On Craziness and Caring

“This hill though high I covent ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend;
For I perceive the way of life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let's neither faint nor fear. ” 
-John Bunyan


I could probably pen a few thousand words on everything that has happened in the past week, from the dreadful attack in Paris to the state of siege Belgium currently finds itself in after a series of arrests and shootouts two days ago. As I am writing this, well-armed policemen are just finishing their patrol of the Oude Markt in Leuven--truly a sight I had never seen. Media coverage of the ongoing operations are continous; people don't seem to care all that much.

What happened in Paris was terrible, but I don't feel like getting into it. To be frank, I'm tired of writing down everlasting monologues on morality. The world is a f*cked up place, and if the first two weeks of 2015 are any indication, we're in for a rough year. When journalists are being targeted over satire, you can't escape the feeling you may have reached a point of no-return.

But what bothers me even worse is the reaction so many people in the West appear to have. An assault on freedom of speech is answered by a proposition to limit what one can sya on the internet, seemingly to the joy of all who hear it. The major of Antwerp, or the self-professed saviour of conservative Flanders if you prefer, is answering the elevated terror threat by mobilising the military in the centre of one of this country's populous cities (let's face it, it stopped being my country a long time ago). Openly racist marches are being organised on my bloody birthday (since moved to the 26th, thank you very much), with the organising committe made up of 40-year-old housewives whose favourite slogan is "what of the children" and whose 13-point program contains a literal assault on "political correctness," a term that, as my colleague King Kaufman adequately stated, "is what people accuse you of if they don't like it when you aks them to respect other people."

But like I said, I don't feel like getting into it. I don't want to get preachy or launch an extended rant in a desperate effort to convince one or two of you of the fact that I am right and everybody else is stupid. Because in the end, that's all it is. And if those Pegida motherf*ckers can mobilise thousands to march, who am I to tell them they should refrain from reproducing for the betterment of our species?

Of all the pains this world has thrown at me, one of the worst I've ever felt is the knowledge someone I care about is struggling. Knowing someone you love is in a place he or she would rather not be in and scarcely having the opportunity to help them just plain s*cks. Whether it's because you're not nearby or for any other of a million reasons, the emptiness you feel when you can't help someone you truly care for can be overwhelming, instantly drowning out whatever personal cr*p it is you have going on. I don't have that many people I truly, deeply care for. Sure, I'm generally a kind person whose friendly to just about anyone, but (and I'm sorry to say this) the vast majority of you are people I like, but care very little about. When you come to me with your problems and issues (which for some reason you do all the time), I'll glady listen, smile, tell you how awful that is and have the smooth sounds of Daybreak playing in my mind the entire time. There's also the select few of you who are dead to me, who generally receive a similar treatment to a different song (take your pick).

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. The point is people around me aren't so well, and it feels terrible I can't seem to help. In a twisted, selfish way that rightly pisses me off, because I want to be there and show those people I care. My general state of mind is one of semi-depression, stuck in a rut in a country I'd rather not be in and having pressed the pause button on the only future I still foresee. Forgive me for wanting to help someone else from time to time. I can't wait for January to be over and my social life to somewhat resume.

I still haven't booked my tickets for London at the end of this month (the cost has likely trippled in the process) as I wasn't sure whether anyone would actually accommodate me and I still had some stuff to take care of here in Belgium, but it now seems like I actually have a place to stay and at least two social appointments I should follow up on (look! These people love me!) so I'm pretty sure I'll be coming down there anyhow, if only for the Mr. Kipling cakes you guys have ordered me to eat. They do look delicious. Women in Boston are apparently easy, according to Wannes, so April can't come soon enough either. Unless they haven't forgotten about the Revolutionary War yet, my British accent should serve me well, so to hell with Wannes' ridiculous 36-point record.

Just kidding, obviously.

