On love

Today, I wanted to try something I’ve never really done before. I wanted to review and add an own perspective to what others wrote before me. I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time, and tonight, I finally found a worthy text to review. Note to the original author, my friend Laurens, who I know reads this blog: this wasn’t meant as a slam, just as a comment - and a not all too serious one at that. Damn, now he’s gonna think I’m going to slaughter him here!

While reading his Love is a battlefield, I had so many own remarks they couldn’t fit into the comment section, so I fired up my text processor, and this is the result.

Overall, the ‘paper’ has a very dark and pessimistic overtone to it (and I believe I know why – a girl nicknamed Eden – although I may be wrong).

The last few words, in time, there is hope yet for true romance, struck me as being the very core of what was being said, with the phrase for me understandably left out. I think this is what the paper is really about. Sad to say, but this is true for too many people (maybe even you!): the lack of love, or presence of the unrequited kind. Nazareth sang it in the ’70s already: love really does hurt. Or Heart’s ballad What About Love is eerily familiar to those who’ve ever been in love, even if you never heard it. Or go listen to Foreigner’s I Want To Know What Love Is. Or Phil Collins’ You Can’t Hurry Love. Or Blink-182’s The Rock Show (or any Blink song, for that matter). Or Cinderella's Don't Know What You've Got. Sorry, but I simply love music!

And then you have the ones for whom it all seems to go so smoothly. Who doesn’t have that friend who has a new lover each week? A new Dutch TV show is climbing the charts. It’s called Oh Oh Cherso, and it’s about 8 guys and girls partying, drinking, and of course spread-eagling a new chick every night. There’s an abundant selection of like shows to be watched, with many more in the making. That’s not true love. That’s instant hedonism, which is, indeed, sanctified in today’s society. Why work when you can play, and why love when you can fuck?

I think that’s not true. There is love somewhere out there. While there are some who haven’t ever been loved by another, most of us have. Just go back in your past and try to recall the feelings, the special moments, the little things and the love. Just reminisce for a moment, if you will. Feeling loved already?

Yes, it does take a huge deal of effort, but when you look past the superficiality that dominates nowadays, you’ll see a wonderful world. And yes, there’s room for romance.

To further illustrate this point, I made this chart of the list of utopian romantic love stories mentioned in the paper. Note that, as Orpheus isn’t part of history rather than mythology, I had to make an educated guess as to when he lived. Clicky for big-res. The X’s mark a period which was talked about. See how far some X’s are apart? Orpheus and Henry VIII ‘lived’ over 20 centuries apart, and you’re complaining that the last love epic was made but 13 years ago? Also, a hoard of new romance entertainment is coming out year after year after year – however, quality is highly subjective and I won’t go into that argument here.

Furthermore, I’m not convinced by the arguments. “Hollywood has … lost its touch,” the author says, adding that “[m]ost Hollywood couples as well have had several husbands and wives, turning the concept of holy matrimony in some sort of contest”. When, pray tell, has Hollywood been any good sort of role model? Partying, promiscuity and OD’ing have always been law there, so why should now be any different? And yes, there are exceptions: Matt Damon, for example, is an international mega-star, but nobody knows anything about his private life (except, of course, for his groupies and stalkers). Many others follow suit.

Yes, in the past, some men were gallant and chivalrous; but the other side is also true. For a long time, women were regarded as useful only for producing offspring; this meant rape was frequently a-okay, especially in time of war – and what nation hasn’t had one enemy at any point? Okay, there are many points and counterpoints to be made here, and I won’t go into the nitty-gritty details, but it wasn’t always sharing spaghetti with a creepy Italian playing accordion in the background, always having Paris or doing some epic dance moves!

The ancient Greeks already accused younger generations of being immoral and sickening, generation X complained about the slacktivism of youngsters, generation Y loves to resent the next generation, and so on. People look to the past for safety, because that’s what they know best. But, newsflash: in 20 years, we’ll surely look back on today and think this was a great period filled with love, happiness and glee. All times are extraordinary times!

All I can say to all of you who are in love with someone who doesn’t love you back, is advice I’ve once received and later passed on to other heartbroken souls: it’s not easy at all to get over someone, but don’t get discouraged! There is someone out there for you, you just haven’t met them yet!

70 days later...

Remember when I posted this? And how outrageous, stupid and overly moronic it was to still have no government 126 days after the federal elections?

It was just brought to my attention that we still don't have a government, even 196 days after those elections! Mind you, the government fell way before that (48 days earlier, if I still can count correctly), and I read somewhere that the meetings were adjourned 'till the new year, for at least 14 days. That will eventually make for a total of - at the very least - 258 days without a federal government!

No, we're doing awesome down here...

(I feel obligated to say that the reason this is is the highly controversial and delicate matter about BHV - in short: as always with matters this controversial, someone will lose power and money if it goes one way or the other; and that we do have a resigning federal government - it can only take care of matters which were already present when the government resigned, but doesn't have a say in anything that has since cropped up.)

