Neon galore!

Just came back from the movies with R. We decided on Tron Legacy. I never saw the first movie, but I am aware of its significance in the world of CGI and animation. After some hyperlinking on Wikipedia, I familiarized myself with the world of Tron and with that in mind, and the amazing trailer with music from Daft Punk, I walked through the sliding doors of the Kinepolis and met R at the registers. After some snack-hunting in the Candystore, we went upstairs, to theatre 1, but not before grabbing one of those I'm-never-going-to-go-to-another-3D-movie-ever-again 3D goggles. Yup, that's right boys and girls, 3D has become as unavoidable as getting an STD from a sleazy toilet seat!

I have to be honest when I say I approached the movie a bit sceptical, I mean, I'm all for CGI (if properly executed, that is) and I'm definitely up for a hi-tech fueled adrenaline ride, but it could all go South so very quickly. What I'm actually trying to say is that there were a lot of balls in the air and a lot would be riding on the execution of the special effects. And I'm happy to inform you that all was executed beautifully!

My first wow-moment occured pretty early on, namely with the digitalized version of the Disney logo. I know, I know, but still... It looked pretty effing awesome!

Just you wait until you've seen it all lit up in the movies and with your 3D goggles on!

Then, I was blown away by the bombastic and highly likeable soundtrack. It should come as no surprise as well that I'm downloading the soundtrack as we speak.

Absolutely electrifying...

The next thing that blows you away is your first look at The Grid (the cyberworld father Flynn has created). What follows next is a razor-sharp, high-speed, futuristic trip loaded with breathtaking environments and epilepsy-inducing neon lights. You're in for a treat! - if you're not an actual epileptic, that is.

But there are moments when all these eyepopping visuals fall subject to overkill. For instance, the fight in the bar, near the end of the movie, basically passes by in a brightly coloured blur since it's become increasingly difficult to separate the neon-suits worn by the actors from the neon backgrounds as conjured up by the computer. There's always a good chance this is all due to my slow descent towards utter blindness though - I have like, really bad eyes -, so maybe you shouldn't be too taken in by my opinions.

All in all, Tron Legacy has been a very agreeable experience! If tight flashy suits, lightcycles, perfectly executed finishing moves, Olivia Wilde and a sleek, dark, foreboding hi-tech world rocks your boat, then by all means, climb aboard! - you're in for one hell of a ride ;-) (memorable moment: my first use of a smiley in one of my blog!)

Infinitesimal

Sometimes I feel like a nomad, drifting through this world, never really a part of it. My room a wasteland of clothes strewn around, books thrown on a stack creating a makeshift library, my desk an ever-growing sea of papers, folders, cables, memory sticks and other little nicknacks, furniture that doesn't quite match and a multitude of memorabilia from my life stored away in an ethereal world.

I can sit on a bus, go through life's daily motions and still feel like I'm not actually there. Like I'm somewhere else, though I'm not quite sure where this 'somewhere else' is. I know this might sound quite existentialistic of me, but I hope that some of you can understand this kind of disconnectedness, this sense of permeability, as if you're translucent.

It's happened to me so many times before that I've come to believe this 'flaw' of mine to be intrinsic to my character. Maybe it's all in my head, or maybe it's in my genes. I'm not quite sure which of these I'd prefer. If it was just a condition of the mind, than surely I should be able to relinquish such thoughts, shouldn't I? And if it's a matter of DNA, than I should just abandon all hope now, right? Because until the day genetics crack the human genome, my genes won't magically rearrange themselves to my personal needs.

The curious part about this is the fact that, although it is not the world's greatest experience, I don't altogether dread the feeling either. In a way, it gives some perspective, because here we are, a population just shy of seven billion people, yet we are surrounded by an infinite black horizon which seems to be filled with nothing else but empty rocks and searing hot balls of plasma held together only by gravity.

But what is it that keeps us from floating off this rock and drifting far, far away? Are we connected by people, by the lives we lead, the jobs we have, the steps we take? Or quite the opposite, the steps not taken, the jobs we said 'no' to, the lives we didn't lead and the people who never got to be a part of our lives? What is it then than keeps us from floating away? What is it that makes us stay? 

We are just infinitesimal dots scattered across a 148,940 km² patch of land on a small planet in one of the corners of the Milky Way so it would seem only natural that a member of the human species should feel exactly like this. After all, compared to the vastness that stretches around us, how could we not feel this way? If ever a human being should want to make a difference, he should try to do so on this old piece of rock, right? Because let's face it, the chances of that specific human reaching out into the farthest reaches of the universe and actually make a difference there, seems equally as infinitesimal as he is himself, is it not? 

Maybe it's good to feel this kind of translusency every once in a while. It makes us realize how valuable these precious years are in this world and how important it is to be the best version of us to make sure that this old piece of rock actually remembers us. And if for some reason, the rocks can't seem to hold on to a thought, than we should try to enstill such thoughts in the minds of the people around us, so we - and by 'we' I actually mean I - can try and come back down to Earth, instead of floating off. Maybe then, I can actually stay.

