On Shameless Plugging and Weird Conversations

"In de jaren daarop bekroop mij de vraag of ik wel een eerbaar man was. Dit lange wachten, dit ontzeggen, dit eeuwige emotionele vasten, was dit een teken van indrukwekkende deugdzaamheid of was het gewoon de misleidende emanatie van mijn angst voor verandering? Was ik een man die zijn zwakheden, zijn angsten als deugden wist te camoufleren? Iemand wiens angst voor elke verandering ten onrechte als "trouw" werd geïnterpreteerd?"
-Dominique Biebau, Ijslands Gambiet

Apologies for the Dutch quote, a first in this blog-thingy. It comes from a book a former teacher of mine (and current friend, if I dare say) wrote, and after reading it this past week (in the span of about four hours, because it was that good) I feel like doing some plugging. For all of my Dutch-speaking readers looking for something fresh to read over the summer, I highly recommend you pick up this book. The back may say it's a thriller, but in reality, it's a carefully crafted tale that beautifully mixes Literature (with a capital L), chess and raw human emotion. No, really. Mr. Biebau (I will never be able to call him Dominique) has managed to take a genre that has been diluted by thousands of 13-in-a-dozen novels in the past decade, filled with the same, worn-out plot-twists and grotesque characters, and turn it into something completely different. It's not perfect, but good literature doesn't have to be. So please, support an emerging author trying to leave his mark on a world that is more interested in the latest piece of fan-fiction that appeals to hordes of 14-year-olds, and pick up this book the next time you're in a good book store. I promise you won't be disappointed, and if you are, you can take it up with me.

Now, for the crux of this update. You may remember the last two entries had somewhat of an overarching theme (slight understatement) and were published within a week of each other, and to my surprise, I received a ton of positive feedback on the both. The amount of readers was quite high compared to what I usually average, included four different continents (really) and for some reason, plenty of you felt the need to contact me directly. I greatly enjoy all the feedback, and it's always nice to know your words actually meant something to someone (though, obviously not to the one you wrote them for. Writers, like just about everyone else whose job involves any kind of public exposure, do what they do not be heard, seen or read by the masses, but to be heard, seen or read by the people who actually inspired them in the endeavour. It's called having a giant ego and one leg outside of reality. To quote Jeff Winger: "Do you think astronauts go to the moon because they hate oxygen? No, they're trying to impress their high school prom kings"). Personally, I was quite proud of both entries, which showed exactly how not-petty I am and were the writings of an adult whose obviously awesome enough to write something like that and therefor prime dating material, you ******* ****, but the fact you liked it as well warmed my heart, to use Big Words.

Two people jumped out, however, and in both cases, I was supremely confused. I've had some weird conversations in my day, and both have now entered the discussion for the top spot. I'm not going to give you any details (that would be mean) but I will describe the situation, to give you a glimpse.

The first started a day after I published the initial post (I think), when I received a message from a certain Dutch girl. This girl (young woman at this point) and I shared two nights in the French Basque Country seven years ago, and we hadn't spoken since. I was still a young pup at the time, inexperienced in the ways of the world, who had only ever shared my bed with one woman. I am about 99.9 percent certain this girl did not have a good time, a plausible explanation for why I never heard of her again after those two nights. Although, in general, you don't really keep up after you do that sort of thing.

I'm telling you all of this to explain to you what a shock it was to me when she sent me a message telling me she read my blog and was touched by my words. We spent the next couple of days sending messages back and forth, finding out how we both had been, what we were up to and where we were going next. It was actually really nice, and I'm really glad she decided to send me that first message, although it was a bit weird. Sometimes the little things can give you great joy, and in this instance, it really did.

About a week later, things got even weirder when I got a message from an ex-girlfriend of mine, the last girl I was in a serious relationship with, little over three years ago. We spoke sporadically in the months after we broke up, and when she met someone new, all communications seized as he (understandably) wasn't too keen on having his significant other texting her ex-boyfriend all the time.

That changed last week, when she messaged me out of the blue to see how I was. Apparently, I'd been on her mind a lot in the past few weeks, and she just wanted to find out. I was taken aback, because I had just visited her Facebook page less than an hour before, for the first time in God-knows-how-long, asking the same questions (she hadn't updated her Facebook page in over three years, which is an impressive feat for a 20-something in 2015).