I just had sex..

And it felt so good!

Nah man, the guys from The Lonely Island, known for such hits as I'm on a boat and Jizz In My Pants, just released another music video; it's so good, catchy and formitastic I wanted to share it with you, enjoy:

Merry VLC!

I've always really liked the VLC christmassy pic that replaces its normal icon around this time of year:

On the same note and before I forget: happy holidays, everyone!

Last night...

Free food, free booze, free lap dances, a 3 year old promise fulfilled, a guy dressed in a garbage can, watching 10 bikes stacked on top of each other get disentangled, (sadly, almost) making snowangels,...

One might say all this made for one fine evening!

Positive determination?

The topic for today is something that’s been on my mind lately, but I've had these thoughts for years and years. It’s kinda philosophically natured, so if you don’t like that, just skip this one. Go outside. Or read a book. Or do something useful. Anyway, on to the ontological question of the concept time.

Time: does it flow freely, unrestraint by environmental factors, going wherever it pleases to go? Does it care about us? Should it? Or is time something rigid? Something that is nothing? Or maybe we can’t perceive time too well? Can we, then, ever arrive at the true definition of time?

These are some of the greatest questions man has ever asked himself. I myself have a personal opinion on all this: I truly think that all time exists at once, but we see but a minor fraction of it at this very moment. We can’t see past our momentary constraints; to us, time passes and there’s nothing we can do about it. The present is what we perceive at this very yoctosecond.

I hear you think: dude, what about past & future? They should exist as well, shouldn’t they? My answer is: yes, but only in our perception. We can look back on what we’ve done – you can always correctly answer if I ask you e.g. what you had for dinner last night. We, in short, perceive a past.

You can be wrong if I ask you, on the other hand, what you’ll have for dinner tomorrow; but that’s only, I speculate, because humans can’t see the future. Imagine, if you please, a humanoid species that actually can see the future like we can see the past. Imagine that you are a member of this species. If I ask you now, what will you have for dinner tomorrow, you’ll answer 100% correctly. Every time. Note that I’m not saying that you, as part of this species, cannot predict the future in an absolute manner: you may not know the answer if I ask you what you’ll have for dinner in 3 weeks (just as you may not remember what you had for dinner 3 weeks ago). In short: future exists in our minds, but our human perception can neither apprehend nor understand it.

Now I hear you think: you said we perceive past and future. So are they real or not? Do they exist? I believe they don’t: that they’re just concepts we think are real; but, when faced with the real answer (which will, sadly, probably never come), we will learn that everything we thought we knew is wrong (you’ve actually been cheated like this before: think of all the lies you were told as a kid, ranging from Santa to the birds and the bees).

I simply don’t believe in time as we perceive it, I think time is like a river that flows swift and sure in one direction. We are caught in the river, inexorably dragged along, down to our personal waterfalls. We inevitably haven’t got much control of where we’re going either. We can also look at parts of the water where we were, and we sometimes catch glimpses of the place we’re going to next; but all in all, we see but small segment of a giant river.

Someone standing outside the river has full control over what he’ll see next, he can look at the spring of the river (and see the big bang) or he can go to the estuary (the apocalyptical end of time), or anywhere in between. He can view episodes of life over and over again. He can see you falling down the stairs as a kid, the construction of the Pyramids of Giza, the dinosaurs, the Battle of Waterloo etc.; much like we can view any scene from a film over and over again – just go to any random YouTube video and try to skip back and forth a couple of times. See how it’d basically work? (Note: this deity-like figure is purely exemplificative and doesn’t represent my theological views.)

2 demurs people can have inevitably follow from this idea: for one, there is no place for parallel universes. Everything that ever happened, happens or will happen, does so in but one universe: ours. No exceptions. Sorry. Another one is a widespread concern: this is dangerously similar to the pessimistic philosophy determinism: nothing matters for, whatever you do, you won’t be able to alter the future. I say, no, you are able to change the future. Each and every of your actions will resonate in the future, you simply don’t know how. Yet. So it’s interesting to do things and to see where they’ll lead you to. As such, I very much like the name Positive Determination for my views.

Some afterthoughts: some of the more literary-centered readers will certainly have noticed this post being influenced by Vonnegut’s thoughts.  I’ve always liked his writing – even though it’s stacked with sci-fi bullcrap. And again, for the last time, I’m not saying that I’m right or if what I’m saying here is real. This may very well be complete and utter nonsense. We'll probably never know.

Take public transportation, they said! It's a man's life, they said!

Let me start this post by saying this right off the bat: although I frequently use public transportation (yeah yeah, I know – still, it’s one the easiest ways to get around), I’m not one of these people who complain every time the pettiest mishap or delay occurs. I mostly ignore their lamenting and bewailing because of insufficient services – especially when it’s oh so very clear they’re part of the problem. Being 5 minutes late isn’t that bad, who cares? And if that amount of time makes the difference between being on time and being too late, well, maybe it’s you. Just saying.

