Locked hearts

I hope you don't mind me stealing a few words from Travie McCoy's song 'I Need You', but I think they are perfect for verbalizing what I'm feeling right now. I do hope I don't sound as depressed and melancholic as I think I do... Anyways, here are the words from Mr McCoy himself:

"I know its not your fault, but I’m a locked door

And I wish that I, I could find a key

To unlock all the things that you want us to be

Let me open up and start again,

But there’s a safe around my heart

I don’t know how to let you in,

And that’s what keeps us apart."

Now this assortment of words can have multiple meanings for those of you who are not inside my head right now, so I'll elaborate on the matter. Today was kind of a weird day for me. It was one of the rare days I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. I know, the lovy-dovy butterfly kind. And why, you ask? Because I was seeing Eden today. Yes, I know I promised never to devote another blog to the matter, so I lied. Big whoop. People do it all the time. I'm just upfront about it.

Okay, enough bitching on my part. Forgive my irony and sarcasm in this blog, I'm feeling emotionally and physically depleted, so I think that entitles me to some grammatical or idiomatic cruelties. Where was I? Right, the butterflies. I have to say I rather enjoyed them. That is, up to a certain point. But I really should tell you the entire story chronologically, that way it'll give me the structure I so clearly need and it will keep you guys clustered to the screen -which is the whole point of this, isn't it? It's all about the Box-Office, or in this case, Blog-Office. Ha-ha, get it? Oh Lord... There goes the humour. Promising...

So, I got on the train at 8 in Louvain. A normal train ride lasts about half an hour to Brussels Central. Now, thanks to our beloved social security system, we have strikes and protest marches and with these, we have delayed trains or in some cases, cancelled trains. A real hoot. Although not really. I arrived in B-Central at 8h50. Yup, you're math skills are not deceiving you: that is a ride of 50 minutes instead of the usual (and promised by the NMBS's on-time policy -my ass) 30 minutes. But I digress, again.

When I arrived at the station, I realized Eden hadn't tried to contact me once this morning. She didn't wonder what took me so long or why I hadn't texted her. This startled me somewhat. Especially since the main reason I got up at 6h45 was to meet her (on a day when I usually don't have class until 10h30) and because she said she had some things she wanted to say to me that she couldn't in a text. To make a long story short, I finally found her and it turned out, she had just got there herself. Still, why didn't she text me, I wondered.

I'll skip most of our conversation and just say that for the next hour and a half we talked about nothing. That is to say, nothing of importance. We -and by 'we', I actually mean 'I'- talked about school, homework, television, movies (Harry Potter, of course), our friends and several other meaningless things. The fact was that I was the only one seemingly keeping the conversation alive. There was this huge distance between us. Sure, we bumped into each other a few times on the street and I wished I felt something when I touched her, but I didn't. I hated the fact that I was the one doing all the talking since she made it very clear a few days ago, that she was the one with the huge news. Sadly, I never got to hear what it was.

But I have to say that the most depressing moment of our rendez-vous were the last 45 minutes which we spent in a little café. There was literally nothing left to say. I hoped this silence would kickstart whatever it is she was holding back, but it didn't. So we just sat there. She looked so sad and hurt and I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to hug her, comfort her and ask her what was wrong? I didn't think I had to. She was the one holding all the cards, she IS the one holding all the cards. I didn't think it was my place to try and pull the words out of her mouth. I figured, if she wanted to tell me, she would have. But she didn't.

When we said our goodbyes we hugged two times and I knew it was more than a friendly hug, but I also knew it was a Goodbye-hug, or at least it was on my part. As I walked away from the station towards my class, I couldn't help but think it was over between us. Whatever we had -whatever I thought we had- was gone. Of that, I'm fairly sure. I wanted to text her then and there: 'Guess it's over, huh?'. Those would've been my exact words, but I never sent them.

