Over there

I've thought about what to write for a while, seeing as how my previous post seemed a bit too hard to compete with, but I think I found something that I'm equally as passionate about.

In a few months, I'll have the opportunity to apply for studying a year abroad. A teacher of mine suggested going on Erasmus, saying it looks so good on a resume and it's also a great way to meet new people -he met his wife while away. Of course, his reasons aren't necessarily mine.

Should I get in, I want to go to Sheffield, UK to pave the way for my ever-encroaching future. I've always known I wanted to write in English, simply because I find it easier to express myself in that language than I do in Dutch. And since the job offers for me in English in this country are slim to non-existant. So, it seems only natural I'll have to find it over there.

When I visited London two years ago, I kind of had the idea in the back of my head to start spreading around resumes, in the hopes of landing me a job and 'forcing' me to move there. But then again, it seemed foolish to think I'd instantly get a job in an industry that's been flat on its ass since 2007 or even that they'd pick me above an English-speaking native. There's no harm in dreaming, right?

A while ago, I sent one of my essays to the New York Review, or was it some other magazine? Anyway, I sent it, hoping to get published. That fell through, but it didn't keep me from writing and it sure as hell won't stop me from trying to get in!

Ever since I was little, I knew I didn't want to live in Belgium for the rest of my life. I knew I wanted to be somewhere else. I guess I'm just not that big a fan of this country. I was actually one of the few (?) who prayed Belgium'd split by the end of our country's crisis. I think that sort of says it all about my commitment to this country -or what passes a country anymore, I mean, 385 days without a government in the past three years? Seriously.

So, once the paperwork is over and done with, I can only hope to be considered a valid candidate and maybe, come next year, I'll be blogging live from the UK. One thing's for sure, I'll have my resumes packed and ready to be dealt around, even if I have to force-feed them to all the major newspapers and publishing houses.

Explicit content

This blog might be my most explicit and shocking to date so I warn those tender of soul not to read further.

It's been brought to my attention that I have a real gift with words. Up until a few minutes ago, I saved my best work for someone special, but then she pointed out that it should be out there, for all to read. So, instead of hiding my "gift" from the rest of the world, I decided to share it with you, to do with it however you please.

This would also be a good time to note the PG-13 or even M rating for this blog. Forgive the poor structure and raggidy feel of the story, it was originally a series of text messages. I thought about editing it first, but then again, I didn't want it to lose any of its ... charm. Enjoy.

Almost midnight. I'm heading for club Persephone. Appropriate name, since once you enter this place, you go straight to the Underworld. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and desire. Everybody's already sitting at their tables, drinks in hand. The alcohol flows freely. I find a place near the stage. A glass of rhum awaits me. I take a sip. Already I can feel it working its way through my system. Then, at the stroke of midnight, all eyes turn to the stage...

Curtains rise. Breaths are held. Backs are straightened. Up comes you. A vision in fiery red lingerie. With one look you make half the room cum in their pants. You're a natural. Your body moves in a way only goddesses can. You defy Aphrodite herself with your gaze.

As the music swells and fills up the place, your body starts to sway. Your nails dig dip into your thighs and work their way up and down. I feel something stirring inside me. It wants out. But you're pulling the strings. I am under your spell. I am your puppet.

You wet your lips, making me wish I was your lipstick.

You touch your breasts, making me want to be the silk that covers them from the world.

You open your legs. No place I'd rather be.

The air is electric. My pants suddenly too tight. Everybody in town comes here just for you. But you are my Persephone. My way down.

You unhook your bra and toss it in my direction. I pick it up. It smells of you. I'm bursting inside.

Your show is heating up the place. The smoke circles your legs, aching to touch you, to be inside of you. And finally, you deliver the audience from tension and start to take off your panties. As one side slowly descends, I can see the gorgeous line between your hips, leading down to Nirvana, my destination.

There you are. Naked. Wanted. Waiting.

Then, the curtain falls. No time like the present, I think to myself. I run up the stage, behind the curtain. You're picking up your panties. I put my foot down and say "You won't need these anymore."

You look up, straight at me. You want it too. Your breasts are covered in your sweat. I completely lose control. I grab you and pull you up against the wall. As you wrap your legs around me, you pull my pants down. I think I'm going to explode. I never wanted anything this badly in my life. I take your hands and hold them above your head, you're mine now.

The air becomes too thick to even breathe. Suddenly everything turns dark.

