“Youth is happy because it has the ability to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.” Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka was a Czech author of fiction, born in Prague, who was unfortunately only successful posthumously. He wrote in German, so that quote is merely a translation: an incredibly accurate and astutely-observed deduction that he only reached

That quote will be the basis for this article. I will expand it out and try to apply some of my own wisdom. I will try to explain why a world once so beautiful is now drab and dreary. Surely it is painfully obvious that the world we live in is still beautiful: those photos in National Geographic, or those TV shows of weird, otherworldly panoramas — they’re not lying. Those places are real and this world is still beautiful.  Objectively, we must be able to agree that the world is full of beauty. You might gripe and balk, claiming things ‘aren’t what they used to be’. You might claim that the world is a scarier place than when you were younger, fearless, running through a field of tall grass to escape your mother’s clutches.

These are subjective views of the world, a view of the world through your jaded eyes.  A view interpreted by your bitter brain. It’s not rational. The world is not ugly or dysfunctional. The world still is beautiful. We just don’t see it that way any more.

I was so easily pleased as a child. An ice cream or a new rattle would make me grin like a fool. Something as simple as a casette tape that I could grab with my pudgy hands and gnaw with my new teeth could keep me entertained for hours. Everything back then was so new and shiny; you really can’t leave any stone unturned when you’re a kid, the curiousity would eat you alive! What happens when you stick your finger in there? Why does the cat scratch me when I put it under the tap? Who comes running if I scream as loudly as I can?

Where does that wide-eyed look of amazement go? Why don’t adults jump out of bed, look out the window and smile? Perhaps they smile, but only until self-awareness returns and reality snaps back into sight. The mantle of stress settles back down upon your shoulders and the smile disappears.

Why, as adults, are we so damn hard to please? Why can’t we find pleasure in the simple act of surviving, or discovering something new? Why does being an adult like feel like nothing more than 60 years of receiving socks for your birthday?

Go back to when you were younger. Shut your eyes, if that helps, and recall a time when you were a child. A time when you were reckless; stomping around the garden, running away from your parents at an amusement park, stealing candy from the cupboard. You probably can’t remember the exact details, but you can probably recall the emotion you were feeling, or perhaps a strong smell or visual memory. You’re grinning now, right, in recollection?

Our childhood is simply full of those memories — the memories of first-time experiences. Adult life is a little more sparse, but you probably still remember your first kiss, or the first film you saw at the cinema — they are probably even more intense, undulled by the passage of time. You also remember the bad first times: when you fell from your bike and scraped your knee, or when your best friend dumped you for someone else.

These experiences (and thus memories) are so intense and so memorable that they inevitably form the basis of who you will become. This is, in fact, nurture. Nurture isn’t just being slapped for eating candy before dinner, or being told that you’ll get hairy palms if you continue so fervently. Nurture is everything that happens to you, from birth through to death. Nurture governs, through good experiences, what will become the love and passion of your life. Conversely, and this is the important bit, your bad experiences dictate what will become your fears and distrusts.

It is through bad experiences — the presence of pain, both mental and physical — that we learn what to avoid in the future. When we are stung by a bee as a child that nearly always develops into a fear of bees when we’re older. When we’re scolded by our mother for running around the house, we’re unlikely to grow into Olympic athletes.

This isn’t a new thing — it’s incredibly ancient, probably going back millions of years. Even the most basic of animals do the same: they avoid pain at all costs. It’s a survival trait! You do something wrong, it causes pain, you don’t do it again in the future. This is basic, basic stuff to ensure the continued existance of your race.

And that’s what causes us to become dull. Eventually, with enough painful experiences, we become jaded. Our decision making is so clouded by every single one of those pains that it becomes very hard to simply have fun. You can’t go skydiving because you fell and hit your head when you were younger. You can’t stand under a waterfall because you almost drowned when you were a child. It’s a survival instinct, but it’s not necessarily rational.

We’re living in a world with an infinite number of possibilities and an infinite source of beauty. Our ability to see that beauty — and reach Peter Pan’s Never Land, if you believe Kafka — is impeded only by our fears. As children we were endlessly energetic and reckless because we didn’t know of the pains that awaited us. The only difference is that now we approach everything with such boring cautiousness.  We don’t pick it up and shake it around — we’re afraid it’ll blow our hands off!

A world composed of people living in fear, unable to see the innate beauty of our surroundings is a world devoid of creative inspiration. When everyone is afraid of getting their hands dirty, or doing something just to see what happens, that’s a dead world.