Fly me to the Moon

We live in momentous times. Only one year short of 2012, a year heralded by many religions as the 'End of Days' or at least the end of life as we know it.

A few years ago, I took a liking to Geography, not only because we were learning about plate tectonics, which I find extremely interesting, but because I realized that there were extraordinary things happening all around us. Things that might be some sort of prelude of what's to come.

Disaster movies always know how to draw a crowd (with the exception being Disaster Movie itself, which is a spoof of course) and maybe they attract that much attention because we secretly want to see this world shake up and break down? But why are we so gung-ho on seeing this world perish when all around us efforts are being made to ensure this planet's survival? Fuel alternatives, green energy, solar power, recycling, call it whatever you like, but there definitely is a fenomenal interest in keeping this little blue gem shining as it once has.

By way of a link posted by G on Facebook, I came across this site that maps freak occurences in the weather and in earth's activities. Now I know that there are hundreds if not more of these sites circulating the web and I would've looked at them all, but since this one seemed to fulfill my immediate quest for these worldwide catastrophes, I saw no reason as to why I should look any further.

In 2010, nearly 300.000 people were killed by natural disasters. The American heartland has experienced a record freezing point; minus forty degrees Celsius. 2010 has been the hottest year to date. Sixty-six earthquakes were registered in Belgium in 2010. A new supervolcano, the Campi Flegrei, threatens to lay waste to all of Europe upon eruption. Haiti sees itself confronted with a cholera epidemic, with infected numbers rising to 400.000 by 2011. The list goes on and on.

Are we on the fast lane to global extinction? Or is Mother Nature just experiencing one hell of a vicious period? And will these disasters worsen or will this rock settle back into equilibrium?

I for one am a firm believer in 21.12.2012 (judge me however you like) and so I believe this situation can only get worse, although I remain to be optimistic. I mean, surely we can't all die on that faithful Friday? Surely this world won't meet its on a Friday night? Can this so-called God of ours be that cruel and filled with irony? I suppose we'll have our answer within less than two years now, won't we? And if by then, we're all still here, in one place, without floods, without quakes, without massive tectonic displacement, we'll be quite alright and we can safely say we can live to see another day. And if not, well, there's always the Moon we can try out?

Death of a country

There I was, waiting in the freezing cold for a bus that seemed to have dropped from the face of the earth. At that moment, between quiet desperation and outrageous fits of discontent, I realized something: Belgium is very much dead.

The final stanza of he poem 'The Hollow Men' by T.S. Eliot reads:

This is the way the world ends.

This is the way the world ends.

This is the way the world ends.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

And it struck me that the same could be said about our - once - fair country. It seems to me that everything within the borders of this nation is slowly, but surely dying. We are a country without a government, and we have been so for over 200 days (and counting), our monetary deficits keep swirling downwards (although in all fairness, it is a global recession), there is a serious kink in our educational system, a public transportation system that lies completely in shambles and the list goes on and on.

Everywhere - or at least in my immediate surroundings - streets are being broken up and left in that state for months at a time. Maybe a sad reflection of our broken spirit? We keep building houses and office buildings even though there is no way that the people who actually need a roof over their head, can afford to stay there. We suffer through endless delays and uncountable senseless acts of crime. We seem to be doing everything to maintain the illusion that we are still a thriving and well-managed country, when in fact, we only have to tune in for the seven 'o' clock news to realize this country is going to hell and we're gaining more and more momentum every day.

I've always known my future must lie somewhere else than in this godforsaken place and for the better part of my life, this country has done nothing to prove me wrong, how could it, really? What have we got going for us? Is our obligatory vote that praiseworthy? Are our pittoresque cities so alluring? Do we run that tight a ship? Sadly, the answer is 'None of the above'. The more I continue to be tortured by buses with a constant tardiness, dreary weather, boring cityscapes and desperate prospects, I become increasingly convinced that I should very much like to leave this place behind and never look back. Just run away and make my fortune somewhere else.

As you might've guessed, I'm anything but a patriot. I guess it has never been in my nature to be a true Belgian. And perhaps it never will. I want to say that this bothers me, but it doesn't. It really doesn't. Why would I want to be a part of a country that is flatlining? Maybe other people can't hear it, but I can't stop listening to the monotonous, irritating sound of a country that is beginning to whither and die (if you'll excuse me the Resident Evil - Extinction-borrowed quote).

PS3, I love you

I thought, with the end of the January exams drawing near, I should pay a little visit to the Game Mania website and see what kinds of new goodies they've got in store. And let me tell you, 2011 is going to be a mouth-watering year for me and my fellow gamers. The time of Atari's Pong seems so long ago, it might just as well have occured in the Stone Age. When you see the kinds of games that are now (or will soon be) available to us, you cannot help but marvel at the technical wonders us feeble humans have managed to conjure up.