This particular conversation went a little less smoothly, for obvious reasons, although there were no unpleasantries or harsh feelings that sometimes creep up when talking to someone you saw naked, repeatedly, for a period of time before breaking things off. Nonetheless, it was as pleasant as the first, as this is obviously a girl I loved very much, and someone who will always have a special place in my heart (Big Words). To find out what she had been up to and how/what she is doing right now is something I never would have expected, but I'm glad I was given the opportunity.

Before anyone asks (and I know you will, because I know my friends), I am not hooking up with either. And not just because neither lives in the same country I do.

So, I guess that's about it. The past two weeks have been really slow, with my friends studying for exams, my former love interest bringing the hammer down on what we had going and me spending most of my time working. Outside of ordering food or telling the cashier I'l be paying by card, I had two actual conversations with people all week, wishing my dad a happy Father's Day and talking to Mr. Biebau Dominique at a recent book signing, where he handed me a beautiful, signed copy of Ijslands Gambiet, a novel you should all read. Seriously.

There's some big decisions coming up during the summer, mainly focused on where I'll be living once summer has passed, but that's something that comes up once every six months, so it's hardly news, is it?

Take care all of you. And if any ex-girlfriends, one-night stands of the past, people I bullied in middle school or former colleagues feel the need to catch up, please don't hesitate. As I recently found out, it can actually be quite fun.

Later guys.


Song of the Day
Mr. Airplane Man - Sun Sinking Low
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFCdImxEyL0

On Getting Evicted and That Other Thing

Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Not indeed that we personally are needed. Others would meet the case equally well, if not better. To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late! Let us represent worthily for one the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us! What do you say? It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflexion, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thickets. But that is not the question. What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come.
-Samuel Beckett, Waiting For Godot

Two new updates in one week? What the hell is going on??

Well, as it turns out, last week's story wasn't over. And now that the cat is out of the bag and it's safe to tell you all what has been going on, I'm free to do what I tend to do whenever something weighs me down--I get to write it off.

Before I start, I have to make an observation. I realise that on some level, what I'm about to write could be seen as insensitive, perhaps even disrespectful, to the protagonist of this story. I sincerely doubt she would ever read this, but that doesn't change anything. If she does, I hope she understands that writing things down has a therapeutic effect on me. I've been doing this since I was about 15 years old, and when people started to tell me how much they appreciated me writing freely and without any regards toward the consequences of said writings when I started this blog, I decided to publish just about anything I saw fit to write down in this blog-thingy. It helps me cope with everything life decides to throw at me, and on those occasions where great things happen, I like the idea that I get to share those things with everything who decides to read this crap. I have readers in places like Taiwan, Vietnam, Zimbabwe and Honduras (true story), and the majority of my readers are from the United States. I have no idea how this happened, but when very old friends and people I haven't spoken to in seven years write me to let me know how much they appreciate these words, it makes me feel like it's okay what I do. And if Hank Moody can turn his twisted life into best-selling novels, I think I can get away with this whole blog-thingy.

So, out with it. For the past few months, I had been "dating" (perhaps that's not the appropriate word any longer) a lovely girl I used to go to high school with and ran into again in Leuven, and for those of you who know me at all, that's a relatively big deal. I've been single for well over three years now, and haven't so much as made out with a girl since 2013 (I know, right?). We went to see several theatre shows, had dinner and I had the sense that things were going quite well. The last time we met up, things ended a bit awkwardly, and today she told me she thought it best if we didn't go out anymore as she could never foresee anything more than a close friendship (yeah, she dropped that cliché). I was a little angry it took her this long to tell me what I already knew she would say, but when she actually told me, those feelings dissipated.

Obviously, I'm not mad. Our get-togethers were spread out over a period of months because we both don't have a lot of spare time, and we weren't all that serious. All we did was go out a few times. Sometimes things don't work out, and if she couldn't see a future with me or just didn't feel it, she made the right decision. I'm not going to deny I'm a little disappointed (we'll get to that in a bit), but I understand. She even asked me whether I'd be okay with catching the occasional theatre production with her which is something I might actually want to do. Just not right now.

There are plenty of reasons why things would have never worked out between us, anyway. I mainly work weekends, she has a standard nine-to-five (sort of). I live in Leuven, which isn't exactly close to where she lives or works. I don't own a car. She has a very busy social life, to the point where it could take days for her to answer a simple text (in hindsight, this should have been a major red flag).

