Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Love is a battlefield

This next post isn't something I just whipped up (in case you were wondering). It's actually a paper I wrote for the English Language Proficiency course, but I decided not to use it, because it feels too much like a blog and less like a 'scientific' paper. Still, I think it's a shame to leave that much work confined to its miserable little pictogram in My Documents and since I'm not going to use it as a paper, I might as well use it as a blog!

LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD:
FROM COURTSHIPS TO COHABITATION CONTRACTS

For as long as there have been men and women, there have also been guidelines and conventions as to how these two should relate to one another. The declaring of one’s love for another was not always as easy as it is now. Centuries ago, one had to go through several mandatory procedures before he or she could finally say those hallowed three words: “I love you”. As of today, the twenty-first century, it has become increasingly clear that romance, like chivalry, is very much dead. It seems that the days of courtships are gone. Instead, there are cohabitation contracts to bind two people, not in love, but in property. This change in love conventions did not happen overnight. So what happened that made this nightmare a reality?


This shifting image towards a more flexible and impoverished form of love has siphoned through into contemporary books, movies and music. The great romance novels such as Jane Austen’s ‘Pride & Prejudice’ or Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’ barely find resonance in modern day literature. If and when authors write about love, it is more likely with a heavy focus on the sexual relationship, rather than the glorification of an emotional one. Moreover, when a romance novel is indeed published, it is likely to be categorized under mills and boon novels. Even Hollywood has seemingly lost its touch for delivering true romantic love stories. Jack and Rose’s journey aboard the Titanic may be seen as the last stand for romance, since no other subsequent movie has managed to procure such a lasting effect in the minds of men and women alike. It may even be said that music as well has distanced itself from the loving serenades and progressed towards the adoration of the body and the sexual identity. Where Beethoven composed his fifth for his ‘immortal beloved’ , as he called his unknown lover in one of his love letters to her, one might find it hard to say the same for Flo’ Rida’s song ‘Get Low’.

In the old days, the union between a man and a woman was considered to be the most sacred in existence. Men were gallant and chivalrous and the women were poised and elegant. The declaration of love was a completely independent social convention. First, a meeting had to be arranged between the two parties. Then, if indeed there was a hint of possible romance in the air, the man had to make his intentions known to the father of the girl and ask for her hand in marriage. The father essentially held the key to his daughter’s marital bliss. If he agreed, the two could get married and live happily ever after, but if he declined, the daughter had to wait for another suitor to whisk her off her feet and away from her family.

When we look at the love ritual now, not much of the old traditions are left standing. Two people meet randomly and by the mere exchanging of phone numbers, email addresses or Facebook pages, a connection is made. Relationships nowadays do not require the formal date anymore. There seems to be a tendency towards the more loose and casual interpretation of romance. It is even possible to sustain a lasting relationship without ever having seen or having been with the other person. As to the value of such unions there is some debate. Even the whole concept of marriage has been turned upside down. Where divorce used to be frowned upon, it is now considered as a sport for some. Elizabeth Taylor for example; has got married eight times . Most Hollywood celebrities have had several husbands and wives, turning the concept of holy matrimony in some sort of contest. What remains of the vows—To love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, till death do us part —one can only imagine. Of course, the position of Hollywood as the standard for a good marriage must also be seen from a sceptic point of view.

It is true that times have changed and with changing times come changing societies. It seems only natural that our perception of love has altered as the world around us has altered as well. Ancient man did not have access to the world wide web, satellite phones or even bicycles to get closer to their loved one. Lovers were separated by wars, diseases, vast distances and harsh living conditions. Being in love did not change the time or place they lived in. It meant overcoming all those obstacles in order for two people to come together. The myths and legends of old tell awe-inspiring tales of men and women who would do just about anything to be together, even when faced with impossible odds. Orpheus went to the Underworld and back to find his love, Eurydice, but like all Greek heroes, his quest met a tragic end. Prince Paris of Troy brought war to his city for stealing King Menelaus’ wife Helena, sealing Troy’s fate. Even the books of history are filled with great love stories. King Henry VIII incurred the wrath of Rome when he choose to marry Anna Boleyn, yet he did so regardless. Even Édith Piaf and Marcel Cerdan’s passionate love affair made international headlines when his plane crashed while he was on his way to see her.

Could it be as simple as time progressing to attribute this changed view of love to? Or is our current perspective the result of something else entirely? In the twenty-first century, people seem to have everything they need or could ever want. Everything in the entire world is only a few clicks away. The Six Degrees of Separation study showed that one can come into contact with practically anyone in the world in just six steps, provided of course this person has access to an internet connection, phone line or valid adress. This shows that, even though our world has expanded far beyond the borders of mere towns and villages and now encompasses the entire surface of the earth, people can still find each other. One is no longer detained by boundaries or any other sort of geographical limitations. But has this point-and-click mentality not made people slothful or unwilling to go out and take action themselves? If people do not bother to go the distance anymore or to risk it all for love, can there still be romance?

Neil Gaiman already suggested it in his book ‘American Gods’ that modern day man prays to new gods now. He does not seem to bother himself with true love anymore, rather he craves instant gratification above all else. When young people go out these days, it is hardly to meet their respective Romeo or Juliet. They go out to have fun, mind-numbing, gratifying fun. In truth, they are not too blame. As Hippolyte Taine once said: “People are defined by their race, environment and point in time ”. If children yearn for pleasure and the immediate fulfilling of desires, it is in part because society is organized in that way. Every day, we are flooded with commercials and ads telling people to buy this and wear that all so that they can be as happy as the people in those advertisements. None of these ads however, have anything to do with long-term commitments. Everything is short-term. People lease so they would not have to buy. People buy instant-diners so they would not have to cook. People go out and have fun so they would not have to sit around, waiting for the right person to come into their lives.