Be safe everyone, and take care. Violence and terror can be frightening when you think about it (which is what I tried to do every day as I walked over the site of the 2001 BBC bombing near my home in White City, or came across Shepherd's Bush station), and I'm glad to see just about no one here in Belgium is actively thinking about it at all. I hope my compatriots currently residing in the USA are great (you both make the list of people I care about, Elise and Wannes. Rejoice!) and enjoy as much as they can of the time they have in good 'ol 'Murica. I'll see you guys soon.

And remember, if you ever feel sad, you can counter that emotion with better ones, like sugar or drunk (2 points for whoever catches that reference).


Song of the Day: Mama Cas Elliot - Make Your Own Kind of Music
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbSM02_1k34

PS: This is the greatest website ever. Apologies in advance: http://shipyourenemiesglitter.com/

On the Holiday Season and the New Year

“It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” 
-F Scott Fitzgerald


Hey everyone.

I'm sorry it's been a while since I last wrote you. If I have to be completely honest, I wasn't planning on doing it again. I made the decision to retire this blog a couple of weeks ago, and after going back and forth on whether or not to write up a goodbye, I ultimately decided against it. I use writing as a form of therapy, and I recently discovered another outlet that suits me better than this sort of semi-journal, in which I have to censor myself in fear of writing things you might not want to read, or can't really fully express myself. The fact my last update was read by pretty much no one at all didn't help, either (writers are vain by their very definition--they need an audience). Of course, just as I had made my decision, three of you had to go and ask me when the next update was going to come in the span of four days. So, understand I'm doing this for you, and not for me, as I'm want to do.

The holiday season is nearly over, and I couldn't be happier. I used to love the holidays, but for some reason, they've always turned into a massive disappointment these past few years, to the point where I now dread them. Apart from the usual reasons to hate the entire business (the awful questions from relatives and friends, having to sit through dinners with people you don't really know and care about even less and the whole contrived nature of the entire process), I've just gotten a personal distaste of it all. Eight months ago I thought I'd be in London right now, coming home for Christmas to meet up with friends and family and counting down the final seconds of this monumental year underneath Big Ben. Instead, I'll be working, while the city of Leuven is literally celebrating and watching the fireworks roughly 30 feet from my door.

Thankfully, Christmas was actually sort of enjoyable this year. I got some pretty cool gifts, had two wonderful dinners (my parents are divorced) and it was over in about 24 hours. I worked pretty much throughout the holiday period and never got into the spirit (the nearly tropical weather certainly had an impact), so all in all, it was okay. These past few weeks have been pretty rough, and it was nice just to have a little break. I guess the holiday period is a time when things can get tough for most of us :) for me personally, I couldn't get over London, among other things. I missed the place so much and got so upset over the fact I came back ,some days got nearly unbearable. 

It's the curse of Christmas, really. This one magical day we pretend is about so much more than what it actually is. To quote the great Abed Nadir: "The meaning of Christmas is that Christmas has meaning." I think I learned that just in time. It's really just a nice night you get to spend with some of the people you care about, make fun over some of the gifts you exchange and be thankful the night is over and won't come back for another year.

On those presents: My mum got me a panini-maker (I really wanted one, so thanks mum), and on that side of the family I also got a gift card for a media store and some lottery tickets (I won nine Euro, little sis. I promised we'd go 50-50, not sure you still want it). My dad asked me what I wanted and I e-mailed him some websites that sold reproductions of Degas and Constable (those are painters, fyi), but he thought the posters were too small for what they were charging. Ultimately, he settled on a really nice London-themed frame I can use to hang up some photos and these awesome grown-men pyamas, almost like Barney Stinson's if I were wearing a tie. Again, awesome gifts, so thank you guys. 

So, what else is new? Very little I guess. I survived the month of December (barely), work is good and I'm not looking forward to January at all. Everyone is either studying or moving abroad for the semester (good luck Wannes and Elise. I'll visit you guys in April!), so things are going to get pretty lonely here in Leuven. I managed to get my birthday off and the next day as well, and if there's anyone up in London down for a drink, I'd love to come over there for a day or two. Not to celebrate or anything--I just need to get away for a day or two, and see the place again. My lease doesn't expire until October, but with nearly everyone graduating and leaving Leuven in the near future, I'm not quite sure what to do to be honest. Things really aren't all that different from six months ago, with the notable exceptions being that I get to see my old friends and family a bit more often, at the cost of no longer living in an awesome city and really sort of stagnating. Somehow, the future looked much brighter in London. But I'm getting carried away. This is the holiday spirit talking, please ignore.