On the other hand, there were obviously plenty of reasons why I liked this girl. You don't make the conscious decision to stay single as long as I have, and not even touch a woman, all to potentially throw it away on a girl you sort-of like. I though she looked gorgeous, an opinion I've had since high school, when I was far too shy to ever act on said opinion (interesting side bar: She ended up dating one of my then-classmates, and while I adore the guy, my admittedly fragile ego is having a hard time dealing with the fact teenage-her would date that guy, and all-grown-up-her would draw the line at me). She looked absolutely stunning the last time I saw her, which may have contributed to my ill-advised decision to take a shot. We had plenty of similar interests, including several odd ones. We talked freely about the weirdest of subjects, I loved her sense of humour and I really, truly felt as if we were uncanningly comfortable with each other. I guess a man will see what he wants to see.

Despite all of that, I took a very cautious approach to the situation from the beginning. While the friends who were in attendance when we started talking for the first time were convinced she really, really liked me, I was a pessimist. After everything I had been through in the last few years, I wasn't going to let my emotions get the best of me. And until maybe three weeks ago, it worked. It was only recently I slowly started getting swept up in that familiar feeling I haven't felt for so long, and the prolonged wait for her final judgement made matters worse. Sure, I was checking m phone every evening in Boston to see whether or not she was paying attention to me, but I had little difficulty channeling it. I'm glad I kept my reservations for so long--right now I'm disappointed, and little else. Knowing myself and how I usually respond to these situations, I could have ran with it months ago and I would have been absolutely devastated right now.

And now the hammer has come down. It's a shame really, but you can't blame someone for not wanting to be with you. Part of me wants to scream it's unfair, that I wasn't given a fair shake, but that's bollocks. I may have been too cautious in how I approached the situation, but hindsight is 20/20. Besides, it likely wouldn't have made a difference. Sometimes, things just aren't meant to be. And even though it s*cks to admit that after three years of waiting and suddenly getting swept up in an ultimately futile endeavour, there's nothing wrong with that. It happens thousands of times every day, all around the world.

So in conclusion, I guess I want to wish you good luck. The cynic in me wants to say "you'll need it," but you're an attractive young woman with a great job and a positive disposition--I'm sure you'll do just fine. I wish you would have told me sooner, but I still had fun these past few months. It'll sting when I have to find out you found someone else, but you of all people will never know. To quote House M.D., the great poet Jagger once said "You can't always get what you want."

In other news, our new landlord has decided to evict all tennants by the end of the summer to renovate the building, even though the entire building was renovated just before we all moved in last August. It hardly matters, as I was planning on leaving my flat anyway, but it does change the timetable a bit. I have no idea what's next for me, or where I'll go. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you should never make big decision when you're emotionally unstable. Give me a couple of weeks, and I'll be fine.

I really do hope Juventus can snatch that Champions League final on Saturday. Lord knows I need it. Maybe the Red Sox can find some offence, but I won't ask for too much. It kind of s*cks having to deal with all of this on my own, as my friends are busy studying for their exams and aren't around, but I'm a big boy--I'm sure I'll manage. Summer's nearly upon us, the guys will have plenty of free time and I'll be just fine.

Take care everyone.


Song of the Day:
The Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S94ohyErSw

PS: This blog has been up for a matter of minutes and three of you have already contacted me to let me know "she's missing out." Trust me, I know. You're not being helpful by telling me that--somebody bloody convince her of that fact.
Just kidding. Please don't do that, we're not in high school anymore. 
Also, these NBA Finals couldn't have come at a better time. Looks like I'ma be fine, yo. 

