The world is going to end

It's funny how everyone is worrying about what to write in their -somewhat mandatory- blogs. Some have even asked me how I do it. The truth is, I can't tell you how to begin writing. In my case, there's just something that sets me off and that makes me want to write about it. Not at all predetermined. More accidental.

A few hours ago, I went to the videostore and rented S. Darko, the sequel to Richard Kelly's masterpiece Donnie Darko. I was mentally prepared to see a weak-ass version of its predecessor, but there's always that tiny spec of hope that you cling on to, hoping it won't be as bad as you think. Sadly, Hollywood isn't exactly known for its stunning sequels. There are exceptions, I mean, personally I think RE - Apocalypse and Extinction were far better than the original. Scary Movie also got more interesting as the sequels started to build up. Sure, now the franchise has hit a brick wall, but I still find myself enjoying each time Anna Faris takes some random object to the head.

So I had some hope for S. Darko, but I was deeply disappointed. I don't know how many of you have seen Donnie Darko, but for those who haven't, mind you that what follows will undoubtedly spoil the movie for you. What I liked most about DD was the way Kelly played with the concept of time travel. The first image of the gnarly rabbit saying 'The world is going to end' stays with you forever. The movie was so strong in the way it interwove all of these charismatic characters and placed them into this bizarre world of impending doom and a storyline that slowly, but surely reached its shattering crescendo. Since the movie ended with the death of Donnie, it was fairly obvious that a sequel wouldn't include him. So they had to find somebody else who'd become tasked with saving the world. And I guess they were being smart by keeping it in the family.

Samantha 'Sam' Darko was chosen as the new savior of mankind. The casting was great; nobody else can play the haunted, fragile sister of Donnie better than Daveigh Chase. But pretty soon, her sad puppy eyes and reluctance to communicate like a proper person, makes you want to blow the whole thing off. The only character that was really worth watching was Iraq Jack, played by One Tree Hill's James Lafferty. This is because he is the only one who comes closest to what Donnie Darko was. A Cassandra-esque prophet who proclaimed the end of the world and was visited by someone from the future.

S. Darko is stitched together by seemingly endless shots of accelerated cloud movement and still lives. When Sam comes into focus, you keep your fingers crossed she'll do something that makes you want to appreciate her, but in the end, all she does is whine and wander around aimlessly with a look of retardedness that seems permanently imprinted on her facial structure. In any case, don't waste your time on this little eyesoar. Do yourself a favour and don't let the good name of Donnie Darko be tainted by his lesser sister.

The two movies do get points for the way they use the whole time-travel idea as a means to push the story forwards. Because, let's face it, time is the one thing we'll never get our hands on. We can fly off to the moon, construct the tallest skyscrapers the world has ever seen and alter the human body in a way never imagined before, but we'll never be able to control the flow of time.

If I have a glass in my hand and I let it fall to the ground, I can't do anything to change this. I can't go back in time and warn me not to let the glass fall. I can't go forward and catch it before it falls. Trapped in the present. Unable to change the past or to anticipate the future.

So forgive me if my rantings about time become a worn-out subject for you, but it's just something that has always captured my imagination. For those who've played the Prince of Persia series, you know how amazing it is to rewind your actions and undo every mishap, even your own death. The same goes for the Terminator series. Who wouldn't want to be visited by someone from the future, telling you how great you'll be one day?

I can give you an endless list of games, books and movies that toy with the idea of time. So that's why I've got a soft spot for Donnie Darko and why I can appreciate -just a little, though- the magic of S. Darko.

Kiss-and-tell

When maintaining a blog it's always advisory to watch what you're writing, as you cannot fully control whoever's reading it. So in the back of your mind, there's always this little voice that warns you not to write that or to better edit that last part. How far you're willing to listen to this voice is entirely up to you, but it remains to be said that whatever is posted on your blog, one way or another, people will find out.

I think that's kind of the duality about blogs. On the one hand, you're dying for a way to express your most inner thoughts and since simple paper diaries don't cut it anymore, you look towards a more contemporary way of writing: the internet blog. You write down whatever springs to mind, however mundain or tedious. You write it down for yourself, because you feel it's something you need to do. On the other hand, you're blatantly aware of the fact that almost every person on the planet can read what you wrote. In a way, you want people to read your thoughts and you want them to feel something when they read them. That could be one of the reasons why, at the end of each blog, you can check off one of three boxes (funny, interesting and cool). Stunning remark however, there's no way you can not like someone's blog. It's just like Facebook; they have a 'like' button, but not a 'don't like' button. Does this mean we should automatically be wooed by whatever blink-of-an-eye act someone posts online?

Sure, there could be some great stuff out there, no doubt. I bet many great authors started out with or are still actively blogging as we speak. It's a way like any other to get critical appraisal for your work. Still, you have to wonder just how much of what people are writing is real.

