Hollow

All alone.
Nothing beside me.
Silence, except for the sounds of passing traffic.

The land of forgotten voices...

Browsing the internet, as one does, in hushed voices and hidden in dark corridors with the weight of countless heavy tomes behind you, I stumble across the delights of Postcolonial Web. Though absurdly interesting, with its expansive definitions of postcolonialism and its seemingly in-depth connection between various different postcolonial authors, the category on Australia was surprsing. To my horror, as I turned upon its page and scurried down its contents, I noticed that leaping out of the page was not the tales of those truly colonised but the whispers of a members who continue to colonise Australia (and New Zealand) today; a broken link to aboriginal authors was all that remains of these true Australians - ignored are even those who have won the Miles Franklin award!

I guess the only way I can interpret this lack of recognition is to argue that for Aboriginal people, there is no postcolonial state, but that they are very much in the clutches of colonialism today.

We said 'Sorry' so we start all over again...

What was the point of reconciliation when the Australian government continues to practice Paternalism? Apparently reconstructing Aboriginal households in a western model of pure, hygienic, squared and roofed housing is going to solve all their problems. Perhaps later the government will force a regimental system of education that will make every Aboriginal person like vegemite (and numbers and Western literature and history) upon every Aboriginal child. Oh wait, I forgot - they already do that!

The government's veni, vidi, vici approach is disgustingly reminiscent of brute colonialism. What right have Kevin Rudd and Jenny Macklin to say anything about Aboriginal people? What gives them the right to take over (without permission from the local Aboriginal council) camps around Alice Springs and instead, spend AUS$100 million to rebuild Aboriginal homes (into houses) in a way that threatens Aboriginal culture and practice? Yes, the living conditions for Aboriginal people are are shite, but there are reasons for such strong opposition to the government proposal.

By indoctrinating Aboriginal people with western rules and regulations on how to live and conduct their lives, their situation will only worsen. The government has little understanding of how Aboriginal culture functions and how their ailments may be alleviated. It is not their decision to live in such horrific conditions, but the result of constantly being treated like vermin.

If Rudd really thinks such plans will reduce sex abuse, alcoholism and poverty, then he is living in a imperialism dream-world. Such plans can only further feelings of destitution, incompetence and powerlessness which are at the root of the current differences in living standards between the Aboriginal and the 'Other'.

Equality is the only solution. It comes from autonomy and the freedom and opportunity to make your own decisions. It comes from political support from not oppression. Absolute power may corrupt absolutely, but self-determinism gives a power to live.

Aboriginal People don't need us to take care of them. Respect their decisions and recognise their equality in intelligence and knowledge and 'Other' Australians may find a solution to not only the Aboriginal condition but their own.

Another procrastination from the Nishma

Argh, so I've had to succumb to teaching myself Wordpress CMS after purposely avoiding it for years. But then again, I did turn to Blogger (out of desperation, I'll have you know), so it's not like that's any better.

On another note, Sven Lindqvist is a God. Almost.

Edit: I am not going to work out Wordpress as it costs money to customise even the CSS! It's ridiculous and I don't care is that means I'm living in the past.

Can a sufferer speak true?

I really shouldn't only update this blog when things aren't going particularly well, but I need advice and help. I have been put on venlafaxine, and in spirits, I feel better. I don't seem so self-deprecating and I certainly feel I have more energy. However, things haven't been going so well, and I am scared that I'll never be able to cope by myself.

I need help in finding out what I should do to get better.

1) I've read that I should start doing things I enjoy, but I don't even know what they are. How can I tell the difference from what I enjoy and what I think I should enjoy?

2) What reason is there to wake up in the morning? I don't work because there's a recession and there are no jobs. How do I pass time alone?

3) How do I face the self-deprecating demons that have crushed me into nothingness? I have no self-esteem left and that is causing severe inferiority situations, which I feel incapable of tackling.

4) How do I stop myself from breaking down? How can I not curl up into a ball every time something small and trivial turns up and I spiral into the negative thoughts that dominated my depression?

5) How do I get over the past? Every time I collapse into another breakdown, it starts off with not understanding why I was bullied at school, with family and with Indian society people from the age of about 6 to 16. What did I do wrong? And why can't I get over that?

Sorry for all these questions. I feel very lost, and I don't really know what else to do about it. The internet has been useless in this aspect.

Ripping apart the flesh of air

Everyday feels like I'm walking through Mercury: waiting for the madness to sink deeper into my flesh. I felt like a blind person regaining their sight: everything confusing, everything wrong. My life was mere spectre, unaware of the world.

And I keep tripping up and crashing against the tide. I'm never successful; I can never rest. No matter how hard I try, he always does it better. Everything I do, he achieves as well (and does it better). What have I always done wrong to end on the opposite side of the coin?

I grow tired of this. I grow tired of the emptiness. I grow tired of the struggle.

I just wish there was someone I could talk to.

The official diagnosis

They say I have depression and anxiety. I spend most of my time staring at the ceiling wondering why I keep carrying. It becomes impossible to communicate. Words are harder to form - written across a page they sound foolish and pathetic. Every conversation seems tedious and utterly pointless. What words can be formulated, constructed and discussed to mean anything or express anything at all? The world reflects my mood: it's barren demeanour echoes my hollow mind. In amongst chaos, I feel nothing but the tedium of order. I ache with exhaustion - tears a mere side-effect of a society-induced fear.

My life withers away; interests, hobbies and passions fall like dry petals cascading down towards an empty floor. How can I pick myself up again when my roots have rotted and died?

There seems nothing left. In myself there is only the void; outside, people have drifted away, managing their own lives in exuberance. I stand at window panes, wanting to walk in and join their celebrations, but there is no door and I am invisible.

How do I begin to exist again? How can I pick up the sherds and make the pot whole?