In some way, this newfound assertiveness has been quite beneficial for the twenty-first century man. It has made him more independent and self-reliant than ever. Women now have the right to vote and have earned their rightful place in the workforce. Slavery has been abolished and racism is punishable by law. One of the greatest examples of living in a changed world is embodied by Barack Obama, the first black President of the United States. Many improvements have been made over the years and mankind has certainly benefited from them, but it has also created a completely new strain of man. This new strain may have become too assertive and too presumptuous in his behaviour, almost callous. Expectancies are at an all time high and so are the sales for anti-depressants. “It seemed like this was one big Prozac nation ” as uttered by the main character in the novel ‘Prozac Nation’ by Elizabeth Wurtzel. In wanting and almost always getting everything we ask for, people have become careless in recognising their true wants and needs. Maybe if Ilsa Lund had got her priorities straight in the movie ‘Casablanca’, she would have chosen Rick Blaine instead of boarding the plane with Victor Laszlo .

Popular culture, changing times and societies, an open world and the new and improved twenty-first century man have all contributed to the altered status of love in the world. It would be too easy to say that history has swept us up, taken us for a ride and dropped us off where we are now, but that would not attribute nearly enough credit to the position of man itself. As man became smarter and more aware of his surroundings, he became more attuned to his own needs and desires and less concerned about the outside world.

Love, much like mankind’s history is a battlefield. Some battles are won and others are lost. Sometimes we gain something, like knowledge or technology and sometimes we lose something, like the meaning of love or the value of the other. But history has a way of correcting past mistakes and adapting. So in time, there is hope yet for true romance. In time, Ilsa will ride off into the sunset with Rick and Elizabeth Taylor will finally settle with husband number nine, otherwise known as her one and only.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

When night falls...

Currently, I consider myself to have only one vice. It's a rather innocent one, to my taste. It's quite tiny actually, not at all life-threatening. It's more of a desire, should I say. It's nothing evil, malicous or devilish in any way. Some don't even see it as a vice at all, more as a lifestyle. It's not something detrimental; rather, it's a godsend to the economic market. It might be somewhat self-indulgent and totally superfluous at times, but we all have our little sins, now don't we?

Okay, you really want me to say it, don't you? Fine. All your badgering has worn me down: I'm totally addicted to shopping. Although, in my defence, it's all about books, movies and games. So it's not like I'm wasting thousands of euros on cars, houses, jewellery or women. Maybe by now, I will have spent some thousands of euros on those three most holy of things, but I mean, it's not like it was all spent at once. It's been done in installments. So it's not so bad, right?

Yes, I know I'm totally rationalizing now. Quit busting my hump... I'll get to the point - and merit - of this little 'addiction' of mine soon enough!

Yesterday, I was walking around the city, doing a little Christmas shopping with my Dad, when naturally, we ended up in front of that hallowed building on the Bondgenotenlaan. You know the one I'm talking about, I'm sure. It's four letter name is music to my ears. F. N. A. C. God, if I had to pick a store to live - and eventually die - in, it would be that one. I know I might sound crazy, but I swear this whole charade has a point!

So, I was heading up the stairs towards my favourite section, or should I say: sections, plural, for my passion spreads equally among two media: books and movies. My first stop was movies. I love movies, but I'll deal with that separate addiction in another blog.

For now, I want to focus on my more literary-oriented 'problem': books. As my eyes were scanning the rows and rows of books, I had three possible books-to-buy in mind: Ayn Rand - Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead (the latter of which I bought, the first wasn't in stock anymore), a novel by Mario Vargas Lloza and The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Both The Fountainhead and The Angel's Game are now in my possession, as for the middle one, I couldn't quite find my taste there, so I kept looking and stumbled across the vast row of books belonging to one Paul Auster.

I had already read his New York Trilogy (or at least, I'm about fifty pages shy of finishing it) and I am completely in love with his writing. His writing feels so natural and not at all in-your-face like with some authors. If ever you are in the vicinity of a Fnac filiate, be sure to check the book section for Paul Auster, I promise you, he does not disappoint!

As my hands were sliding across the backs of his novels, my eyes read the titles with great anticipation. Titles such as Leviathan, Oracle Night and Sunset Park flashed before me, but they stopped as soon as they read Man in the Dark. It was a fairly thin book, maybe that's why I became drawn to it, since it is a time for studying and not for self-indulgence, I figured I'd allow myself this one little masterpiece to read in those final moments between tiredness and flat-out sleep.

I started reading the book last night and I'm finding it hard to put down. It's an amazing story about a man well into his seventies, who's living with his daughter and granddaughter. Circumstances have left them all devastated in some way and they're all kind of going through the motions. August Brill is a paraplegic and after his daughter has hoisted him into bed and she herself has fallen asleep, August lies wide awake, unable to sleep. So he starts to invent stories...

"..., but how to stop the mind from charging off wherever it wants to go? The mind has a mind of its own. Who said that? Someone, or else I just thought of it myself, not that it makes any difference. Coining phrases in the middle of the night, making up stories in the middle of the night - we're moving on, my little darlings, and agonizing as this mess can be, there's poetry in it, too, as long as you can find the words to express it, assuming those words exist."

The story he is creating in his mind revolves around an alternate reality. In our world, the presidental elections of 2000 saw George W. Bush being elected as President of the United States and he would maintain this function for eight years. The Twin Towers fell on September 11, 2001 and ever since, America has been at war with Iraq. In August's story, the presidential elections are the point of divergence.