Marshall McLuhan once said that "the new electronic independence re-creates the world in the image of a global village". If this is true, than we should know virtually anyone and know everything about them, seeing as how a village is so condensed and lacks the proper privacy boundaries. But this is not the case. So many of us carry secrets around that are never meant to be said out loud. Everbody has something to hide. All in all, this is not so bad. After all, if we knew everything there was to know about someone, would we take the time to talk to them? Even if we knew what all of their answers would be? I don't think so.

People are always intent on prying into other people's lives. I myself have been found guilty on several occasions for wanting to know other people's private businesses, even if it was just by way of an innocent game of "I never". But that's the point, isn't it? Wanting to know other people's secrets? Wanting to take a peek behind the curtain? To tear away parts of the masks people wear? This little game of kiss-and-tell however, goes both ways. I've been known to ask people intimate questions, while others have tried to do the same with me. Don't know why I said 'tried' here, as they've already succeeded. If they ask me a question straightforward, they'll get an answer from me, straightforward. Those who've asked me that particular question involving the words 'experimenting' and 'bathroom' know what I'm talking about. 

Of course, every day brings with it possible new questions and answers. Should someone ask me the same question every day, I'm sure that, one day, my answer'll change and reveal something else about me. After all, if the world is a global village, I'll gladly play my part of Villager #210255. 

Mind games

This weekend something odd happened. I mean, it's not the first time it's happened, but it was the first time I actually noticed it.

I was sitting in the car with my Dad, driving on the highway when this big truck pulled up in front of us. On the backside it said 'Stal De Kluis'. My mind instantly translated the words to English, forming 'Stole the safe'. Of course, if I had translated it properly, it would've said 'Stables The Safe', but that's not the point here.

The point is that as soon as those three words flashed across my eyes, I had to grab my iPhone and write them down. But not only did I write them down, I began to form an entire story upon them. It's a poor excuse, me just telling you about is, so rather than trying to explain the very firmaments of my mind, I'll just retype what I wrote on my phone:

"He stole the safe because inside lay the key to unravelling all that he was. He knew in his heart that these four walls could never have contained him. He knew that someday, he'd have to break them down and push further outwards, to the city. The provincial life seemed completely wasted on him. He wanted it all. Bigger and better. One day, he thought to himself, one day. So if anybody saw its contents, his secret would be out. The life he had worked so hard to build up, would come crashing down all around him. The fancy apartment, the art collection and every single person who allowed himself to get pulled into his lie would finally see him for who he really was."

This made me realize just how set my mind was on being a writer. I don't know about you, but in my opinion, you'd have to have some sort of preference towards writing if this is what pops into your head when you look at the back of a truck. When I was a kid, I used to write these little stories all the time, thinking this was just the externalisation of a child's imagination. As I got older, the writing subsided, but I started to read a lot. Maybe somewhere over the past few years, my mind has turned a switch somewhere, from reader to writer. I don't know if I'll ever be any good or if I'll even make it to getting published. Then again, I don't think anyone who has a dream profession can know for sure that they'll be good at it. It's one thing to love what you're doing, it's another to get people to love it too.

Homecoming

Hi everyone! It feels weird to be back in the country. I know I'm no longer in France, but I'm feeling kind of in between the two. Sure, it wasn't the most amazing of vacations, but it offered a solace that you can rarely find in the hustle and bustle of our cities.

The night I came home, I could already feel it. As I was sitting on the train, part of me immediately fell back into its old routine of getting on and off trains, in and out of buildings and walking around all of the familiar places. But there was another part of me that longed for something else. Something that I knew could not be found here. Saint-Pierre la Mer offered a place where you could be alone with your thoughts and not be hampered by mothers, fathers, brothers or any other kinds of interruption.

It was on a beach there that I made my decision to end my relationship. First off, I want you to know that I've given it a lot of thought as to whether or not I should post this on my blog. I just feel like, since this blog is a part of me and in no way a part of us, this should be something that I can write here. I'm not looking for sensationalism by saying it's over on this anything-but-private medium, but if I'm honest with myself, I can't imagine keeping quiet about a thing like this. Besides, you all have Facebook so by now you're surely caught up as well.

The truth is that, on my end, there have been several doubts about us lately. These doubts were my own and I chose not to tell her about them, seeing as how I did not want to upset her. Okay, I can guess what you're going to say, maybe if I'd told her, we could work them out together? Wrong, because they were my doubts and all the talking in the world couldn't make me shake these thoughts. I've always known that true love was never meant for me. Not only do I not believe in it, I also find it hard to wrap my head around the thought of two people together for the rest of their lives. I mean, there are billions of people in this world. The thought that there is just one of them out there that is perfect for you, let's just say we might as well shoot ourselves in the face now. If all we can do is hope and wait for that special someone, we risk the chance of losing a lot of other potentially life-altering people in the process.

Between us, we had this little idea, or rather fantasy, about what our lives were going to look like in ten to twenty years. I don't think it differed much from what other couples dream about: a bunch of kids running around the house screaming, a nice job that pays the bills and a sense of bliss that seems to be inexhaustible. In the beginning, this all sounds wonderful and you can't wait for the future to arrive. But the thing I feared most was the moment that I would begin to wonder 'What if?'.