On Anticipation and Letdowns

“You once said to me that I talk like a man in a book. I not only talk, but think and feel like one. I have spent my life in books; literature has deeply dyed my brain its own colour. This literary colouring is a protective one--like the brown of the rabbit or the checks of the quail--making it impossible for me to tell where literature ends and I begin.” 
-Nathanael West


In the past, I've spoken of my love for moments and how I've always had a tendency to live my life through them. There's nothing like that first wave at sunset, or meeting up with someone you haven't seen in years, or finally reading a book that you've been looking forward to for months. For me, moments make life worth living, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

One of the consequences of such a mindset is that you spend a lot of time looking forward to things, in full-blown anticipation of the moments to come. There's this cliché mantra of "living in the moment, seizing the day" that I've always found fascinating but never really understood (I'm guessing that's why it's a cliché to begin with). I used to live in the past, and now I spend most of my time living in the future. There's nothing wrong with that--I enjoy it greatly. You could say the greatest sense of anticipation I feel on a daily basis is the promise that one day, I will no longer have to look toward the future because I've found everything I'm looking for, but once again, that means we're venturing in cliché-territory. I find no great sandness in the way I see the world. Anticipation is a good thing, at least for me. The high you experience as you live on a cloud, with those much-desired moments right around the corner, is what gets me through the day. Without it, life is a monotone sequence of events that's played on repeat. I'd much rather be giddy with excitement over what tomorrow, or next week, or next month might bring. In fact, the further away my prospective moment is, the more I like it.

And sometimes, relying so heavily on moments and anticipation can come back to bite you in the arse. I've spent the past few weeks on a cloud, breezing through the day as I looked forward to one of those moments. Only, it never came. The result was as obvious as it was inevitable, like a balloon that deflated (hur-hur) in a hurry. You're left with this great pit of nothing, and a truckload of unfullfilled expectations.

There's anger, confusion and a whole range of emotions you go through, for a short period, but ultimately, the nothingness takes over. You give yourself the old-man-speech (I'm not mad, just disappointed) and accept that the weeks or months you spent anticipating this moment were a huge waste of time. Or maybe it wasn't--after all, the anticipation pushed you forward, and made you enjoy life just a little more. Sure, there are questions, and the incredible urge not to accept what happened, but ultimately, it doesn't really matter. It's a damn shame, but at least it was fun while it lasted.

So, what's next? You return to the monotone existance, realising there's bound to be another moment right around the corner. And in the meantime, you stick your head in the sand. Headphones on, world off. And if you feel so inclined, you might as well try and write it off.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of red wine and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Song of the Day: Admiral Freebee - Rags and Run
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ajd810dHxcM

On Boston and New York

“Curiosity is, in great and generous minds, the first passion and the last.” 
-Samuel Johnson


Howdy folks,

A few of you have asked me to give a brief recap of my time on the Eastern Seaboard, and while I don't plan on writing down an extensive journey of the trip I took to Boston and New York last week, I may as well give you a few general thoughts. I find it's way more fun to share stories of your travels in person (usually it's a back and forth) so I'll definitely keep this blog limited. If you care to know more (doubtful) just ask, and I'll gladly oblige.

So, Boston and New York. Overall, I had a fantastic time. The highlight was obviously the fact I got to see my dear friends Wannes and Elise again (even if the rendez-vous with the latter was a bit short), but really, the entire trip was great. I had never been to the United States before, and as a European who grew up watching American TV shows and soaking up American culture, I entered Boston with a bunch of stereotypical images in the back of my mind. I'm glad to say most of those turned out to be false.

For one, Americans are ridiculously nice. I understand my strong foreign accent may have something to do with that (I sound quite British, to the hilarity of the people I met last week who refused to believe I was from Belgium), but still, it was incredible to see how open these people were, both in Boston and New York. To give you an example; Elise and I had dinner in Brooklyn with a complete stranger we met less than 10 minutes before entering the restaurant. He even joined us for drinks in the most random nightclub I've ever set foot in afterwards, and after that, we went our separate ways. Just like that. And this is New York, a place where everyone supposedly stares at the ground and minds their own business. The same happened in Boston--people are chatty and just generally helpful and nice.

I only spent roughly 25 hours in NY (and 10 hours on the bus), so I can't in good conscience give a fair assessment on the city. I got to see most of the landmarks I wanted to see, had the best milkshake and hotdog of my life and met up with Elise to go to a kind of modern speak-easy, filled with hipsters and general outcasts. And it was awesome. Brooklyn and Manhattan are so different, and I think I may go back and explore the place a little more at some point in the future. New York is the kind of city I'd love to spend a year just to get a feel for the place, although I'm sure I'd never want to permanently locate.