The Twin Towers still stand and America is not at war with Iraq, but with itself. The elections were met with severe civil unrest and the United States descended into chaos. New York secceded and soon other states began to follow. A new geopolitical entity called the Independent States are formed and all across the world, anti-nationalist movements are fracturing nations and sparking wars throughout.

It is in this alternative reality that Brick wakes up. He remembers his life in the other world vividly, although he is currently trapped in this otherworldly nightmare. Brick is picked up by a Sergeant named Serge (and yes, he's aware of how that sounds) and told about the state of things:
"There's no single world. There are many worlds, and they all run parallel to one another, worlds and anti-worlds, worlds and shadow-worlds, and each world is dreamed or imagined or written by someone in another world. Each world is the creaton of a mind."

It turns out that the world August Brill has created in his mind has come to life and the war he is imagining is dead real for the people in Sarge Serge's world. They want nothing more than for the war to be over and to this end, they have given Brick the assignment to kill August Brill. They reckon that, if they kill the one that thought up the war, the war itself will cease to exist.

What follows is an intricate web of August Brill's saddened and melancholic life and Brick's conflict with returning safely to his world (as we know it to be) and the thought of killing a man whose death may or may not end a fictional (?) war.

At some point in the novel, August Brill is talking about a friend he used to know, a man named Gil and his wife Betty. At the core is a very sad story about a man who had high hopes, but was cast down by society and who ultimately died. After that, he tells the story of what happened to his wife, and how he ends it, kind of stuck to me. It's not what you would call a magnificent piece of literature or some groundbreaking sentence like Jane Austen's "It is a truth universally acknowledged...", but still, it's moving and quite profound:

"There were only two possibilities. Either her body had given out on her or she had taken pills, and I didn't want to know the answer, for neither one of them would have told the real story. Betty died of a broken heart. Some people laugh when they hear that phrase, but that's because they don't know anything about the world. People die of broken hearts. It happens every day, and it will go on happening to the end of time."

In any case, the Man in the Dark has certainly earned a special place in my little literary Hall of Fame and I hope you'll consider buying/borrowing or lending it out soon! It's only 180 pages and costs about eight euros in the Fnac. So be sure to check it out - if you want, no pressure!

As a parting note, here's a quote from a critic:

"After a dozen novels one is used to watching him break new ground. This time, Paul Auster breaks your heart too."

Famous last words

Jennifer: "My tit..."
Needy: "No, your heart."

Goodmorning everyone! I just watched Jennifer's Body for the second time (on Bluray, of course, how else?) and I have to say, it just keeps getting better. I know some of you don't really appreciate the cinematic art that is Jennifer's Body - I'm not going to name any names, E! -, but seriously, just watch the movie (again). There's bound to be something in those delicious 95 minutes that you'll love - and I don't mean the end credits, just in case there are any wisecrackers out there!

I first saw the movie about six months ago and I just laughed through the whole thing. I mean, the dialogues in this thing are straight-A comedy material. I'm not just talking about the small-town, hillbilly slang sort of way they're talking, for instance: "Yeah, right. I'm not even a backdoor-virgin anymore, thanks to Roman. By the way, that hurts. I couldn't even go to flags the next day. I had to stay home and sit on a bag of frozen peas," or if that doesn't do it for you: "Got a tampon? You seem like you might be pluggin." Seriously, you can't make this stuff up. And in movies like this, there's always the token Asian girl with a 'witty' remark. This movie's edition is called Chastity and this is what she has to say: "Uh, it's real, you know. It's on the Wikipedia!" Now, you might start to question good ol' Chastity's IQ, but that's not really the point here, although I think that one sentence pretty much says it all.

Jennifer's Body's not all about the dialogue as well. Who could forget - those who've already seen the movie - the lesbian make-out scene between Jennifer and Needy? It gets pretty steamy! Of course, how could it not? As a director, you kind of owe it to yourself (and your fans) to flash some major display of flesh if your movie is called Jennifer's BODY. And with an actress like Megan Fox, it's practically a given that there's going to be a lot of 'junk in the trunk' and 'titty' camera time. In the movie, Jennifer refers to her tits as actual 'smart bombs', I don't know how relevant this last part was, but hey, welcome to the world of blogging. I can say/write whatever I want to say/write. Readers can always skip certain parts, although the fact that you're reading these words, means you haven't given up on me - yet. That means I can continue with the obscenities!

I won't however, I mean, it is the Internet, who knows... There could be kids out there reading this! Kids, whatever you do: don't do booze, drugs or sex. No wait, that's a terrible thing to say. Kids, if you're going to consume massive quantities of alcohol, do so in front of your peers, they'll support you and if they really love you, they'll even hold your hair back when you puke. No matter how vulgar this sounds, alcohol (and friends) are really fun, just be responsible! And if you're going to do drugs, might I recommend White Widow, two grams? I mean, I'm not an expert in that area, but a certain friend of mine (S) told me this was the way to go. Now, for the last piece of advice - sex - it's going to happen anyway, so you might as well dive right in. Rappers are advertising it, companies are commercialising it and the prostitutes are selling it in the Rue d'Aerschot - Brussels North station, in case you were wondering. Just make sure if you have sex, that nobody gets knocked up. I think that kinda rounds off today's lessons for the underaged.

On to the last words of this blog, and no, they're not going to be 'My tit', although it does sound tempting. I mean, how many bloggers can say they ended their piece on that note? Maybe I will, just for non-conformist sake! Anyways, I advise you all to go see Jennifer's Body. If you hate it, fine, at least I know I tried and if you love it, I told you so, didn't I? So there, my closing statement for this blog and now I'm off to the library... Some people still have some studying to do, instead of reading this blog! Shame on you! Nah, I'm just kidding, stop by anytime. Who knows, if the studying doesn't work out, I'll probably go on ahead and write another one of these. Sayonara!

