With my first sentence, I'm going to go out on a limb and say; both you and I have the right to freedom of speech. If not then I can't imagine how you found a journal with "freedom of speech" in the title, thus is the nature of censorship.

Furthermore, I think we can all agree that free speech is definitely a good thing. Without it our literature, cinema and politics (to name a few) would be an entirely different ball game. We are free to come to our own conclusions about right and wrong, and free to say so without fear of being stoned to death.

Good Thing.

So why do I feel as though this freedom has started to turn sour?

Recently, the phrases "My Rights", "Freedom of Speech" and "Civil Liberties" now, for me, carry with them connotations of whinging. Moreover, it reminds me of times when people have used it as a defence for being a royal Pain in the Ass.

 What people seem to be forgetting is that your freedom of expression does not make you right.

Too many times I have seen people claim the defence of "freedom of expression" during an argument or demonstration as if this excuses them from common decency.

We are all granted free speech in The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (article 19, FYI) but that is just a starting point, it is up to us to exercise this right responsibly. The use of language is like driving a car; you are a perfect liberty to do so, but you have to obey certain rules otherwise people get hurt.

And whilst we're on the subject, a little digression into the not-entirely-comfortable territory of "Rights". I'm getting so sick of people dividing rights into factions. Black rights, women's rights, religious rights, you name it, there'll be one.

I notice that many of these different groups all have one thing in common; a history of some sort of abuse or repression, and that is what annoys me the most.

Regardless of what "group" you decide that you belong in, a troubled past does not give you licence to behave with impunity now. Dividing rights into groups is basically a euphemistic veil that makes it okay for one person to claim special rights over another. There is no such thing as something like "religious rights" or "women's rights" because I think you'll find they all fall under the considerably larger category of Human Rights. Sure you have the right to participate in your culture, but that's it. It doesn't open doorways to any kind of preferential treatment.

Which brings me back to the original point. Your right to freedom of speech is loaded with responsibility, and if the pen is truly mightier than the sword then you should wield your words with care.

Love them? Hate them? Have them?
I need to hear from you.

I'd be so grateful if you could take....oooooh.....60secs to fill out this little survey thing (there are only 10 questions)

http://FreeOnlineSurveys.com/rendersurvey.asp?sid=wq0ocsv5zvqlwo0584655

Please spread it around, I don't care who to. The more diverse the opinions the better!

X

Along the southern edge of West Africa, countless children (many under the age of 10) are abused, abandoned, tortured and even murdered every day by parents, neighbours and religious preachers.

Why?

Because they have been denounced as witches.

A death in the family, it is the fault of the witches.

A failed crop, it is the fault of the witches.

Mania, depression and poverty, it is the fault of the witches.

“Witches” are "identified" by religious leaders at extremist churches where Christianity and traditional beliefs have combined to produce a deep-rooted belief in, and fear of, witchcraft. The priests spread the message that child-witches bring destruction, disease and death to their families. And they say that, once possessed, children can cast spells and inflict it on others others.

Once identified, preists have been known to use tactics such as burning, poisoning, beating the child , chaining them up, even burying them alive in order to get a confession or punish them. The children can find themselves locked in small, dark rooms for weeks, deprived of sleep, food and sunlight.

Imagine the witch trials of the medieval times and you’re pretty close.

Some parents of these poor children pay enormous sums of money for a “deliverance” (exorcism), often it will be all that they have. In many cases the pastor will claim that the witch will need a second, third and fourth deliverance, which the impoverished families can not afford. During the "deliverance" ceremonies, the children are shaken violently, dragged around the room and have potions poured into their eyes. If a child can’t be cured in this way then the child will often be exlied or killed.

The resulting homeless children are extremely vulnerable to the serious human-trafficking problem, rape and abuse. Not to mention the mental scarring of being alone and homeless at such a young age.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZVVbGEOoCM

It’s not merely a case of evil, brainwashing priests being blindly followed by worshippers.

The combination of economic, agricultural, social and political unrest in the country creates a massive amount of tension. Things are going wrong and people want a reason for it, distrust for the government makes these people turn to another source for answers.

There is an organisation out there to help them called Stepping Stones Nigeria.

Basically they take these children out of danger, give them a home and offer some rehabilitation from the trauma they have suffered.

SSN is still a baby charity and really needs to expand. They need your money and so do the children.

Please at least check it out and help stop this insanity.

http://www.steppingstonesnigeria.org/node/18

In the comments write 3 interesting things about yourself.

What makes you different? What are your dreams and ambitions? Do you maybe have a sushi addiction....or a deathly fear of clowns? Whatever, just make it interesting!

I guess I'll get the ball rolling:

1. I only became an artist because I'm not good enough at music to match up to my sister and dad. Then I fell in love with art and never looked back

2. I have over 80% of the criteria for a potential stalker.

3. I am a recovering alcoholic.

We all, at some point, get somewhat obsessed with an idol.

Finally, someone that shares your views, and isn't afraid to express them to millions of people.

Someone you aspire to be.

Someone entirely humam, yet entirely godly.

Someone you can share triumphs and faliures with....without ever meeting them.

