Between radiation and desperation

Imagine. You've just settled into your new apartment when you hear an explosion. You run towards the window, separate the blinds with your fingers and let your eyes scan the landscape. Then you see it. A black cloud rising above the rooftops. A million thoughts invade your mind and consume you. 'Are you going to die? Are we at war? Is this the end?' The "Dirty Bomb Diaries" tells the story of Misty, a young girl living in an unnamed city when it is suddenly attacked by terrorists. She must try to survive the chaos that is running rampant throughout the city.

Days go by and Misty sees the city unravel before her eyes. Panic engulfs the streets, shutting down traffic and every day life. Misty is confined to her apartment where she desperately tries to salvage the few supplies that remain from the increasingly empty stores. Power failures become mundain and the voices roaming outside her apartment are growing louder with each passing day. As Misty falls ill and unable to visit a doctor, she realizes she cannot do this alone.

After Misty recovers, she seeks out the help of a man who's able to get her a few supplies. But when someone tries to break into her home, she asks the man for something else: a gun. Slowly we see Misty change from an insecure, scared and helpless girl to a woman who is willing to do anything to survive. Changed by the dramatic circumstances she must fight in order to escape the decaying city around her.

"Dirty Bomb Diaries" is a sixteen-part miniseries that is available on YouTube and each episode is around 2:30 minutes. Definitely worth to take a look at. Even though it is a low-budget and home-made series, it is still quite enjoyable and echoes the great nuclear holocaust movies such as "The Day After" and the exhilarating "Jericho" series.

A Week In Milan

When somebody told me that I could go to Milan by airplane for just € 25,

I accepted without hesitation.

Even though Milan wouldn't have been my first choice

it is a well-known European city like any other, so why not go and see it?

When that same person told me we would be going with a group of about six people,

I started racking my brain for company - who to bring, who to bring?

The list was finalised.

Some wouldn't have been my first choice, but to hell with it, I'd manage - or so I thought.

The gang.

So there we were, our party of six.

We had just barely handed in our final exams,

when we were heading towards Charleroi Airport.

The flight to Milan was on time.

The hostel where we were staying.

It started with the elevator.

Do you know of any elevator that needs to be started by jumping up and down?

This one had to.

I sincerely doubt Otis would've approved...

During our stay the boiler continuously made this awful noise,

we were sure it was going to explode any day now.

On the fifth day, the power went out.

The owner came to us and immediately asked

if we had heard an explosion.

The boiler - The boiler - The boiler

Thankfully it hadn't exploded and wiped out the surrounding area - at least not yet.

Although it did mean that we didn't have any hot water for the rest of our stay.

The view from our room - Milan chique.

Don't be deceived by how good the neighbourhood looked, I can assure you,

it was a miracle that we made it out of there in one piece.

Our visit to the Duomo, THE main attraction of Milan!

Our first day there we visited the Duomo.
It was magnificent. A truly divine building.
Not so much a testament to God,
but a testament to the strength and brilliance of man.
(That's the atheist in me talking)

Me and my best friend, on top of the Duomo.

I don't think I could have survived the trip without her.
Even though we had that terrible fight,
we just gave each other some room and talked it out the next day.
That's just how we roll - we fight, we make up.

A building I saw while we were standing on the roof of the cathedral.

Don't know what it's for, but I find it just amazing to look at.

Whenever I look at it, it's as if I'm in a communist country

or some sort of dystopian future.

It's strangely otherworldly,

but I like it.

The six of us, gracefully poised on the roof of the Duomo.

The Shopping Gallery for those who don't mind to give up a month's worth of pay

for a handbag or a pair of crocodile loafers.

A beautiful fortress in the middle of a park.

We really lucked out with the weather!

Colourful drinks are a must when on vacation, can't enjoy a city without them :)

(That's my inner boozehound talking)

Lake Como, as seen from way up high.

Way up: cable kart.

Way down: by foot on a trail that screams murder and rape.

A shame the weather was foggy and drizzly,

but we still managed to enjoy ourselves just fine.

On this trip we were accompanied by two girls from England

whom we had met the day before at the hostel.

The infamous road down... Get the murder/rape reference?

In retrospect, the trip would've been better had certain people stayed at home,

but of course this is not something for me to decide.

The trip did however, teach me a valuable lesson

in terms of who to bring on vacation and who definitely not to.