I'm hoping you guys enjoyed the holidays and had a great 2014, and I wish you an even better 2015. Thanks, for being here with me. This past year has been a trip, and while there were a lot of highs and a lot more lows, some of you were with me every step of the way, even if it was only because you read about it a few days later. I'm not going to pretend I had a great year, or that everything is going swell and I managed to find happiness during my little journey. The whole point is that I'm still on my way, still playing the game. I might not be very good at it, but the board is still set. 

Happy New Year, everyone.

PS: Read this f*cking sh*t, or I'm seriously canning it and you can all start following me on Twitter to see how I'm actually doing.


Song of the Day: The Pixies - Where Is My Mind?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFAnn2j4iB0

On Mirrors and The World We Live in.

Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.

-Benjamin Franklin

Before I get to the actual topic of this entry, I need to congratulate a couple of people and get all of the trivial stuff out of the way. Julie, good luck in South Africa. I know you're going to have the time of your life there, and you have no idea how jealous I am right now. Please come visit once every while, and make sure you have a room to accommodate me when I feel like surfing J-Bay.

Jeroen, best of luck with the studies. I hope my letter of recommendation does what it's supposed to do and helps you land the gig, but if you don't, I don't doubt you'll find another way to make your dream of becoming a professional writer a reality. Every setback is a lesson, and given the passion you have for the craft, it would be a lesson you'd take to heart. Although I'm sure you'll get in.

Looks like the trip to the USA will take place early April, because it seems to be the only gap my friends have in their schedules (Wannes will have to start cramming for his exams as well soon after). Because the Red Sox open their season on the road, this means we wouldn't be able to catch a game at Fenway. Which is an absolute disaster. Seriously, how can we go to Boston and leave two days before the Sox play their first home game? I mean, that is some depressing stuff.

Now, before I get started I want to make it very clear what you're about to read is a personal opinion which does not represent the views of my employer (I've always wanted to write those words, it makes things sound so ominous).

My job as a writer sees me spend an awful lot of time on the websites of news outlets and social media, and when big news breaks or massive events take place, it's sometimes hard to escape. The past few weeks have been filled with stories about Michael Brown, Eric Garner and Tugce Albayrak, amid the seemingly endless stream of horrifying news. Michael Brown was a difficult topic I tried to shy away from as much as I could—Tugce Albayrak was a story which hit me so hard it made me want to apologise for my gender. But today's news that the police officer who choked an unarmed man to death using an illegal move banned by the New York police department would not be indicted pushed me over the edge. I just couldn't understand how a man, who was a father, brother and son could die on the streets of New York in broad daylight, and that the man responsible for his death, who ignored multiple pleas to stop (Garner repeatedly told the officers he couldn't breathe) and used excessive force wouldn't even face an indictment. I was angry, and when I was forced to read a stream of comments from people justifying the officer's action because Garner resisted arrest, I became mortified. Regardless of whether or not he resisted arrest, no one deserves to die in such fashion, right? How can people not see that?

Unfortunately, this is the world I live in. This is a world where millions of children are persecuted every day because of the colour of their skin, the religion their parents chose for them or the geographical location they were born. Where millions of children suffer from malnutrition, illness and a lack of education. Where women still earn less than men for equal work because they were born with a uterus. Where homosexual men and women have to face the consequences of their love for someone of the same gender because they don't comply with what a certain part of society deems "normal" or "acceptable." Where the city of Antwerp wants to have people who own night shops pay so much taxes they'll soon disappear altogether, because "night shops don't look great on the streets." Where racial stereotypes used to amuse children aren't even open for discussion based on "tradition." Where a football team can carry a name repulsive to Native Americans because it has done so far the past 80 years.