With that said, let’s move on to what happened to me today. This morning, I left the house on time, i.e. 7:20. I had been planning to ride my bike to Leuven station (and, yes, in English, it’s spelled Leuven, not Louvain, nor some other exotic spellings that often make me chuckle), to, as always, take the train to Brussels, to partake in some fun fun fun Languages classes. All in all, this should take, and normally does take, just under an hour – 20 minutes on the bike/bus, 25 on the train, the rest spent waiting/walking/…

When I stepped outside, it was raining cats and dogs, so I quickly decided that it’d be madness to go about your day in that weather, and that it’d be best to take the autobus to the station (something I also quite frequently do). First mistake. When I came to my bus stop after racing like a madman at the speed of 30 km/h (about 20 mph), I saw a bus just coming to a halt there. I yet had to put my bike away, so I thought, no biggie, let’s just wait for the next one. It’d come in a couple of minutes anyway. Second mistake.

As you might’ve guessed, that bus arrived about 10 minutes late, effectively making me wait in a light snowstorm for 20 minutes. Great. On top of that, a traffic jam prevented the bus from making much progress – when I arrived at Leuven station, it was 8:15. 15 more minutes and the class would start. But another problem loomed ahead: due to a problem somewhere in the Limburg, many trains to Brussels were canceled. Normally, I have a train every 10 minutes at this hour, yet the first one wouldn’t arrive until over 20 minutes later. Just awesome.

So, again, I waited and waited in the cold for what seemed like an eternity. Of course, what with so many trains canceled, everyone (and I literally mean everyone) wanted to get ahold of his/her place on this transportation utility (not everyone succeeded, though). Can you imagine a small train, naturally taking all the time in the world to get to his final destination, packed to the brim with all sorts of people? It was worse: some people felt the need to constantly look for a leftover sitting place – immensely disturbing the sane ones who accepted that there was no such thing left; the weird guy next to me stank; one girl nearly fainted, greatly upsetting ‘my’ compartment. There simply is no such thing as enough.

                                                    

When the train finally arrived in the Brussels-Central, it was 9:12. I reached my class at 9:18 – 48 minutes late, one hour and fifteen minutes after I initially meant to arrive, 2 hours after I set out on this trip.

So, how was your morning?

The Pictorial Paradigm Distortion

First off, I’ve re-read my past couple of posts and noticed the overwhelming amount of emo-ness in them. Not that anyone reads this utter BS of a blog, but I’ll try to cut down on the boo-hoos and bitching (unless, of course, that’s what you like in this blog. If so, I’ll just banter on about the misfortunes in my life. You sadist.) 

I can't really explain my thoughts on this quite well, so, please, at least try to make some sense of this incoherent mumbo-jumbo. But without further ado:

We’ve all done lots of things in our life. Some petty, some important. Sometimes, during the activity, whether it be a party, work, school or a regular social gathering, some people will pull out their cameras and start shooting pictures of the merry united band of guys and gals, and later upload it to a (photo) site, sometimes Flickr or Picasa webalbums, but mostly they put the result of the good times on Facebook.

It’s happened to me lots of times before, and, just now, it happened again. What has, you ask? Well, up until yesterday, my memories of an evening of over a week ago were just in my own memories, and everything I recalled is what would ever be left of that night. Now, however, some photos have been uploaded to Facebook, and I got a whole new perspective to the evening (as well as a reminder not to look like a drug addict when people are waving cameras around. But that’s beside the point.) Now, own memories coexist with, or have been replaced by photos taken at that moment in my life.

This isn’t the first time: many of my memories have been washed away by time; a rule of thumb is the further back, the fuzzier the memory. The perpetual necessary exception to the rule is when photos or videos are taken, because then, I get a clearer recollection of what happened around the time they were taken, with the rest of the period remaining fuzzy.

What I’m trying to say here is that, because of photos, whole perceptions of what happened at many singular points in my life has been altered, for better or for worse. Yes, I know I don’t have the best memory or storytelling abilities (and, as a result, sadly, frequently I can’t share past experiences very well), but it’s freaky to me how one photo can bring back a whole myriad of emotions, memories and feelings of a time long gone. Like a modern sort of Madeleine. Or a veritable window into lost time. An everlasting pitch for legacy.

Lemme clear my throat. Again...

A few weeks ago, I came down with the flu pretty hard. Symptoms included, but were not limited to, headaches, nausea, a running nose, and, last, but not least, coughing. Luckily, I had my prescription drugs, and I soon felt a lot better. Nearly all the problems promptly vanished like freshly fallen snow being dissolved by whatever salt was left over from the anti-snow patrols, spread by a fleet of fast-passing cars. I can tell you that, after being sick for one week straight, this was a much appreciated change.