Two hours later, she texted me: 'I miss you', 'I'm not over you. I can't'. Now especially that last part confused me. 'I can't'. What did she mean by that? Did she mean she can't get over me or did she mean that she couldn't do what she had to do to be with me? (Wow, lotta two-letter words there...). I was quite hurt by those texts. Here was this girl who clearly felt a lot of things and who's clearly conflicted, yet she doesn't confide in me. Maybe I'm wrong -always a possibility- or maybe she won't let me in for a reason.

I talked about this with some people and they all agree unanimously that she's playing with me. Maybe that's true. Hell, I'm willing to believe any theory at this point. But I can't help but regret the missed opportunities between us. Still, after all this time, I think it's up to me to take a stand and to stick with it. Clearly, I'm never going to get my answer from her and I don't want to keep fighting a battle whose outcome is about as predictable as Belgian weather.

I hereby throw down my shield, my heart doesn't need protecting anymore.
I let go of the sword I so fiercely wanted to fight with, it has lost its purpose.
I take of my helmet and throw it on the ground, I can see clearly now.

I started this blog with lyrics from Travie McCoy and so, I'll post it here again and with a few final words, I bid you goodnight and hope you are more lucky in love than I am.

"I know its not your fault, but I’m a locked door
And I wish that I, I could find a key
To unlock all the things that you want us to be
Let me open up and start again,
But there’s a safe around my heart
I don’t know how to let you in,
And that’s what keeps us apart."

So by now, it should become clear that I'm not going to fight for you anymore. I'm not going to continue living in this shoulda-woulda-coulda fantasy. I tried to make a move, to break through, but I guess it wasn't enough. Maybe it never will be. In any case, I'm going to let you go now. I'm taking the safe's handle, shut it and turn it around. Sadly, you don't have a spare key anymore.

Much ado about nothing

First of all, I'd like to thank those 10 people who've decided to follow this blog! I can't tell you what it means to me to know that you are interested in what I have to 'say'. And on that note, on to the next ten! May they have your sense of style and commitment!

Flatteries aside, I discovered this will be my 103rd post. I was a little shocked quite frankly. Didn't know I already cranked up the volume that high! Anyways, it's nice to know there's some sort of portfolio of my writing existing in cyberspace, something to look back on in a few years or maybe even a few months already.

Now, I'll be honest with you. I didn't really have a set endgame in mind for this blog. I just visited the Dashboard for a second and I saw those two numbers (10 and 103) and I thought I had to write something about that. So here I am, at 20h58, on a Sunday evening with little to no inspiration on how to continue this blog. It feels weird to end it now, so abruptly, such a literary 'coïtus interruptus', no?

20h59 now. Time flies. Tempus fugit. Always loved that saying. I first heard it in the Tomb Raider movie. You know the one I'm talking about? Angelina Jolie? Daniel Craig? The Illuminati? The Triangle of Light? Good movie, considering it was a video game adaptation. Where was I? Oh right, trying to decide where to take this blog...

Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to share some of my experiences from today? I finally got to writing my paper for Remco's course (a sort of pre-bachelor paper preparational course). I'm now up to 1500 words out of the proposed 3000 or 5000. Now bear in mind, I'm far from finished with it, so there's bound to be some more words and source references! But as of now, 21h02, my well of inspiration has run completely dry. So there seems little hope of replenishing that source later today, but all the more fun for tomorrow, I guess?

What else did I do? Oh yes, I started watching Mad Men, don't know if you guys are familiar with it, but it has proven to be a very intriguing and mysterious series. For those of you not-in-the-know, it's about this ad agency in 1960. Think foyers filled with smoke, plaid skirts, lips smothered in hooker red-lipstick, men tightly bound in suits (cufflinks included) and let's not forget the hairdos! For the men: think gel. Lot's of it! For the women: curl-a-palooza! It's hilarious to see at first, but impossible not to love.