Just remember, next time you have a wild idea — something fun, something awesome — don’t let what occurred 20 years ago get in the way. Just do it!

If you like what you've read, or seen, or heard, subscribe to my RSS feed!

Alternatively, if you're new here, you might want to find out more about me, the author. Or perhaps you want to hear a posh Brit rant on about anything and everything (podcasts), or you want to read something more serious?

No picture of me in a doctor’s jacket again! What a gyp! (Note the interesting derivation on ‘gypsy’ — never knew that!) You must be so disappointed in me yet again. But in my defence, this week’s been a really unpleasant mix of heat, humidity and stiflingly oppressive stillness. The only breeze is that which has been stirred up by the feeble fan that’s currently keeping my feet cool. So you get some angstily-answered questions this week and a re-used picture of me that you’ve probably seen before. If you’re not interested, go and watch my video blog from yesterday. Or go ask me a question!

Every question this week has something to do with love or sex or relationships!
(Sorry, I know it’s a bit over the top… but yes, now you know what my eyes look like… yay!)

Dear Sex-pert Seb, [This feels more like a tabloid each week, excellent -S]

I want to do something for my man which will make him smile every time he thinks about it… and I don’t mean baking an amazing cake! I mean something naughtier.

As someone who is obviously experienced in naughty things, what can you suggest?

- Sexless in Seattle

A juicy one to start with. It probably comes as no surprise to you, me being a man and all, that the only real thing I’ve been able to focus my thoughts on over the last week, during this heatwave, is… sex. I’m all hot and sweaty and so my thoughts inevitably drift to when I was last hot and sweaty. Not being the kind of person to do any exercise outside of the bedroom, my mind wanders to all of the beautiful women that I’ve made love to.

You came to the right person: Sex-pert Seb! I’ve read a lot of girl magazines (Cosmo, Marie Claire, etc.) over the years (I told you, I’m inquisitive) and consider myself a bit of a guru when it comes to this particular topic. The suggestions tend to vary from downright-weird to the hmm-that-sounds-quite-nice-actually but they nearly all revolve around one thing: oral sex (or cooking for him, misogyny be damned!)

There are a lot of variations, some more difficult and/or degrading than others — I’ll give you an easy one to start with: go down on him while he’s asleep, in the morning. It’s a very, very good way to wake up, I assure you.

For more information, search the Internet for the many guides on the topic, but here’s SexInfo101’s to get you started: Fellatio I – Basics.

Geek Master S,

I write to you in greatest secrecy because… because it’s about a girl that I like. But she’s a geek, so she might be able to find this if I give you too much information. Anyway, there’s this girl I like, but I don’t know how to make her love me! Or at least for her to take me seriously! She’s more of a geek than me. She likes all sorts of weird stuff like comics and TV shows with vampires in. I watched Buffy though, and that’s alright, but the rest… I dunno.

Anyway, my question is, how can I be the guy she wants? We are good friends right now, but sex/relationships seem like the last thing on her mind, but I must make her mine!

Live long and prosper (that’s what you geeks say right?),
Clueless Wannabe Geek

Ah, young padawan (that’s a trainee Jedi, from Star Wars), you have much to learn — but it is a good, ripe topic worthy of your focus! The geeks will inherit the world, if they have not already done so, and it’ll be a better place for it! Fortunately, I’m about as big a geek as it gets, so I’ll try to impart some useful knowledge that’ll hopefully a) make you a better person (more of a geek) and b) get into her pants.

First, you need to at least be interested in her and what she does (this is good advice for any girl, incidentally). If she likes vampires, you better start liking vampires, or at least try to read the latest Twilight book. Or invite her around for a Buffy/True Blood marathon. If she likes comics, ask her which super hero/universe is a good one to start with, and go buy it! For bonus points, accompany her to some kind of comic/geek convention and dress up according to her wishes.

As long as you’re interested, she should fall into line pretty quickly. You don’t even have to be an alpha geek yourself, she’d probably be more than happy with someone that doesn’t hush into silence her latest thoughts on the ‘continuity of Star Trek: The Next Generation episode 42′.

For more information, I have to refer you to my own awesome Geek Guides: Why geek girls are awesome (well duh), Geeks make good lovers (this is why you want to make her yours, trust me…)

Sebby-poo, [I got called this for a short period at school by girls. It was not a good time in my life. -S]

I think I’m gay… I like girls. I don’t know if it’s a problem per se, or if it will become a problem later on… but right now, I’m just a bit confused, you know? Is it a phase? Should I tell someone to get it off my chest, or will that only make it worse in today’s day and age? I guess that’s what I’m doing now by telling you?