However, as some of the more attentive readers (all two of you) will have noticed, I wrote “nearly all the problems vanished”. Yes, one of the more annoying symptoms stayed, and is still going strong. I’m talking about the coughing part. Yes, instead of just blowing over, I still have to cough regularly. And I know when it will happen. Half of the time it happens when I strain my throat, like when I’m explaining something fast or when I'm laughing. I inexplicably have to cough. As you can imagine, this isn’t cool. “Yeah, then he went to her, said he’d always loved her and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, so he went in for a kiss, and… *ugh uh ugh*”. Or: “hahaha, that’s very fun- *ugh uhh ugh* “. Not fun. At all.

I’ve tried most of the common patch-ups, like cold medicine, cough syrup and cough drops, etc.; but still: nothing seems to work. It should’ve been fixed weeks ago, yet my coughing still perseveres. Goddammit.

So, dear body: please, please, please kill the baddies responsible for this ASAP. In return, I’ll stop neglecting you (again). Deal? Thanks!

Modern times

Winter wonderland. With November almost gone, a cold cold time is fast approaching. Rejoice those who love Christmas, presents, snowfall and ice-littered vistas; sadden those who love sun, warmth, the beach and miniskirts (M/F). One thing is for sure: the cold, snow and ice will touch everyone in some way or another.

Yesterday evening, I went out. It was quite cold, and although I stayed warmly inside for much of the time, I had to wait outside for a bit. I have to tell you, I’m someone who, even though I like winter, prefers early summer; so I hated that cold with a fever (get it?).

All at once, shivering and shaking, something hit me like a big, falling rock crushing the marble undercroft of a stately cathedral: what was I complaining about? To people everywhere up to fifty years ago, and to many now still, this is and was daily custom, and they never complained. Generation after generation suffered hunger, cold, thirst, sadness, nefarious events and even death. Theirs was a much harder life than I will probably ever know, and they underwent it without complaining. I had indulge cold for 10 minutes, and it already was too much. And I know I’m not alone when I say this; many others would’ve hated it with exactly the same fervor.

Someone I know always states on this topic that we’re ‘raising a generation of faggots’. A new generation of people who can’t fend for themselves. Who always have to enlist the help of someone else. I don’t believe this to be entirely true; just like the baby boomers accused generation X for anything they could find, that generation would definitely like to accuse mine for every and any discrepant value. But, yes, it is true that we’ve, as a society, become softer and less resistant than before. Ill? Just take a little pill. Depressed? Just talk to a shrink. Wanna contact someone? Just pick up your phone. And so on.

Life maybe has become too easy nowadays.


(On a whole 'nother note, I can't help but feel I'm the only one who hasn't seen, and has no intention to see, the new Potter movie. Strange, that.)

A small update on my life

Some things I’ve done and come to realize in this past week:

• I’ve been having this feeling that I’m moving along in life, yet not realizing it while I go along, so when I look back, there’s a giant discrepancy between what I’ve actually done and what I think I’ve done the past couple of months.
• It’s very and cruelly hard to continue a personal conversation when the other person has big, red watery eyes and looks like they’re about to break into tears at any moment, even though it's paramount you do.
• On the same note, trying to appear normal and calm when you're actually screaming inside is also one of the harder finesses of life to manage.
• That last one has to do with the fact that, right when I thought I was out of the woods, someone totally unrelated to this particular problem pulled me right back in. And I seemingly have to go through all the grievous steps to see the outside of the woods all over again...
• House is, as I've come to realize this week, 100% right: everybody lies.
• I've noticed how many of my friends have been having boatloads of trouble in the area called love for the past half year or so. I'd like for them to be happy, but sadly, I can't wish those troubles away...
• One of my teachers simply and clearly wasn’t cut out for teaching. At all. She really does a very sucky job at it, and continues to prove it time after time again. I won’t go into details, but it’d better for everyone if she just stopped teaching and picked up another hobby. Like chess or something…
• By now, a general plan of the Erasmus you’d like should’ve been shaped. I want to go, but I feel I ain’t got nothing. Yet.

As you can see (or rather, read), this has been another fun-filled week... :/

For you

I wake up. I get ready. I do all the things that need be done. I go about my day. I can laugh again. I can go out and have fun. I simply live my life. I can go a day without…

But sometimes, when I’m alone with my thoughts, when I’m reflecting on my life, when I lie in bed late at night, sometimes, without warning, I start to think about… you. I wonder where you are now. What you’re doing at the moment. What you’re dreaming of. Who you now say I love you to. I wonder how much you’ve changed. I’ve changed considerably. I especially try to correct all the mistakes I made with you, and I do things differently, because, well, you know, don’t you? And are you still the girl I used to know, or do the cards lie differently now? They probably do, but how, I cannot tell.

I know you’ll never ever ever read this, that we haven’t spoken for so damn long, and that we probably never will again. I won’t try to contact you, you know that. And I know I don’t have to wait for you to contact me. But I still do, at times, think of you, your smile, your jokes, your candor. All the memories we shared, all our moments long lost to the inexorably pushing sands of time, all the banal yet, to me, weighty conversations. I try, yes, oh how I do try, to find a glimpse of your reflection anywhere. Anything that reminds me of you. Anyone with the same smile, the same eyes, the same sense of humor, the same clothing styles, the same… everything…  Any joke or reference that makes me think of you, even executed differently or with a different outcome… Even though it’s been so long, I can’t seem to forget you.