Let me paint you a picture. Or in other words, let me tell you on what I'll be spending my money this year. Frankly, I don't know where to begin. There's Uncharted - Drake's Deception (of course), Crysis 2, Bulletstorm, Homefront (for those of you who loved Red Dawn - and Apocalypse, Now!), MotorStorm -Apocalypse, DC Universe Online, Brink, inFAMOUS 2 and on and on the list goes.


Because sweating in the desert, raiding tombs, killing evil mercs, ...
has never looked so damn good.


A "catastrophically beautiful" full-blown war in a decimated New York City.
Who wouldn't be up for that?


Big effing guns, big effing monsters and a not-so Goody Two-Shoes vocabulary.
Sounds like my kinda game.

A United States brought to its knees, crippled by a brokedown economy,
and blasted with a lil' EMP from North Korea, with love.

Racing with really cool cars in a real-time really-devastated city?
Bring. It. On.

Becoming a superpowered being and consequently, the savior or annihilator of Earth?
Don't mind if I do...

Civil wars, flooded earths, crazy people, intelligent SMART system and id Tech 4.
Oh yeah. I'm there.

Death by electrocution.
Sounds like a perfectly good way to go.

So give me something to believe

Anybody even remotely familiar with the whole teenage drama television format knows about the basic plot structures that haunt such shows. There are the couples who you'll know end up together, because that's the way it's supposed to be, that's the way it should be, but somehow, producers and storywriters alike, tend to stretch this already paperthin relationship out for two seasons or more. A striking example of this can be found in the Gossip Girl series. The show starts off with Serena, Blair, Nate, Chuck, Dan and Vanessa (actually, she only shows up halfway through the season, but details, friend, details!). So anyways, Serena hooks up with Dan, Nate struggles to choose between Vanessa and Blair, the latter of which has caught the eyes of the young Mr Chuck Bass. For the next two seasons or forty-shy episodes, these love triangles will continue to evolve, break up, reforge and break up again, until finally, midway through season three the happy couples are finally united. (To find out who ends up with who, I suggest you view the series, or, Wikipedia them!)

Unfortunately, a series like Gossip Girl has the side-effect of portraying love as something completely bouleversé. Lives are built up, only to be brought down again. Hearts are filled with love, only to bleed out later. It makes you wonder if these writers draw their art from life or from nature? And if from life, it is a faithful representation? Because if so, we humans are pretty shitty lovers, aren't we? 

Deny it as much as we want to, a sad lovestory always sells better than a happily-ever-after, need I bring up the box-office numbers for Titanic or even Moulin Rouge? As much as we want to believe in fairy tale endings and blissful marriages, there's a deeper and darker part of us that preys on the total destruction of hope and erasure of love from what, for all intents and purposes, is considered to be a fictional character. That way, the audience can always leave with the though that their life is nowhere near as complicated and that, despite how bleak their future might look, there's a good chance some fictional Dick or Jane who have it inifinitely more to endure than we ever could.

Romance, or at least, what passes as romance on-screen seems to has lost much of its appeal, to me. I mean, I know all the old sayings such as 'You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone', 'Some of the best things in life, are the things that are right in front of you', 'True love' and all that other sensible stuff, so why is it, that when people watch television shows, the ratings start to steadily drop when the drama stops? Isn't that what love is about? Being devoid of drama? Having Ariadne'd yourself out of life's labyrinth of emotional dead-ends and ever-winding paths? The reverse seems to be true. Romance is just the start of things to come. The beginning of the end, if I were to be a cynic.

Even with all these cinematic rocky roads, there is a core to be found in each one of them. A truth that lies in the hearts of all of us. The search for love in a world that seems to do everything in its power to nihilate such notions. The search for something more ethereal, when all we seem to do is be silly little material boys and girls. So I guess therein lies the challenge: to believe in something more. Not gods, kings or rockstars, just people.

Yes, I know, I've been going on an emotional rollercoaster again with this blog and I hope you weren't too dissatisfied with it, because I can't promise it won't happen again. But hey, if you can sit through all the other lovy-dovy shows, than I think this little blog should be the least of your worries, should it not?

Holly not-so-Golightly

I've had this little list of cinematic classics in my head for quite some time and I told myself that I would make it my personal mission to watch them all - if only for the sake of expanding my almost encyclopedic knowledge of the film world. Some of these movies-to-see were It's A Wonderful Life, Casablanca and either movie with Brigitte Bardot, evidently, I settled for La Vérité. Other movies I must see soon are: Gone With The Wind, Some Like It Hot, An Affair To Remember and The Way We Were. 

I found It's A Wonderful Life to be an incredibly beautiful story of individualism and the sacrifice of one's personal desires for the needs of others. George Bailey perpetually places others before him, not believing in the good deeds that he therefore commits and is unable to see how wonderful life can be. The tale of 'not knowing what you've got, 'till it's gone' is beginning to sound like a broken record - to some of us -, yet you cannot help fall in love with the black-and-white esthetic and the genuine Christmas-spirit feel of this movie.

