UK web surveillance plans, and why, personally, I could care less about this 'snooping row'...

So, our less than popular Government has somehow managed to devise another plan to buckle people's trust. The audacity, after the blunders of BskyB, with the News of the World's phone/email hacking scandal, and ongoing Leveson Enquiry, to try to implement this. By no means is a proposal for legitimate, warrantless rights to the details of web browsers, voice and typed chat conversations, emails, phone calls or text messages, gelling very well with the general population. And rightly so, since the average top secret endeavour of the average human being is probably Hentai at worst. The Government, however, seemingly condemns us all to some form of terrorism. Subsequently, it wants to create a society reminiscent of Orwell's 1984, where security services can simply waltz in on your saucy, intimate, private conversations or habits, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop them.

When I was first shown an article about this, it was 01/04 - April Fool's day. I dismissed it respectively. But as the days have gone on, it seems this is genuine. I can relate to and agree with the criticism, not just from ordinary citizens (it's plain rude for anyone, especially those innocent, let's be realistic there), but also the publicised risks. Risks of this implement as something which can be replicated or usurped for negative applications - such as a mass hacking spree, for one. After all, if the likes of the Playstation Network can be infiltrated by one adolescent, through firewalls and virtual-armies, what chance would this new system have? That aside, it voids 'democracy'. Russia, Korea, and China spring to mind.

As I said, and don't get me wrong, I understand the objections. Personally, however, I'm not losing sleep for a few reasons. The Labour Party attempted something similar a few years ago, it bombed because of lack of support and civil rights arguments. This attempt is rallying similar objections against a Government which is already unpopular with the majority. They cannot afford to lose anymore face as it is, particularly with the local elections around the corner. Another matter is, the plans are yet to be enforced, (officially... Call me a cynic if you want, but it's common knowledge that phone operators are required by law to steal some of your modesty for security purposes... Just throwing that out there). Regardless of all this, even if it were to be enforced, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can bitch about it so much that, in theory, there's a chance that Big Brother will become so sick and tired of recording my rants, they would no longer care. Sadly, this would probably fail. Realistically though, I repeat, I'd be powerless to change it. So, what do we do? Simple - if you've nothing to hide, why are you worried? If you're stuck in the country, you're stuck under the laws. There are a lot of these enforced already which you more than likely are, or would be, unhappy about if you knew. And if not, ignorance is bliss, in those cases and with this matter of surveillance. In short - I'll just get on with it. I have nothing to hide, and anything questionable, I'm quite prepared to answer for. As for if my details etc are stolen... Well, then I'm fucked, but again, I can't afford to lose sleep over it.

As far as intimate conversational material goes, typed or spoken write a letter, maybe, or save it face to face. Or, if your phone line doesn't plague you with extortionate charges, use it. My feelings toward this lie in the knowledge that if my information or topics have indeed been stored, then for the amount of times I use my mobile or landline, I've probably been overheard discussing a variety of topics. I'm still here, at home, not in a prison, and without criminal record. And if my Internet browsing history, for example, is likely to be dragged out and thrust into the faces of the likes of my employers to expose me as a cretin in future: congratulations, you wasted your time, and the new Raoul Moat just shot another of your officers through your negligence.

As for anyone else's personal grievances, action plans or lack of... Do what you have to do, I'm only speaking for myself.

Though, when I think about it, if these plans are indeed legitimised, 'Alias of the Bona Fide' will become an obsolete title... As will my blog's description... I suppose I'll have to rename as "You're Wasting Your Time.", with "...but thanks for dropping by!" in the description, or words to that effect.

To you...

Sometimes, people can make you feel optimistic about the world without even realising it.

Three people, on a Wednesday afternoon, completely deaf, no hearing aids, just the power of sign language to talk, for example. While the bus was crowded, loud, foul-smelling and warm, nothing could stop you three from communicating, as clearly and as understood with each other as voice. When I realised what they were doing, I took out my iPod earphones for a change, turning the music off. Not so I could hear them, (of course...), but so I could appreciate, for once, sounds I would ordinarily block out. I watched them at intervals, (not wanting to be caught out as rude). I couldn't understand a word, but could clearly see they were smiling, even laughing sometimes, possibly without realising it. They were still happy. Humans can be brilliant, for better or for worse. This was fascinating, and incredible, how we can adapt. This was definitely positive potential in place.

And to the old man on the Friday of this week, with the blue eyes, the glasses with the thick lenses, the permanent smile, the random conversation topics, and the infectious laugh; thank you for making me smile on my way into town, and for calling Nick Clegg a 'muppet'! As awkward as it was when you sat by me at first and started to talk, it passed the time pleasantly. Thank you for wishing me a nice day, and thank you for deliberately waving goodbye to me once you got off the bus at your stop. I hope your day was pleasant in the end, and I'm glad to see it didn't rain on either of us after all!

Nostalgia... Bittersweet nostalgia.

