded it greatly but didn’t know what to do, and those who spoke the loudest were silenced one way or another. general confusion and the distrust of other people helped the south african king’s case. 

the first three years required a lot of force --- there was no room for mistakes, no weakness could be shown. but slowly, little by little, propaganda started to do its work: the south african king had been benevolent. he had brought harmony and development to the countries. and he had paid for it himself, he had taken the risk personally --- he had put his beloved sons’ lives on the line for the good of the countries. 

the strengthened and stabilized relations between the four countries let them prosper: south africa’s wealth slowly dripped into the countries and mozambique’s economy slowly started to heal. since the development was visible for the people who lived in cities, not many people had a reason to complain, and since democracy was slowly finding a concrete place in the society, people had hope.

so around the time uriah was born, things were nowhere near nice and pretty so he grew up in a slightly unstable environment. by the time he was ready to start school some improvements had been made. uriah was kept out of the spotlight mainly to keep him safe --- he was a figure people only saw at important events or during state visits, but never just on the streets kissing people’s hands and spreading joy. 

he nearly disappeared from the spotlight completely when he went to oxford ( i want dem college buddies connections ok )  for his bachelor’s and master’s. he did occasionally travel back home and each time he was taught more and more about what it meant to be a ruler. 

once he had his impressive diploma he was made to join the army --- he was to become the greatest general mozambique had ever had. he was not very fond of the idea but went with it. after a slight adjusting period, he came to like the sense of community and brotherhood. however, every time he was faced with the cold hard fact that soldiers were expected to a) take lives b) be obedient, his loyalty faltered.

his father really wanted uriah to become a spitting image of himself. the thing was that it was too little too late. uriah had had time to form his very strong opinions and his very strong sense of right and wrong. he often has trouble expressing his thoughts in a constructive manner and he sometimes over simplifies his statements so they have more shock value. his patience runs out quickly if he feels like he is talking to a fossil. if it were up to him, he would just send “old geezers” on their merry away as far away from his family’s court as possible. he is a visionary but without the skill set to produce anything. 

when he realized that coming to oslo was an option, a respectable option, he told his father that he’d be of more use in northern europe than in southern africa learning about battle plans.

[severestrangerenthusiast-blog]

Unpopular and Unmade

I’m gonna be honest.  School was always a fool’s game to me.  From what I know of what happened early on, what I remember, no special talents were identified in yours truly.  I recall trying very hard to pay attention, especially when it was made a point that I was not keeping up.  Looking back, the experience across the board and within the incremental process was full of self-disappointment, emotional put downs, and constantly led me to try little to excel.  By 2nd grade, I knew nothing and knew I knew nothing.  By 3rd grade, it was obvious to me that I was being treated differently than others and that it was affecting my level of interaction with others.  By 5th grade, school was beyond stressful.  The prospect of going into middle school was daunting, knowing the proficiencies I was lacking as I continued to know that I knew nothing by comparison to average students.  The harder I tried to make myself better at school, as it was taught to me, the harder things got for me, for at every turn of achievement the ladder only got taller and the rungs farther apart.  I kept on having to jump higher and higher, faster and faster, while my classmates seemingly enjoyed themselves, accessing a wide network of friends and mentors and by the merits of the education system, clubs, teams, and activities outside of school.  Others who were not as social even seemed to be having a grand old time compared with the tediously boring and eventually self-deprecating tasks of study-hall and “special” classes devoted to “slow learners.”  Where student quality was already in salvage mode, quality students were the last thing I ran into.  C, D, and F students were all lumped in together.  We were encouraged to be aware of our faults and discouraged of our ability at the same time.  It was a bad environment to say the least, but that it coexisted with a relatively healthy or supportive education system for others is still more interesting.  

Before education took root, I knew that I am here because I want to be here, because I want things to be the way they are, a wisdom eternal and hidden from ourselves for too long.  In other words, everything is in order and there is nothing of which to resent or be ashamed.  That feeling was only compromised during transitions from one level to another, between elementary and middle, middle and high, and high school and university. The feelings I was having and have again today are irrevocable and unyielding, despite my efforts to ignore them for a period.  I was meant to journey through a struggle, so that I could defeat it in ways that accelerate its total demise.  Hence, I didn’t resist the schools or the religions, the cliques, or the hopes of parents.  I never fought for any reason and never denied the envy that comes with witnessing more popular routes being taken than the one I felt I had to follow.  

Going against the grind wasn’t just cool to me. On the contrary, I thought it to be unwise or distasteful, but it was and is who I am.  Whether it was out of visceral necessity or something more abstract, I always opted for counter-strategy, cunning, and caution above and beyond the merits of society despite my moral and computational limitations.  I knew the power of silence, patience, timing, and fear, but there was something, finally, that I didn’t know, that I learned to my benefit toward the completion of the undergraduate years.  