I've spent the past years looking up to these people and wondering why I don't know others like them. It's sometimes scary how similar I can be to them without even realising. Just the other day I said a direct Gerard Way quote, but I hadn't previously heard it before. It was the person I said it to ("anotherway" on Buzznet) that pointed it out and I looked it up.

Anyway, irrelevant.

The point it, I've now spent so long in love with these heroes of mine, I can't seem to replicate these feelings for real people.

With idols it's not sexual thoughts, thats weird. And I think thats half the problem. I somehow "use up" all my real and strong emotions on rockstars and am only capable of physical relationships in the real world. The moment someone tries to get close to me I end up pushing them away and hurting them so that they'll leave me alone.

Present me with a stranger that needs help and my love knows no bounds...but a friend who wants a deeper relationship with sharing, cuddles, love and closeness?

No. Way.

This has been kinda ok through my teenage years. But I'm getting older.

Nearly everyone I know is in a steady relationship and I want that. But just can't. I just end up doing something pyshical with the person I think might be able to break through this mindset...but then I run scared when it starts to get real.

Ack, I don't really know what the point of this journal is. I guess I'm wondering is anyone else like me?

I just can't deal with real people anymore.

But in recent years we've seen a new kind of user emerge from teh interwebs: The Hater.

The Urban dictionary defines a hater (or "troll") as:

	Trolling
	Being a prick on the internet because you can. Typically unleashing one or more cynical or sarcastic remarks on an innocent by-stander, because it's the internet and, hey, you can. Guy: "I just found the coolest ninja pencil in existence." Troll: "I just found the most retarded thread in existence."   It takes a certain type of person to become a hater. They must: Have far too much time on their hands. Harbour a hatred for something (a band, celebrity etc) so strong that they are willing to endure pages dedicated to it for the soul purpose of insulting it's fans. Have a catalogue of unoriginal, antagonistic insults on standby, should someone engage them in combat. Have deep set insecurities...and probably a mother complex... The thing I don't understand about Trolls is simply why???

It's one thing to disagree with something someone says, but to actually dedicate your time to trawling through message boards/fansites/blogs etc devoted to something you hate just seems like a bit of a wasted effort to me.

These people aren't going to change their minds about whatever it is the hater in question dislikes so much. In the same way that the hater isn't going to be convinced that the thing they are flaming isn't actually that bad. So what is the point in (a) Trolling and (b) arguing with a troll??

If, however, you do find yourself in an argument with one, my advice is be as nice as possible to them. These people want emotional reactions, so if you just talk to them casually and politely they'll soon get bored and wander off to a different corner of the internet to be retarded in. *evil laugh*

As funny as thier warped ideas of what your favourite band/model/tshirt/cat is like, it's hard to convey hysterical laughter over the internet. Acute sarcasm and irony is good for these situations, although be warned that many do not have the capacity to "get it"....it's still good for lolz. They kinda asked for it.

Anyways, I will now cease rambling. And if anyone who enjoys a bit of trolling themself is reading this, drop me a comment and tell me whats so great about it....try not to include the phrase "it's just funny" though...

Toodles,

S.

xoxo

In just 2 years 1/4 of the arctic shelf disappeared due to global warming. If we don't stop it soon then one of the most unspoilt landscapes in the world will be gone forever.

• It is a fact that we all get depressed sometimes.
• it is also a fact that we get crazy sometimes
• everyone lies, cheats and steals at some point.

So when does this behavior become a disorder?

I am talking about Bipolar Disorder, which I was diagnosed with a little over a year ago. Ever since then I've been toeing the line on the brink of self destruction.

Diagnosis was a shock to me. I was suddenly another statistic on someone's mental health charts. It was too final, too definite. I didn't want a label, I didn't want to "talk about it" and I certainly didn't want to be pumped full of medication. Unfortunately, it happend anyway. And in a way, I'm now grateful.

I'm not writing this journal as a pure and simple act of self-indulgence and pity. I'm writing it beacuse I want people to at least think about getting help if they're at all worried about thier state of mind.

If you can spare a few minutes longer to read on then I'll start from the beginning.

It was maybe 4 or 5 years ago that I started to get real bad mood swings. One week I would be totally crazy; randomly planning trips to China, buying stupid things, bouncing off the walls, shouting at everyone, stealing for no reason. I would think the world was moving far too slowly and that got me frustrated and angry. Then began the come-down.

I'd shut myself in my room. not talk to anyone at all, even if they spoke directly to me. I sat on my bedroom floor in the dark for hours on end. Sometimes making those paper doll chains, sometimes just staring into space. I wouldn't wash, I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep. Litterally all I did was make paper dolls and listen to depressing music.

After about 6 months of this I decided to do something. No, not get help, but I started to self medicate. Alcohol for always, weed to slow me down when I was up and stolen happy pills and cocaine to pick me up when I was down. I found it easier to leave the house with a bottle of vodka in my bag. Cue many months of skipping class to drink, locking myself in the toilets to either burn, cut or making myself throw up. There was much passing out or throwing up during lessons due to the drink, drugs and bulimic tendencies which weakened my stomach. My friends (all 2 of them...yeah, it tends to drive your friends away too) tried to talk to me many times. But I just assured them I was fine, I just partied a bit harder than them. They left me be.

