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.

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.

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.

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

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



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! 

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!