I'm lucky. I'm a 25-year-old heterosexual male of European descent, raised in an Christian household that turned away from religion when I was 12. I am in reasonable health, don't show any signs of obesity and I'm not a complete idiot. I won the biological lottery, as did most of my readers.

Plenty of people like me will take to the internet and tell me white guilt is something I shouldn't worry about. I didn't choose to be born like this, I've never done anything at the expense of other people and it's not my fault other people suffer. All of this is true.

But we live in a selfish world, where the powerful don't give two cents about the fates of others and won't lift a finger to change the status-quo if it comes at their own expense. And we are the powerful. People just like you and me. Like it or not, but even as we're set to enter the year 2015, the world is still engineered toward us, the white, middle-class self-proclaimed intellectuals who likely all had the opportunity to pursue higher education, will undoubtedly find a job that will allow us to live comfortable lives (I never said we'll get rich, or even enjoy our jobs) and will never have to worry about the real problems that plague millions around the world, barring major health problems.

Should we feel any guilt about this? Is there something we can do? I honestly don't know. As angry as I am, I was conditioned to believe I'm only a small, insignificant part of this world, incapable of making a difference. And after everything I just said, the logical thing to do would be to rejoice in the current status-quo—I'm going to be just fine. I don't want to be that person, but when I read what some people just like me dare to say or write on the topic, it makes me sick to my stomach. And then I start to wonder if I'm not just like them. Is enabling sexism or racism not the same as being sexist or racist?

I'm not here to preach to you, or ask you to go stand on the corner of the street holding a sign while three men in riot gear move in with tasers. But what I'm asking you to do is take a look in the mirror.

Not right now—the next time you're feeling down because your boss yelled at you or made you work overtime, or when you missed the train because that idiot in the BMW wouldn't let you cross the street. Look in the mirror, and realise just how lucky you are. How completely and utterly insignificant your problems are compared to millions and millions of people around the globe.

I'm always finding reasons to be sad, and convincing myself my life is wretched and hopeless. I'm not a happy person, not in the slightest. And that's just fine—I don't have to be. But I'm starting to realise I am incredibly lucky. I have a biological head-start over so many people and tools at my disposal some never will. And it's not my good looks, or height, or intelligence—it's the colour of my skin, my sexual orientation and (lack of) religion (and gender, to a lesser extent). I can't think of anything more unfair in this world, but I also can't think of any way to change that.

The next time you're feeling down, for whatever reason, please try to remember you're just as lucky as I am. We all won the lottery. You and I won't be the next Michael Brown or Nic Garner (and I really hope you won't be the next Tugce Albayrak). Even if you and I are just the next Average Joe, leading perfectly normal, boring, miserable lives, we'll still be gifted more than millions of people.

I'll be working on a follow-up to this post, as I try and find a way in which I can make a difference, as minute and insignificant it may be. In the meantime, I guess this will have to be the message I leave you with. In this unfair world, you and are part of the lucky few who were given so much more than the rest. If you can't make a difference, at least try to enjoy it. You'd be doing so many people a disservice by not doing so.

Song of the Day: Tom Waits - Come on Up to the House

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GugzLSbOQE

On Suits and Contingency

“Depression presents itself as a realism regarding the rottenness of the world in general and the rottenness of your life in particular. But the realism is merely a mask for depression's actual essence, which is an overwhelming estrangement from humanity. The more persuaded you are of your unique access to the rottenness, the more afraid you become of engaging with the world; and the less you engage with the world, the more perfidiously happy-faced the rest of humanity seems for continuing to engage with it.” 
“He was lovable the way a child is lovable, and he was capable of returning love with a childlike purity. If love is nevertheless excluded from his work, it's because he never quite felt that he deserved to receive it. He was a lifelong prisoner on the island of himself. What looked like gentle contours from a distance were in fact sheer cliffs. Sometimes only a little of him was crazy, sometimes nearly all of him, but, as an adult, he was never entirely not crazy. What he'd seen of his id while trying to escape his island prison by way of drugs and alcohol, only to find himself even more imprisoned by addiction, seems never to have ceased to be corrosive of his belief in his lovability. Even after he got clean, even decades after his late-adolescent suicide attempt, even after his slow and heroic construction of a life for himself, he felt undeserving. And this feeling was intertwined, ultimately to the point of indistinguishability, with the thought of suicide, which was the one sure way out of his imprisonment; surer than addiction, surer than fiction, and surer, finally, than love.” 
-Jonathan Franzen (he's kind of depressing).