I had forgotten how integral each of those powers were to a whole, autonomous, and unique being.  Before that realization took place, fear was taking priority and pervaded all interests, exemplified through many preventable embarrassments of hidden insecurity.  Even if I had loads of money or privilege, the mind had always remained in a mode of survival.  The years of education, through college, never had me in a single protest, nor truly devoted to any club, society, or cause, no explicit passions whatsoever, exiting many personally novel commitments half-way through initiation. Nothing felt right except to stay in and hunker down.  If something did catch my eye, it would be oppressed and repressed quite consciously, and yet, at great pain.  Devotion itself was often worthless to me, so it would appear to others.  A nihilist from birth, so I believed, there were neither freedom nor salvation to gain.  Still, life today has paid for those older days.  

Why this is true depends on a will to bring the authenticity of such a statement into the world, to be and not be made, as a creator of creation, as an atheist of God.  The occurrence of any depth of resolution, as a journey to scale, brings measurable improvement.  A stream of substantial reciprocity like this is reliable, simple, and risky enough to be real.  Indeed, life may be worth the effort it takes to live.  Mistakes and incremental corrections of mistakes can effectively endorse more and more efficient improvements upon our lives. Some call it common sense, but if only it were a fact so commonly utilized.  What is accumulated over time is an integrated pattern of information that comes with and offers us very satisfying adaptations, a synergy as it were.  To make it the best we can make it, we also can pass those adaptations out of the abstract and into the eternal spectrum that contrasts our very narrow view of the world, investing in the foundations of our highest desires and highest powers. Of course, finding those foundations is easier said than done.  

To know and not just say confidently that this generational, compounding, and benevolent element exists, it would need to prove to the living, every day, that it is worth keeping, and all that need be done then is to keep it.  Seeds are for spreading, but then, come harvest, many are for saving, and on and on it goes, getting better and better.  More complex versions of existence seem to consistently await us regardless of our values, obliging us to keep our values up to date with the current or future trends and patterns of the world we behold.  It is, therefore, important to state that it is because of this sacred and very human phenomenon of tradition and intergenerational culture that any of us are prospering or alive at all.  The Earth, the Sun, the Moon, and, in fact, the Universe has been giving itself to and passing through all of us, since we were around long enough to receive it.  Some see the sacred in the outstanding cultural objects, and some see it in the less exposed and more under-pinning, negative nature of the world as we know it. Put another way, the epigenetic field is as pertinent and pervasive as the genetic field, from which so many are most comfortable sourcing their proof of life-worth or identity.  Someone we cannot ever meet and that never personally met anyone living today took far-reaching action, through both time and space, for us to live in a relatively pleasant way, and that miracle of that conscientiousness is more common in places that also aspire to a rich future, to viable spaces to raise children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.  Mere life alone is not much a miracle of notice, but so is the making of it.  

Now, I have to start on why this was meant to be. I was wise and I was weird, because the schools held me back, put me down, made me vulnerable, were frustrated by me, and, yet, I stayed out of drugs and drama, had few friends, started no fights, picked on no one, respected all authorities, tolerated abuse, used manners, followed directions, and kept coming back for more.  We would have to go back to pre-school to find a Josh that attempted to physically exit the classroom, prying open windows to escape and having to be torn from the classroom door when dropped off in the morning. By kindergarten I realized that my limitations had been set within that room and other rooms alike.  It would have to be tolerated.

In undergraduate, not much had really changed and I have now easily, nostalgically compared the anticipation of college with that of middle school.  I wasn’t very kind to myself.  The first two semesters marked the best and worst times and some of the most defining moments of my life.  If I was supposed to go somewhere, I’d go there due to compulsion, guilt, utter loyalty, or sincere submission to authority.  Waiting till the last second to do homework or show up for class was as routine then as it was in elementary; miserable the whole way and facing inevitable punishment through and through, forcing everything and knowing I would have to do more when it was over for everyone else.  I was preparing for overtime and hating it more each day.  The odds were always great in breaking through personal limitations, thought to be fixed by prior experiences and cynical, desacralized philosophies of hopeless, oppressed positions against the world.  The demands made by school were, by the college years, the least of my concern; only willing to comply out of a curiosity for higher possibilities that thankfully always managed to slip through my tortured beliefs of helplessness.  Obsessions allowed me to be a student.  My lacking mathematical skills had scarred me and I saw the SAT as the last mark I would have to carry, likening the introduction to a university to that of a prison or higher-level self-torture camp, where I could discover even more deeply how dumb I was.  The only escape was to distract myself with studies that the university would not offer undergrads who required prerequisites most students had completed in high school.  

I went to school again, followed directions, but never deeply or truly believed in the process or that anything was right about it.  The experience of higher learning and formal learning was a great suffering that repulsed me.  It disgusted me further to discover that a college education was considered high leisure, but I adapted it in some useful way, improving steadily with the extermination of the discomfort and complaint that has plagued my life and others’ lives thus. My optimism grew to maturity in the last 3 out of 5 years of undergraduate curricula.  Employment instilled, finally, a sense of dignity, of progress and not stagnation, heading for change and not heading for eternal disappointment. All of schooling has been and still is a journey of self-discovery, although it had a rough beginning.