Boston is more my kind of town, however, and not just because I'm a Red Sox, Celtics and Patriots fan (Fenway and gameday from the Bleacher Bar certainly ranked among my favourite moments of the entire trip). There's a surprising amount of historical buildings to visit, and on our first day Vincent and I did the Freedom Trail, a path that leads you past a ton of landmarks connected to the Revolutionary War. Unfortunately it was raining (it even snowed at some point during our trip, while people in Belgium were getting their tan on) but it was still an incredible experience. The Freedom Trail ends at the Bunker Hill Monument, a massive obelisk commemorating the Battle of Bunker Hill (which was fought at Bree Hill, because). There's a fantastic view over Charlestown and downtown Boston from the top, but there's no elevator (which may be the most un-American thing of all time). We were knackered from doing the trail, but I'm glad we still found the energy to get to the top.

The food was everything we had hoped for, and then some. In general, American food is insanely greasy, salty and sweet, but that didn't stop us from going to town. We were eager to try clam chowder (my personal favourite from the trip) and lobster rolls, along with a bunch of typical fast-food chains we don't get in Europe. It's not shocking to hear Wannes has gained a ton of weight in the few months he's spent there, even if most of it is muscle from hitting the gym 4x per week.

Speaking of, Americans are big. We stayed at a frat house (during pledge week) and those guys must live in the gym (and all have the same hair dresser). All those college movies you watched growing up, with the keggers and ridiculous parties, are all true. We were invited to one of those parties, and while I'll refrain from sharing the details, it was pretty mental.

Boston is kind of awesome. It's not too big, has great public transportation, a ton of green sites and beer that's affordable, compared to some other places. I'm actually kind of jealous Wannes gets to spend a semester there, even if I think four-five months would be enough. Like New York, I'm pretty sure I'd never want to permanently relocate to Boston, even if it means I would get to watch the Red Sox play on a regular basis. And since we couldn't stay to watch the game from Fenway itself (our flight left on Opening Day), we're kind of obliged to go back at some point. 

So, I think that's about it. The trip home was a bit of a disaster and after spending way too much money in the States, I had to go buy a new laptop first day back in order to work as my old one had crashed (goodbye money). Work and normality resumed the day after we got back, even if I was far from ready for it (I still am not). The busiest sports day of the year is fast approaching (May 2, and it's going to be insane) so there will be little time to readjust. But there's plenty to look forward to in the immediate future, and life is fairly good.

Take care guys, and I'll see you soon. 

(Photo's of the trip can be found here. It's mostly Fenway, I'm afraid)

Song of the Day: A Fenway classic.
Neil Diamond - Sweet Caroline
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NsLyI1_R01M

On Lists and Relatives

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

-Simone and Garfunkel

Hey guys;

Originally, this entry had been planned as some kind of pre-Boston feature. I was planning on making two lists (the subject of said entry), one on fantastic one-liners that ended a film (a discussion we had last week in a bar, think Gone With The Wind's "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" or Das Leben Der Anderen's "Nein, es ist fur mich," which was my personal favourite) followed by a list of things I absolutely want to see in Boston and New York (which I may still put in this entry, providing I actually go to NY, which is somewhat a mistery). If anything, this entry may serve as a clear lesson to myself: Procrastination is a bad thing.  Because I had planned to write this entry for weeks, and I wa sort of looking forward to it.

And then my grandfather died.

Now, some perspective is in order. My mother has been married and divorced three times on the record, and along with those three marriages, she's had two long-term partners. I've never once blamed my mother for anything. She's an incredible woman who has spent the bulk of her life caring for a large family which was subject to change. My mother did everything she could to make sure me and my syblings would never want for anything, no matter what it took. As I was the oldest, we never really connected. She was working or taking care of the kids, and I was on my own more often than not. We never really connected, and I'm okay with that. I love my mother, and I have nothing but respect for her and what she did for my and my brothers and sisters.

But, as a result of those marriages and long-lasting relationships, I have quite an extended family. Vake, as I used to call him, was my sister's grandfather, the father of my mother's second husband. I hadn't seen him in years, just twice since he had a stroke some 10 years ago. We weren't related, but like Herman, his son and my sister's dad, he took care of me for years. He was always kind to me when I was still a child. There's no logical reason for any of that. I was not his grandson. I was just this little kid, who happened to be Maitë's brother, and he took care of me regardless. He was kind, and when my mum divorced his son, we lost all contact. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry we saw each other just twice after all of that went down. 