The Chinese supposedly have two well-known curses: "May you live in interesting times" (popularised by the fantastic Terry Pratchett novel Interesting Times) and "May you find what you are looking for," a variation of one of the most well-known addages in the English language. Both are rooted in basic human experiences, and the duality of how certain things can be perceived. "Interesting times" sounds like a pleasant alternative to the bland, ordinary lives the vast majority of us lead, but of course, we often come to the realisation those bland, ordinary lives usually end up providing a high level of satisfaction compared to the troubles that come with anything that might be interesting. Likewise, "May you find what you are looking for" draws on the fact we often find the things we wanted the most fall well short of our expectations, leading to disappointment that could have been avoided had we just been content with the status-quo. By the time we realise this, it's too late.


I struggle with this blog because I don't live in "interesting times," and I'm about as far away from finding what it is I'm looking for as can be. In a way, both of those statements are a blessing, despite the fact they sound sad. Writing from London was easy--there was so much new stuff to tell all of you about, and I felt the need to keep in touch with the people at home. Now that I'm back, it all feels rather pointless. There's no need to keep you guys up to speed--you already know what's going on, and the writing material is fairly limited. I lead one of those bland, ordinary lives filled with work, the occasional social encounter and the joys and struggles everybody goes through on a daily basis. Who wants to read about every day life? No one.

The irony is that there is so much I wish to write which shouldn't be put into words, because words have consequences. It's not so much about keeping up appearances as it is about the simple fact some things can't be undone, and some words can't be unspoken (or unwritten). Life must be so easy if you don't give a damn about what may or may not happen as a result of the things you say or do. Ignorance truly is bliss.

So, what's new? As you probably know, I ended up not going to London at all. Friends wanted to meet, my father wanted to help redecorate my new flat and eventually I just ran out of time. It kind of s*cks, but there's still plenty of time. I say this knowing full well I'll probably cancel trips like this again and again, but I do hope to come back real soon.

Work's good, the family is good and friends are good. I had the opportunity to see or talk to several people I hadn't seen or spoken to in a long time, which is obviously pleasant. Ultimately, I'm happy I didn't go to London--my new shelves and the social encounters made it wortwhile.

The holiday season is coming up, and it's going to be a very busy time. As of right now, I won't be working on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, but I will be sitting behind my laptop on Boxing Day and when the clocks hit zero to signal the arrival of 2015. The latter is a little saddenning, but also fitting. New Year's Eve somehow always ends up as a major disappointment, and I've spent half of the countdowns in my lifetime working anyhow (slight exaggeration). I've always loved the holiday seasons,but the past few years they've always been some of the most depressing periods of my life. Last year was an absolute disaster (I was a wreck 12 months ago) and I was actually really looking forward to Christmas in The Big Smoke--I've been told it's magical. But I'm sure I'll one day have the opportunity to actually experience it.

The dating scene always makes for odd realisations, and this week was no different. The story is as old as the world itself: You meet a nice lady, hit it off before you start to realise there are just one or two fundamental differences between you that simply can't be overcome. From the trivial over the big stuff, and the simple yet harsh reality you two just don't mesh. I like my suits, my bowties, my fancy shoes and coats that are far too expensive for a f*cking coat. And I won't apologise for that.

That was an odd paragraph, but I have to make this title work (I can't be asked to look for another one) and words -> consequences, if you catch my drift. Some things just can't be unsaid :)

Looks like another short entry filled with trivial nonsense that won't satisfy my limited readership. Welcome to the real world, where little happens, expectations generally fall short and the people you elevate onto a pedestal turn out to be little more than ordinary folks. And let's face it--that's how it should be.