There's something to be said about those so-called golden years after the Second World War. I wrote a short historical sketch about it for one of my essays. It was a time marked by rising optimism about stabilizing economies and growing wealth on the one hand, and on the other, a time of insecurity and dualities. The whole capitalist versus communist debate was very much alive back then. You either saluted the Stars 'n' Stripes or you were labeled a 'Red'. I don't think it was an easy time to live in, whether male or female. In some ways, the Sixities were said to be a time of liberation, but when watching Mad Men, you can't help but feel the oppressive and overall tense atmosphere. There's this whole array of social expectancies and moral paths to follow, but the characters in the series very much want to break free from this.

Don Draper, for instance, is one of these characters who refuses to be stereotyped or pushed into a box. He's married to this gorgeous blonde housewife and has the whole suburban dream down to an art: the gorgeous house in the suburbs, the lovely children, all the cigarettes he can smoke and all the whisky his liver can handle. Yet on the other hand, he has an ex-wife whom he regularly has post-conjugal visits with and another crush on his female client from a large department store. I think it's safe to say that good ol' Don here doesn't like to get strapped down. He likes to keep his options open.

But enough about Mad Men and whatever other non-sensical things I was talking about. Obviously, it's Sunday night (21h13, in case you were wondering) and you all probably have something better to do than read this tired fool's chaotic line of thought. So I'll leave it at that.

Enjoy your evening and hopefully I'll see you again tomorrow, maybe then my blog will actually have some real substance. I'm thinking, a movie review on Part 1 of The Deathly Hallows or maybe an existential piece on how I feel my youth slipping away from me as I'm inching closer and closer towards the big 2-0. But until that time...

Night y'all!

A morbid, yet interesting thought

For the longest time, I've been wandering around with this weird thought. It's kinda morbid, but just go with me on this, okay? So, like any normal teenager, Jean -don't know why I picked this name, again, just go with it- has a Facebook account. Now one day, Jean has an accident and she dies. This would be the morbid part.

My weird thought is the following: what happens to her Facebook account? I mean, she's dead, so it's not like she can delete her own profile, right? Plus, I don't think Facebook is linked into the local mortuaries, so I doubt they'll be the one doing the deleting? And her parents -I assume they don't get along that well- don't know her password. So what happens to her profile?

Does it just stay there, trapped forever in cyberspace? Will people she once knew -old school friends perhaps- one day find her profile and send a friend request, not knowing she died all those weeks/months/years ago? It just seems strange to me that while Jean is dead in reality, she can continue to live on in cyberspace. She can still be tagged in pictures as if they were taken just moments ago. She can still be tagged in other people's statuses. Jean can appear to be alive for quite some time, effectively becoming immortal -if you don't mind the Facebook status that never quite seems to change or the profile picture that never gets updated. But technicalities aside, Jean's still there, in some freakishly, morbid way.

Do the rules of life and death still apply in cyberspace or is it some sort of timeless vacuum? If so, is immortality only a Facebook profile away?

Sweet dreams

There's something to be said about the power of dreams. From the moment our heads hit the pillow and our minds power down, it opens the floodgates to our most deepest and purest thoughts. Once our eyes are closed, we can imagine almost anything. We can be almost anything.

Some dreams we remember, others we don't. But we do dream. Every night of every day. I remember at the University of Ghent, we discussed different theories about dreaming. Allow me two seconds while I go grab my Psychology course book and look them up. Don't go away, I'll be right back.

Okay, so a first glance at the content table, didn't exactly show me where I could find it, so just bear with me for a couple more seconds, while I search the back of the book. It's gotta be in there somewhere.

Yes! Found it. Page 206. Dreams. First of all, there's the Freudian way to interpret dreams, in other words, it always comes down to you "vanting to shleep viz your fazzer". Then there's the activation synthesis theory that calls dreams the by-product of the need for REM-sleep. This heightened activation in the brains, causes it to short circuit, apparently. These scrambled, chaotic jolts of electricity coursing through our brain, conjure up the most unbelievable images which we calls dreams. And then of course, there's the evolution theory that says dreams are evolutionary determined and help us deal with the natural dangers of the world. In a way, it's like an anti-anxiety pill.

