Dennis in Real Life

Talking about fruition.

2009-02-17T11:17:00.060+01:00

These are the things that have been bothering me for a while now:

I'm not sleeping well lately. I don't know why, but it's getting chronical and it's wearing me out. Some nights I just can't get passed snoozing and wake up every 5 minutes or so, other nights I turn into such a deep sleep that I forget breathing and wake up with a jolt.
Yesterday morning, I opened my eyes and the first thing that went through my, well - neck, was a shot of pain. The muscles stretching from my right shoulder to the pit of my neck were so sore that, in order to not put a strain on them, I had to use both my hands to help lift my head up from my pillow.

I had a hard time making my way down to the bathroom, I barely managed to take a shower and practically had to crawl into my shirt and sweater because I couldn't get my arms above my head.
Worst of all, that very same day I was expected to attend a 4 hour assessment for this job I'm applying for. Sitting at the breakfast table looking around with a neck that felt as flexible as a log, I totally did not feel up to that.
But those are the days that you have to show what you're made of. Those are the days you can't go crying to your mommy and moan about how hard life is. So I kicked myself out of the house and tried to loosen up my muscles as I left the house and walked through the street.
Things were better in the afternoon but I can imagine it must have been weird for people to see my head turning from one side to another like a telescope sticking out of a submarine.
Today, after spending 7 long hours on a torture bed, my muscles feel less sore, but I'm still tired.

I'm not eating well. I'm trying to live on a tighter budget and convince myself I'm eating healthier by not buying meat or getting chips and cookies in the house. Of course, whenever I'm in the store I also forget to buy fruit and that leaves me with nothing of real substance in the fridge. So whenever I'm hungry, I either go for the easy stuff, like pre-cooked lasagna or soup out of a can, or the greasy stuff, like pizza's or french fries.
The worst of it all is that this idea got stuck in my head that me wanting to eat more healthy actually excuses the fact that in general, I still mostly eat unhealthy crap. This is what I do : if I feel guilty about having had yet another burger from McDonald's, I grab an apple on my way home to make amends. I eat the apple and feel better about myself with the first seemingly small but at that time really huge step for me towards a healthier life style. The next day, I buy another apple and eat it, not with as much gusto as the day before, but hey, I got it in the tummy and it still was pretty yummy. But, by the third day, I'm already bored with the taste of apples and become hesitant to buying any other type of fruit. So basically I blame it all on the dull taste of fruit. Compared to so many deliciously tasting unhealthy stuff, fruit is boring. Unless you make a salad out of it. But I'm too lazy for that, too.
By the time this realization kicks in and after having had what I call a "placebo healthy period", I'm back on my way to McD's or the Pizza Hut without any sense of guilt. And that's where my never ending circle of lazy dieting continues.

I'm not feeling very fit. Last year I started this running program and felt very proud about myself because I was able to keep it up for 12 weeks. Then I moved back to Belgium, forgot to bring my running shoes and .. stopped running.
A feeble attempt to do something about my slacking fitness-level was going for a frequent lap in the community Olympic swimming pool. I bought a not so cheap pair of swimming shorts and the first time I went swimming, after say.. about the second stroke, I was already bored out of my mind. When I dragged myself to the pool the second and third time around, I was in fact very proud of myself that I was actually keeping up the "frequent swimming". I haven't gone swimming since, though.
Then, after first having failed to recruit a racket ball buddy, I bought a Nintendo Wii console and got the Wii-Fit Balance Board with it too. It wasn't cheap but I considered it to be an investment in myself. And it meant that now I could do Yoga, fitness and muscle exercises whenever I wanted, without having to go to an after-work Yoga class where I'd need to arch and stick my butt up to the ceiling to impress the Yoga instructor, or go to a fitness center and endure the stench of sweaty gym partners.
The Wii-fit game kept me going for a short while, but after like, well - three weeks or so, I was bored with the way the exercises are presented and carried out.
Meanwhile, I did manage to persuade my cousin to go racket balling with me. I admit I kind of underestimated the devastating effect of having to run around in a small square chamber, trying to hit a rubber ball against a wall but mostly hitting your racket ball partner and smacking your face against the glass instead. Our reserved time slot was one hour, but after 20 minutes we were already sitting flat out against the wall, gulping from our bottles of water and showing symptoms of pneumonia.
OK, we did spend more time playing that day. But we haven't gone back since.

I'm still looking for work. Decent work. Something that pays well enough to pay my rent and the frivolities I give in to every month. Something that challenges me without needing to say my social live goodbye and forces me to get a membership card with the Work-Aholic club.
I've been to numerous job interviews, tried to be enthusiastic and full of optimism every time they've asked me why they should hire me and not someone else, I've been tested and scrutinized in every possible way (well, except medically that is) and it still has left me with nothing.. they really should pay you to go and find a job.. well I guess the government is already doing that in a way.
I should know more about my results by the end of this week.

And when so, that might be the time I can finally bring some more routine into my life: buy more fruit and veggies, plan some cooking time, go running or engage in any sport activity that is frequently planned into my agenda and so soon, hopefully, I will feel better about myself again.

Bachelor's stuff

2008-12-14T16:57:00.038+01:00

I was thinking about some stuff in my life as a bachelor today:

* My sleeping pattern is evolving from a couple's to a single's habit:
10:30 at night does no longer mean "Shit, is it that late already ? I better shut the TV off and go to bed !".
10:30 PM now says: "Alright ! You still have about 3 more hours before you're allowed to go to sleep without feeling like a complete wuss."
I mean, I never thought I'd still have it in me ! Staying up late, crawling out of bed in the morning to get to work and not feeling miserable during the day, except for Fridays (Fridays are usually the worst; by that time people stare at my dark eye sacks and start recommending me their physicians).
But I'm completely rested again after sleeping in late on Saturday mornings (well, 'till 10 AM at best- hey, I'm still learning).

* I'm constantly on the go, chasing my own shadow (or in the late hours running away from it) , I always have to be somewhere and it's making me oblivious to realistic time slots but the adrenaline of my fully booked agenda is making me spin like a chipmunk on crack.