Song of the Day: Mama Cass Elliot-Make Your Own Kind of Music
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbSM02_1k34

On Virality and Stagnation

"Well, what I mean is that I shouldn't mind being a bride at a wedding, if I could be one without having a husband."
"Indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not."
-Thomas Hardy, Far From the Madding Crowd


Hey folks,

I know it's been a while and I wish I had both the time and material on hand to write you a decent entry, but unfortunately, I don't. It's my one day off this week and I still need to get dinner before I meet some friends, so don't expect too much. I don't want to say I've been putting off writing you--the will to write simply vanishes after a workday that concludes at one in the morning. 

What I need to share with you: The tale of my five minutes of Twitter fame. For those of you that follow me (a vast minority, as the bulk of you don't give a flying toss about Twitter), you obviously already know what happened. For the rest of you, here's what went down:

A couple of weeks ago I finished work at one (as usual), had some dinner and watched some TV, but when I wanted to go to bed, this group of obnoxious wankers was standing outside my window, singing the same 10-second song over and over again, for hours on end. This was a Saturday or a Sunday I think, Usually a relatively quiet night in Leuven. My mindset went from mildly irritated because I could hear them through my headphones to seriously f*cking p*ssed because I was tired and wanted to sleep. At one point, I got so fed up I filled a bucket with water, perched it on my window sill and tweeted out the question whether I should toss it. I live on the fifth floor of a big building--there was no way they'd spot where it came from.

Naturally, everyone replied yes, so I tossed it and started live-tweeting what happened next. People started tweeting about what I was doing, sending folks to my profile, and one of them is one of our Lead Writers with quite the popular account. So before I knew what was happening, I had dozens of complete strangers tweeting at me, asking for updates and handing out suggestions (something about expired yoghurt). The whole experience was surreal, from the group of wankers downstairs shouting, taking another bucket on the head, getting into a verbal altercation with my neighbours across the street and getting doused by the manager of McDonalds, who followed my example, to the multitude of people online urging me on and proclaiming me the "King of the Internet" for about five minutes.

For those of you who want to read the whole thing: Here's my Twitter account, although you may have to scroll down a week or two (I don't generally tweet that much). I'm not sure whether you need an account of your own to read the stuff. After trying it myself, it took me less than two minutes scrolling, including reading everything I've tweeted since (ugh. I hate reading my own stuff).

So, what else is new? The past few days have been a little rough, but that's kind of the definition of life, anyhow. I titled this post "On Virality and Stagnation," but perhaps the word stagnation is a little harsh. Perhaps 'routine' or "rut' are better. We all get these episodes on occasion, I guess, where you feel life isn't moving forward. You work, eat, excercise, go out with the same people to the same bars twice/week and sleep (don't worry, I love you guys). No progress whatsoever. But then again, progress is something humanity fabricated for the sole purpose of separating oneself from the rest of the pack and in a desperate attempt not to spend too much time contemplating what was, or what was lost. How much progress can one make on a normal day? Not so much I reckon. Sure, I'd like to have the feeling I'm actually going somewhere with my life once every while, but the eternal pessimist in me knows living and surviving are synonymous 90 percent of the time. 

For you London kids, my planning currently has two gaps in it where I have consecutive days off: November 12 and 13 (Wednesday and Thursday) and November 20 and 21 (Thursday and Friday). I'm dying to see the city again and hear the chimes of Big Ben (don't mock me. As I explained to some friends last week, we all have these little things that make us nostalgic or happy, ranging from certain smells or sounds to certain songs, places and films. For me, one of those is this), so if you guys could let me know whether you'll actually be around, have work or school and would or would not have a place for me to stay, that'd be awesome (alternatively, I don't mind booking a hotel for the night). Preferably the first dates, as I haven't had a Friday off in months and that could be the perfect opportunity to meet up with some people who work as much as I do.