When we both regain consciousness, we're lying on the floor. I turn around and look at you. I just know that there's no going back anymore. This is where I'll stay. In the Underworld, with you as my Persephone, my Queen. Nobody else will do.

Okay, so I told you guys this was heavy stuff. Thought I should tell you that I did edit this version a little bit, as the text messages were a bit more explicit on the whole 'deed' thing. But I thought that was maybe too much for this blog -or yourself- to handle. Of course, for those who want the full version, come see me. We'll talk.

As for now, I'm signing off. It's almost midnight after all...

These violent delights have violent ends

These violent delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume: the sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,

And in the taste confounds the appetite

I know what you're thinking, this guy knows his Shakespeare. Okay, so I might have bought "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare", but that doesn't mean I randomly start quoting the sayings of this 16th century poet. It's just that the quote seemed appropriate for this blog. You'll soon find out why.

When you're watching American series such as The OC, One Tree Hill or even Seventh Heaven you'll always find a couple ready to be torn apart by someone else. One way or another, there's always somebody lurking in the shadows, craving what the other one's got, waiting to make their move. Ryan had to choose between Marissa and Teresa. Lucas struggled to keep his emotions for Peyton bottled up while he was with Brooke and the kids of Reverend Camden also weren't exactly the perfect monogamous role models.

I've often wondered how accurate these shows were, because if they were, that would mean that fidelity isn't high on anyone's Ladder of Virtues across the Atlantic. Still, the number of shows playing with the whole love triangle storyline are far too numerous to be just the fluke of one production house. Do our overseas neighbours have it right? Is there no such thing as fidelity anymore and are we all just secretly craving another person's conquest? And if so, is all still fair in love and war?

Marriage and love consequentially (?), are said to have been on the decline for quite some time. Feminists like to pinpoint this occassion with the coming of the Pill, said to have been the cause of the sexual revolution -and as an added bonus, it plummeted the stocks of marriage around the world. People weren't looking for commitment anymore, they only wanted instant gratification. No more waiting for the ring, followed by the "Happily Ever After" in the suburbs. The war was over, the battles had been fought, now it was time to enjoy what -more precisely, who- was left. Little did they know that the worst battles were yet to be fought, behind closed doors and tinted windows.

For some time now, I have found myself drawn towards an "unavailable". Yet, the feelings are mutual. Sure, there's always been something in the air, but sufficed to say, it never crossed over to the physical plain. Generally speaking, when a girl says she has a BF, you back off. It's the respectful thing to do. But what if the lines between faithfulness and "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him" start to fade?

Attraction is a funny thing. Most of the time, you can't explain it. It just is. It makes you wonder how something that is so wrong, can feel so right? Yet, there is definitely some attraction in the air. And lately this attraction has become borderline infatuation.

What started out as innocent -although, are they ever really?- text messages, slowly evolved into something more. However, we still remained aware of the boundaries that kept us apart. On her side, there was the matter of the BF. On my side, there was the matter of common decency and moral restraint. But seriously, Lust kicks Moral's ass each and every time. So I was fighting a losing battle. And in time, I started to realize this. The line was becoming increasingly blurry. I can't tell exactly when we finally shoved the whole friendship thing aside and became something more, but it had happened and once the shift was made, there was no turning back.

For now, our text messages try to satisfy our ever-increasing appetite, but it won't be long before the great physical divide is finally crossed. And when that time comes, I don't know what will happen. I don't know what we'll be and what will be left. Could Shakespeare have got it right and do fire and powder really consume each other until there is nothing left? But then again, they say that out of the ashes something new blossoms, so where does that leave us?

I can't believe that after all those years of resenting Americans for their promiscuous behaviour, I have finally become one of them. I have succombed to my inner urges and allowed myself to become entangled in a love triangle. I always knew marriage was dead, but I never could have predicted this new position I find myself in. In my head, there are a million voices all screaming at me at once, telling me to end this before someone gets hurt or caught. And I've got millions of reasons why I shouldn't continue this "affair", but how can something that feels so right, be so wrong?

Sure, you can slap morals and resentments in my face, but at the end of the day, all that remains are the two of us. Where we'll take this, I can't say, but for now, I'm just going to enjoy the ride. Life has seldom been good to me in so many ways, I just learn to take my pleasures where I can get them. And if it should mean my demise, I can only hope I'll be able to pick myself up again in the same way that I did all those times before.

Can you turn my black roses red?