Casablanca was alright, although I don't know where people got the idea that Humphrey Bogart could act. If all you had to do was steady your drinking hand, look like your trying to solve the world's most difficult equation and speak in a single monotonous voice, then okay, you've got yourself an actor - apparently. Special praise goes out to Ingrid Bergman however, as her almost-porcelain features and tender character was the main raison to continue watching the movie.

And lastly, La Vérité I enjoyed immensly as well. The sensuous Bardot who could hide a small animal in one of her hairdos, knows how to spin a guy round and round her finger until he's completely done for. If ever you should come across it, don't hesitate and see it. If only to gaze at that massive pile of hair, the piercing stare and lips that could squeeze diamonds out of solid rock.

But today's topic is all about a certain quirky, fast-talking, unpredictable, cat-loving and diamond-praising girl: a miss Holly Golightly. For those of you who haven't heard this name before, perhaps dropping another one might get you back on track of Memory Lane: Breakfast At Tiffany's? And if that still doesn't do it for you, then I honestly don't see the point in you reading onwards.

Breakfast At Tiffany's, to me, is all about one's search for identity and happiness. It's a story about a girl who doesn't seem to trust herself and gets by solely based on her good looks and her quick-whipped personality. Set in New York, this vast metropolis is perfect to accomodate Holly's chaotic and fast-paced lifestyle.

The movie starts with her famous stroll across Manhattan, staring through the store windows. The streets of the City That Never Sleeps have yet to come alive in their nigh-permanent gridlock state, but for now, they're beautifully desolate. Entering her apartment, she rings the landlord to let her in because she continuously forgets or looses her keys. Clearly, organized life is completely wasted on her. Her apartment is as ecclectic as her walk of life - an upside down box for a coffee table and a half cut-out bathtub for a couch -, even her cat, which remains nameless - since she feels she has no claim on it -, has adopted Holly's playful and slightly crazy attitude - mind the part where the animal simply clings onto the doors of the closet, quite the vertical delight!

There's something about Audrey Hepburn and the way she portrays Holly that keeps you glued to the screen. Even though at times all you want to do is shake her and scream at her "Why can't you see what's right in front of you!" or my personal favourite: "Damnit woman, marry the man already!", there is no denying the massive heap of charisma that comes with every move she does and every sentence she utters. Her mannerisms, from the way she's holding her foot-long cigaret, to the way she strolls in and out her apartment, up the firescape to greet her upstairs neighbour Paul, with the much-quoted sentence "Fred, darling". As to why she's referring to Paul as Fred and why at some point Holly is called Lula Mae, that's what you'll have to find out when you see it for yourself. And see it you must, because Holly Golightly deserves your attention even if it is just to hear her say her immortal "Darling" line or watch her try and steal something from a 99ct store.

I used to think that calling certain old movies 'classics' was just another marketing strategy to sell movies or some word that was casually being thrown around, but for some cases, I get why they would slap the label 'classic' on the cover. Holly Golightly is not someone you go over lightly, it's something you watch and savour. Like a fine wine, age has done nothing to it, but make it better. You'll see. Just you wait, darling!

Acquired tastes

When you're studying Literature it is inevitable, if not mandatory than you should be interested in books and the history around them. I myself have always had this vivid fascination with the world of books and even as a child I was freely mixing the written word with the spoken word on television. I guess I've always been sort of caught between two worlds: the world of books and the world of movies.

As a child, I dreamed of making movies and as I got older, I never grew tired of this little director-fantasy. Even now, when writing seems to be inked into my very cells, I cannot stop watching movies and allow them to ravish me completely. I've always said that, if I was born in a country with a decent filmschool or some semblance of a noteworthy cinematic industry, I would've become a movie director, or at least a professional screenwiter. Alas, such a future does not seem to be in the Belgian deck of cards. Nevertheless, my interests remain solidified with books as well as movies.

I guess that, since my dream of becoming a famous director has been permanently placed on the Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda Shelf, it seems only natural that I should pursue my other source of visible delight: books. And as it is commonly known, three times is the charm: I finally chose correctly when I decided to study Literature. So far, this year has been one of my absolute best and now, more than ever, I want to make this academic career work and see it all the way through.

Over these past few months, I've added several literary classics to my humble library, such as Richard Russo's Empire Falls (although I wasn't exactly blown away by it and found it quite boring at times), José Saramago's Blindness and Seeing, Lewis Carrol's Alice, the complete works of both William Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe and more recently Charles Dickens' Great Expectations and Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead have joined my collection.

But I've also found that this newly invigorated lust for literature has been met accordingly by an increase of my DVD collection as well. Moreover, I see myself drifting more and more towards the more culturally significant pieces of cinema than the mainstream Hollywood influx of movies, although, don't get me wrong, I can always enjoy a good Hollywood blockbuster à la Salt, Resident Evil Afterlife or even Percy Jackson & The Lightning Thief (for some reason, I can't resist wanting to the movie over and over, so far, I've already seen it twice, but I wouldn't rule out a third and fourth time just yet!).