He died yesterday. He went to play a game of petanque, returned home, sat down at the table, told Moeke he wasn't feeling to good and dropped dead, right there at the table. I was at work when my mother called me to let my know, and I just didn't know what to think. I informed my boss to let them know I might have to cancel a shift due to the funeral, and that was that. I just didn't know. And then I sat down and cried. Maybe for a good 10 minutes, while I tried to eat, I cried and then I was okay. Except I really wasn't. I finished work, went out to have a drink and tried to pretend everything was fine, but it really wasn't. I just couldn't believe Vake was dead, even if he had suffered a stroke a good 10 years ago and had been hanging by a thread ever since. 

Just last week, I was talking to my dad (my real dad) and told him how I wanted to meet up with my mum's second husband, Herman. He had always been so nice to me, treated me like his own son. Compared to others, he was so gentle and just so great. Looking bad on it, I'm almost sorry he never had the chance to really raise me, have been there in my teens. A part of me even wonders how I would have turned out. He was just so unselfish, and so kind. And when he and my mother split up, we never spoke again. I told my real dad I wanted to call him, meet up with him and thank him for everything he did, tell him how much I appreciated it. And three days later, I was calling him to wish him my condoleances on the death of his father. Three days later, I'm the one consoling him. 

I've spent the last several years traveling. Ever since I turned 18, I've spent a good chunk of my time abroad, either teaching surfing or trying to start a new life. During that span, I ruined the only healthy relationship I ever had with a woman, alienated my syblings and built a dam between me and my friends. I know I f*cked up--hell, I remind myself every day. At the time, I thought I was making all the right choices, because millenials are idiots and I'm a prime example. I've since somewhat turned my life around, gotten a decent job and have actually maintained regular contact with the people closest to me. But no matter how you spin it, I've been a bad sybling. A bad brother, a bad son and a bad friend. I've always known this and taken it as a necessary evil. But now, I suddenly realise I've been a bad grandson as well.

This isn't the first grandparent I've lost, nor the closest. I've lost blood relatives before, and it hurt like crap. But perhaps at the time I wasn't old enough to realise what it meant. And maybe now I am. Because this man did everything he could to make sure I was safe, and now he's dead. This man spent so much time looking out for me and keeping me safe, and now he's dead. And like Dominic and my great-grandmother, he died not knowing exactly what he meant to me. And I'm not okay with that. 

I'm really sorry. I'll try and update this blog ahead of Boston and New York to give y'all some kind of update on what I'm looking forward to, something positive for a change. But right now, I just can't. 

Take care, and if you're someone close to me, please understand how much I love you. I really do, even if I don't always show it. 

Song of the Day: Ween - Buenas Tardes Amigo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv-gT9lNa1g

On Tranquility and Peace

“The best place to start an adventure is with a quiet, perfect life . . . and someone who realizes that it can’t possibly be enough.”
-Kevin J. Anderson


Hello dear reader, and welcome to this obligatory update. I fear I have very little news for you, but with the trip to the USA coming up and me not having written in a couple of weeks, I felt as if I had to sit down and start punching some keys or this blog would just sit there and gather dust. With the lone exception of a rather unsettling--and potentially devastating--turn of events regarding my direct family and a minor health scare, which is something I experience roughly every six months, everything has been very quiet. Life sort of carries on like a babbling brook, with few incidents and not too many dark thoughts obstructing my everyday life. This is a very new experience for me, as I usually jump out of my skin when everything is calm like this, but I'm kind of enjoying it. I spend my days working, playing snooker with a friend, going out occasionally and hitting the gym with some consistency. It's all very basic, standard stuff just about every 26-year-old does, and knowing myself I should start bracing because Armageddon is right around the corner (it's when you let your guard down you get hit the hardest). But for now, I'm just fine.

I signed a new contract with the firm I'm currently working with (my third since last March) which included a slight pay-raise, which is always nice. More than the money, it means your hard work is appreciated, something several of my bosses were sure to let me know. I don't think I've ever held a serious, normal job for longer than four months before, and I feel good where I am right now. Sure, I miss working in an office and all of the social interactions that come with it, but there's no reason why that couldn't be on the cards in due time. And in the meantime, I'm perfectly fine with where I am.