* Food is never an issue: either I eat home-cooked meals in front of the TV, get take-out or go out to eat. Pizza in the morning is as good as cereal for dinner.

* Because of my growing social network, my cell phone bill is reaching dramatic proportions. Apparently I'm such an excessive caller that I'm now receiving phone calls from my mobile phone company to have me switch to a more favorable rate plan. How considerate of them ! And I don't mind this at all. In fact, I welcome any type of phone call as an opportunity to chat even more and with these cheery customer service people calling me, I make it a thing to ask how they are doing today. ;)

* Christmas is around the corner and to be honest with you, I still have no plans whatsoever. I'm afraid Christmas day is going to feel a bit like Judgment Day, like Apocalypse Now, the day when everybody sort of gives up on how things are in the world and look at the ones they love and say; "I'm happy I get to spend this day with you."
You see, I don't really know who I will be saying this to on Christmas day, let alone if someone in particular is going to say this to me, and if that in itself is not a judgment of how my life is today, well.. then I don't know what is.
Yeah sure, you always have family to spend Christmas with but somehow I have no intention to fill in the solo-uncle position, you know, sitting at the Christmas dinner table wearing a red & green wool sweater with prancing reindeer sewn on, smiling painfully and shrugging when asked what kind of exciting things I will be doing this New Year's Eve.

* But hey, at least New Year's Eve brings me hope. Everyone is out on the town, dating or not, looking forward to the same objective that brings everyone together; the shift of a year, the beginning of a new era, the start of something New. I'm still wondering how I am going to celebrate it this year.

A mystical tree

2008-12-03T11:00:00.016+01:00

In Ghent, only a few hundred meters from the Sint-Pieters train station, stands a tree. Not an exceptionally large, small or thick tree; not a tree that you would pick out because it's a peculiar looking tree.

The thing about this tree is that, now that every other tree in the street and the trees in the square in front of the station bare their branches, this tree still voluptuously waves in the wind showing no yellow, orange, brown or red leaves scarred by the passing of fall. Instead, it boasts a lush dome of green leaves, nurtured by the branches they belong to.

It's difficult to notice this particular tree standing right in the middle of the side walk, surrounded by cars, a trash can and bikes casually placed against its bark. But when I passed it one particular day, its image got stuck in my head.

I realized that this wonder of nature does not seem to rely on what's happening outside of its world of Being, nor that its aliveness seem to entirely depend on its environment, even though its surrender to the cycle of things is inevitable.

This tree stands in its power, radiant of life yet with no ambition other than being, from moment to moment, seemingly enjoying going unnoticed by many.

.. except for an occasional pedestrian, just like me that particular day..

Het services- en coachingidee laat me niet los.

2008-12-01T12:25:00.017+01:00

Wie mij al langer kent, weet dat ik al jaren een eigen bedrijfje wil opstarten waarin het 'services' concept centraal staat. Dit houdt in dat eender wie contact kan opnemen met een servicebureau om een oplossing te vinden voor een specifieke behoefte.
Er kunnen kleine zaken nodig zijn, zoals een huis-zitter, een vertaler, iemand die een presentatie kan maken, een boekhouder met specifieke kennis, .. of zelfs grotere projecten zoals het organiseren van een huwelijk, activiteiten voor toeristen, en zelfs trainingen voor bedrijven.

Kortom : als er een vraag is, wordt er voor een aanbod gezorgd !

Nu is ook de idee gegroeid om daaraan een coachingdienst te koppelen. Meer zelfs, het lijkt me plots praktischer om eerst deze coachingdienst op te starten vooraleer van start te gaan met het servicesbureau.

Een eerste hoofdactiviteit van deze coachingdienst wordt het recruiteren van personen die als zelfstandige willen starten, mensen die enerzijds twijfelen aan hun competenties en anderzijds zich de vraag stellen of ze wel voldoende klanten/vraag kunnen vinden om hun zelfstandige activiteit voltijds (en winstgevend) uit te oefenen.

Als tweede wil deze coachingsdienst zelfstandigen coachen in hun competenties, met als doel bekwame en succesvolle ondernemers te lanceren.

Zodra deze coachingsdienst een stevige groep zelfstandigen heeft bijeengezocht, kan met deze groep het servicesbureau worden opgestart; niet alleen zullen deze zelfstandigen dan de taak op zich nemen om het servicesbureau te lanceren, zij zelf zullen ook verantwoordelijk zijn voor het aanbrengen van opdrachten/werk.

Daarbij blijft de coaching van de coachingdienst centraal staan. Hoe kwalitatiever de coaching, des te meer zelfvertrouwen en competentie de zelfstandigen zullen uitstralen om meer werk en klanten aan te trekken. Een perfecte combinatie/motivatie dus!

De visie is er, de motivatie ook, maar de kennis en know-how om dit zelf in praktijk te brengen niet helemaal. En daarom ben ik volop op zoek naar mogelijkheden, contacten, manieren om het toch voor elkaar te krijgen, zonder daarbij mijn eigen groeiproces links te laten liggen.

Vandaag kwam ik op een site terecht van een organisatie die, geloof het of niet, EXACT doet wat ik wil doen als eerste stap, nl het coachen van zelfstandigen en organisaties. En hun hoofdkantoor zit ook heel 'toevallig' nog geen kilometer verder van waar ik nu werk.

Dus ik heb hen vandaag een super enthousiaste mail gestuurd met daarin de vraag naar samenwerkingsmogelijkheden, in de hoop voor hun organisatie te mogen werken en zelf nog heel wat te leren, en wie weet wel de mogelijkheid te krijgen om het services-idee uit te bouwen...

In elk geval was het vinden van deze website voor mij alweer een bevestiging van het feit dat er echt nood is aan individuele coaching voor kleine zelfstandigen en dat er nog steeds een markt is om het service idee op termijn uit te bouwen.

Ook geinteresseerd ? Hier is hun web site : http://www.coachteam.com/home.html

Ondertussen blijven we nog even verder dromen..

Priska

2008-11-26T21:38:00.012+01:00

Ik moet toegeven dat, toen ik gisterenavond thuiskwam en mijn appartement naar kattepis stonk en ik overal plasjes bloed en plasjes vond, ik mijn kwaadheid effe niet meer te boven kwam.