It starts at 8 PM

At 8 PM somewhere in the world, when the sky is locked in a dual state of pink sunset and encroaching darkness, eight people gathered around a table in a garden and started telling each other their names. Some of these people were interconnected through school experiences and existing friendships. Others were just getting acquanted.

About five minutes later they started playing a game called Drunkminton, which is essentially a fusion between the commonly known sport of batminton and a drinking game. While this didn't really serve a specific purpose to ameliorize connections, it was a fun way of spending time together.

Later on, these eight people would move into the living room of a house somewhere. They would gather around a coffee table and start sharing their secrets and desires and memories even though there was no call for it. It was just something that happened with the slightest infusion of liquor; abundantly present in the form of shot glasses and circled stains on the table surface.

An hour later a ninth guest joined the ranks of this merry group of eight.

Several people in the living room already had gone through similar experiences before this one, so they knew exactly how to behave and how to survive these somewhat treacherous social gatherings. It's not that hard to fall into a trap set by your close ones or to loose yourself in the comfortable numbness of alcohol and good company.

Luckily, all the people present succeeded admirably in avoiding the dangers and mishaps of this particular event. However, there were some people who had let themselves carried away by the waves of liberty and I-don't-give-a-damn attitudes. These people weren't demonized or critisized, they were adored for their valor and their ability to disengage themselves from what people expected or from what society expected.

Two of these people even allowed their minds to converge and become hive-like. It's extraordinary to see how two people, who haven't seen each other in a long time and who don't spend that time apart missing each other, can find each other again and become intertwined. Without a doubt a certain liquor factor must be taken into consideration, but I like to believe that something more profound and primal gave way to this illusive, yet much desired bond of closeness. To be that intricately connected with  another human being is something that most of us can only crave.

At 10 PM the group was completed when the last two guests arrived, however their visit would be brief, but quite enjoyable.

The social gathering lasted well through the night and early morning. Of course, there were some moments where fatigue and exhaustion would claim its toll on the unsuspecting people, but still they were able to pull through and hold out until the digital clocks in the house depicted 5 AM.

The party was considered a success. There were funny occassions that will forever be captivated in a short movie. There were moments of calmness, exitement, laughter, anticipation and of course those immortal moments where the line between sobriety and intoxication, a line that flirts with responsability and devil-may-care is continuously crossed.

"To alcohol! The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems." - Matt Groening

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone,
but they've always worked for me." - Hunter Thompson

"I have taken more out of alcohol
than alcohol has taken out of me." - Sir Winston Churchill

Pop princess paradox

I've been listening to Top-40 hits for quite some time and it has drawn my attention to pop singer Kesha (or if you prefer the more stylized version: Ke$ha). Now I'll admit that 'Tic Toc' is a pretty decent song and is undoubtedly a huge hit in clubs and bars. But that's not what bothers me. If you listen (and watch) to how Kesha behaves, you can't help but wonder if she's had a few too much to drink?

Sure, Hollywood loves its alcoholic beaverages and fancy cocktails with umbrella's, but what I'm more concerned about is how teenage girls will respond to Kesha's "off-the-hook" behaviour.

The girl definitely loves her Jack (Daniels), as she mentions it in pretty much every song on her album 'Animal', but I don't think it was ever meant to brush your teeth with. So the picture that comes to mind is that of young girls listening to Kesha, looking all ghetto-ish, grabbing their daddy's bottle o' Jack and spilling it all over their bright pink toothbrushes.

Moreover, Kesha's second song 'Blah Blah' begins with her asking you to meet her at the jukebox with a bottle of Jack (that's a given) and then drop trou and flash her some male flesh. Can you imagine the parent-teacher conferences that are going to be held over little Tommy who was flashing his goods to Sleazy Susy behind the bleachers?

Now it's pretty obvious that Kesha's kind of promiscuous (or downright slutty), but in most songs (say Nelly Furtado's 'Promiscuous Girl' or any other 'damn sexy bitch' or 'how many licks' song) this flirtatious attitude is appreciated and moreover adored. However, Kesha's gone all over by not only adressing sex and alcohol, but all the while acting completely bombed while she's adressing those items.

This is made clear from the very beginning of every single one of her songs: her speech is slurred, her movements aren't as coordinated as they would be with sober people - or even slightly tipsy people. In one song, she even thinks it's cool to 'mess with grammar' ("It only matters who I IS") and further idolize being hammered on international radiowaves.