So, what have I been up to outside of work? Obviously I'm trying to plan my upcoming trip to see Wannes, Elise and the Land of the Free, although so far I've failed miserably. I bought an actual snooker cue because I could and it's awesome and it was dirt cheap and I think I may have found a new hobby. Carnival is something that usually passes me by, but I actually went to see the parade for a short while before I had to start work (it was awful. The parade, not work). Apart from all that, I've tried to keep up with my social engagements, although, like life in general, things have been fairly quiet on that front. I did have a very lovely evening the other day in the most unexpected way, but going out, I generally spend my time sitting, drinking and immersed in conversations about nerdy TV, literature, politics, football and women (those are the Big Five). 

Speaking of nerdy TV--I'm sure going to miss Parks and Recreation. The Little Engine That Could, but the TV version. After a bloody awful first season, that show completely reinvented itself, somehow stayed alive long enough to broadcast a full seven seasons and produced a ton of lovely characters and fantastic one-liners along the way. I loved the finale (were you watching, Dexter/How I Met Your Mother?), and while Parks was never perfect, it was bloody brilliant, regardless. So was the season finale of Suits, which I seemed to enjoy more than most, and the trailer of Season Six of Community (which, among other things, took aim at its biggest "competitor," The Big Bang Theory, a show I actually watched for four seasons before I had to give up. That is the very definition of a laughing-track-dependent show right there. So lazy). TV is awesome.

I kind of feel like this entry is missing something. I have no intention of explaining what's going on with my family, although any other day I might easily fill this blog with a 600-page essay on brotherhood, empty promises and the uncanny ability humans have of forgetting why we no longer trust people and how it's always the ones we love the most who get away with everything and keep f*cking us over long after they're gone. Likewise, my health is fine now after a not-so-slight scare (I was kind of lying earlier), but those who know me well enough likely already know what that means and those who don't have no business knowing anyway. Sorry.

I'll be taking a decent camera with me to the USA (there are certain photo's we simply have to take. TD Garden, here we come) but I won't be bringing a laptop I think, so while I do plan on somewhat documenting the trip, you may have to wait until it's actually over. I will be available and will post the occasional update via Facebook or Twitter, and if you need to reach me asap, both my British and Belgian phone number still work. If there's anything in particular you'd like me to bring back, please let me know. And if you have any suggestions regarding things we absolutely have to see or do, be sure to drop me a line (we'll be in NY for less than 36 hours, but that part of the trip is going to be a Blitzkrieg anyway, so suggest away). 

Alright, that's it I guess. Take care, and always remember that even though people are perfectly capable of change, self-preservation is far more important than giving someone another chance. At the end of the day, it's never clear whether people are sincere or not, and it's not up to you to let that alter your decisions. What you have to decide on isn't just whether that person is important enough to you to let them back in, but whether or not the consequences of such a reuinion are worth it to begin with (something that can change with time). And as much as it sucks being on the other end of the decision, you can't fault a person for doing what is best for them. Or what they think is best for them. They say humans are selfish creatures--we may as well heed those words and act on it.


Song of the Day: My Morning Jacket - Rocket Man
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JidndXB_kS0

On Anniversaries and Reflection

“I suspect the truth is that we are waiting, all of us, against insurmountable odds, for something extraordinary to happen to us.” 
-Khaled Hosseini



Hey guys,

Sorry for the long wait. So much has happened in the past few weeks (mainly trivial stuff), but I didn't really feel like writing and kept pushing this particular entry ahead of me, until today. As a result, I'll probably have to summarise most of it in an attempt not to turn this into a 10,000-word essay, although that might be a good thing. So, let's get to it.

My birthday. It was actually quite great. I stayed in, had a glass of scotch, read a good book and just enjoyed my me-time. I do lead a busy life these days, so it was nice to just take the weekend off and relax. I had dinner with my dad a few days later and he gave me the coolest birthday present ever (an actual, classic pocket-watch. He gets me), and I'll be seeing the other side of the family this Friday, so all in all, things worked out pretty well.