It's weird to see how the things that would've normally passed right by my peripheral vision are now pulled directly into focus and the things that would've normally sweeped me off my feet at first glance, have now gracefully resigned to second or even third place. They say that, in order for a child to grow up, they must - metaphorically speaking, of course - kill their father, because only then can they be free and truly their own person. I wonder if the same can be said for one's personal preferences? I used to love eating shrimp, strangely enough, yet now they completely disgust me. I used to love swimming, but now I'm much too self-conscious about the whole act. So it does make me wonder if, to truly grow up, means that you should not only kill off the father figure in your life, but also cut the very ties that bound you as a child?

In its most basic form this hypothesis is proved by the fact that we no longer watch cartoons or the baby shows such as Tik Tak or things like Nijntje. Even Nickelodeon has lost all of its sway over me. I can't even finish watching an episode of Fairly Odd Parents because I can't stand the poor voice-overs anymore. I also can't see myself re-reading the R.L. Stine Goosebumps horror books that I used to devour as a child.

So maybe there is truth in my hypothesis, or maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. Although I'm willing to bet you can all find examples yourself that proves you're slowly, but surely being pulled away from your childhood world and into your more developed and educated sense of adulthood. Who knew growing up would end up in such a killing spree?

Wander once more

I just watched the 2009 television adaptation of Wuthering Heights. I've never read the book by Emily Brontë, nor have I seen any of its previous adaptations. But since my English Literature exam is only three days away, I thought it best to watch at least one adaptation. It's funny how you - or at least I - can remember something infinitely better from seeing it in an audiovisual way than you - I - could ever hope to by studying it from a book. 

My first thought when I watched the credits roll was this is one beautiful, yet profoundly tragic love story. For those of you who haven't seen or haven't even heard of Wuthering Heights, I suggest you look up the 2009 version, it's fairly loyal to the original work (that is, what I can tell from the parts we've discussed in class and what extracts I've read from the book).

For those of you unfamiliar with E. Brontë's novel, I'll quickly summarize the story. There are two families: the Earnshaws, living at Wuthering Heights and the Lintons living at Thrushcross Grange. Hindley and Catherine Earnshaws's father returns from Liverpool with an unexpected surprise: an orphan boy whom he found wandering the streets. The father christens him Heathcliff and immediatly Catherine takes a liking to him, whereas Hindley sees him as a threat and treats him like a servant. Over the years, Catherine and Heathcliff grow closer together, but when the father dies and Hindley becomes the new master of Wuthering Heights, all hope of love between them seems lost.

Catherine and Heathcliff's relationship turns into one of the most beautiful, yet disturbed love stories. But on the eve of the night the two lovers wish to elope, they trespass on Thrushcross Grange and Catherine is wounded. Heathcliff is sent away because of his treacherous gypsy looks. During her stay with the Linton family, she meets Edgar Linton and his sister Isabella. Edgar grows fond of Catherine, but it is clear that her heart belongs to Heathcliff, and this will never change. Heathcliff however, misjudges the situation, thinking Catherine has chosen Edgar over him, and leaves, but not before swearing revenge on anyone who came between him and his love.

I could continue on and on about the story, but then what would be the point in you seeing this movie? So I won't reveal any more, unless you want to, in that case, I'll send you an email, although you could just consult Wikipedia as well, I suppose.

If you're ever going to see it: pay special attention to Catherine's love profession for Heathcliff. Where she compares her love for him as the eternal rocks beneath the earth. And also notice, near the end of the movie, when Heathcliff calls out to his love, begging her to "wander once more" near him. It's breathtakingly beautiful. So on that last note, be sure to see check it out and I hope you'll wander around here once more as well.

To the moon and back

I had my second exam today - it went pretty well, thanks for asking - and after that, I took the train to Louvain to do some studying in the library. God, aren't I a dilligent student? Well, just wait for it. I planned to go to the library after the exam, which I did, don't get me wrong, although it was just to drop off my bag and head into the city to do some shopping. I know, I know, what am I doing in a store when I should be pinned down in the library with my face pressed down on my English Literature notes. Alas, today I wasn't quite feeling it. So I decided to act accordingly and go on a little spending spree. Don't knock it, 'till you've tried it!

After spending what seems like a relatively low amount of cash on such abundant and seemingly expensive things is what makes it all worthwhile! The verdict: 4 new sweaters, 5 new T-shirts, 2 pairs of boxers and 6 new books. Now I now you're burning to ask me the question: so go on ahead and ask me: what colour are those boxers? Well I'm glad you asked: they're a lovely shade of grey. I actually wanted to buy a more colourful and vibrant *giggle* kind of boxer, but I guess the WE ran out of those. And the other question you were dying to ask, I'll bet, are the books I've bought. Well, here they are:

- D.H. Lawrence - Sons & Lovers and Women In Love (already mentally preparing myself for some saucy 20th century explicit content!)

- Charles Dickens - Great Expectations (I thought I just had to have it...)