- My tit.

There I said it. Your move.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Prototype 2

Resistance 3


If you have to pick an evil alien overlord race to side with, you'd best pick the Chimera. Nobody does alien warfare quite like they do. They destroyed the Russian csar empire from within and conquered Europe in mere weeks. After some digging beaneath the North Atlantic, they overran Great Britain and two years later, their Chimeran fleet decimated the American coastlines. With humanity pushed to the brink of extinction and planet Earth under more strain than we could've ever put her in, the end is nigh.

This desperate, desolate, post-apocalyptic landscape is the backdrop for Insomniac's third game in the Resistance series. The war is over and guess what? - we lost. The Chimera have all but exterminated us, forcing us to seek shelter among the ruined cities and abandoned villages and turn to cannibalism. This bleak and hopeless setting is where your story begins. Can the Chimera finally be stopped and purged from this planet, or will it be us who will be wiped from the face of the Earth?

Uncharted 3 - Drake's Deception


As you might have already guessed from one of my previous blogs, I'm a huge Naughty Dog fan. It started out with Crash Bandicoot in my early years, and quickly shifted to Jak & Daxter, which I still consider to be one of the Pièces de Resistance of the PS2.

A few years ago, the boys at Naughty Dog gave us, needy and Jak & Daxter-deprived gamers, Nathan Drake. From the lushious island in Drake's Fortune, they took us to the heights of Nepal in Among Thieves.

And come Fall 2011, they'll plunge us into the scorching desert heat of the Middle East. They say water's scarse in the desert, so why can't I stop mouthwatering then?

Friday, December 17, 2010

A very Shrek morning

I rented Shrek - Forever After last night and I was eager to shove it in my PS3 this morning. As soon I pressed a few buttons, everyone's favourite ogre popped up on screen. Although this fourth (!) entry in the Shrek series isn't quite as good as its three predecessors, it's a nice way to end the quadrilogy. For those of you who haven't seem 'em yet, here are some scenes I thought were incredibly funny and/or cute:

Puss in Boots (who's put on a few), but still cute as ever!

Cookie, the cooking Ogre!

Hilarious scene where the Pied Piper lures Ogres with his magical flute,
followed by an all-out dance scene...

Thursday, December 16, 2010

The artist formerly known as ...

Quite a few years before I ever considered blogging, I maintained a Book of Ideas as I called it. I also had a Book of Words, which contained all sorts of quotes and other comments, but that's beside the point. This Book of Ideas contained a lot of sketches and potential ideas for stories that I had. Some of these I tried writing down, but I can never seem to get past the imagining of the background, I'm not that good with storylines, apparently. Anyway, since I came across it today, I thought it'd be cool to show you what my 'artistic qualities' were before I commited myself entirely to the world of words. So, feast your eyes... 



A story I started writing about a mythical city that defied the power of the Gods
and as punishment was torn from the earth and cast into the sky.

Post-apocalyptic vision of a flooded world, where large dikes were built to keep back
the rising tides, but where cities were eventually submerged beneath the sea.

A story about a world ravaged by temporal storms. Strictly pre-production status.
One of my stories that has stayed with me the longest. I started writing it
in the last year of high school. It's about a high-tech building that's completely self-sustaining,
called the Neo-Corb building (little play on Le Corbusier, one of my favourite architects).

An idea I had of 'windows' into another reality. A reality of a natural landscape instead of
an urban one. A reality of a shattered moon (think Simon Wells' Time Machine) and our whole one.

A sci-fi approach to cities and landscaping.

A vision of earth, in the far future, where the barren surface consists of giant holes
from which floating cities emerged after the surface became inhospitable.

Another drawing of a 'window' into another reality. Okay, I think about alternative
realities quite a lot. So what?


Another blending of two realities. Partly inspired by a graphic novel of which I forgot the name.

Something I thought of while almost falling asleep, so I woke up and wrote it down.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

A picture's worth a thousand words

I tried the whole graphic approach to blogging twice already -once for my trip to Milan and another for my 20th birthday party- so I thought it'd be okay if I sort of made it a recurring theme. Since I know words can't explain all and if we are to believe what Mr de Sausure says -words define themselves through other words, the difference in words is strictly arbitrary, or: there is no connection to a word and its meaning, a chair for example- we know that words don't have to. Not when we've got an iPhone with a camera. So from now on, I'll try to incorporate a more graphic (read: PHOTOgraphic) theme into this blog. Just to spice things up a bit, ay? And now, I shall return to the pressing matter at hand: My Life, 2010 AD.

The Big Daddy E made me for my birthday :-) <3 Betsy forever!

A quick glance at my bookcase...

... And a closer look at some of my personal favourites:
Jonathan Safran Foer - Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Robert J. Sawyer - Flashforward
Karin Fossum - Broken
Jung Chang - Wild Swans
Audrey Niffenegger - The Time Traveler's Wife
Oscar Wilde - The Picture of Dorian Gray
Markus Zusak - The Book Thief
Carlos Ruiz Zafón - Shadow of the Wind
Stephen Baxter - Flood
Stephen King - Duma Key
Stephen King - Under the Dome

Music, always an important part in the process of growing up!

My humble collection of DMZ graphic novels,
 look it up via Wikipedia or in this blog, you won't regret it ;-)


Snowblind

It's snowing outside as it has done for the past three hours or so. There's something to be said for snow and its capacity to make everything beautiful, no matter how deep the ugliness runs. Snow can cover every stain, every cracked surface and everything else in a blanket of white serenity. Snow can stop traffic. Snow can completely silence an entire city and smother it in her cold embrace.

Whenever it's snowing, I get the feeling that, no matter how dark or how gloomy the world has become, snow can always make it look better, even if it's just superficial. After all, in today's society, it's all about the surface anyway, isn't it?