I suppose I’m looking for advice, if there’s anything I should know. Some background info: I’ve had a few boyfriends but nothing long-term. I’ve had sex with one boy and it was… nice. Nothing special! I recently kissed a girl at a house party… we were drunk… turns out she’s liked me for ages though… and it did feel nice, leaving me wishing something more had happened!

Help me! Am I gay or straight or just…

- A Confused Girl

Well this one’s tricky and ‘are you gay?’ is a good place to start. Sexuality has always been a contentious topic: is it genetic? Nurtured? Instilled by popular culture? The prevailing theory at the moment is that it’s a big mix of nurture and nature — your genetics and hormonal balance might play a big role in it, but so does your upbringing and experiences. No one really knows to be honest (no doubt we’ll learn more about it in the next few decades now that homosexuality is becoming ‘OK’ in modern society). The only real measurement of gayness is: do you feel more attraction (in the full sense — mental and physical, ’till death do you part) to other women? If so, then you’re gay.

But that’s OK!

It’s quite important to remember that being gay does not lock you into various stereotypes and mannerisms. You don’t have to cut your hair short and adorn yourself with tattoos. You don’t have to slap on some lipstick and make out with other girls in clubs (though you can do either if you like). You already have a potential girlfriend lined up, which is good; she can show you the ropes, and you won’t have to wander into the treacherous and seedy world of ‘gay bars’ to experiment. Talking of experimentation: who knows, it might turn out that you’re not actually into girls after all. Perhaps you’re simply curious about things, or you’re out of a disaffected relationship with a boy!

Most of all, don’t worry. Being gay is more socially accepted now than ever before! That doesn’t mean you’ll fit in everywhere, especially in mature or religious communities, and you must accept that their point of view on homosexuality is as valid as yours, and a lot more entrenched. Life as a lesbian might not always be easy, but the important thing is that you’re happy and able to be yourself.

My trip to the Faroe Islands was inspirational. It wasn’t a roller coaster of excitement. It wasn’t a sun-drenched getaway. I didn’t sleep a lot, nor did I feast on exotic fruits fed to me by sun-kissed maidens — in fact, all I ate was meat and potatoes. The Faroe Islands were educational. Eye-opening and and interesting.

The Faroe Islands are unique in that they’re the smallest Western nation in the world. 45,000 people spread out across an archipelago of 18 islands. They have three cities, the biggest of which has a population of 15,000 — the next, Klaksvik, has just 4,000.

Zoom in on that city. A village or small town by any other standard, Klaksvik is the capital of the Northern Isles and the hub of culture and commerce for 6 of the Faroes’ 18 islands. Once upon a time it would’ve been a village with a thriving marketplace, a civilisation whose only contact with the outside world was by boat. In fact its tunnel to the mainland was only finished in 2006!

But is it a backward, single-street village? Is Klaksvik a second-world shanty village reliant on good weather and safe waters for its survival? No. When the fog horns bellow do women run helter-skelter to the harbour hoping that food has finally arrived? No. Klaksvik and the Faroes themselves are actuallty one of the most developed nations in the world. In Klaksvik alone they have multiple deep-sea harbours and dry dock. A cinema and theatre. Two gymnasiums and a skate park! They even have a fully-featured hospital and – get this – a football stadium with more than enough seating for the entire town — city! I meant city! (Don’t call it a village. They really hate that. I did it a few times…)

They’re also planning an indoor football pitch for use during the dark and cold-rain winters that descend upon their city for two thirds of the year. An indoor sports arena for just 4,000 people; just 4,000 people utilise these awesome and ludicrous amenities. Four thousand happy little souls, living out their lives as humble fishermen and sheep farmers but with access to resources that would put most western nations to shame.

But how do they do it? How can economy on such a tiny scale work?

More importantly: why don’t all towns of similar size around the world have the same resources?

Now that I’ve painted an objective picture of Klaksvik, it’s necessary for me to tell you what it’s like to live there. What’s it like to live in a city where everyone literally knows everyone? What’s it like when the bank manager is both your uncle and the one signing your mortgage agreement? How about when the city’s star football player is also the same person that you regularly head into the Arctic Circle to trawl cod fish with? What’s it like to live in a place where it’s not unusual for teenagers to head out together for a 9-month stint as fishers in the Barents Sea off the coast of Russia?