Ten eerste was ik kwaad omdat ik wist dat Priska zich niet goed voelde; de dag daarvoor had ik al gemerkt dat ze om de vijf minuten in de kattebak ging. Maar stillekes hoopte ik dat het van voorbijgaande aard zou zijn. En toen ik gisteravond binnenkwam en Priska de kattebak niet meer uit kwam omdat ze alle urinevocht uit haar pluizige lijf zat te persen, was ik kwaad dat het 'for a change' niet gewoon eens kon overgaan.

Ten tweede plaste ze op de koop toe nog eens op mijn dierbare zwarte rugzak, alsof ze plaste op alles waarvoor die rugzak staat: mijn ontdekkingstochten door New York City, mijn vliegreisjes van LA naar Baltimore en terug, mijn logementjes bij vrienden en familie, en vooral, de dag dat ik die zak kocht en ik besliste dat die rugzak mijn vaste kompaan zou worden op al mijn avonturen. Ik heb al eens zo een rugzak gehad, eentje die veel groter was dan die waar Priska gisteravond eens gezellig op ging piesen. Maar ook die is verprutst geweest door een poes die we uit het asiel hadden genomen zovele jaren geleden.

Dus gisteravond ga ik laat na het werk - het was half 10 savonds, had nog niet gegeten en voor wie mij een beetje kent zie ik dan zowiezo al wat groen als de Hulk - een lekker broodje pita halen, doe ik de deur open van mijn appartement en wordt mijn geurzin overmeesterd door de bedwelmende stank van kattepis.

Ik had veel zin om Priska op te sluiten in haar kenneltje en haar te laten overnachten met wat water en eten tot ik de volgende dag naar de dierenarts kon. Maar dat kreeg ik nooit over mijn hart. En dus ververste ik de kattebakken, gaf ik haar vers water, kuiste ik het bad uit (waar Simba had ingepist omdat hij niet in de kattebak kon omdat Priska daar de hele tijd inzat) en dweilde ik de vloer ook maar meteen, en tegen een uur of 11 ben ik dan volledig uitgeblust in de zetel gezakt, waar ik toch nog een paar druppeltjes had overgeslagen.. gelukkig op de zetelovertrek.. dus heb ik die eraf getrokken om in de was te steken, heb ik mijn handen flink gewassen en ben ik in bed gekropen. En heerlijk geslapen ook, ik mag niet klagen.

Vandaag dan weer een heel ander verhaal. Met Priska naar de dierenarts die hier een paar straten verder zit. Heel hartelijk onthaald geweest en het schattigste ooit meegemaakt: Priska zit op tafel en ik ben haar over haar kopje aan het strelen om haar gerust te stellen voor de prik die ze zo meteen zal krijgen. Plots kruipt ze naar mij toe, zet ze zich op haar poep, legt ze haar twee witte pootjes op mijn borst en kijkt ze naar mij op alsof ze vraagt om haar op te pakken en over mijn schouder te leggen. Op slag was ik heel het pisverhaal van de avond ervoor vergeten, en werd Priska weer mijn kleine flinke meid.

En terug thuis was ze weer liever dan ooit. Flodderen, ronken, en ze voelt zich weer een pak beter lijkt het want nu huppelt ze weer rond en zit ze niet voortdurend in de kattebak te scharrelen..

Pets - you hate 'em, you love 'em.

Rust in de omgeving brengt rust vanbinnen.

2008-11-25T20:15:00.007+01:00

De voorbije dagen heb ik geëxperimenteerd.

Ik ben normaal heel open over wat ik denk, voel, en ik praat vaak vol enthousiasme over mijn ideëen, plannen, en dromen. Als ik daar niet over kan vertellen barst ik gewoon kapot. :)

Ik bedenk scenario's bij verschillende situaties en vind het dan heel fijn om daarover te filosoferen. Alleen ben ik soms zo serieus bezig met het filosoferen en dromen en plannen dat het ook lijkt alsof ik ook alles echt van plan ben. Terwijl ik op dat moment alleen de mogelijkheid wil beleven van het waarmaken van die plannen.

Ik moedig mezelf aan in de idee dat alles mogelijk is, dat alles realiseerbaar is, al is het maar om tien minuten stilzwijgend en dromend op de tram te beleven hoe het voelt om de lotto gewonnen te hebben, of het gevoel te hebben dat ik morgen mijn koffers moet inpakken om een job in Nieuw zeeland te gaan uitvoeren, .. en daar draait het voor mij dan vooral om: dat even kunnen beleven: stealing moments; if you will.

Maar mijn omgeving buigt niet even gemakkelijk mee. Die volgt mij niet even soepel in het beleven van die mogelijkheden. En dat kan ook niet natuurlijk. Het ligt ook vaak aan de manier waarop ik de dingen vertel..

En dat is waar mijn "experiment" over gaat:

Ik hou voortaan de beleving van deze mogelijkheden voor mezelf. Ik ben even niet meer zo 'open'. Dat is niet alleen gemakkelijk voor mijn omgeving, maar ook voor mezelf, want dan hoef ik mij tenminste niet voortdurend te verantwoorden.. al is het natuurlijk jammer dat ik mijn enthousiasme niet meer kan delen.

Maar eerlijk gezegd doet het wel even goed zo, op deze manier.

Rust in de omgeving brengt rust vanbinnen. Of andersom ? :)

Don't read this if you're easily grosed out.

2008-09-25T07:05:00.021+02:00

It started the day before yesterday. I felt this weird prickly sensation in my face. Something was off, and I just knew my face would have a little surprise for me the next morning.

"A little surprise" was kind of an underestimation. A zit the size of a tomato was throbbing right below my right eye.. Not a small, cutesy dot with a white head on top ready to pop out. No, the thing looked like a nipple, glowing bright red like a traffic light and probably still expanding as I studied it in the mirror and analyzed the damage it would do to the aesthetics of my face.