As more and more blogs start to come to life, so do the words behind them. It starts out with a nervous introduction or a sort of explanation as to why this particular blog was created, but after a few entries, familiarity sets in. The author begins to open himself up to those willing to follow the links and who take the time to get to know him.

Can I ask you a question please?

Let's face it, in today's world, everything seems to go by in flashes. Flash. End of high school. Flash. First year of college over and done with. Flash. First love come and gone. We can't seem to get a hold of what is happening all around us. Pictures only capture a fraction of what we're going through. So maybe writing about them, seems like a more solid way to contain life, before it slips away.

Promise you won't laugh at me?

In class, the teacher told us that our generation's Facebook and blogs have replaced the diaries of old. In a way, that's true. We might have outgrown the paperback editions of our emotions, but we keep finding new ways to express how we really feel and think. Sure, we don't do it in extravagant ways such as writing a play worthy of Shakespeare or we don't compose the next Beethoven, but we each do something that matters to us in our own way.

As twisted as it seems,
I only fear love when it's in my dreams.

A few minutes ago, I was reading a friend's blog and I got to thinking about just how personal a blog can get. This morning, he asked me if I wrote personal stuff in my blog. I told him yes, because I can't imagine not doing that. If I were to leave out every personal detail of my life, you might as well go and read an encyclopedia, because this would just become an amalgamation of words, incoherently strung together.

So let in the morning light
and let the darkness fade way.

I'm not saying we should all pour our hearts out, because let's face it, then we'd need at least two bottles of vodka to even remotely start dealing with all the residual heartache that ensues. A blog should be a fine line between what defines you and what you want people to define you with. For some, this'll be easy, but for others -those who've stepped on a few landmines in the emotional battleground we call life- it'll be that much harder.

Can you turn my black roses red?

In my nineteen years of living, I'm sure I have amassed quite a bit of emotional luggage, enough to fill  a jumbo jet even, but each and every one of those experiences has contributed in some way to the person writing these words. It doesn't help to keep all of your emotions bottled up inside when it can feel so good to let them flow through your fingers, dance on your keyboard and jump onto the luminous screen in front of you. I promise you, once you see your heartache black on white, you'll know the worst part is over.

Can you turn my black roses red?

So in a way, blogs are the diaries of the twenty-first century, only they're a lot more public and they take up far less time. Time which can now be better spent at actually going out into the world -as opposed to sitting on your bed, listening to sappy songs, waiting for life to strike so you can write about it- and living your life.

One last year has come and gone.

And if there is tragedy, don't try to hide away from it. Tragedy finds us all in the end. But just remember: tragedy plus time equals comedy. So one day, after the fallout has cleared, you'll be able to get back up and you'll probably walk away with a few clever punchlines and sarcastic remarks to laugh away the pain.

It's time to let your love rain down on me.

The best of times

College. A time of wreckless partying, experimenting, flirting, drinking, meeting new friends, forging destinies and of course the occassional studying (although this part can easily be skipped, with the necessary consequences, of course).

As I was looking around my room today, I got to thinking that maybe I should clean it up a bit. I started by emptying out my bookcase and the drawers of my desk. It's funny how you can find these little treasures, tucked away under a pile of uselessness. For instance, I came across all my old documents from school, going as far back as elementary school. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to gather all such documents in a folder. I came to a stunning conclusion: in my nineteen years on this , I've seen quite a lot of schools. Not in the least after leaving high school... 

I'll explain it by way of this nifty timetable:

- Age 3-6; Kindergarten (The "Speelkriebel" in Kessel-Lo)

- Age 6-12; Elementary school (The "Mosaic" in Kessel-Lo)

- Age 12-18; High school (The "Sacred Heart Institute" in Heverlee)

After high school, the tricky part sets in. Between 2008 and 2009, I:
- Enrolled at the Catholic University of Louvain, 1st year Bachelor Communicational Sciences

- Dropped out of the Catholic University of Louvain
- Enrolled at the University of Ghent, 1st year Bachelor Communicational Sciences

Between 2009 and 2010, I did the following:

- Enrolled at the University of Ghent, 2nd year Bachelor Communicational Sciences

- Dropped out of the University of Ghent
- Enrolled at the HUB, 1st year Applied Linguistics English-Spanish (changed to English-French)

And lastly, this year, I:
- Enrolled at the HUB, 2nd year Language and Literature Studies

So here we are, still at the HUB, not written out and not planning on it either. I guess it took me a total of three colleges, five enrollments and two dropping outs until I finally found what I wanted to do. You could see this as fickle behaviour or even downright stupid, but I guess this is just the way it was meant to be for me.