People have often proclaimed violent games and subtitles as the seed of destruction for the minds of the young, but I can't help but wonder how these people will feel about Kesha's liquor-soaked lyrics.

Now somewhere in Kesha's mind, she thinks her attitude is really cool and that it will get her to the top, maybe even knock Gaga off her throne (never gonna happen, but we can always dream, right?), but the more she wants to be respected as a singer, the more she just comes over as a self-righteous, totally slushed, completely out-of-it whore who thinks she can make hits by knockin' a few back. This is what I like to call the Pop Princess Paradox.

We've seen it happen so many times before (La Spears and her new hairdo - or lack of one, Lohan and her lezzy-phase) and we will surely keep seeing it as long as there is alcohol to fill those umbrella-tinted cocktails and as long as there is promiscuity and shamelessness in the world.

So from one lover-of-the-bottle to another: Kesha, for god sakes, get yourself together, stop drinking, learn some proper grammar rules and stay the hell away from that mic, cause no good can come of it.

Locked doors

There are places I can't go. Won't go. They are safely locked away in the corridors of my mind. Guarded by reason and stubborness. Shielded from passion and longing. Maybe one day, I can get my foot in the door. Wedge the door just a little bit.
Almost.
Briefly.
One day.
One day I'll break it down.

My fear

This entry is my most personal yet and for some it will be difficult to read, but I ask you to keep an open mind and to not let this change your opinions of me.

Ever since I was young I've had these cynic and dreadful thoughts about my future. At a very early age I lost my faith in the immensity of love. I knew that I could never bring myself to love one person unconditionally for the rest of my life, it just wasn't in the cards for me. All around couples were breaking up, divorcing or worse. My parents didn't really set a great example either. So to lose your faith in something that profound so early on is something that I've always regretted.

My greatest fear is that one day, when I've found the perfect girl and I've raised a little family, I will one day start to wonder how long it will last. I want to believe in a happily ever after where two people can love each other for the rest of their lives, but deep down I have this little voice that is telling me it's all a sham. Forever doesn't exist. It's just a state of mind. These thoughts frighten me. What if someday, I will stop caring, one day, I will stop loving someone, stop loving what we have, stop appreciating everything we've built up?

How can I stop myself from letting go of someone and keep them in my life?

What if

I've often wondered when I walk through the streets what would happen if we all stopped for one nanosecond and change what we are doing. Would that affect everything or nothing at all? Could that mean the beginning of something new or the end of something familiar?

Imagine a woman getting hit by a car. Now say she waited for just one second more on the curbe before crossing the street, would she get run over or would she walk away without a scratch?

Imagine your house on fire. If you woke up just a little bit faster, could you have saved your family and made it out alive? Or would you still become trapped inside?

Imagine ...

Infinite possibilities and infinite outcomes, but in the end there is only one. We don't get do-overs, we don't get second chances or borrowed time. Our life plays out without a pause, rewind or fast forward button.

Our present is constantly breaking up and turning into the past. Even when I'm writing this, I can just feel time ebbing away. The words I write, the keys I hit, the air I breathe, it is all in the past now.

I can't take it back. I can't erase the insignificant details of my life and see if they would have made a difference. I can't change any of it. It's an amazing and terrifying feeling of helplessness.

So suppose we could bend time to our will. Suppose in the future they have mass-produced handheld time machines. What would humanity do when bestowed such power? Would it lead to great fortune or utter ruin?

Personally, I don't think that the world is ready for something like that. We aren't ready.
Constricted by emotions, we would try to change everything that has ever gone wrong in our lives and forget or even refuse to live in the "present" or look to the future.

Go back to your childhood.
Make sure you don't experience the trauma's.
Make sure you pass your tests in high school
so you could get a better job later.
Avoid making the stupid mistakes
that have lead to a less fortunate future.
Relive your greatest moments.
Purge your life with all that you deem flawed.
Undo the damage you inflicted.
Take back your painful memories, erase them from your mind.

Rewrite your life.

Are we ready for this? Are we allowed such power?

Maybe the reason we don't get do-overs is so that we would think twice about crossing the street or making a choice. Maybe this forces us to be the best versions of ourselves. The knowledge that this is the only possible universe pushes us to make the most of it. Some people rise to the challenge and shine their light brightly across their world,

but sadly, there are others who prefer the darkness over the light, the sorrow and regret over happiness and forgiveness. They are confined to a single universe. A single life. Single chance. No do-overs.