- and three other novels of relatively unknown writers, although there's one called 'De Winterreis' by Amélie Nothomb. The other two are called something something 'in Parijs' (Oh God, there's that hole in my short-term memory again!) and 'Honderd woorden voor grijs', give or take a few words on that one as well... Oy... You'd think studying'd make you smarter and more capable of remembering things... I guess not. Or perhaps this just means I have to have my head checked at...

After this brief summary of my afternoon you'd think I'd have said what I wanted to say, but I didn't, but don't worry, I'm getting to it! As I was riding the bus back home - since all thoughts of school had long been abandoned for today - I put my iPhone on shuffle. It's amazing the kind of songs you hear that you never even know - or simply forgot - you had! While gazing out the window, watching all the Sales-driven people going about their businesses, I got reacquanted with Savage Garden. For those of you who think they've peeked at Truly, Madly, Deeply, guess again! To The Moon & Back is equally profoundly beautiful, maybe even more so than the "Until the stars fall down on me" song. If you want to get (re)acquanted with this song as well, just click here, I promise you'll love it. And if you don't, hey, it's YouTube, I'm sure there's something out there to rock your boat!

The start of something new

I mentioned a few blogs ago that, while I was studying - or at least making a really good effort - I started imagining this fantastic story set in Shatterworld. Ever since I created that world in my mind and gave it a proper name, I've been having a hard time getting rid of it. So far, I haven't succeeded, which is quite obvious given the fact that I'm writing another blog about it. Although this time, I'm on a mission. I figure that, if this thing is going to nest itself in my cerebral cortex, I might as well try and force it out by writing it all down. That way, I can control the influx of new ideas on the story and incorporate it into a nice little story, thereby expelling it from my mind. If the story turns out to be worthwhile, then I'll have my very first novel right here on my blog, if it's a bust, then at least the thought of Shatterworld will cease to haunt me. Without further ado, I give you the first chapter:

Chapter 1 - Brave New World

There are worlds within worlds. And in the space between spaces lies the doorway to these worlds. One only has to pass through them to see the multiverse.

Link always felt as if he didn't belong. The reason for this was threefold. Firstly, he did not remember anything from his life before the age of nine. Secondly, whenever something profoundly weird and abnormal seemed to happen, Link was never too far away. And thirdly, sometimes, when he would close his eyes, he could see flashes of strange, otherworldly things. Things that just didn't seem to make any sense. He was sure that he was going crazy.

The earliest memory Link possessed was of him laying in an alley somewhere, cold and confused. He remembered walking for hours in the dark, surrounded by locked doors and shut windows. Finally, he was picked up by a police officer who took him to a large building, filled with desks, massive piles of papers and a humdrum of people running all around the place. The room was so chaotic he felt as if he was going to faint. The man who found him wandering the streets was very kind to him. He asked for Link's name, which he couldn't remember. He asked him where he lived, but the answer to that question was unknown to him as well. After the police officer had written down so many words on a piece of paper and made a couple of phone calls, he told Link a lady was going to come by and look after him from now on. Link didn't fully realize what was going on when the lady came by and took him away from that nice man. The lady guided him to a car and brought him to another office where there were even more papers to fill in and questions to answer. After what seemed like an eternity, she told him she'd find him a nice family where he could go and stay. She said some other stuff about orphans, foster homes and missing persons files.

Link couldn't really remember all of it, just that the next day, Carla and David, his fosterparents, came by the lady's office and picked him up. They decided to name him Link, since he didn't have a name of his own -  or at least not one that he could remember. When Link asked his fostermom why they named him that, she told him hit was because of a video game character his father liked. Link always thought the name held a different meaning to him: he pictured himself a sort of stray link in the never-ending chain of society. Someone who'd fallen through the holes of structured civilization and ended up on the streets, alone, in search of a home. A missing link, who didn't quite belong.

As he got older, Link started to notice all of the weird things that seemed to happen when he was around, such as the electric lights flickering when he walked into a room or how his presence always triggered a certain change, as if he was accompanied by some otherworldy atmosphere. It all started the first day his fosterparents took him to their house. Carla and David were already walking up to the front door, talking agitatedly about Link's new home and much he'd like it here. Link wasn't really listening as he was too busy watching a girl play across the street. She was throwing her ball against the tree and then smashing it back with her fist when it bounced off the bark. Link had seen her do it three times already, but the fourth time she hit the ball back, it flew right past the tree and onto the street. The girl was so caught up in the moment that she immediatly ran after it. Link however, had seen that a car was rapidly driving down the street, right to where the girl was about to fetch her ball. Link shouted at her to stop. She looked up, her eyes opened wide. With only a few inches to spare, she teetered on the edge of the sidewalk as the car sped her by. Link couldn't know for sure, but something told him that if he hadn't been there, she would've surely been caught up by that car. This would prove to be the first time that Link was there whenever something extraordinary happened.