I know some people hate snow exactly because of its traffic-stopping, city-smothering attributes, but I don't care. There's always this sort of magic in the air when the snow starts falling. At night, snow-covered grounds make the skies clearer and the stars shine brighter. And when it's cloudy, the snow's reflection bounces off the clouds back to us, illuminating the world we've made for ourselves.

I guess I definitely caught the Christmas spirit bug, haven't I? And whenever it's Christmas, New Year's Eve's never too far off. A chance for redemption, for starting over, for wishful thinking or for repeating the same mistakes. Wouldn't it be great if everyone's resolutions would be upheld this year? If 2011 became the year of keeping promises and lasting commitments? Or is that something still best kept for the far-off future?

In any case, I'll be making some pre-New Year's Eve resolutions of my own, lest I forget them by the time sparkling glasses pass before my eyes and cloud my better judgment.
  • In 2011, I'll do everything I can to get into Sheffield by passing every exam in January.
  • In 2011, I'll fully commit to my diet and start running again to get back to where I was three years ago.
  • In 2011, I'll take my first steps towards a career in journalism by submitting my first real article.
I wonder, what are your resolutions? And will you keep them?

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Living with an autist

My brother is 22 years old. Two years ago, we placed him in Kortenberg, a psychiatric facility. We had to because the sitation got out of control. There was an incident with the police involved which was preceded by a whole string of unpleasant experiences. I won't go into all the details, but it pretty much made life at the Dubuissons unbearable.

On some level, we've always known there was something wrong with him. He always seemed to be two or three steps behind everyone else his age and when he would do something, he would always do it wrong or not at all. We tested him for his hearing, his sight, his IQ, his reflexes, but none of the results brought us any closer to what was really going on with him. After a few months in Kortenberg, the diagnosis pointed towards one life-shattering fact: my brother has the symptoms of autism.

I so badly want to believe that the medication is giving him more clarity and peace of mind, but all evidence to the contrary. He has done some pretty stupid things in his life, but I always hoped that, like puberty, it was a phase that he would grow out of, eventually. But he's 22 now, going on 23. I'm afraid his behavioural patterns have all but locked in place right about now. The way he is now, is how he's going to be for the rest of his life.

Every time he goes out, I worry about him. He says he's going out with his friends, but I can tell you: the people he hangs out with, are not his friends. They've pushed him in ponds, beat him up, left him all alone in the city, extorted money from him and cheated him in every possible way.

No matter what we do or say, it's like his mind has a reset-button that instantly wipes out all our warnings and precedents. Each time he wakes up, it's like he begins with a clean slate. Sadly, in this story, it's always the same repetition of mistakes and the refusal to learn from them.

I sometimes envy him for his 'tabula rasa', that way he'll never fully understand the pain he's going through or the hopelessness of his situation. But I'm afraid that sometimes, something seeps through the cracks and he does realize the things he has done or the person he has become. Those are the times when I can see it in his eyes. This quiet desperation that tells me he knows. He knows he's never going to be able to keep a job. He knows he'll never have the picture perfect family. He knows he'll never be able to stand on his own and be the big brother he was supposed to be.

I'm worried that my life will inevitably become intertwined with his. I'll be the little brother who'll have to look after him, who'll have to keep him safe from a society that doesn't understand him and from the people who'd do him wrong. But, and I hate myself for thinking it, I don't want that role. I don't want to be the one to look after him, to wake up every day of my life worrying what he might do next. But it's happening already...

I'm the one who drags him out of bed every Tuesday and Thursday when he has to go to work. I'm the one who has to tell him to stop lying and tell me the truth. I'm the one who screams at him when he makes the same mistakes over and over. It's already become my burden to bear, but I'm not sure if it's something I want to do.

A few days ago, he left the bathwater running and the entire bathroom was flooded. The water must've been at least a couple of centimetres deep and had spread across the hall, soaking the entire floor. Both my wooden floors and his were covered in water. While the water was gushing over the edge, he couldn't be sitting more than five metres away, behind his computer. He didn't even notice the gallons of water pouring of the edge of the tub and flooding the entire room. The water had filtered through the ceiling, leaking into the kitchen through the lamp. For all I know, it could've caused the whole thing to short-circuit and the house could've burned down. Afterwards, we spent the entire night spreading out towels to soak up the water and tearing up the floor tiles in the hall to prevent them from rotting away. And where was he? Sitting in his room, texting. Completely oblivious to the rampage he had brought upon us, yet again.
When the worst was over, there was only one thing on my mind: I can't live like this anymore. I can't keep running after him, cleaning up his mess, telling him what to do, fixing his mistakes, watching over him, making sure he doesn't do anything stupid, making sure he doesn't get betrayed by his so-called friends, being his big brother. All I want for him, is to get him the help that he needs and I'm starting to think it's not in this house anymore.

I'm going to hate myself for this later on, but I want him to go to a place where he can be treated properly. Because this is not working anymore. This is not what he needs. And it's not something I can handle anymore.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Why the world needs superheroes

Who could forget the first time someone looked up at the sky and wondered whether it was a bird or a plane that flew over his head? Only moments later, someone else answered that it was a man. The next morning, people would read in the newspaper about the extraordinary deeds this flying man had done. Of course, this man was in fact a superhero and as we all know, superheroes do not exist in our world. Still, there is no harm in imaging a world where superheroes are not condemned to living between bound pages of comic books. Every once in a while, we all dream of looking up at sky, wishing we see someone fly over our heads, but our dreams never come true.