I don't regret any of my previous steps towards educational enlightenment, because I got to meet all of these amazing and different people and I got to do all of the college experiences three times over. So how can you say it's a bad thing? After all, I'm only nineteen and I've already done three different directions. It's a good thing I don't really look my age (without the beard, I might add), that way it doesn't sound/look so bad when I go over my school curriculum. In any case, people can always think of me as gifted, but when I add all of the times I dropped out, they can do the math themselves and figure out that I didn't finish any of these directions.

So, I finally found where I belong. My list of schools and colleges seems to end here. No more changing directions or changing schools. But wait, wasn't I planning on doing my Masters in Ghent?

Oh well, one more time couldn't hurt, now could it?

Movies to see this Fall

Normally, I'd just tell you something about a movie I've seen and comment on it, but seeing as how I've found this amazing site, I thought I'd take my little concept of one movie at a time and expand it. Here's a list of movies I think you should definitely keep an eye out for! The links to the trailers are embedded within the titles.

Monsters, now it's our time to adapt.

Six years ago, a NASA satellite crashed in Mexico. At least, they thought it belonged to NASA. Over the years, the alien life forms have spread throughout the country, forcing a quarantine of the affected region. What was once the line that shielded the United States from the influx of Mexican immigrants, now stands as the last bastion between humanity and the aliens. The story revolves around Andrew and Samantha, two ordinary people who become interlocked in the battle between two worlds. Andrew is escorting Samantha from South America to the US, but in order for that, they'll have to get through the infected zone, formerly known as Mexico. If the trailer is any indication, it bears a striking similarity to J.J. Abrams's "Cloverfield", only this time with a more steadier camera frame.

Saw VII, the traps come alive.

Jigsaw may be dead, but his legacy continues to wreak havoc upon the lives of those he deems need to be helped. Never before has the phrase 'I wanna play a game' had a more terrifying connotation that when it's coming from Jigsaw's little puppet. In this grand finale of the "Saw" series, Jigsaw abandons the empty warehouses and filthy basements, taking the torture topside and in broad daylight. You only have to look at the trailer to see that Jigsaw is ready for the public (aka shoppers at a mall) to see his uncanny designs. It is said that there'll be about eleven torture devices in the movie as well as one which was banned from the other six movies for being too violent and overall sadistic. Good news for all you gore-lovers! Time to get ready for the final act and it promises to be bloodier than ever!

Skyline, don't look up.

Los Angeles. City of hopes and dreams. A city of blinding lights. But wait, there's something wrong about these lights. They don't seem to be very... earthly. In the early morning, strange lights descend upon the city like falling stars. The lights draw out the curious humans and renders them unable to look away. As their eyes become fixed on the mesmerizing blue light, they are sucked into a vortex and pulled upwards into the sky. As the morning sun breaks through the clouds, more lights fall down on the city and enormous space ships are revealed. Pretty soon, entire neighbourhoods are being sucked up into them. What follows are the struggles of a few pockets of people who haven't yet looked into the lights and are trying to get out of the city. But as it turns out, the lights are happening all across the world and large scavenging machines roam the empty cities in search for possible escapees.

Beastly, love is never ugly.

This modern re-imagining of Beauty and the Beast takes places in New York City, where appearances mean everything. Alex Pettyfer (Stormbreaker) plays the role of Kyle, a teenager obsessed with looks. After publicly humiliating Kendra (Mary-Kate Olsen) he is transformed into something that reflects his inner ugliness. His body and face become ravaged by ghastly tattoos and scars. His curse comes with a possible salvation: if he is able to find someone who loves him for who he really is, and not for what he looks like, he'll be freed. His father locks him away in a house where he receives a blind tutor played by the loveable "Have you met Ted?" actor from How I Met Your Mother. On a faithful evening, he rescues Lindy (Vanessa "High School Musical" Hudgens") on the condition that she must stay with him in the hopes of retrieving his lost humanity.

Of course, there are a lot more movies to see this year, such as Part One of the final Harry Potter movie and the third Narnia movie, but it's impossible to make a full account of everything that'll be coming to theatres this Fall. Besides, I think these four are mouth-watering enough to get up from behind our small screens and go out to look at a bigger screen, preferably with surround sound and a bucket of popcorn in our right hand, and sodas waiting for us on our left.

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.