Other people started to notice the strange things surrounding Link too and opted to stay away from him. It wasn't easy to hide in the suburban area where his fosterparents lived. Link didn't notice at first. He just always thought of himself as being in the right place at the right time. And the fact that he didn't have all too many friends gave him the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts. His imagination was his escape. At home, he would spend hours laying on his bed, with his eyes closed, submerging himself in the fantastical world that he conjured up in his mind. Over time, he discovered that there was one story, one world that kept coming back to him. It was almost as if the story was calling him. And whenever he heard the call, he let his mind take him to that magical place. The sad part was that every time he opened his eyes, the world in his mind had vanished completely and he couldn't remember a thing about it. As if the memory had somehow been erased from his mind each time he tried to finish the story.


-- It is still a work in progress, so bear with me, it might take a while before I get to tell the whole story, although knowing what I've got planned for Link, it's certainly worth the wait!

Carnival of Heroes

I can still remember the first time I saw Heroes. It was back in the day when people watching synchronized television; no fastforwards, no replays, no taped programs, no nothing. Back then, you were constantly pressed for time when you wanted to watch your favourite program, because there were no rewinds or record buttons (sure, there're the good old-fashioned VHR you could've used, but I mean, who does that, right?). So, there I was, I think it must've been about 4 or 5 years ago, when I turned on the tv and saw the first glimps of Heroes. Nigh instantly, I was hooked.

I've always had a thing for superheroes or superpowered movies. Granted, they might not be the most innovating or even well-played movies in existence, but you can't blame me for wanting to see a world filled with superheroes and quietly wishing I'd have superpowers too. Which is precisely the reason why I own movies such as The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Iron Man, Catwoman, Daredevil, Fantastic Four, Batman, Spider Man, Watchmen and practically all other movies that include capes, Kryptonite and closeted superheroes.

Back to the matter at hand: Heroes. Since it is a time of intense studying and educational reflection, it's always good to have a proper kind of distraction. Mine is television. How could it not? So naturally, after having seen the first three seasons of Heroes, it was unthinkable of me not to watch the fourth and final season. A couple of days ago, I went to the store and bought myself a little distraction. Ever since, I've been commitedly watching a few episodes per day, limiting my pleasure at three a day, which isn't a bad deal, if you ask me.

I have to say though - and maybe this will break the hearts of fellow Heroes fans - the fourth season is by far the worst in the series. I could give you a million reasons why, but for the sake of this blog and the time you students are wasting on reading all of this, I'll keep it somewhat shorter.

The fourth season revolves around a carnival and its self-proclaimed 'master of the performance' Samuel Sullivan (played by Prison Break's T-Bag). Samuel has gathered all kinds of 'metahumans', people with abilities, at the carnival and created a sort of family there. He insists on attracting more and more people to expand the family. Though seemingly altruistic, Samuel has far more sinister plans with this mass-gathering of superpowered people. That's where the other heroes come in. What follows is a constant push-and-pull of people being drawn to the carnival, leaving the carnival and coming back again to the carnival and so on and so forth.

In my humble opinion, the whole carnival storyline should've been wrapped up in nine episodes, instead of the full 18-episodes long season-run. Already by the fourth or fifth episode, Samuel's masterplan has been completely revealed to (some of) the heroes and to the audience as well. So you can imagine that the next 13 episodes feel kind of redundant. Moreover, since it became clear that it would be the final season, it's even more painful to see that in the final minutes of the last episode, a prelude is made to what would undoubtedly have been the fresh injection of creativity the show needed after this season. 

The thing about Heroes is that the designated heroes of the show are never revealled to the world. There have been several attempts at unveiling their true identity to the world, namely Nathan Petrelli's 'I have the ability to ...'-speech, which was cut short by a mystery assailant shooting him down. But also the dark future-version of Clair Bennet, living in a world where a formula is created which gives people abilities. Both storylines however, were wrapped up and closed off by Hiro Nakamura's ability to alter time.

If you ask me, you cannot be called a superhero if nobody knows who you are or has even seen you. As long as their identity remains in the dark and only revealed to his fellow-superheroes, they are no more than vigilantes or silent saviors. Their intentions are no doubt heroic and their abilities superhuman, but a show cannot carry the name Heroes any longer if the respectable heroes are not out in the open.

In season 1, they're just beginning to come into their hero-heritage, hence the volume name Origins. The second season delves deeper into their lives and a glance at their future, which explains why Tim Kring called it Generations. By the third season we see a gallery of Villains followed by Fugitives, which sees our heroes hunted by the government (though still unbeknownst to the larger public). Season four counts 18 episodes under the Redemption volume and its final two minutes give way to what would've been the most exciting volume yet: Brave New World, with Claire Bennet exposing her abilities to the world.

It's sad that a show as good as this, should meet its end by the hands of Redemption. Yet, it is all us humble fans are given and it is what we'll have to make due with. Already, I'm imagining what would've happened to Claire, Peter, Syler/Gabriel, Matt, Hiro and all of the others, but that's exactly where it'll stay: my imagination. Maybe it's for the best? Maybe that way, the fans can carry on the legacy without a potential feeling of disappointment when it wouldn't've worked out. Sadly, it also means we won't be given a chance to be proven wrong.