No matter how happy you are in life, there will always be certain times, places, songs, books or even looks that will make you stop and think about all the things you've done that've brought you to this point. If you're a happy-go-lucky person with no concerns, no complexes and no regrets then you'll find that you have nothing to be sorry about. But if, at some point, there was a fork in the road of your life where you went right, there now comes a time when you start to think about what would've happened if you'd gone left.

Granted, there are always choices to be made, roads to take and others not to, but sometimes, you just wonder. Now if it's just the two of you, then the threat is not so great. Sure, there's the emotional baggage equivalent to the mass of a small continent, but emotions are easier to walk away from than solidified proof of those emotions, say children. The thought of having to look my children in the eyes and say that Mommy and Daddy aren't doing okay and that they're going to split up, breaks my heart. Plus, I don't want to be that guy who wakes up after twenty years of marriage and realizing that things could've been different.

It's not fair to her for me to think this way, but my thoughts and perceptions are mine and mine alone. As much as I would like to say that there is just one simple explanation that says it all, I know that there isn't one. Relationships aren't easy. Sometimes, a doubt is seeded at the base of the relationship and with time, it grows and grows until finally, it overtakes the mind and forces it to re-evaluate everything. Relationships aren't like math, there are no equations to calculate our Happily Ever Afters. There are only A's and B's and the occasional X's that influence the relationship positively or negatively. The thing about X's is, you never know which one you're going to get.

Day 10 - Au revoir

In a few hours I'll be on a seven-hour train ride home. But before I leave, I want to see Gruissan. So with the clock counting down to departure time, we took our bikes and rode towards Gruissan. And it was well worth it. A nice way of saying goodbye.

The City of Gruissan

Next time I post something, it'll be from back home, in Belgium. And I'm kinda really happy about that!

Goodbye Saint-Pierre la Mer.
Goodbye filthy inox plates.
Goodbye people of Intersoc.
Goodbye mediocre food.
Goodbye l'Oeuil Doux.
Goodbye Narbonne.
Goodbye sunshine.
Goodbye quiet.
Goodbye escape from reality.

Thou shalt be missed.


Or at least, some of thee will.

Day 9 - The clean-up

Today is my final day of work. And boy, does it show! Everywhere you look there's people running around doing something. Cleaning floors, washing windows, folding laundry, organizing the storage, doing inventory, it was a bonafide madhouse.

As for me, I had to go back to my claustrophobia-inducing room without a view and work my way through yet another pile of dirty dishes - surprise! But in the next room, they were short one dishwasher, so after about an hour, I had to go over there and pitch in. It seemed as though the day would never end.

Fortunately, it did. At three in the afternoon we were done. DONE! Can you believe it? I don't have to lift one more goddamn thing! I can finally kick back and let the feeling of vacation overtake me and explore more of Saint-Pierre!

Sadly, everybody else's plans included baking in the sun by the pool. All in all, that's not such a bad idea, but I was actually kinda looking forward to getting out of there one last time. So, I took a little trip by myself. I took a bike and rode along the Canal du Midi. A nice little route, completely deserted. Heaven.

On my way back, I stopped at l'Oeuil Doux one last time, just to see it in daylight, instead of under a cloudy sky. And when I was down by the lake, I took the opportunity of kicking out my shoes and dipping my toes in the fresh water. Doesn't get any better than that.

That night, there was a barbeque to celebrate le Fin du Saison, but it was kind of a disappointment. The food wasn't all that exquisite and the ambiance was a bit crowded - as we were sitting there with 48 people, of which we only knew about half or so. Not the kind of goodbye I was hoping for, but I'm just glad it's all coming to an end. I'm really looking forward to going home.

Day 8 - Lazy Sunday

Sunday was the penultimate day of work. I got up at nine, missed breakfast and went for a run. When I came back I cleaned out my room and went to the pool, taking my working clothes with me. By the pool I found Gilbert, who was enjoying the morning sun. As I was approaching the reclining chair he pointed to something behind him. I followed his fingertip with my eyes and saw that above us, up on the terrace, mass was starting. So there we were, two guys in bathing suits, listening to the music of the Church, which for some reason, bore a striking similarity to gospel?

When I arrived at work, only five minutes late for a change, it was as if an inox-bomb had gone off in the kitchen. Everywhere I looked there were pots and pans and greasy grills and bain-maries. I didn't know where to look let alone move around in all that chaos. I spent four hours (instead of the usual three) working to get the job done. Worst part is, every five minutes it seemed, the kitchen chef came in and gave me something else to do: "Don't forget to scrub the barbeque!", "Can you wash these plates too?", "They need you to get started in the restaurant already." And after everything was scrubbed clean - sort of, I still had to mop the entire kitchen. Of course, I did this quite hastingly, splashing water over the floor and just casually shoving it into the gutter, creating little islands of dirt and soup above the grates.

So, that was my Sunday. Working harder than I ever did, but I was glad it was over. Now I have Monday to look forward to and Tuesday, day of departure. I'm actually kinda relieved this trip is almost over.