The only thing that mattered to me was; how are people at work going to respond to this ? I have students at my desk all the time, and I need to look them straight in the eye when I do my interviews. With this boil of puss throbbing in my face I was not going to be taken seriously. So my immediate reaction was: how well can I cover this up. I thought of massaging it, hoping that it would shrink in size, but it didn't. Instead, it started to swell even more. I panicked and called my friend Els, who lives about a block away, told her about my pimple emergency and asked her if she had some cover up make-up. I felt like a junkie looking for a quick fix. Luckily she did.

I applied a thick layer of brown make-up to the bump on my face. It was still visible, but it would need a trained eye to notice. I prayed that with a day of not touching the thing, it would be ready to pop out by dinner making it able to heal overnight and be done with it in the morning.

But that night it was still there, alive and kicking - man, how it was throbbing - and there was no white stuff surfacing at all. My friend Lore recommended putting some toothpaste on it; she said she'd learned that this dries out zits. So I did. I went to sleep with a dash of minty fresh toothpaste on my cheek and slept like a baby.

The next morning, as I raised my hand to ground zero on my face, the first thing I noticed was how swollen my cheek still felt. I peeled myself from my bed, hurried my way to the bathroom and freaked - out. Not only was that that zit still there, I now had a bag under my right eye the size of a water balloon. It looked like someone had punched me in the face last night.

So right now, as I'm typing this, my eye is swollen, there's a big boil of puss waiting to give birth, and I have two pledgets sticking out of my nostrils because I still have a freaking cold and snot is running out of my nose.

What a hell of a week this is.

Update : solliciteren is FT werken.

2008-08-20T14:31:00.004+02:00

Maandagochtend: een hele dag cv's versturen, naar interimkantoren bellen en vacatures opzoeken op VDAB, Monster en Jobat. Het resultaat: 4 afspraken waarvan 1 bij een interimkantoor.

Dinsdag: om 16u een gesprek bij Educadomo in Antwerpen. Een SUPER gesprek gehad met een zekere Karen, de job is ENORM interessant: het zoeken van studenten die bijles willen geven aan lagere of secundaire schoolkinderen, en ook het bijschaven van kennis voor bachelorstudierichtingen. Ik zou dan de werving doen van studenten, de intake gesprekken, het opleiden van deze studenten, het plaatsen bij gezinnen, en natuurlijk de opvolging van de dossiers zoals vordering van de kinderen en het aanspreekpunt bij vragen/problemen van de coaches.
Karen ging mij voorleggen aan de algemeen directeur: daar zou ik dan nog een tweede gesprek mee moeten hebben vooraleer ik kan starten. Daarvoor heb ik vandaag al een telefoontje gekregen; vrijdag kan ik op een tweede gesprek !

Woensdag; Vandaag dus; deze ochtend een gesprek bij het selectiebureau waarmee ik samenwerkte vanuit het OZ. Ik kende de verantwoordelijke daar ook al; Jan, waarmee ik een goed contact onderhield toen ik nog werkte op de personeelsdienst. Ze hebben een gloednieuw en supersjiek kantoor op het eilandje in Antwerpen; behoorlijk indrukwekkend om daar binnen te wandelen met je cv'tje. :)
We hebben een heel uiteengezet, vermoeiend maar aangenaam gesprek gehad over de functie, hun verwachtingen, mijn verwachtingen, mijn ervaring, hun ervaring. :) Gelukkig moet ik ook geen testen meer doen; die heb ik bij hen al gedaan voor het OZ toen..
Het gesprek was heel positief, zei Jan me nog op het einde. Hij ging er een nachtje over slapen en mij morgen, donderdag dus, laten weten of ik vrijdag voor een 2e gesprek kan langskomen om eens te zien hoe het contact met de rest van het team verloopt. Dat is altijd een beetje 'roosteren' op de grill vind ik. En ook; ik heb maar 1 blazer waarmee ik ga solliciteren, heb vooral casual kleren in mijn kast hangen.. dus voor vrijdag zal ik waarschijnlijk nog een ander hemdje moeten gaan halen en mss ook nette schoenen.. want het is al te stom om vrijdag met dezelfde kleren binnen te gaan :). Ik heb zowiezo nog nette schoenen nodig en eigenlijk ook wel terug meer 'volwassen' kledij. :)
Nu, de job op zich spreekt me wel aan, maar veel minder dan die bij Educadomo. atrecrtmnt zoekt iemand die zich deeltijds gaat bezig houden met het selecteren, interviewen en testen van vooral hogere IT-profielen. Dwz, op zoek gaan naar kandidaten, gesprekken voeren, testbatterijen laten afnemen en verslagen opmaken en ze dan aan de klant voorstellen. Een tweede luik is commercieel werk (prospectie, offertes opmaken, enz) en een pak administratie. Vooral voor het commercieel werk voel ik niet veel. Ik heb ook de indruk dat dit weer een job gaat zijn waar ik mij 200 % ga moeten inzetten waardoor ik weer geen energie ga hebben om de studie onderwijs aan te vangen. Hun vorige recruiter had een Master Psychologie, net afgestudeerd, en heeft na een jaar afgehaakt omdat de job te zwaar was. Nu, ik heb geen hoog diploma, maar wel 7 jaar ervaring en sta al wat meer met mijn voetjes op de grond. Even een nachtje over slapen dus. Ik weet wel zeker dat als Educadomo groen licht geeft, ik onmiddellijk bij hen van start wil gaan !

Deze namiddag ben ik me kunnen gaan inschrijven bij de VDAB als werkzoekende. Ik heb me ook een attest aangevraagd waarmee ik donderdag voor slechts 2 euro heen en terug naar Melle kan gaan solliciteren. En ze hebben mij ook aangeraden om toch es op de RVA te gaan horen of ik geen werkloosheidsuitkering kan krijgen, aangezien ik ook in de VS heb gewerkt. Ik heb net nagelezen op de RVA site dat je echter minstens 1 dag als loontrekkende volgens belgisch recht moet gewerkt hebben wil je aanspraak kunnen maken op deze uitkering. Vind ik heel stom, want waarom zou je nog een uitkering willen navragen nadat je bent beginnen werken? of andersom, wat is het nut van een uitkering als je moet wachten tot je eenmaal bent beginnen werken ?
In elk geval is alles welkom. Ik ga mijn paperassen bijeensprokkelen en volgende week maandag een uitkering proberen aan te vragen. Als ik dan begin te werken (hopelijk volgende week), krijg ik toch ook mooi nog wat geld bijgestort van de RVA !