Don't know if this information is helpful, at all, but I just figured, couldn't hurt to share some knowledge, right?

Anyways, the point -I think- I wanted to make with the whole 'dreams' thing was the fact that, lately, I've been thinking a lot about my dreams, not limited to the nightly ones. As I'm writing this, I'm listening to The Bravery's 'Believe', a song which, for all intents and purposes is quite inspiring and I feel it sets the mood for this particular bit of amateur blogging.

When I was little, I used to think I had it all figured out. I wanted to be a psychiatrist, be happily married and have two children, boy and girl. Oh, and two dogs and a nice house in the city. It's your average infancy fantasy, no? But somewhere along the road to adolescence and young adulthood, something changed. The pig picture remained the same, but the details slightly altered.

I wanted to be a writer slash English teacher, live happily together with the woman I love and have two children, boy and girl, same thing. The two dogs and the house in the city also remained. And although my writing doesn't do justice to the difference between these two scenarios, there really is one. But maybe it's more of a feeling than a simple change of words.

I think my way of looking at the future has changed. Where it used to be as simple as finding the right girl, it has now become infinitely more complex. Marriage might have been the solution for post-war America back in the day, but now, I don't think it is the patch for the ache it was all those years ago.

As for my dual profession, I can only atribute that to my whimsical nature. You see, when you're little, you can dream big and over the top, but after a while, you've got to take it down a notch or seven and bring it down to reality. And the reality, in my case, was that Statistics was not my friend. Ergo, bye bye future in psychiatry. After that dream got extinguished, I guess I started looking at what made me happy, instead of what made me wanna be something I wasn't or couldn't be. Writing seemed like the perfect cure for that particular itch.

So now, I've been on the fast track for a future in the publishing world for quite some time. I went to Ghent, hoping to major in Journalism, switched to Brussels (tried three different directions), but the endgame always remained the same: writing. Only now, after having been made aware of the dire state of things in the media, I added English professor to my dream of becoming a writer. Seems only natural to have a back-up plan, in case worse comes to worst.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the world will always throw up barricades to mess up your dreams. Sometimes you need to abide by them and take the prescribed detour, but every once in a whole, Fate delivers you a wrecking ball that lets you tear through those barricades. So, by what I just said, turns out I took the detour. But maybe that's not such a bad thing? After all, in life, isn't it all about the journey anyways?

Wanted: romance, dead or alive?

Modern-day relationships are quickly turning into devious minefields. Everywhere you look there seems to be a potential threat. There's the ex's, the lying, the secrets, the shoulda-woulda-coulda's, the slip-ups, the temptations, the greener pastures and so on and so forth. Stand too close to one and you might just get burned.

In these times where everything can be defined as loose or casual, what does that really mean? We all say we want to keep things casual, but in the end, we never do. Being casual means being okay with less than an actual relationship. People always say they stepped down from the whole White Knight or Damsel in Distress fantasy, but they forgot how endearing such a prospect really is.

Sex and the City's Charlotte York once said that women want to be rescued. I think the same goes for men. We, just like women, want to be resuced, pulled from our shells and into the light. The only problem is, finding the one who will show us the way out of our world and into reality.

In this rampant, chaotic world that we call the twenty-first century, nothing is safe anymore. There's terrorists, oil spills, burning banlieues and draining fossil fuels, but true romance seems to have already gone extinct.

I know I might seem as the last person to ever proclaim the Jane Austen type of romance, but recent events have made me see things differently. A friend of mine said to me that none of the things you have matter, if you don't have anyone to share it with. I can only hope I was able to comfort her with my words, which at the time seemed insufficient, but they were sincere. She did however, make me realize that romance still has a sway over some of us.