You were at one point a huge part of my life. I still do not know, and probably never will, if the same was true the other way around. But I do know I never can, never will and never shall forget you. This pain will diminish, but will never leave. That much has become clear.

"Only two things you’d like to forget: things that aren't important and things you wish you could forget; yet wishing never works."

On race relations

First of all, I want to apologize for the long hiatus between this post and the last. I guess I’ve just been quite busy for the past couple of weeks, and, adding to that, have been ill with probably the flu this weekend. Which is always nice. So for today, here's an extra-long post. Yaaay!!!

On to the main topic for today: yesterday, I read an article online about the 'racist' burning of poppies, and the inevitable accompanying comments. I know this is a sensitive issue for many, so let me be very clear from the get-go: I am not a racist and I certainly don’t condone discrimination in any sort of way. I’m pro-choice in just about every aspect of its meaning, and I always try to see the other aspects and points of view of an issue (and most of the time, I get mad about all of them). This post is intended to share some of my thoughts and comments on what others think and believe. It will only raise critical questions, and not contain any answers. Feel free to comment yourself, but please, keep it civilized.

The piece, from the Daily Mail, talks about how Muslims burn poppies to display their displeasure of the goings-on in the Middle East, among other things.

In many comments I read, I saw the emergence of the words we, us, they and them (as a small side note, most of these kinds of comments implied racism in some kind of form). I've always wondered: who is this 'we'? And who are 'they'?

The easiest answer is, of course, the West vs. the East. But what exactly is 'the West'? And what exactly is 'the East'? And isn’t it true that both the West and East share a lot; through immigration, adaption, modeling after one another, and lately, globalization (which is, in fact, just a euphemism for the westernization of the rest of the world). And sometimes, as was the case in large parts of Spain for hundreds of years, Moors and Christians lived side by side. Are the descendants of those people ours, or are they theirs?

Let’s, then, try to define 'we' (for me, the author). 'We' implies some sort of unity. Are the US of America and Europe the West? Well, how much doesn’t Eastern and Western Europe differ? Belgium then? Nope, just look at the bickering between Flanders and Wallonia. Flanders? Or Leuven? Maybe my hometown? Certainly, these are too small to be a real 'we' in this argument! So who is this 'we' they’re constantly talking about? Tell me, because I ache to know!

Another thing I noticed is the usage of the phrase political correctness. You know what this means, don’t you: disabled instead of handicapped; African-Americans instead of blacks/negroes; significant other as a common, gender-blind name for girl/boyfriend or husband/wife.

People offended by this burning often claim it’s because of political correctness and freedom of speech that the police can’t or won’t do anything against Muslim perpetrators, because if they do, the community will supposedly brand them as racist. But is this really so? I don’t know.

What I can tell you is this: I don’t want to live in a world where we have to walk around on eggshells, where if we offend anybody, it would be game over (as was the case with several radio show hosts, most notably Don ‘Nappy-Headed Hoes’ Imus among others), because this is discrimination in its purest form. Yes, you shouldn't arbitrarily offend people, but also: let things go, forgive and forget! 

Another much used argument is: ‘they hate our freedom' (note, again, the usage of they and our). But when you think about it, it’s probably more true if those people said 'we hate their lack of freedom'. I could go on and on about how 9/11 was not the first step, but how the West created many of the needed conditions years before, but that's not my point.

I read a piece by Fisk (don’t click through if you have a weak stomach!) a while back about corporal punishment of women for absolutely petty things in the region of the Middle East. I do think these practices are horrific and despicable, as does the rest of the Western world. But the question, which I admit I can’t answer correctly, that is often overlooked, is: ‘Is this a cultural thing? Do those societies want to change these ‘traditions’? Do the (potential) victims want to change it?’

In the early summer, I was walking around in a boiling hot Brussels, when a friend pointed out a Muslim wearing a black Burka. She said it was crazy to wear that in such hot weather; my response was that this Muslim probably wanted to wear her clothes as much as she wanted to wear a Burka. The only difference between those two women was, while one minded her own business, the other wanted to change the one.

It reminds me of historical movies and series. You can’t go watch anything that depicts the values of that time, because those practices would be called indecent by the standards of our time, so filmmakers simply omit those discrepant values instead of educating us in which world we came from.

I guess people have always wanted to spread their own thoughts, ways and manners because they see them as virtuous and inherently better; and we like to think we have the final Moral Values version 5.0, while others are stuck using 1.7/3.1/4.0. This is not the case. Open up your mind, try to see the issue from the other side, and think for yourself. You may not end up with the ultimate answer, but it truly may save innocent lives.