Of course someone higher up noticed and intervined in the end. 2 suicide attempts and £500 worth of drug debts later I was called to the head's office. The scene that ensued wasn't pretty, there was much drunken shouting, swearing and throwing things at people. Parents, medical professionals and security people were called and I was taken off the premises and straight to a shrink.

No matter what she said, I certainly wasn't going to spill my guts to her. I was convinced I could manage myself alone. These people were just interfering. I couldn't understand why they wanted to save the person I hated the most, so I assumed they were out to make me feel stupid. It sounds like paranoid ramblings now, but at the time it was real. I acted all tough, but in truth I was terrified of finally facing myself.

Nowadays, I'm on medication, I attend counselling sessions and I've cut down on all my addictions. Things are going good at the moment.

I still have the mood swings, but thats something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. It's just finding a way of staying alive in the process that is the hard part.

I think the main point I'm trying to make with this journal is that, no matter how insignificant it may seem, if you're ever worried about your wellbeing then talk to someone dammit!

I realise there is a romanticism assiciated with self destruction, but in reality there is nothing glamorous about stumbling in to the house at 4am trying to focus on the person waiting up for you who is asking where you got all those cuts from. Nothing glamorous about the scars all over my body. And certainly nothing glamorus about having having to be dragged kicking and screaming to the person that is literally going to save your life.

I confess that there is another reason for me writing this.I feel like I've been going back the way I came recently. I now recognise when I start to rise or fall, but I've stopped doing things to prevent it, so this journal is a bit of a vent. My counsellor will be in bed right now, so this is my equivilent to a session with her.

If anyone is still readin this than thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to be this long.

If anyone ever feels like they need someone to talk to, then I'll gladly listen. I'm no mental health professional, but I don't want people to unnessicarily repeat my mistakes.

Stay safe.

S.

xoxo

"WHY??" I hear you cry?

Because Give It A Name was fucking brutal incredible.

The tone of the weekend was set when we arrived at 2pm and immediately started drinking disgustingly over-priced RedBull+vodka mixers and had 2/3 of our group sustain injuries from the insane circle pits by 3pm. The smaller bands were holding their own on the big ass stage with the big ass crowd...which I thought was impressive.

As my friends decided that a sit down on the burger-strewn, beer-covered floor was what they needed, I bounded off to watch MC Lars (whom I had never previously heard of) which turn out like a rave, it was so awesome.

All of the bands I expected to be good, The Blackout, Anti-Flag etc etc, exceeded expectations by miles. The Blackout had a truely wild mosh going. It was one of the most gorgeous I've seen. "High Tide Baby" was amazing as always (I mean, just LISTEN to that chorus) and during "I'm a Riot, You're a Fucking Riot" some scantily-clad and, frankly, stunning women made an appearance with fire torches ablaze and strut their lovely stuff.

As much as I hate to admit it, both Paramore and 30STM put on a positively storming performance. I found myself screaming along to every word that I knew by chance or accident and had the time of my life.

Paramore's "Misery Business" had the whole crowd (including myself) pogo-ing like kids on a sugar OD, and "Born For This" inspired a rousing war-like chant during the mid. Hayley's stage presence was truely astounding and I found myself giving dirty looks and gestures to hecklers....when I once had every intention of joining them.

30STM were late. I assumed (being the cynical bitch that I am) that Mr. Leto was still doing his hair/applying his make-up/admiring his admittedly yummy face backstage. Whatever the reason, it was totally worth the wait. There was much flashing of lights and blasting of your typical demonic-chorus-for-impact-soundtrack *rolls eyes*.

But when the oversized bedsheet finally dropped to reveal the band (covered in UV paint) I found myself screaming and thrashing around as much as the next person. "The Kill" was possibly one of the best moments of the whole weekend as it happens to be one of my guilty pleasures. The pit was at least 30m in diameter and some kids even had the balls to attempt a human pyramid. At the same time as this craziness, Leto decided to come stand on some lucky fans for a bit, I found myself completely bowled over by the tidal wave of screaming girls that saw fit to run straight into me (I was directly in front of him) in order to maybe get smeared with his godly sweat or something......ok I admit.....I did touch his hand and subsequently had a fangirl moment. But c'mon...he's darn pretty in person....

So....after a crazy weekend of daytime drinking, sweat baths, broken ribs, punk-political rallies, fangirls, skin-heads and the winning over of a particularly cynical mosher (ie me)....am I going to buy any 30stm/Paramore records??

No.

It was enough to see them live I think. I still have some pride left you know :P

Money Spent: £100

Tshirts bought: 3

Injury count: 9

LINE UP:

BEFORE:

DURING:

AFTER

THE PIT

(lol)

PARAMORE

30STM (CRAPPY PIC I KNOW)

HUMAN PYRAMID

BILLY TALENT (WELL, DUH)

My grades are picking up.

My new band work well together.

And I think we're about to have a thunderstorm. I can smell it.

I'm just happy is all.

Thought I'd write it down to look at next time I start to fall.