Her situation is not entirely unlike mine. She has the mixed emotions, the wanting-yet-hesitant looks and the romance that didn't have its supposed happy ending, so you can see how I can relate to that. The truth is, we both seem to love someone who can't (or won't) find the strength to love us back. And I think that's the worst part: the not knowing how the other person really feels.

The funny part is, that it really doesn't have to be all that complicated. It could just be as simple as boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy back, boy and girl live happily ever after. No drama or heartache needed. So why is it so hard to find something like this? Is it truly like finding a needle in a haystack or do we just keep falling for the wrong types? Do we look love right in the eyes and then pass it by unknowingly or do our minds just complicate things for us with no apparent endgame?

I don't know if there is a straight-forward answer to this, but if there is, it's out there. Just like love is. And if that's the case, than all we have to do is look, right? Somewhere, in this vast world, with its undying potential and limitless possibilities, the answer has to be out there, just staring us in the face and us, mere inches removed, looking the other way.

Ain't life a bitch?

Deadlocked

I don't know what's wrong with me all of a sudden. I don't even know how I got to this conclusion, but here it is and I'm putting it out there for all the world to know since there's gotta be others out there who feel as conflicted as me.

In this hyperspeed-world where money and career and standing means everything, something's gotta give, right? The universe has to throw us a bone in some way to make up for all the inevitable defeats we have to suffer through? I know the Fates have dealt me some bad cards, but I just figured, to hell with it, you know, sooner or later, I'd see at least one of my dreams come true.

Here I am, forced out of my bed because my head would not power down. I don't even know what brought me to this point. I mean, I asked her to give me time, to leave me be for a while so I could let her go. It's been 8 days. So why am I thinking about it now? Why can't I get her out of my head?

A while ago, a friend of mine asked me if I posted personal things on my blog, well, I guess this answers that question. Doesn't get any more personal than my love life. I guess this is just my new way of dealing with things.

Now, I'm not putting this all out there just for show-and-tell or to fill some non-existent blog-quota. I just felt I owed it to myself to translate my rampant thoughts into something solid and creative. And okay, maybe I kinda hope that by the time I typed the last word and edited the last thing on this blog, I would have it all figured out. So far, no deal.

I asked her to choose. Blatant move, I'll admit, but I kinda hoped it was a safe bet. I kinda hoped the bet would turn out in my favour. By now, you all know it didn't. So I had to end it, because I knew I could not allow myself to become any more tangled up in all of it. I took myself out of the equation. Yet the result still adds up to zero.

I don't know how she's been this past few days. I don't know if she misses me or if she's thought about me. I tried not to myself, but as we can all clearly see and read, I'm not over her. In fact, I'm dedicating yet another blog to her.

I can kill myself for acting this way. This is not me. I don't obsess over lost causes. But maybe, just maybe, it's not such a lost cause to begin with? 

I keep playing this fantasy version of my life over and over in my head and in each and every one of them, she's there, dominating the scene. I had her. Or at least, I thought I did. All I want is for her to say those four words. Those four words that tell me I'm what she wants, I'm what she needs and I'm the one she chooses to be with.

You. Are. The. One.

Why can't she say them? Why can't I say them to her? Why didn't she choose me? I know she reads this blog, so I'm putting it out there. You are the only one who can answer these questions that I have. I want to text you myself, but it's gotta be you to make the first move. You are the one holding all the cards, all I have is this blog and my private thoughts. If you want me, all of me, I'm here. Waiting. But there's a condition. I want you too. All of you. You know what I mean.

Television can be good for you

Although this blog's title may suggest so, this is not going to be a descriptive essay about the benefits of watching television. Those of you who own a Little Brown Handbook (10th or 11th volume will suffice), might just know what I mean by that. For those of you who don't, it doesn't really matter, since I'm heading into an entirely different direction with this thesis statement.