Short story 101: Chekov

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”

A few moments ago, I was reading a wall of text by a fellow blogger. To me, his post seemed irrelevant and short-sighted, but, like a small and beautiful isle in a sea of entropy, the quote above stood out above his mess. It is, as you may have guessed, a quote straight from the mouth of Russian playwright and master of the short story, Anton Chekov. Chances are you’ve never heard of him, as he isn’t that famous in non-literary circles, but you’re in luck, because at the end of this post, you will. Ain’t I the best?  

"You must trust and believe in people or life becomes impossible.”

You can read his Wikipedia entry for all the nit-picking details of his life, wife and drive; but that’s not what I’m here for. Let’s talk about his works. And yes, I created this paragraph solely to put in one more quote. And here’s some more filler.

“Love, friendship and respect do not unite people as much as a common hatred for something.”

Over the past year, I read a couple stories of his. I especially enjoyed The Lady with the Dog and Oysters, but most are good. Of course, his will not appeal to English speaking world as much as, say, Oscar Wilde’s writings will, but if you’re appealed by the strange, early 20^th century Russian way of life, the eccentric, almost Dostoevsky-an narrative style, and don’t mind the obviously flawed translations (reading the direct source material is of course always better – that’s why I’m a languages student), you should seriously chek him out. You won’t regret it.

 “If you are afraid of loneliness, do not marry.”

The Grim Goings-on

In the past week or so, I’ve seen a couple of movies dealing with the death of someone beloved, and the effects their death has on the living. I didn’t think much about it at first, until last night while dreaming, and this morning, while listening to Linkin Park’s Leave out all the Rest. But first: a small and interesting sidetrack:

In most cases, the fictional media tries to portray heaven and purgatory as a better world, one where you truly can be happy, right? The most pertinent, yet mostly ignored, question I think you can ask, is: why don’t we all, then, commit suicide en masse? We must die one day, and if we’re only gonna end up in a better world, why not today? Are we afraid there’s no afterlife – in which case, we’re only fooling ourselves by watching such movies? But why are they making those kinds of movies, then? And so on. Wow, what a chicken-or -egg kind of argument…

Back to last night. Instead of dozing off to the familiar cloud cuckoo land, I dreamed one of my friends died, and what effects this had on me. I’ve always been lucky in the sense that no one in my direct circle of friends and family has kicked the bucket yet. I’ve never had to go through the 5 steps of grief for this, and, even though I’ve gotten some outstandingly bad news in my day, can’t really wrap my mind around the finality of someone’s death. But last night, my mind tried to.

As much as I’d like to, I can’t describe my feelings in under the proper amount of words, but it was pretty bad. As you can guess: at first, a sensation of sadness, followed by thorough contemplation. Then, unnecessarily guiltiness, trying to preserve as many memories of that person as possible, chiding others for not ‘caring’ as much as I did, and feeling heartbroken for those who suffered more than me, etc. Are these the immense feelings of hurt you feel after someone passes away? I hope not, and, moreover, I sincerely hope that I won’t have to experience them for many, many years to come.

Luckily though, right then my alarm went off and minimized versions of those feelings took over.

(Please forgive me if this post seemed ‘incomplete’, but it was just too hard for me to go to relive that dream in full. I’ve even been contemplating whether I should put this up all day. Oh well.)

The Technical Travesty

If you’re not into technology, just skip this post. And no, I didn't have inspiration for the title.

Today, as I closed the morning newspaper after soaking in my daily recommended amount of news from all over the world (and France, too), my eye unconsciously fell on an ad for BNP Paribas (the ‘new’ Fortis, a bank). Click the pick to see it for yourself. Normally, I’m impervious to advertisements, as they promise an utopian and revolutionary dream world only to let me down time and again; I won’t bother you but in short, the only effect they usually have is annoying me worse than any mosquito ever could hope for. Oh yes André. I went there. Big whoop. Wanna fight ‘bout it?

Now, however, it wasn’t the prospect of an easier life, fabulous new inventions or great deals that attracted me, but rather a large matrix of seemingly incoherent blocks that could’ve escaped from your average Tetris game. I wouldn’t have thunk much of it if it wasn’t for a tingling in the back of my head, saying that this was a QR barcode or something (don’t ask) which could be scanned by my phone. So I fired up an app that can read those codes, went to town and literally 5 seconds later I was on the Fortis site, where I could check my bank account, read news and all that jazz.

All day, I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon.  I mean, I saw an ad and seconds later, I was browsing the intended site on the internet. To me, it’s crazy how much cellphones have evolved the last couple of years. For instance, my very first phone, way back in ’04, didn’t even have a camera. Now I have a 5 MP camera that can shoot HD video! Last week, I read somewhere that Android can run SNES, Gameboy and even PlayStation (!) emulators, so I tried them out, and, sure enough, I was able to play some of their respective games. On my phone. Another app I tried out is one that can read your pulse. And, I’m sure, there are many other apps just as shockingly w-t-f coming our way.