In truth, the world created in comic books does not differ all that much from our reality. We might not have the colourful array of villains who possess superhuman powers, but that does not make our world any less filled with dangerous people. Our world has its own set of threats and its own set of supervillains. As it is often said, art imitates life and therefore the world that has been established in comics is based on the real world. Whenever the fictional city of Metropolis is in some kind of peril, it can always count on Superman or one of his Justice League friends to come and save the day. But what about our cities? Who was there to help New York when the Twin Towers came down? It did not have a superhero to rescue all those people. When the train bombs in London went off, there was nobody who could move at the speed of light to remove the bombs before they went off.

In comic books, the world is always saved from destruction in the nick of time, whereas our world, Earth, located in the Milky Way galaxy, has to fend for itself. We have our victories, but we also have a lot of losses. That doesn’t mean we do not wish for the odds to tip in the favour of victory and if that means escaping into the world of comic books every now and then, so be it.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Between a rock and a hot place

About three years ago, before the whole hype started, I read the Twilight saga (as it is now commonly called). I have to say, the first book got me hooked, the second made me sad and depressed, the third seemed to come apart at the seams and by the fourth I didn't really want to know how it ended anymore.

On the featurettes of the first Twilight movie, Stephenie Meyer explained how she got the idea for the series. It started with a dream she had and how she woke up before knowing how it ended. Being the writer that she is, she sat down at her desk and wrote an ending to her dream. Thus, Twilight was born.

In my opinion, she should've stopped with the first book, since it was based on a dream and one can only stretch a dream so far until it starts to tear. By the second book, she incorporates werewolves, which isn't all that bad, but still, it makes you wonder where she's planning to take it all to. Surely, by Eclipse, it's become increasingly clear that Meyer can't handle the pressure of juggling all the different characters and storylines anymore. She adds a string of grizzly murders to try and elevate the book from a simple teen love story to an elaborate detective/supernatural horror story. Breaking Dawn takes the cake in overdoing it. If Meyer wanted us to know exactly what the werewolves were thinking, she should've written an entirely new series on them instead of cramming it in between Bella's pregnancy and her giving birth. Personally, I think she's in over her head.

One of the main critiques on her work is the fact that she portrays women as weak and defenseless little girls and the men as predatorial and dominant. Back in the day, Jane Austen portrayed women as being rather silly as well, but at least she had the decency to be sarcastic and ironic about it. Meyer, on the contrary, seems to take pleasure in this hunter-prey situation. And although it is cute and adorable to some extent, at some point, it's time to cut the puppet strings loose and let the characters evolve for themselves, rather than being pushed forwards by the actions of others.

If you ask me, she should've given Bella and Jacob at least a chance. Somewhere in New Moon, she handed Bella all the tools she needed to chose Jacob, even if it was for just a little while. But Bella, poor defenseless and scared Bella, choose to wallow in self-pity and self-imposed isolation rather than try to live her life like a normal seventeen or eighteen year old would. We all drag our asses out of bed some day and we get over it. So I wonder what makes Bella so special, except the fact that she's impervious to the vampire's powers?

If Bella and Jacob had become a couple it would've made for far more interesting storylines than the impending threat of the Volturi or the incessant glooming eyes of Victoria. And on that note, Victoria should've won. She was one of the best characters in the series. At least she had the stones to fight for the one she loved and to avenge him, rather than waking up every night screaming for him. Screaming. Every. Effing. Night. *grunt*

Just this morning, I watched New Moon and I couldn't help but become increasingly annoyed with Bella as the movie progressed. On all accounts, Bella is weak and seemingly unable to handle reality. So desperate to live forever as a vampire for the sake of being together with the one she loves. Unfortunately Bella dear, to live forever, means to actually L I V E forever and if you don't have a life now, what will you do until the end of time?

So Bella, next time you have to choose between a rock (stone-cold Eddie Cullen) and a hot place (Jake's abs of steel and apparant allergy to wearing shirts), stop your bitching for five seconds and go for the hottie. Passion is fire, Bella. You would know that if you had some sort of IQ.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

I'm sowwy

Dear readers,

I know I've left you somewhat out in the cold (weather pun definitely intended) with withholding this riveting blog from you for all this time. So I do feel like I owe you an explanation.

First of all, school is crazy busy at the moment. I'm writing so much papers and essays they're practically coming out of the wazoo. On top of that, as I am quite a nice guy, I also read and give feedback on other people's papers and essays. Consequently, I'm reading and writing twice as much as I should. This, in part, explains the hiatus of the past few days (or has it been a week already?).

Secondly, dear readers, I find myself at a standstill. I've been so focused on outsourcing all of my creative impulses into my essays and papers that I'm afraid the well has gone dry for this blog. Believe me when I say I wanted to write a new blog, but I didn't feel you guys deserved the half-ass attempt at writing it would've surely become.

Seeing as how I've given you a nice list of two points already, I feel the need of writing you a third, just for summary's sake, but alas, no can do. I feel like I've reached my limit yet again. And the worst part is, I've actually got quite a lot of writing to do for today. I need to finish my paper about literary criticism on the Internet, as well as revise and edit my other paper about the shift in social conventions.

Since I do feel like writing something more profound and substantial than this apologetic blog, I'll try to get the creative juices to start flowing again and maybe, just maybe, you'll find a new blog here soon. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about superheroes and the whole mythology surrounding them. Who knows, might be some Pulitzer Prize-material in there?


Sincerely,

Yours truly

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Turning 20 in 20 images

Okay, so I thought I'd try a new approach. In lieu of producing an entire written blog about this weekend's festivities, I decided to post some pictures from the party. Now, I know my guests requested some privacy regarding these pictures, so I'll make sure the only really damaging pictures will be mine and mine alone.

Let's see if the old saying 'A picture says a thousand words' still stands, and if not, I stand corrected and I'll produce the written version of November 27.