I know my preference in television series leaves little to the imagination, but I must once again implore you to see first and then judge. For instance, a friend of mine hates One Tree Hill, which I find hard to believe, but then again, she hasn't even seen an entire episode. Prejudiced much? Now, as far as my personal taste is concerned, here is a little toss up of what keeps me hooked to the little screen:

- Fringe
- Desperate Housewives
- One Tree Hill
- Gossip Girl
- Lost
- Nip/Tuck
- Etc.

But the show that deserves my undivided attention today, has to be Gossip Girl. I know, I know: "What is a guy doing watching a show like that? Isn't that a show for girls?" I can totally see where you're coming from, I do. But didn't someone say once that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover? In more recent times, it was Christina Milian who said it, yet I doubt she was the mastermind behind those fabled words. But the girl was right, we shouldn't. And so I don't. And I hope you too will be able to keep an open mind. Who knows, you might just find yourself become hooked on the stuff. After all: babes, booze and New York... What more could you possibly ask for?

The true heart of shows like Gossip Girl lies in the relationships between people. Relationships, not exclusively for lovers, but for all surrounding parties. Because when you're in a relationship, you're never alone. Everyone comes with baggage, whether they're personal or actual persons. Call me crazy, but I like watching shows like that solely for the purpose of seeing how those relationships evolve and/or break apart. There's something truly captivating about the way two people can find each other, surpassing seemingly impossible odds, only to find themselves coming apart at the seams when they finally found bliss. You know you love it too.

Gossip Girl is no different. Take Dan and Serena, for example -now I know for those of you who don't know the series, all these names and events will probably seem rather foreign, so my suggestion would be to watch some GG, like, right now, that's what the Internet is for, right? And when you've watched an episode or have consulted Wikipedia, you can always come back, re-read it and fully understand- from day one of the show you know those two are going to end up together even though there is just so much stuff involved: Serena's upper-class, Dan's middle-class. Serena's uptown, Dan's Brooklyn. You might consider it a modern day re-telling of Romeo and Juliet and you wouldn't even be too far off the mark, and if it works, it works.

I know most of you probably still won't be convinced of the magic that is Gossip Girl, which is why I'm not giving up so easily. Sure, you can just walk away right now, go back to Facebook or YouTube or Messenger or whatever it is that you do, but you can also keep on reading this blog, and who knows, you might just find yourself strangely enthralled to go to sidereel.com and discover how the Dan-Serena fairy tale adventure is going to work out.

Hmm, I see I've been able to maintain hold of your attention. Don't falter now. Keep on going.

Let me give you a few of my favourite things about GG: first of all, there's the amazing voice-over work done by Kristen Bell. Yeah, that's right: it's What's Her Face and That Girl! But for all you anal Annies out there, she's the girl from Veronica Mars (in fact, she IS Veronica Mars), she's also the sparkplug from Heroes, otherwise known as Elle Bishop and she also waltzed around a couple of Hollywood romcoms such as Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Couples Retreat and When In Rome. But in Gossip Girl, you'll come to worship her for her quick lines and overall sexy voice. Care to find out? XOXO, I know you'll love her.

The second crowd-pleaser has to be the New York setting. Shows set in hick-towns like One Tree Hill or in flashy/snooty sun-scorched places like The OC are okay too. Still, it doesn't get any better than New York City. A personal far-off dream for me, home for them. Watching those girls and boys parade around NY's landmarks and signature geometrical city streets provides the perfect background for people who might seem equally perfect, but are just as flawed as the rest of us.

And then there is the safe bet: not only eye-candy for the men, but also for the ladies. While girls will talk about the fabulous clothes Serena & Co wear, the fellas will probably be more interested in the ones who're actually wearing them. It's a win-win for both really. Moreover, girls can gush over Dan, Nate or even Chuck (if you're into that sorta thing), while boys can stare their eyes out at Serena, Blair and Jenny's 'assets'. It's the perfect set-up for both sexes.

I know I could go on and on about it, but I might just safe something for the next blog, there's no rule against sequeling in the blog world, so sit tight, watch GG and let me know what you think!