Some ancient bearded crazy Greek dude (no one has figured out who, if any) is supposed to once have said that wonder is the beginning of all wisdom. Well, I’ve begun to get wise, because I sure as hell am wondering where this trend will end.

As for something completely different: if you haven’t yet heard Muse’s Knights of Cydonia, check it out. It’s been stuck in my head for days.

The Pokémon trading card game-effect

It’s funny how memories work. Some things you forget immediately, others you keep for some time, and, try as you might, some memories will never be banished from deep within your soul.

One such memory that probably will never fade is of trading Pokémon cards on the school playground when I was about 10 years old. Basically, you had to trade useless cards for better ones, removing duplicates and broadening your own collection.

The thing I remember most vividly about it is egging others on to trading: it didn't affect me, so my emotions were no factor and I could decide for my friends with a clear head, usually making the right decision. Other times, I was the center of attention when my cards were about to be traded. I had grown attached to my cards, so I wasn't gonna give ‘em away easily. Emotion ruled those decisions, and even though I can't remember it anymore, I probably refused some pretty great deals, and accepted even more lousy ones.

I've since found out life in many of its forms works in exactly the same ways. A thousand people can want something and encourage those concerned as much as they like, if those people who have to do it don't want to, it's a no go. There's probably some fancy psychological word for it, but that's what I like to call the Pokémon trading card game-effect (patent pending).

Sometimes, I wish those decision makers would let go of their worries more easily, and just do what their peers expect them to, because the difference between yes and no can sometimes come down to some crazy, nonsensical and impertinent emotion someone remotely involved suddenly has. I mean, we’ve all been cheated some great opportunities, haven’t we?

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that it annoys me sometimes that something everyone sees as right gets labeled as wrong by the only ones who really have a say in it.

OMG! Not another political post! Call your senator!

As I returned home by bus yesterday evening after a seemingly-endless-yet-filled-with-boatloads-of-fun day in Brussels, I saw an ad for the political party Vlaams Belang. It read “the Republic of Flanders” (translation mine).

All obligatory jokes, comments and assertions of madness aside, I began to reflect upon this slogan. Of course, splitting Belgium in smaller parts is not something I see happening for at least a score of years; but, reality and improbability aside, I couldn’t help but think “okay, so let’s say Belgium has split. Now what?”

First and foremost, which kind of republic are they talking of? Yes, there are two kinds: republic-republic and democrat-republic, the difference being how much the people truly have a say in matters. Next, who’s going to lead Flanders into a new, ‘better’ era? De Wever? Leterme? De Winter? Some other wannabe rock star? Will our government be based on the revolutionary ones e.g. America and France have? Or rather something like in Soviet Russia or contemporary North Korea, something I really can see happen if some or other VB-loony gets ahold of power. And, not in the least, what would happen with Brussels? These are just some of the pertinent questions that came to mind.

Also, if the VB was to be the leading party, which would be the case if they won the elections and separated Belgium, I could see them changing their rhetoric to target the ‘lesser’ provinces. What’s next? Separate Flanders and Limburg? Kick out West-Flanders too? Or maybe East-Flanders or Flemish-Brabant? Or, once its trade diminishes, stab Antwerp in the back as well? What’s gonna be left in the end? De Winter's village, effectively forming the smallest country in the world? Someone call the Guinness Book of Records already!

I could go on, but I think you get my point: the Republic of Flanders is not something inherently better, it’s just different. It may very well work out, it may crash and burn. But, as I've been saying for years about other political situations, don’t buy into this kind of rhetoric if you don’t know what exactly is gonna change!

Hey, Sony? Yeah, this is to you.

I’ve always been a Sony guy, from the original Walkman, over the Discman, to a number of PlayStation gaming machines, and for the past 3 years, mobile phones.  I had a W810i and, ever since that phone died, the Sony-Ericsson Xperia X10 Mini Pro (that’s quite a handful now, isn’t it?).

It worked well enough for over a month, even with the obvious shortcomings, like a small screen and Android 1.6 (Google has released all but 4 (!) more major updates), but I knew that from the get-go.

2 weeks ago, on Monday, I suddenly and inexplicably couldn’t receive any texts anymore. Thankfully, Tuesday afternoon, that problem was unexpectedly solved. I didn’t think much of it, and went happily on my way. Until the next Saturday.

All of a sudden, that problem presented itself again, but now it didn’t fix itself like last time. Instead, days later, the problem still persevered. Only to get worse.

Last Wednesday, I tried rebooting it by turning it off and back on. It went no further than the initial splash-screen, all the while draining the battery like there’s no tomorrow.

So I went to scour the internet, and found a solution. I had to completely reset my phone, deleting all personal data. Yay. And, according to the solution, the problem is likely to present itself again. More yay. Luckily, I was able to save some stuff, like SIM contacts, but I’m severely disgruntled, to say the very least.

To everyone who tried to contact me and who I've blatantly 'ignored' last week: a heartfelt sorry!