Alright, it's sushi-time. Talk to you guys later. Enjoy Bonfire Night (please don't post the V for Vendetta-thingy. It's obnoxious) and be safe. 

Cheers,
Gianni


Song of the Day: Harry Lauder - It's Nice When You Love a Wee Lassie
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ed5AZ_cMpo

Just kidding: Sarah Lee Guthrie and Johnny Irion: Never Too Far From my Heart
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETA48cdx7Ts

On My New Flat and Very Little Else

“You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.”
“You forget what you want to remember, and you remember what you want to forget.” 
-Cormac McCarthy



Hey guys,

Another quick update (we've seen a lot of those lately). I'm currently writing you from my new and very own flat for the first time, and seeing how that's supposedly some kind of major development (I have my own place!), it felt as if I needed to dedicate an entry to it. 

So, what's it like? I live in Leuven, which is a minor city close to Brussels (the capital of Belgium). It's fairly small but cosy, and mainly known as the home of one of Belgium's largest universities and my alma mater, the KUL. Unlike most cities with massive universities, this one is truly dictated by it. As a result, it has two faces. During the week, it's filled with young people either on their way to class, getting drunk or getting laid. In the weekends, it's fairly empty. 

The flat I chose isn't the biggest, but it's certainly big enough for me. It's located right in the centre, in a small street leading to the Oude Markt (Old Market), the main location for festivities. Most famous for being the "Longest Bar in the World," it's basically just a collection of bars and a handful of fast-food places. It's very cosy, but also quite loud (duh). The flat itself is on the fifth floor of a building that houses a McDonalds, but as long as I keep my door shut, the odour is fine.

I had some friends over yesterday, and they seemed to like it. Because of its location, it's obviously a prime spot for everyone to gather before going out. Tomorrow I'll have someone staying over for the first time, so I should get some feedback on the couch.

The past few days I've mainly been buying stuff for the flat, when I wasn't working. Christ, I've buying so much stuff lately. It's coming together nicely, however. As of right now, I think all I really need is a drying rack for my laundry, a laundry basket and a place to store my books. They're currently standing underneath my window, and my friends seemed to like it that way (as do I, it adds a personal touch). It's not extremely convenient, however (what, with the curtains and all) so I'll have to see how I manage.

There's a one-year lease with three months' notice, so I reckon I'll find out whether I like it or not and go from there. A part of me is already aching to leave again, but I'm not 19 anymore. Besides, there's plenty of reasons why it's convenient to be living at home once again. For one, it's incredibly cheap. The Guardian posted an article just last week on London prices and how it's pretty normal to pay five pounds for a beer in the English capital (pints, obviously). The first round of drinks I paid two days ago cost me 7.40 euros. That's roughly six pounds, and absolutely ridiculous. For six pounds, I'd have one beer in Soho. Rent is more than manageable (again, the flat is not insanely luxurious), but it allows me to save some money over the next 12 months. The only thing that isn't particularly cheap is public transport (and it's ridiculously ineffective, but that's a whole different story), but I still hope I'll get to see my relatives on a regular basis. After all, they're all located within 90 minutes of me by train.

It's incredibly unfair to compare Leuven to London. It's a nice, cosy city that has everything I need, for now. My friends are here, and the top spot to go out is literally on my doorstep. Compared to London, it should (and will) be far easier to combine a social life with my work schedule. Sure, nothing compares to the Big Smoke, and it's very tempting to go back as soon as I can. I planned two consecutive days off for November, so if my bosses cooperate, I'll hopefully be able to come visit soon. I always mocked people who lost their hearts to a particular place, but perhaps I'm starting to understand. London is pretty awesome, guys.

So, to summarise. I like my flat. The lease is only for a year, which is perfect, but in general, it's a nice place. I've yet to truly make it my own (add a nice decorative lamp, put up some photos and posters), but so far, I feel okay here. It's far from perfect--it's loud, the on-suite bathroom doesn't have a toilet, storage space is limited and the constant presence of fraternities on a night out (even at 2 p.m.) is making my blood boil. But to quote the genius that is Tim Minchin: "It's not perfect, but it's mine." We'll work on a housewarming party, although I sincerely doubt my flat will hold more than 10 people.