But the weirdest thing about the small city of Klaksvik is this: nothing is locked. Car doors are left unlocked with their keys often on display. House doors are (usually) closed but never bolted. Boats and bikes are left running: nothing is chained down.

As a result, life in Klaksvik felt just as I expected: it’s like one big family. Because that’s what it is. We’re talking about a city that formed by the coalescence of nearby villages; from just 200 people a thousand years ago, there are now 4,000. You don’t need a piece of paper to work out just how closely related everyone is.

There was the possibility that I would be thought of as ‘the stranger’, the freak that would draw people to their windows. The other-world alien that would pull crowds of pointed fingers, furrowed glares and nervous giggles.

I thought I’d feel like an outcast, a tourist — or worse: a journalist — an outsider come to investigate and poke and ridicule their ancient form and customs.

Instead I was welcomed with open arms and hearts. And legs.

[Next part tomorrow... hopefully!]

Yeah right, like I would make an entire post about something as dry as my new year’s resolutions! You must’ve realised by now that I rarely blog in that way. It’s more like a timeless classic ’round these parts of the Internet: if you picked a random entry from the archives, chances are you wouldn’t be able to place it. Chances are, it would be a rant that really has nothing to do with the day it was written.

Except for posts like these. There are cultural customs that one is expected to pander (cater?) to. It’s just not done to skip the Christmas greeting card or message of goodwill. It would be like not bringing a celebratory birthday cake to school, or not saying ‘bless you’ when someone sneezes in England. I’m could get away without singing Auld Lang Syne – but not telling you my new year’s resolutions? I’m simply not that cruel.

It’s often said that new year’s resolutions can be as wild or as crazy as you like, but they should be, by some measure, attainable. I think some people will say that it’s good to have a mad, seemingly-unreachable target — something you can’t possibly do in one year — but I think that’s more of a goal. A resolution is an agreement you make with yourself. It’s something about you that will change in the coming year. I guess they are little steps towards a grander goal.

I was thinking earlier (I know, scary)… and my mind turned to the subject of apathy. It’s a state of indifference, ambivalence — not caring one way or the other. Steak or pasta; who cares. We don’t start off like that, you know. From a very young age we know exactly what we want and when we want it. Spaghetti now. Toys now. Walking now. Learning to talk now.  In each of these endeavours we nearly always succeed. It’s a mix of parental supervision and guidance, and our own force of will — but we do it because we’re not aware of failure being an option.

But then we fail. We fall, we tumble, we hurt ourselves — we fail spectacularly, pick ourselves back up and carry on. But it takes its toll, those failures. Eventually we become apathetic towards a single cause — food, finding love, whatever — and then other causes, and eventually we wither away into nothingness.

All because of a few pesky failures that snowball. We make a mountain out of millions of mole hills and then we die. Mors ultima linea rerum est.

That’s basically life laid out in its entirety. There’s some other stuff in there too, but mostly it’s just a path, route, litany or culmination of failures.

What if we don’t fail?

What if we never hurt ourselves or suffer hunger or have our heart broken… would life then be really, really grand? I think so.

That’s the whole point of new year’s resolutions: ‘This is a list of things I will not fail at for an entire year.’ I suppose, if you’re good at it, those things could stick for ever, leaving you with a new list of resolutions each year. Slowly but surely you could become a better, happier person.

The key of course is making resolutions that are actually possible.

Back to the original thought: how many people are living a life they don’t want or are unhappy with? How many people wanted to be a fireman but aren’t or can’t? How about those that simply want to be in love, in a happy relationship, but haven’t succeeded? I can’t begin to imagine how empty that feeling of failure (or loss?) must be.

Make a resolution that you can keep, that pushes you towards something you’ve always wanted to be or do. Then take another step. And another!

In that frame of mind, here are my resolutions for 2010:

• Hang photos in a gallery, or exhibition of my work
• Write a kick-ass short story
• Find a pliable, wholesome woman to have my wicked way with
• Visit a new continent and experience new civilizations… to boldly go…!

Don’t worry, I’m not about to get all holier-than-thou. I’ve had my share of one-night stands; not lots, but enough. I’ve swung, hung and even bunged… but it was in the name of and under the guise of research!

Personally, in my humble opinion, casual sex isn’t all that. I can see the temporary appeal of rampant, lights-out knees-over-your-head action. But to me it’s like fast food: gorge yourself and there are repercussions. You can do it occasionally, but even then is it worth the indigestion afterwards?