Age 20: it's not old. But I realise some people are dead when, or before, they even hit this. Some are fighting wars. Some are horribly disfigured. Some are homeless. Some are without a family. Some are broken. Some are lost. As I said, some are dead - physically, if not mentally, and mentally, if not physically, or perhaps a combination. On the other hand, some are fruitfully prosperous in an array of possibilities. However, I'm not one to envy these. My focus, since leaving my 'teens' behind, has been a, some may feel, irrational preoccupation with those who suffer, or are just extraordinary for reasons other than fame, celebrity, money and limelight. No, I'm not preoccupied with these because I'm sick minded, with putrid intentions, and wish to fulfil some sick, sadistic fantasies. I refer to these more, because they bring reality home. They cut deep, deeper than some one-in-a-million teenage singer with her rich father, child screen personality, 'singer' and actress later days, and bolshy publicity antics. (In fact, to say these 'cut' at all would be false, really, unless you consider how these cut my patience into pieces...) I see the world through an adult's eyes now, realising I'm far from the self-assured, know-it-all adolescent I was. I know more than then, for certain, and discover with each year. Even now I can take hindsight to when I was, for example, 14, and criticise it with the same reflections as I could with myself only a year previously.

I do miss those years. While I wouldn't change them, for the most part, I wish I could revisit the tumult of adolescence. Not with the knowledge I possess now, however, but simply for the experience. I do miss it, sometimes. I miss School. I miss stressing over one piece of homework a term. I miss my friends. I miss being the outcast. I miss my aimless walks on lunch breaks, alone, with my iPod. I miss being physically and mentally virginal. I miss extremities, such as not knowing what sex feels like, to simplicities and trivialities, such as having public shyness excused on youth. That whimsical feeling, that bliss, I never experience now. I never will have the unknown again.

A conscience is such a damned thing... For the most part, of course, I don't think of this. Otherwise, I'd be quite depressed and objectified, which I'm far from. I cherish my life right now, my family, my relationship, my privacy, and my small social circle. I may not be outgoing, but right now, I don't mind. I do, on the other hand, at times, feel held back. By what, exactly, I'm unsure yet. But I do know that, while my immediate situation is good, it's not what I want forever, understandably. I haven't found myself yet, I'm nowhere near it. I don't feel like it's too late to do so, by any means. Although, I do feel like I'd be ready to begin this soon. While I don't believe in golden opportunities dropping into my lap, I do feel that the more you focus on a desire, it will slip from you. The chance will approach you when you're least expecting, as has done so many times for things in my past.

I sometimes wonder if, to the outsider, I seem solitary or immature for focusing on studies, privacy, and a very restricted social circle. On the contrary, I have maturity. It just doesn't extend to having a job, a mortgage, a flat, and friends to get inconceivably drunk with at weekends. I prefer to harbour knowledge, eventually weaving myself into a person of valuable use in some positive way, be that on any scale which is right and accessible to me, when that time arrives.

I like to think I'm not the only person feeling this way, or who thinks these things. If I am, I suppose it's another unique trait I ought to be proud of. I'm relatively more proud of myself these days than in previous years. I still have much to master, but overall, I smile more because I'm happy now, not because I'm anxious and hiding.

Dagestan Massacre, 1999: to be blunt...

Morbid curiosty is a terrible thing.

A couple of months ago, I did something terrible to myself.

First of all, I'm not going to recount a history or theology lesson, that's one of the internet's many purposes; in this case, enlightenment.
I'll cut to the chase, (no pun intended...). 'Gore' videos, 'shock' sites, warning disclaimers, content concerns... How graphic could these things be? Surely, with all of the horror films I have in my mental arsenal, and having always been keen to discover the 'real' world beyond the press, (most recently al-Assad's regime), nothing would ever faze me in this way?
The guy with the jar up his arse - comical.
The guy with the horse... Again, I laughed.
So, somehow, I decided to approach the sites differently. I saw some blood in the side bar, so I clicked it.
Nikki Catsouras, aka Porsche Girl... Brutal, but as a teenager, I was always searching for pictures.
Let's try some videos, I decided.
I jumped right into the deep end, having done some hindsight research. I began with the 'Dnepropetrovsk Maniacs' obliterating helpless Sergei Yatzenko. Extremely unnerving, and having realised he survived much of the duration of the filming, it was made all the more upsetting. I did the research, passed the judgements on the murderers, and have copious amounts of sympathy for him and his widow, and within an hour or so, I shook it off. Fine, I thought, rather than stop here, I'll hunt for some more.

This was the biggest mistake of my Internet life.