I’ll sit out this ride (until the problems pop up again or it bricks), but it’s the last Sony device I’ll ever have spent my money on, guaranteed. I’m sick of it. I tried. I really did. But there simply is a line. And this is it. Go to hell, Sony, bye bye. Good riddance. 

126 days. And counting.

When you saw the title, what did you think of? Was it the number of days you and your significant other have been together? Or maybe it’s been that amount of days since your favorite soccer team won that important match? Or could it be 126 days ago, that blasted Eyjafjallajökull volcano erupted?

Guess again. It’s the number of days Belgium hasn’t had a federal government.

What’s more, it seems I’m alone when I say that’s outrageous. I mean, why isn’t anybody talking about this anymore? Has it gotten boring, something that hit far to home (see what I did there?)? It shouldn’t be, for it’s a matter which concerns us all. Because the press isn’t making a fuss? We’re all adults capable to think for ourselves, we shouldn’t go with whatever the media wants us to think. Because this country is going to the crapper no matter what? Or because, whether we talk about it or not, we simply can’t change anything? Then let me ask you this: who put us in that predicament? Surely those of us who voted last June!

So: why is this a non-issue, and when will we finally get a new federal government? The way it’s looking right now, only time will tell…

Walt Kowalski? Valt Kovalski!

As stated in my very first post, I've been thinking a while about doing Polish at school.

We are required to choose 2 optional courses this year (my first choice being Spanish, but sadly we cannot register for that), and I don't want to study a tramontane 3rd language like German (yuck), Tukish (why would anyone?) or Lithuanian (?); nor economics (which I've never understood the logic of; I mean, I give you 2 bucks, you give me 2 bucks, and suddenly, we've got an economy?!?), and because some friends are doing it, I decided to give Polish a shot. Okay, okay, last year, the average grade was about 16/20, but I swear that had very little to do with it. If you catch my drift.

So today, I had my first lesson of Polish.

It was... interesting to say the least. The alphabet and the accompanying pronounciation are absolutely FUBAR, antediluvian words those peculiar Polacks picked up, like politika (try and guess the meaning of that one!), are treated like they're all shiny and new, and, if Polish were a guy, he'd certainly not be dressed to the nines. More like a dreary slumdog, with the obligatory wear, tear and rust on his torn clothes. Kinda like Limburgian.

But apart from all that, those 4 hours seemed to fly by, and I'm quite happy I went for it. It doesn't really have the typical feel of an academic course, but rather a summer course. I don't know how long that feeling will last (in my experience, about 2-3 weeks, followed by a sudden and sickening realization that you should pick up the studying pace by about 4,000%), yet there seems to be something inherently right about it all.

I wonder if that will stay the same. But in the meantime, I'll take that wonderment as a yes.

(Note: if you're wondering, the title refers to both the great movie Gran Torino (Clint Eastwood, hell yeah!), and the fact that /w/ is pronounced as [v] in Polish.)

Meta-blog Blogger blog (that sure is a lot of blog)

I’ve had this blog now for about 4 weeks, and I wanted to share some of my thoughts about it.

- For one, I feel like I overuse the pronouns I and it. You may not feel that way, but only because when I write, I revise constantly, and continually try to erase them. But the amount of times I’ve pressed that accursed i button on my laptop are way too many.

- As I’ve stated in my introductory post, this essentially is a school assignment, so you can expect blogs of classmates to rise out of the ground and their respective authors to update them frequently. This, however, is not the case: I’ve been looking around at their blogs, and mine really is unique in the sense that I put up a lot, and personal info for that assignment. (Though I’m not saying that others should write down longer/more personal texts!)

- Even though you may think I put up sensitive and personal information, I don’t mind. It’s the only thing I would write about even if I didn’t want to. I just can’t write about one hobby or one continuous topic. It’s just not in me, because I've always felt like I'm so much more than that. I know a something of everything, that's who I am, and my blog will reflect that multifacetedness of my soul, whether anyone likes it or not.

- I didn’t expect this to be so much fun: I can essentially write what I want, and that’s a good outlet of some of my thoughts. I really like that, even though I know no-one will ever get to know me just by reading this blog (or no-one reads this drab drivel, for that matter).

- I try to write as clear and informative as possible (as I believe that’s the true role of the author), but that’s not easy. Yes, I’m an unreliable narrator. Yes, I twist and turn stories. Yes, there are things I don’t, or can’t know about. Yes, some of my thoughts don’t translate well into written language. Yes, there are things I expect my readers to know, even though sometimes they don’t. Yes, you, the reader, have, and will, make faulty conclusions from reading my blog. All that results in a fallible view of the world I present to you. And there’s little anyone can do to correct it.

- Much more personal: I've noticed the attention one of my posts (and, more specifically, one particular line), has been getting, and have considered many a time deleting it. Either you know what I'm talking about (good for you), or you don't (in which case you won't). But seriously, that situation had the bad luck of presenting itself in that particular moment in time. I didn't, and don't, 'mean' anything by it other than stated right there. So stop that rumor-mill, if you please!