Turning 20 means...


Still being able to appreciate a decent group picture


Knowing who your friends are


Not being afraid of pasting a fake mustache and goatee on your face with magic marker


Coming to regret giving a certain person access to a more permanent marker
-It's so fluffy I'm gonna die-


Just going with it from time to time


Daring to be bold in wardrobe choices


Having a group hug every now and then


Learning to recognise the Drunks and Soon-To-Be Drunks


Going a little crazy


Showing you're down with it


Honoring thy mother
-Love Mom-


Discovering new wounds that weren't there a second ago


Allowing people to give you new nicknames



Passing out after yet another wild night in your twenties
 

Having that threesome while 'seemingly' under the influence


Knowing how to give the perfect present to your friends


Forcing your friends to perform some manual labour every now and then


Knowing how to accentuate your friend's assets


Laying down a decent layer before consuming massive quantities of alcohol


Wearing extravagant accessories and not being afraid of a little Dare


Being so kind as to lend your friend some of your clothes


Thursday, November 25, 2010

Metamorphosis

I can't believe this is going to be my last blog as a 19 year old. I'm turning twenty in one hour, give or take a few minutes (or I might have already turned 20 depending on your timezone!). So if you want to wish me a happy birthday already, you can and it will be sincerely appreciated, but no pressure or anything.
He sure has the ghetto thing down to an art.
Fo sho.

Today was a really weird day. Not weird as in Al Jankovic or as in the way certain 'subcultures' are able to keep their caps on, even though the only thing holding them up is hope -I'll include this picture just so there are no misunderstandings, but a different kind of weird. The life-altering kind.

The day felt weird as in it felt like the first day of the rest of my life. I know it sounds cliché and exaggerated, but it was like reality became permeable and I could see my own future. Before I go all quantum physics on your asses, I'll slow down a bit and tell you about my day.

There was this event at school today called 'Global Village' which was in fact this sort of information moment for those interested in going on Erasmus. Ever since I had enough understanding of the world and the role our little country played in it, I knew I didn't want to live here for the rest of my life. So naturally, I started to branch out and look for other options. It turns out, the answer lay right across ye olde pond, otherwise known as the North Sea.
 
No, your geographical skills have not yet abandoned you, I am talking about the UK, the United Kingdom, Great Britain or whatever name you prefer. It all fits together perfectly: I love to write in English, the UK is an English-speaking country. I hate the fact of living in Belgium, the UK is not Belgium. You see? It's a win-win, really.

So while I was at the Global Village, my eyes immediately scanned the room in search of its most prized possession: the University of Sheffield stand. And as my eyes have not yet -completely- failed me, I found it, which, come to think of it, wasn't all that hard, considering they had a big old British flag hanging above them. I walked over there, all confident and excited, it felt right in some way. The guy I was talking to there only had to utter one sentence and I knew I was sold. I mean, I was actually sold from the moment I saw the United Kingdom as a possible destination in the brochure, but still, you wanna keep 'em guessing for a while. You don't wanna come off as too desperate.

Baby, where have you been all my life?
Okay, fuck it. No secrets here. I am desperate to get into Sheffield. There, I've said it. Felt good. Felt good saying I wanna go there. Hell, it's the truth, isn't it? And doesn't the truth always have a way of coming out?

Anyway, back to the permeability of reality I was experiencing all day long. As I was sitting in my grandmother's kitchen, I started to think about my life, at that moment, only one year into the future. I imagined me in Sheffield, in my student apartment and thinking about how I used to dream of coming here, one year ago. Then I saw myself hanging out with my future fellow students and sitting in these ancient, dust-plagued classrooms and I became deliriously happy. There's no other way of putting it. I was quite sure I was positively glowing in that kitchen.

I hope that, within one year's time, I'll still be writing this blog, only from a slightly different location. It would be cool if, one year later, I'd still remember having written this blog and look back on it then (wow, refering to an action in the future in the past tense, what would linguists have to say about that?). So, if I did not completely succomb to Alzheimer's by then and I did remember having written this blog, I betcha Future Me is reading this at the exact moment I'm writing this. In which case: Hi, Future Me, hope you're happy over there in Sheffield! Can't wait to meet you!

But enough about Future Me, let's go back to Present Me, he's more fun -I hope. At least he keeps it real.

So, only 40 minutes to go (again, give or take a few) until I turn 20. Wow, why does it feel so weird? It's just a number, really, so why does it feel like my whole life's about to change? Why does it feel like I won't be the same person when I wake up tomorrow? I mean, I know I'll still be me, but I wonder if I'll have changed somewhat. I mean, people change all the time. Our noses continue to grow every day, sure it's by mere nanomillimetres or whatever is the smallest possible measurement, but still...

We learn new things every day, it seems only natural that our bodies adapt accordingly. We make tons of new memories every day, shed old cells and create new ones continuously. Hair grows, blood runs, sweat drops and hearts beat. Our entire bodies are living and breathing -duh!- organisms, so it's perfectly possible that our personalities are living and breathing as well, right?

I wonder if I'll like the person I'm becoming and if others will like it too? And if not, when is it too late to change yourself, can it even be done?

If ever you would see a side of me that you don't particularly like, please say so. Evolution is a process like all others and I'm always open to suggestions. I don't want there to be any rebellions, revolutions or strikes. Just common dialogue will suffice, thank you. Let me know and I'll talk to management, see what I can do.

Only 35 minutes left. Guess I better enjoy these last few moments of 19-dom. I think I had a good year. New Year's kinda sucked when I was 19, the exams were a bitch too and the trip to Milan certainly wasn't without its ups and downs. But I met some awesome new people and I've gotten to know my friends better. Plus, I finally found where I belong in school, direction wise. I've laughed, cried, loved, hated, feared, wanted, received, given, breathed, hummed, sang, talked, wrote, laughed, wrote, loved, hated, wanted, wrote, laughed, wrote and more of the same to this very day.