'Beheading of 6 Russian Conscripts by Chechens', 'Chechens beheading', 'Dagestan beheading', 'Dagestan Massacre 1999'... In the event somebody even reads this, (not that I particularly care, since this blog is intended as merely a venting space), do not watch this video... It's a curse, not just a video. This will stick with you forever. Now, as I said, do all the research into Chechnya, Chechen warfare, Russia, Islam etc as you wish. I'm just stating facts. I cannot stress how bizarre my reaction was, has been, and still is to this video. I cannot stress the multitude of ways in which this has disturbed me and warped me into somebody I wasn't by any means before. These young boys, essentially, preyed upon by older men in a tirade of religious and political distortion, die in this video. They're not shot, they are no detonations, there's nothing quick. One man, granted, flees and is shot off camera eventually. He was, sickly, fortunate. As for the other five? Picture me this: one by one, you and four of your Russian comrades are face down in the dirt. You are unarmed. Within minutes, you'll be murdered. No, you won't be 'beheaded', as the title implies, at least not fully. Your throat will be slit, slowly. You will scream. Your screams will become hisses and gurgling as your vocal chords are severed. You will gasp for air as your oesophagus is torn. But they'll stop at your spinal column. You might flop around, like a fish from water, for a few seconds, (or minutes, in the case of the first conscript slaughtered). Your Chechen captors will laugh at you all the way.

I cannot deal with the thought of being home alone anymore, since watching this video. The screams of those men resound in my head. Every corner or empty room has a Chechen lurking inside it. Every noise is a footstep. At night, even with people present, I cannot leave a room and switch off a light. I am reluctant to turn off my bedside light, or keep my arm outside my sheets for too long.

Here are four reasons why I feel this way, and four reasons not to watch this video:

Number one: In the full version of this video, (which I foolishly made my business to find), after around three minutes in, the first image and audio are of a conscript, face down, bleeding, extensively, gasping through a severed windpipe. A Chechen does move in to further the effort, but this does not kill him. He whines as he is hacked further, but only has the energy and means to continue with those huffing sounds afterwards. This progresses for a couple or so minutes following the final blow. Two minutes may not seem like a long time, but to suffocate through your throat, no doubt ingesting your own blood, this is beyond too long, this shouldn't occur.

Number two: The second 'beheading' demonstrates why the term itself is very misleading. There isn't much to display of this man's brutalisation. What you do see, however, is one of the main aspects of this video which haunts me. I'm not exaggerating, it literally haunts me. I imagine him, reaching to his own head, after his throat has been dismembered, where the opening is almost the entire length of his neck. At first, I thought the head and arm movements was a Chechen re-adjusting him for the camera. On second viewing, (yes, I was outrageously stupid enough to view this more than once), I realised that this almost slow, mechanical movement is indeed the conscript vaguely moving his own head and hand. It's as though he wished to check to see if he was dreaming; perhaps he expected to wake from a nightmare, in bed, any bed, safe, alive, unharmed. Each time I recall it, I want to clasp that hand. However, at night, I often expect that hand to reach up, at the foot of my bed. Or, to leave my bed for the toilet at night, and see him lying beside me, eyes wide open, neck wide open, head turning to look toward me, hand idly drifting.

Number three: This was not so much a physically graphic aspect. Rather, the morning after I had watched this, I wept at this impact. There is a transcription of this man's ordeal. The Chechens toy with him for a minute or so before they decide to kill him. Even without this translation, or knowledge of the Russian language, you unanimously understand the desperation and fear of this young man - this human. This particular scene reinforces that these are humans, being set upon by humans. He begs, he screams, he cries, and he calls out for his mother. I wanted to snatch him from the screen, destroy my laptop so as the Chechens couldn't follow, and hug him. But this was around 13 years ago. He is dead. They're all dead. He never got to see his mother again. None of them did.

Finally, number four: The Chechen rebels... These particular specimens are twisted. They document this. They laugh at the expense of the conscripts throughout. They praise God throughout. This adds to and enhances the grimness of these 16 minutes.

As putrid as this may be, learning that Spetsnaz operatives apprehended the culprits of this video, consisting of capturing and/or killings, was good for me.

But still, this was something of a life changing experience.

I don't hate humanity, as much as it is flawed.

This, however, has consumed me. Granted, my recollections of it are not as profound as initially. Nevertheless, it will never leave me.

As promised; no history, no debate, no theology, no politics. My regards to these are nobody's concern but my own.

I just felt the need to vent. It's been a month, possibly more, and this video still saddens me to the core. I see my brothers, I see my friends, I see my Dad, I see my boyfriend, in those men, particularly in the males I know of the same age as those murdered. Simultaneously, I see the Chechens, I see what they're doing, and humanity's dark potential bothers me. It bothers me very much.

Morbid curiosity is a terrible thing. But then again, so is reality.

I wish I could restore my mind to a point prior to watching this. I genuinely do.

I wish those boys would get out of my head.

I feel like the most disgusting voyeur for having seen this video. On the other hand, I feel by not addressing any personal country/culture related opinion, or indeed condemning or condoning either side, that I'm not performing a disservice. It was tragic. Reacting will only tempt more tragedies.

Rest in peace. I can only hope they sleep sweetly now.

If you have a heart, be careful how you use it around this video.
If you don't have a heart, then you'd probably laugh.

Though, from me, the final comment would be don't watch this video.

A puzzle then...

How to introduce a blog? I've been musing this over the past few hours, now. Ultimately, I realise I'll endeavour in it properly once I have a definitive topic. For now, I decided on something solely as a landmark for myself, on this miniscule achievement of finally creating a blog.

I'm in a positive mindset. Wednesday's child isn't always full of woe.