I crossed the 20-million readers treshold a few weeks ago at work, which is kind of insane. I remember how excited I was when I hit my first million, or how an article with 10k+ readers would impress me, and it's kind of odd to look back at all of that and see how far I've come in a professional capacity. My early work certainly wasn't bad, but man, I've learned so much in the past year or so. And now my work has been read by 20 million people. I have "fans" contacting me on a weekly basis from all over the world, people who rely on me for information (I'm a goddamn blogger with 358 followers on Twitter. Why the hell would you come to me?) and regular readers who bug me when I haven't written about a particular subject in a number of days. The word "career" is something people throw around far too often and something I never really cared about, but if I allow myself to take a step back and just look at what's going on, I wonder why I shouldn't believe it would be possible? Yeah, that's right--me, of all people, could actually be making something of himself.

Onto the SuperBowl. As you might imagine (if you know me at all), I may have lost five years of my life in the span of 30-some minutes. As a Patriots fan, it was utter insanity. The joy of the excellent start, the depression of the meltdown that started late in the second quarter, the utter jubilation when the comeback was on and that sinking feeling of "oh no, not again" inside the final two minutes. I went through all the stages of grief in about 35 seconds and had resigned myself to the fact we would lose yet another SuperBowl on yet another freak catch, and then Malcolm Butler jumped the pick play. I very nearly cried. Sports are amazing. There is nothing in life that can make you feel this way, and I couldn't be happier that this is the year I'm visiting Boston. You can be damn straight I'm going to Patriot Place, visiting Gillette Stadium and spending at least 200 US Dollars on Patriots and Red Sox memorabilia. 

Glad we got the trivial stuff out of the way (I an assure you, the SB did not feel trivial at the time). I guess that means it's time for the real stuff. 

Today is February 19th, which means I wote my very first blogpost exactly one year ago. At the time I hated the idea and I was sure this blog-thingy was going to be a complete disaster, which is why it's a little surprising I managed to produce 42 posts in a single year, with a surprisingly large readership. Of course it had to be 42. Of course.

There's this unwritten rule where, after you make a statement in the vein of "A year ago I did this," it is followed by the words "and much has changed in that time." But I'm not sure that's true. In fact, I know I've changed, and I hope for the better, but outside of the inner workings of yours truly, I can't really see all that many differences. I no longer live in London, although I'm not sure whether that's a permanent state or not. Yes, I'm entertaining the idea of moving back to London, which probably sounds absurd. I've made no final plans yet, but I am covering my bases and I've already talked to several people about it.

London was weird, and by the time I left, I was happy to be coming home. But I miss the place. It's a hard city to leave behind. And even more than the city, I miss how I felt for that brief window of time before I took my trip back home in May. 

I've been back for half a year now, and there's this sense of hopelessness I can't seem to shake. And I feel absolutely terrible for saying that. I love the fact I have regular contact with my friends, who I talk to and see all the time. I love the fact I'm close to my relatives, even if I don't get to see them all that often. And I hate having to say that it just isn't enough. 

The day I left London, I told my closest friend there that I'd be back soon. There was a part of me that knew something didn't feel right, even if the rest of my being was screaming to come back home. I blamed the breakup goggles, as I knew all too well I was uttery miserable just about 95% of the lonely nights I spent there, but that feeling never went away. 

When Donald Glover released his album Because of the Internet, it was accompanied by a short film called Clapping for the Wrong Reasons. And it was weird. Like, hipster, I-was-stoned-while-I-made-this-film weird. But the title stuck with me. From the very moment I decided to come back, I couldn't shake the feeling I was leaving London for the wrong reasons. I told my friend I was making a mistake, and I needed to get confronted by it. I needed to bash my head against the wall until it hurt, more than it ever did before. and maybe that would be the end of it. I've contradicted this statement so many times before, but things need an ending. Things can never be complete without an ending. 

I don't know. Like I said (and regular readers of this blog well know), I was miserable for the vast majority of my time in London, but there was a sense of an actual future for me that I haven't felt since. Maybe I wasn't ready at the time, or old enough to understand what I was doing, but now I am. Or maybe I'm just getting all nostalgic because exactly one year ago, I sat down behind this very computer with tears in my eyes and started typing from my new place in London. Wide-eyed, full of pain, anger, hate, regret and envy, but with half an eye on the promise of a better life. That person is gone now. The memories remain and occasionally surface, but the person is gone. And as frustrating as it is, the new guy has just as many questions. 

We can't have the best of both worlds. I can't live in two places at the same time :) 

Yeah, the nostalgia has kicked in. Time to end this.


Song of the Day: Oscar Peterson Trio - Hymn To Freedom
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpCJ3fqtsws