In fact, I'll leave you with the genius himself.


Song of the Day: The surprisingly deep and very beautiful 
It's Not Perfect - Tim Minchin
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dg3PberzvXo

Bonus: I love the BBC's cover of God Only Knows that is currently sweeping the internet, but it's still only my second-favourite cover version of the Beach Boys' phenomenal hit. So, for your enjoyment:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7ogV49WGco

On Housing and Staying Busy

Every reader, as he reads, is actually the reader of himself. The writer's work is only a kind of optical instrument he provides the reader so he can discern what he might never have seen in himself without this book. The reader's recognition in himself of what the book says is the proof of the book's truth.

-Marcel Proust

Hey guys,

Just a little update to let you all know how I'm doing down here in Belgium (a few of you have asked for it). I've found a flat, right in the centre of Leuven. Signed for it on Monday, paid the deposit and my first month of rent today, collecting the keys on Friday and moving on Sunday. Yes, Belgian bureaucracy is a pain in the ass. I'm moving my stuff there on Sunday but I probably won't be moving in just yet, as they're still working on the internet (something I really need for work).

It's not perfect—far from it, in fact. But it's nice and central and the lease is only for a year and it's spacious enough just for me. I mean, I literally used to live in a tent—I don't need much. At least I'll have a place of my own, for the time being, and I'll get to live close to my friends, which is one of the main reasons why I left London in the first place. A one-year lease also means I won't be moving back for at least 12 months, so I deeply apologise to those few of you who were still gunning for that.

I still needed a bunch of stuff for the flat, but luckily, our local variant of Home Depot is closing one of its flagship stores and all of the articles were 70% percent off. Which is why I managed to buy an ironing board (because all adults own their own ironing board), a 12-piece set of kitchen tools complete with an art-deco rack (including a pizza slicer, which is vital considering the fact I eat about five pizzas/week), plates, a 24-piece cutlery set, coffee mugs (I'm still buying the Troy and Abed in the Morning one), an oven plate, two separate cooking knives and an alarm clock for 44 euros (I'm guessing it's about 35 pounds, or maybe 60 US dollars). Now all I need is some bed sheets, drapes, a microwave oven and a bin.

For those of you who frequent Leuven: My place is right at the Oude Markt and I have a spare couch, so if you're ever in need of  somewhere to sleep, please let me know. I've yet to test the couch, but I'll be sure to let you know and provide you with a sleeping bag/plaid.

Now, onto something else. De Morgen's Fernand van Damme (in Dutch) recently posted an entry detailing how being busy is the new cool for 20-somethings. He talked about how we all seem to stuff our planners as full as possible with work, breakfast dates and city trips and tried to link it to how we're scared of being alone, and the conclusions our minds may reach when we're forced to contemplate on that factoid. It's worth the read, if you speak Dutch, and you can find the piece by clicking here.

He's not entirely successful in trying to draw his conclusion ( it gets awfully tacky), but he does make a fair point, and I do believe that plenty of you will recognise what it is he's writing about. I know I've noticed it in myself. Where I once used to live life without a day-planner, teaching surfing and largely enjoying the quiet moments in between, I now find myself trying to cram as much work and activities into my days in a feeble attempt to escape the fact that when I'm not doing stuff, my mind tends to wander into dangerous places. And I've heard the same message from plenty of you, or recognised the behaviour. I'm not judging anyone or trying to tell you why that may be wrong or right, but it is something worth thinking about. When you're not busy working or going to that concert or meeting your middle-school science partner for cocktails, that is.

I guess that's it for now. Like I said, short update on how I'm doing (technically it's about what I'm doing, I suppose). It looks like I'm truly here to stay, for now at least. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that, but we always feel like that right after we've made a big decision. And that first night of drinks at De Weerelt will surely sway my mind.

Have a good one guys.

Song of the Day: Charles Bradley - Where Do We Go From Here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bcqb7kzekoc