Vanavond ga ik nog naar een infosessie van Cambio: dat is een wagen-uitleenpark waarop je je kan abonneren. Je kan dan een wagen boeken voor een paar uur om bv boodschappen te gaan doen of iemand te gaan bezoeken. Heel handig dus als ik eens met de wagen naar vrienden wil die wat verder wonen, of eens naar de ikea moet of grote boodschappen wil gaan doen.
Voorlopig ben ik dan ook nog niet van plan een wagen te kopen, en is deze cambio een perfecte oplossing voor de grotere 'mobiliteitsvraagstukken'. uhum. :)

Donderdagochtend: het langverwachte gesprek bij Eandis. Tijd om er te geraken: 1u10minuten. Als ik geen trein of bus mis uiteraard. Ik hoop dat het vlot zal gaan. de job is enorm interessant, ook de voordelen van het werken bij Eandis zijn heel leuk (oa 30% korting op je energiefactuur, je leven lang!). Ook hier is het nog afwachten of het een job is waarbij ik het ook zal aankunnen de studie onderwijs de combineren. Ik probeer in elk geval zonder verwachting naar daar te gaan, te luisteren wat ze te bieden hebben, mijn verhaal te doen, en dan zien hoe snel er bij hen een beslissing kan genomen worden.

Donderdag namiddag springen we dan voor de lol nog even binnen in een interimkantoor in St. Niklaas: ze hadden daar een vacature voor HR assistant ergens in de waaslandhaven.. ik heb hen al verteld dat ik daar niet geraak, maar mss hebben ze nog andere jobs, wie weet. Je kan nooit op genoeg paarden wedden.

Vrijdagochtend heb ik ook nog een gesprek bij een selectiebureau in Kontich, om mij in te schrijven en te zien welke vacatures ze hebben aan te bieden. Ze hebben mij zelf gebeld, en das altijd een extra motivatie omdat je dan weet dat ze toch iets met je kunnen aanvangen.

Misschien ga ik vrijdagnamiddag dan nog even langs atrecrtmnt voor een tweede gesprek, en kan ik ook bij Educadomo langs voor een tweede gesprek om 16u30, zodat ik ten vroegste vrijdag, ten laatste volgende maandag kan kiezen uit alle opties.. er van uitgaande dat er opties zullen zijn tenminste :)

Vrijdagavond eindelijk wat ontspanning; gaan bowlen in Sint Niklaas!

Zaterdagavond ben ik heel de dag op het trouwfeest van mijn zus in Nijlen.

En zondag wordt het net zoals voor iedereen ook voor mij een echte rustdag. Die avond pik ik nog een concertje mee van Milow in het Rivierenhof. :)

Tot zover dus!

Born in the Eighties

2008-08-15T13:29:00.001+02:00

I grew up in the 90's at least that's what I tried
looking for ways to be satisfied
I went to San Diego to try out my luck
came back 12 months later and again I was stuck
I felt like a goldfish stuck in a bowl
I was waiting for something that I could control
after 2000 no longer a kid
the world didn't end but something else did
when my father takes off I'm already 19
he wasn't as happy as I thought he seemed
if this is my screenplay I don't like my role
these are the things that you just can't control

although I feel a lot older I'm just 23
if you're looking for answers don't come to me
instead of a future I've got a guitar
but dreaming out loud won't get me far
still I feel I'm ready for rock'n roll
there might be something that I can control
by the time I hit 30 I'll have enough
of being a twentysomething in love
my friends will all be married or they will be gone
me, I'll still be wondering what's going on
if that's what it takes then I'll sell my soul
as long as there's something that I can control

one day I'll wake up and I'll be 38
doing the things I used to hate
the trick to forget the bigger picture is when
you look at everything in close-up as often as you can
our revolution is covered in mold
there's only so much you can control
this is no anthem because anthems are proud
and pride isn't something that this is about
I shouldn't care shouldn't care
but I do and that's sometimes too hard to bear
still walking the same road with my shoes full of holes
just waiting for something that we can control

if I ever reach 50 or 65
too early to tell if I'll still be alive
we were born in the 80's and now we are here
my generation's dream will disappear
I'm at a graveyard passing the rows
a silent surrender we'll never get close

this is my story you swallowed it whole
about us feeling the need to be in control

-Milow-

De trein is altijd een beetje peinzen

2008-07-25T08:05:00.018+02:00

Ik had gehoopt vandaag een blog te kunnen schrijven over rare mensen die ik ben tegengekomen op de trein, over hoe een lallende zatlap in mijn schoot kwam te liggen en ik hem met een por het gangpad in heb moeten duwen, of hoe een groepje jongeren headbangden op loeiharde muziek en de conducteur gewapend met een kaartjesknipper zich door de etterende bende een weg baande, of hoe, na de Gentse feestvreugde, zwalpende meiden hun stoelen onderkotsten en iedereen in de kabine dan vrolijk meedeed aan het barf-fest.
Maar nee niks van dat, wat zijn het allemaal toch brave mensen in Vlaanderen.

De rit naar Gent Sint-Pieters verliep kalm, ook al zat de trein stampvol. Alleen opgeladen toeristen die van Gent hun 'Sin City' wilden maken voor een nacht. Hun enthousiasme konden ze nog nét bedwingen.

De terugweg naar Antwerpen boeide al evenmin. De trein zat weer overladen vol; ik stond verplicht de hele weg recht, en toch heerste er rust in de trein, een stilte die alleen werd doorbroken door het hobbelende geluid van de sporen, het gezoem van stille gesprekken en af en toe de rollende keelgeluiden van een knorrend oud dametje.

Het valt op hoe voyeurisme opleeft in een trein. Wanneer buiten de nacht valt en het binnenlicht van de trein de kalme passagiers belicht, veranderen de ramen in glasheldere spiegels. Nieuwsgierige ogen schieten dan van links naar rechts, verlegen glimlachjes wisselen via het vensterraam en hormonale pubers beloeren stiekem een paar decoltés.