And that’s what it comes down to, casual sex: is it worth it? This is my scarily-objective, cold-and-calculatory mind spinning up again. Checks and balances, measurement and sanity checks: you have to ask yourself, just before you unzip and stick it in — or lift up and bend over – is it worth it?

I’m not going to make this a lesson on the perils of sex. I’m not even talking about STDs or STIs! I’m just talking about complications. Try as we might, we can’t lower sex to the status of ‘team sport’. It’s involved. If we could blow our load and get off by playing football, we’d just play football. Without trying to school you all, I just don’t think it’s healthy (mentally, if nothing else) to screw everything with a pulse. I don’t want to sound like a prude, but it’s my belief that we should all value these fantastic collections of skin, bone and miscellaneous organs just a little more.

And so I devised a system. I could get into trouble if I say when exactly I implemented this system — let’s just say it was a few years ago. In its formative months The System was just a way of controlling the hedonism — you really don’t get much work done if you’re performing the 8am Walk of Shame a few times a week — then later it became more… formalised. With my System the actual quality of sex improved. There is such a thing as bad sex, don’t listen to anyone that says otherwise! Bad sex is really, really bad.

Seb’s Sex System doesn’t discourage casual sex, nor sex with strangers, but instead ensures that you constantly push the envelope rather than settling for second or third (or fourth…) best. It does this with points and a sex threshold. You start by defining your idea of the perfect sex partner. Do you want a big ass? Small? Tall, short? Muscles, or cuddle-monster? Once you have the perfect archetype (which you are free to change as your tastes alter!) every potential partner is measured against this scale. The key to this system is that the point score must increase each time you engage in casual sex. Let me give an example, using (most of) my own scale:

Perfect Archetype

Physical: Short (5′1″-5′3″/150-160cm), large eyes (colour unimportant), small’ish breasts — ass is more important. Slender but not all skin and bones (I think we’d call this a size 8 in the UK, but in the US that’s like… a size 4?)

Mental: Has to be smart/witty, interested in her surroundings/inquisitive, talks quickly.

That’s the basic template. That’s 1000 points. But it’s not quite that simple: there are deal breakers, traits that completely change your outlook. For most people these are pretty similar, but let me list some of mine:

Deal breakers: Talks slowly, bad skin, smells bad, irritating laugh, habitual mannerisms (itching, nail biting, twitches, etc.)

Any of these traits/attributes immediately lower the person’s score by 100 points.

So you’ve found your prey…

What now?! Well, you rate them against your perfect girl or boy! This bit is subjective. For me, a girl that’s one inch shorter is closer to perfection than one inch taller. For you it might be the other way around. For every ‘increment’ that your prey/victim/target is ‘out by’, deduct 50 points. So if she had large breasts, I would deduct 50 points. Semi-flat ass, minus 50. A totally flat ass? Take 100 points!

Eventually you’ll have a total score.

The System

Now that you have a score for the lucky boy or girl, you simply compare that score to your last exploit. Only if the new score is higher do you sleep with them. Not equal! Not ‘almost the same’. Higher! If this is your first time, just remember or write down the score as it’s the starting point upon which your next encounter will be compared.

Extras and things to watch out for

As you’ve probably gathered, this is a very, er, analytical system. I realised the same thing after using The System for a few months! That’s why there’s a bonus round! Also known as cool things during sex. Until now The System hasn’t really been about sex — that’s what the bonus round changes. Without going into disgusting detail (maybe another time), you should add 25 points for every ‘ooh, cool’ sex act. Likewise, you should detract 100 points for every ‘eeww, not cool’ sex act. Update the previous total score with these new modifiers and commence your 8am Walk of Shame. Rinse, repeat!

It’s also worth noting that you can set a ‘baseline’ level if you’re new to the whole sex-before-marriage thing. Most people will just leap right into it, but in some cases (say, in a city with lots of immigrants or gypsies) it might be wise to stipulate a base threshold that potential squeezes must surpass. An easy-going person might be happy to start with girls or boys around 100 points. ‘Tight’ girls (and boys), those of you that like to think they’re a cut above the rest, probably want to start at around 500 points. Remember, there is a happy medium between promiscuity and chastity.

Best-case scenario you’ll have a lot of wholesome, healthy fun. You might even find the love of your life! At the very least you’ll learn a lot more about the world and how we interact with one another — important skills, in my opinion!