Shatterworld

This is what happens when you're trying to study: you start thinking about everything else BUT studying! Time and time again, my concentration falls victim to the deeply disturbed twists and turns that make up my brain.

This cerebral attack is something that slyly creeps up on me. It happens when I least suspect it. I'm just sitting behind my desk, churning out summaries and schemes, when suddenly, the margins of my paper begin to take on a life of their own. The initial blank spaces rapidly begin to fill up with doodles, drawings and little sentences that practically purge themselves from my mind.

About a week ago, I started to draw the little floating islands that frequently flow out of my pen - it's almost as if it's the only thing I can draw so passionately - only this time, a whole new set of words and ideas began to accompany the drawings. The best way to combat a new addiction is to completely indulge yourself in it and in doing so, gently push it out of your system. I didn't want to keep you in the dark about my where 'thinkabouts' and because I'd like to focus on my studies again -fat chance- I thought I'd give you a taste of this new fantasy world I've created, I call it: Shatterworld...

The premise is this shattered, Skyland-ish world that consists of millions of floating islands surrounding by a vast nothingness, called the Void. Before the world had shattered, it used to be a grand kingdom. Alas, the Queen was deathly ill and there was nothing that could be done to cure her. The King made desperate pleas to the Gods to save his wife, even offering his life in return, but the Gods did not respond. The King grew more restless and decided to force an audience with the Gods. He ordered his scientists to build a machine that had the power to create doorways between worlds. In doing so, he hoped to break through to the world of the Gods and demand them to cure his wife. His son, the Prince however, strongly disapproved of the machine, thinking it were a threat to their world's existence.

Upon completition of the machine, both the King and the Prince were present at its unveiling. The Prince made one final plea with his father to stop his madness and dismantle the machine, but the King was blinded with devotion and an undying desire to save the woman he loved. The King activated the machine and consequently brought about the destruction of his world. The machine tore the fabric of their reality apart and caused the earth to shatter. As the kingdom started to disintegrate, a portal opened, but it wasn't a portal to the realm of the Gods. The Prince was sucked into it and disappeared.

The Prince was actually transported to our world, but in the process, he lost his memories. For years he stayed in our world and ended up in a foster family. But there are worlds within worlds and in between the spaces, there are doorways that connect these worlds. Ten years after the Prince initially arrived into our world, he was brought back to his homeworld, but everything has changed.

The world the Prince returns to, is now known as Shatterworld and the entire kingdom has broken up into millions of floating islands. From here on out, the story is still sort of open-ended. Although I do have some ideas where his father, the King has transformed into a sort-of demon and his mother has been placed into a crystal of some sort. Moreover, the people of Shatterworld will initially distrust the Prince, but slowly start to recognise him as their Lost Prince. Because the Prince has lived in the other world for so long, he will have a profound effect on Shatterworld, although I'm not quite sure what it'll be. He'll also need a companion or companions, but that's also still a work-in-progress.

Finally, I drew a little map of Shatterworld, what follows is a little description of each of the places:
- The Shattered Isles: this used to be the grand road that lead to the Palace, consisting of two giant statues carved out of opposing rocks, although one of the statues would be fractured and its pieces would sort of float around the place.
- The Decimated Grounds: the original site where the machine used to stand, now the lush forrest has been turned into a desolate wasteland where the Chasms roam (Chasms, I imagine, are the creatures that have appeared out of the cracks of Shatterworld).
- The Floating Spires: the crumbling ruins of the Royal Palace, composed of the floating towers and spires that made up the castle.
- Fracture City: the original village, now turned into a dystopian city.
- The Petrified Forrest & The Broken Tower: the large forrest that has transformed into a ghastly place of dead trees. In the middle of the forrest is a giant tower that has been broken in two and floating further and further apart. The tower will have some significance, although I'm not quite sure what exactly!

So, this is Shatterworld, the little imaginary world I've created while trying to study. Let me know what you think and if you've got suggestions, be my guest and comment your A's off!

The ripple effect

A few days ago, a friend of mine wrote a critical review based on one of my blogs. I don't know why, but it surprised me at first. When writing a blog, you can't really predict who's going to read it and if they're going to like what you've written. In any case, you hope that they like the blog and that the work you've put into it hasn't all gone to waste.

You expect comments beneath the blogs or one of the three boxes checked off at the bottom of the page, but what you don't expect is people critically analyzing your work and turning it into a stand-alone blog themselves! Admittedly, I was shocked at first, but now I'm kind of honoured. So, thanks A for showing me that what I write matters so much you want to write about it yourself! (Which doesn't mean that I don't appreciate all you fervent commentators and box-checkers out there!)


P.S. Happy New Year's to all of you! May 2011 bring everything you could ever ask for! My wishes are most humble and completely within the realm of possibilities: good health, new experiences, great new memories and of course world peace!