Het laatste kwartier van mijn rit had ik medelijden met een jong meisje dat naast een oude pee zat en zijn in een notendop gestoken levensverhaal moest aanhoren. Wanneer de bejaarde naar de woonplaats vroeg van het meisje vond ik de situatie toch maar wat creepy. Maar verschrompelde bibberende handen en een van zijn kleindochter geleend K3-rugzakje verraadde dat buiten een gezonde interesse in zijn jonge gesprekspartner, er niets dan goede intenties zat in deze man.

Deze zaterdag doen we het allemaal nog eens over. Het is dan weekend; misschien hebben we dan wat meer spannende verhalen te vertellen over het reizen met de trein.

Everybody smokes in Europe !

2008-07-22T14:29:00.005+02:00

Another culture shock coming from LA to Belgium: everybody in Europe seems to smoke! I'm sitting on the corner of the Groenplaats and it seems like I can't see anyone not smoking like 10 packs of cigarettes a day. Everywhere I go, nicotine fumes waft up my nostrils. Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating on the spot.

Right now, I'm enjoying a VERY small diet coke, no ice, for 2 VERY expensive euro's and there are 4 teens smoking their brains out, blowing processed nicotine my way. I feel like saying something, but there's a smoker's posse occupying the tables outside, as in, EVERY SOUL sitting outside is smoking. I'd probably unleash a smoker's revolution if I stood up and make a comment about it. Oh yeah, for the smart asses in the crowd: no, I'm will not be forced to go and sit in the 'Smoking only' section. ;)

But it's not just here; I realized that a lot of my friends still smoke; when we go out, lighting a cigarette is the first thing they do. And it's not that I mind people smoking, I mind the smoke that they don't keep to themselves, I hate the smell of ash tray in my clothes after a good night out.

Smoking is NOT cool. Smoking is NOT a social thing, if you quit smoking, you won't quit socializing, trust me.

Europe, stop smoking ! Not only the air, but also the streets will be clean again.. And best of all, everybody will be able to enjoy an expensive diet Coke on a sunny afternoon.

Appartement in de sjakos !

2008-07-20T20:36:00.003+02:00

Een week vol terrasjes doen, op restaurant gaan, feestjes geven en vriendenbezoekjes achter de rug en we hebben weeral goed nieuws: mijn volgend adres wordt Brouwerstraat nr 11 in Berchem ! Een gezellig straatje met bloemetjes en zo goed als geen verkeer, vlakbij het station en de tram naar 't stad, en ook dicht bij vrienden ! Een House warming party mag je verwachten rond 1 oktober !

En er zijn zelfs al fotootjes:

Dank u dank u Els om het mij het appartementje van uw mama aan te raden ! :)

Het feestje vrijdagavond was trouwens super. Goed bijgebabbeld, iedereen was in form, veel gelachen en gedronken. ;) Ook hier enkele fotootjes van te zien, we hebben jammer genoeg wel niet iedereen op foto !

Ondertussen kijk ik er naar uit om eindelijk op een paar sollicitatie gesprekken te gaan. Deze week verwacht ik nog een gesprek bij Dredging te gaan doen, de week daarop nog een interview bij het OZ. Tussendoor kijk ik nog op de VDAB naar andere vacatures; heb er eentje gezien om de admin te gaan doen bij Media Markt: voor de personeelskorting alleen al zou ik het doen; dan kan ik mijn flatscreen en surround system goedkoper in huis halen !

Ik moet bekennen dat ik niet elke dag vol positiviteit rondloop; af en toe heb ik momenten dat ik moe ben en denk: was ik maar al gewoon aan het werk; zeker van een inkomen; zat ik al maar in mijn zetel in mijn appartement, alles geregeld, genietend van een filmpje met wat vrienden, of een lekkere maaltijd aan het koken voor mezelf. Ik kijk er echt naar uit om mijn stulpje super gezellig in te richten zodat ik mij er de komende jaren in mag thuis voelen, als een warme cocon waarin ik mijn toevlucht vind na een lange werkdag.

Met al het plannen is het een uitdaging om echt in het NU te blijven; het is verleidelijk om te denken aan het solli-gesprek dat nog moet komen of te hunkeren naar het moment dat ik de deur van mijn eigen thuis achter mij kan dichttrekken, terwijl ik nu al in een gezellig huis zit. Deze week zit ik even alleen; vanavond nog eens een echte belgische TV avond met wat chips en een lekkere hoegaarden. Genieten; genieten, en nog eens genieten. :)

Zorgenvrij leven

2008-07-19T11:30:00.001+02:00

Vandaag ergens gelezen:

" If you have trouble getting in touch with your carefree side, focus on how things feel instead of worrying whether you look silly. "

Een waarheid als een koe. Meuh.

Antwerpen herontdekt

2008-07-18T12:31:00.003+02:00

Gisteren op m'n eentje door het stad gekuierd. De tram naar de opera genomen om de 'tour de shopping' te doen maar toen ik boven kwam was ik heel effe mijn kluts kwijt. Ik wandelde vol moed de leien af maar dan richting justitiepaleis in plaats van Keyserlei. Pas toen ik het vreemd vond dat ik de kruising met de Meir nog niet was tegengekomen viel mijne 'frang'. (Ja, mijn Antwerps begint stilaan terug te komen. ;))

Wat mij meteen opviel was hoe alles hier veramerikaanst is: smoothies overal, Ben & Jerry's (maar toch geen strawberry cheesecake te vinden!), Mc Donalds, en ook klerenwinkels die de amerikaanse mode hebben overgenomen.
Vreemd genoeg was er ook overal Engels te horen; allicht zal er die dag net een Amerikaans cruiseship aangemeerd geweest zijn in Antwerpen. De straten liepen vol met jeugd die lachend en springend over de Meir en de Groenplaats paradeerde en de belgische jongeren zonder hoodies en teensletsen het nakijken gaf.

Onmiddellijk viel het mij ook op hoe goedkoop cd's en dvd's hier zijn ! Super titels van de voorbij jaren aan 6 euro t'stuk ! Ik kom met mijn eerstvolgende pré nog wel wat filmtitels shoppen. Hmzz.