I'm happy with how my 19th year on this planet went. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't too shabby either. In a year's time, I'll give you an update on my 20th year. Hopefully, it'll have been even better. And, more importantly, taken place on an entirely different spot on this planet. So here's to hoping...

- for a great year
- for an acceptance to Sheffield
- for finding love
- for writing my first real article
- for seeing my article be published
- for making new friends
- and keeping old ones
- for partying and having reckless fun
- for being fearless and bold
- for having an amazing trip to Budapest with S
- for being genuinely happy
- for making it to my 21st year without a single regret

Well, I guess that's all folks. See y'all when I'm 20! 

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Seconds closer to maturity

As I'm turning 20 in less than 48 hours, I can't help myself from reminiscing about the past 19 years of my life. They say that the gift for remembering and cherising the past is often reserved for those currently living in retirement homes or people who don't have anything better to do with their lives (I guess since I'm not a member of the senior population yet, I must be quite bored). Still, it's nice to take a moment in the present and look at your past, without worrying too much about the future. The truth is, you can't stop the future, it's coming, going, gone, BOOM, it has become the past again. So there, no point in losing sleep over that issue.

My thoughts are skipping uncontrollably between my infancy, my time at pre-school, elementary, high school, college, university, parties, people I've met, people I've lost, girlfriends, sexual encounters, booze-induced mistakes, movies I've seen, books I've read, music I've listened to and all the other silly and frivolous things that make up a life.

I saw a movie once and it stuns me a little that I can't remember its name (I'm usually quite good at that, could I be getting Alzheimer's already?), but I do remember this wonderful quote:

"I love this spot, it's like Heaven right here on earth, maybe that's what Heaven is, maybe we go through life collecting people and places we love and they become in our Heaven and that's where you mom is, she in her Heaven surrounded by everything that she loves... including you."

I like the thought of Heaven being a place where everything you've loved in life comes together. Just imagine a place with all your favourite people, books, places and music. I think that'd be a great way to spend eternity.

Naturally, I'm thinking about all the people and places I love and what my own piece of Heaven would look like. I think, most of all, it'd be a place of complete and utter chaos, but the good kind of chaos, because I love so many different things in life. Things so far apart, they might as well come from two different planets. I love the feeling of being with someone you love, but I also love being alone, just me, myself and I. I love living life to its fullest, taking chances and risking it all (even it that means losing it all), but I also crave the safety and security that being careful and prudent offers.

But I'm especially chaotic when it comes to the people in my life. I've seen a lot of people come and go in my life and although, on some level, I regret having lost some of them, it doesn't consume me with remorse. The way I see it, life is like this massive roadtrip across a seemingly desolate landscape. Imagine those endless concrete strips stretching from one horizon to the next with nothing in between. That's kind of how I see life, you never know what's right around the bend or over the hill. The unexpectedness and randomness, that is what makes up a life. Because the truth is, we never know what's going to happen next. We don't know when our car's going to brake down, where our next stop is or who we invite to come along with us. And sooner or later, your car is going to break down, you are going to have to stop somewhere and you will have to find people to share your journey with.

Of course, we all know the duality that lies in that last part. People are either in for the long haul, or they're just in for the ride, onto their next destination. Actually, that sounds like a horrible way to refer to people! Wow, have these last few weeks made me so bitter? There's a side of me I didn't know existed...

Okay, allow me the chance to set things right: I don't think of people as disposable, first of all. But I do know that, at one point or another, you have to let go of them. You have to let them get on with their own lives. Which is not to say that friends are on some kind of rotation device, a revolving door of some sort to alternate between different friends at different times in your life.

Hmm... Clearly, I've taken a wrong turn somewhere in my line of thought, so to avoid continuing onto this wayward path, I'll just delete the last few paragraphs.

But I'm especially chaotic when it comes to the people in my life. I've seen a lot of people come and go in my life and although, on some level, I regret having lost some people, it doesn't consume me with remorse. The way I see it, life is like this massive roadtrip across a seemingly desolate landscape. Imagine those endless concrete strips stretching from one horizon to the next with nothing in between. That's kind of how I see life. You never know what's right around the bend or over the hill. The unexpectedness and randomness, that is what makes up a life. Because the truth is, we never know what's going to happen next. We don't know when our car's going to brake down, where our next stop is or who we invite to come along with us. And sooner or later, your car is going to break down, you're going to have to stop somewhere and you'll have to find someone to share your journey with.

Of course, we all know the duality in that last one. People are either in for the long haul, or they're just in for a free ride, onto their next destination. Actually, this sounds like a horrible way to refer to people! Wow, have these last few weeks made me so bitter? There's a side of me I didn't know existed.

Okay, allow me the chance to set things right: I don't think of people as disposable, first of all. But I do know that, at one point or another, you have to let go of them. You have to let them get on with their own lives. Which is not to say that friends are on some kind of rotation device, a revolving door of some sort to alternate between different friends at different times in your life.

Maybe just this one phrase to make up for past mistakes: people come and go, but the ones who stay are the ones who'll never leave you. And on that sentimental note, I'll leave this whole thing behind me.

So there, I'm half an hour closer to turning 20 and hopefully, by the time the 1 and the 9 turn into a 2 and a 0, I'll have it all figured out. No mistakes. No deleted entries. No bitterness. Just me in my twenties. The start of a whole new chapter. My hands are already aching to begin writing it.

Oh, sorry, that's Life calling and I gotta take it! Until we 'meet' again, dear Bloggers!