In het midden van de Meir is de oude stadsfeestzaal helemaal vernieuwd tot een ultra modern shoppingcenter, en in het midden is er een Laurent Perrier cafe gevestigd zodat je er gouden champagne bubbels kunt gaan drinken. Op de eerst verdieping kan je nu naar een nieuwe multimedia winkel die sterk concurreert met Media markt; mocht ik al aan het werk geweest zijn was ik nu allicht een flat screen, surround system, 20 dvd's en 10 cd's rijker, of gewoon armer ja; tis maar hoe je't bekijkt.

Ondertussen heeft de werkzoektocht al een leuke kans opgebracht: Randstad Beveren bood me een vacature aan als HR professional bij Dredging International, een van de grootste baggerbedrijven in de wereld. De voertaal is Engels, en dat is natuurlijk leuk meegenomen. Minpunt; het ligt in de waaslandhaven en is niet bereikbaar met het openbaar vervoer, dus een auto zal dan wel noodzakelijk zijn. Maar, gezien de interessante loonsvoorwaarden en doorgroeimogelijkheden zou dat best wel kunnen. Ik was gisteren ook nog gaan kijken naar tweedehandswagens bij de VAB-VTB in zwijndrecht en daar stonden er al een paar interessante tussen. Op krediet te kopen dan weliswaar.

Natuurlijk is het allemaal nog even afwachten; geen auto nodig hebben is uiteraard ideaal, het openbaar vervoer hier rond Antwerpen is al zo uitgebreid dat je best zonder kan. En ja, een trein nemen naar Sint Niklaas voelt nog aan als de metro in NY nemen :). Maar je vrienden gaan opzoeken in de verre uithoeken van Belgie is al wat minder evident. Ach, we zullen wel zien.

Vandaag nog een paar bakken bier gaan halen voor het feestje van vanavond; ik kijk er naar uit om iedereen nog eens terug te zien !

Job jacht

2008-07-17T11:20:00.004+02:00

Ik heb helemaal niet het gevoel 'back in reality' te zijn, integendeel, ik betrap me er op in vakantiestemming te zijn; terrasjes doen, bezoekjes afleggen aan vrienden en familie, gisteren nog lekker gaan eten en drinken in Antwerpen terwijl het zonnetje af en toe tevoorschijn kwam en mij onvermijdelijk deed vergeten dat mijn allerbelangrijkste prioriteit het vinden van werk is.

En het is net dat waar ik nu geen zin in heb; ik weet niet of het ligt aan het feit dat ik een half jaar geleden ook op zoek was naar werk en dat het continu checken van online vacatures, overtuigende sollicitatie brieven schrijven en uitputtende sollicitatiegesprekken voeren mij met een aversie voor job hunting heeft opgezadeld, of het idee dat ik misschien gewoon bij mijn vorige werkgever aan de slag zal kunnen en het dus een waist of time is om te solliciteren voor andere vacatures.

En wat voor vacatures, administratief bediende; offertes opmaken, telefoons - EIKES ! Of Contact center agent: veel bla bla aan de telefoon met zeikerds die niks anders te doen hebben dan klagen. Of verkoop; doen alsof je DE oplossing hebt die uw leven zal veranderen - naaah; niks voor mij.

Wat wil ik dan wel doen ? Ik moet bekennen, nog geen jaar geleden zou het mij niet veel hebben uitgemaakt. Nu wil ik gewoon iets vinden waar ik mijn rekeningen mee kan betalen, mijn studies mee kan combineren en vooral, een job waar ik niet van in slaap val of afstomp.

Ik ga vandaag ten rade bij de interimkantoren in Antwerpen. Ik heb geen fut om mezelf via CV's en solli-brieven te verkopen aan de bedrijven zelf, laat de uitzendconsulenten dat maar voor mij doen. Stuur mij op pad, oh commerciele consulenten en laat mij maar babbelen op een sollicitatiegesprek; zo komt het zeker goed !

Terug in België

2008-07-15T18:14:00.004+02:00

Een blog in het Nederlands ? Jaaa, terug in Belgie is opnieuw in het Nederlands schrijven, en het is nodig ook want ik ben al drie keer aan deze blog begonnen en telkens opnieuw denk ik, naaah, dit leest niet vlot.

Deze blog gaat iets stijver klinken vrees ik maar het komt wel los. Ik moet, want binnen twee maand wordt het Nederlands mijn 'specialisatie'; ik ga me tijdens mijn opleiding leerkracht onderwijs verdiepen in het Engels en Nederlands om het later aan middelbare school kinderen te kunnen lesgeven.

De vlucht naar huis is vlot verlopen. Ik sta er altijd van versteld hoe breed die airbussen zijn en krijg dan het gevoel op een ruimteschip te stappen. Wanneer ik de 'first class' doorwandel denk ik, waarom kunnen ze first class niet achteraan het vliegtuig zetten ? Met lede ogen moet je als tweedeklasser aanzien hoe zakenmensen en VIPS in hun luxe stoelen achterover zakken en de mooiste stewardessen van de crew hen gratis drankjes glimlachend staan te serveren.

Niet voor mij weggelegd dus. Ik check het nummer van mijn zitje op mijn ticket en zoek naar 13-H, 'aisle seat'. De toiletten staan in het midden van het vliegtuig en natuurlijk is dat ook net de plaats waar ik zit. Great. 7 uur lang geur plezier.

Gelukkig zit er in 13-I een jonge meid die vriendelijk goeiedag zegt wanneer ik mijn koffer in de baggage ruimte steek. Ik schrik even op wanneer ik met mijn gezicht op een tulband stoot die met een draai veranderd in een overmatig behaard gezicht waar een gemoffelde "mag ik mijn koffer in jou baggage ruimte steken?" door klinkt. Ik knik ja - misschien wordt ik zo wel gespaard tijdens zijn mogelijke hijacking van het vliegtuig.

Veel slapen doe ik nooit tijdens een vlucht. Ik kan met moeite wat indommelen terwijl voorbijrollende karretjes en spelende kinderen op mijn linkerarm en zijbeen inbeuken.
Gelukkig heb ik babbelmaatje 13I, Amber, een Amerikaanse die in Oregon woont maar jaarlijks op bezoek gaat bij haar familie in Brussel. Frans spreekt ze een beetje, Nederlands kent ze niet en dus is Engels tot aan de landing in Zaventem de voertaal, af en toe onderbroken door aankondigingen in het frans, nederlands en gebrekkig Engels. Wat is dat wennen ! Nederlands zien staan op de schermpjes lijkt ook zo onecht.

En dan eindelijk, door het raampje zie ik de rode dakpannen van de dorpjes rond Brussel, de uitgestrekte boerenvelden en de grijze wolken boven het landschap voorbij glijden; ik ben weer in Belgie. De luchthaven van Zaventem ligt er maar verlaten bij. Weinig verkeer in de terminal, alleen vlucht 714 vanuit Washington staat aan de baggage band te wachten.

De eerste indrukken zijn de meest verrassende : zoveel Europese auto's ! Zoveel verkeersborden overal ! Zo snel dat ze hier rijden ! Zo krap op elkaar allemaal !
Onderweg een koffietje drinken in een weg restaurant is ook een ervaring: een mini bekertje kost 2 euro ! Gedaan met de royale Starbucks cups. En nog: je moet hier betalen om naar het wc te gaan ! Mijn eerste frustratie steekt al op.. en het zal niet bij deze keer blijven. Ik vind het schandalig dat ze geld durven te vragen om uw hoogdringende behoefte te doen.

De eerste dagen in Belgie lijkt op een 'trip down memory lane'. Nutteloze informatie zoals 'wat is de naam ook weer van die hamburger in Quick ? GIANT !' wordt weer opgefrist, het plattegrondje van Antwerpen haal ik in mijn brein weer naar boven (hier geen zuid west noord oost, maar bordjes volgen tot in de gemeentes), euro's lijken echt op monopolie geld, en ja, op een onbewaakt moment verontschuldig ik me nog in het Engels.

Al een aantal dagen hoor ik geen gesproken Engels meer en dat doet raar. Ik mis het zo hard dat ik soms de tv hier opzet, gewoon om me effe weer 'thuis' te voelen. Een mens past zich toch snel aan..

En zo rustig dat het hier is ! Bijna geen verkeer, weinig politie sirenes,.. Antwerpen op zondag middag lijkt doodverlaten. Waar zit iedereen toch ?

Wat is er allemaal veranderd tov vorig jaar ? Nog niet al te veel denk ik ? Het leven is duurder geworden, Kanaal 2 noemt nu 2B maar ze geven nog altijd dezelfde programma's, Hanna Montana is zelfs een bekend sterretje aan het worden hier, en smoetties *RIL* Komaan Vlamingen, spreek het goed uit : SMOOTHIES !!) zijn een echte rage.

Een lijstje frustraties:
- Veel geld betalen voor een klein glaasje cola en geen refill krijgen.
- Betalen voor wc's,
- Geen goeiedag meer krijgen bij het binnenwandelen van winkels, of gewoon op straat,
- Geen gezellige babbels meer in winkels, op bussen, etc. Ik wandelde daarnet de kapper binnen en vroeg uit gewoonte 'alles goe' en dat leken ze maar heel raar te vinden.
- de overbeleefdheid van belgen : "Zo meneer, u mag gaan zitten',
- de muziek op de radio; te veel dance en rare muziek,
- mijn online shows niet meer kunnen zien; nu is het minstens 3 jaar wachten op reeks 5 van desperate housewives.

Een lijstje van 'aaah's, dit heb ik gemist.'
- Een boke met kwatta choco
- Een pak friet met mammoet saus.
- Een terrasje doen met vrienden en een Hoegaarden drinken
- Pistolets, sandwiches, gouda kaas, curry ketchup, etc etc

Ik geef toe dat ik weinig tijd heb gehad om de blog te updaten de voorbije dagen, maar dat gaat weer beteren zodra ik weer helemaal ben gesetteld.

Mijn roomietje Els heeft zo haar best gedaan om mij te verwelkomen in haar huis. Mijn kamer is gezellig ingericht met zeteltjes, een dubbelbed en een computerkastje. Ik heb zelfs een aparte kamer waar ik mijn rommel en kleren kan leggen. Perfect dus.

Gisteren had ik ook nog een sollicitatiegesprek voor 'Permanent Verantwoordelijke' in Jeugdcentrum 'Den Eglantier." Een half uur na het afgesproken uur werd ik dan eindelijk naar binnen geroepen; er zat 9 man naar mij te staren terwijl er langs alle kanten vragen werden gesteld. Ik voelde me letterlijk op de rooster gelegd worden maar ik heb me koel kunnen houden. Al bij al viel het best mee, behalve wanneer de oudste van de groep mij vragen begon te stellen over het gebrek aan mijn 'christelijke' interesse. Ik heb bij het Onafhankelijk Ziekenfonds gewerkt en hij vroeg zich af of ik wel voeling had met de christelijke waarden. Wablief. Ik heb gezegd dat ik best achter de christelijke waarden sta en vind ook dat ieder vrij is om te geloven wat die wil.
"Ja maar, wat is er voor de jeugd aan de gang vandaag?"
'Eur, zoeken naar identiteit ?"
'Nee, ge snapt ni wat ik bedoel ; waar houden ze zich mee bezig nu ?"
"Eh ?"
"Ja, awel, de paus zit in australie en.. BLA BLA BLA" hier ben ik gestopt met luisteren.
"ik zie het al, blijkbaar weet ge ni veel van christelijke zaken."

JA zeg.

Het loon is niet om over naar huis te schrijven; het ligt rond de 2000 bruto, en heb er geen idee meer van hoeveel ik daar nu netto van zou overhouden. Het is weekend werk en ook occassioneel avondwerk, en dat zie ik zo niet echt zitten.

Dus allicht wordt dit niks. Volgende week donderdag gaan ze mij nog iets laten weten.

Maar eigenlijk hoop ik opnieuw bij het OZ te kunnens starten. Ik ken het daar al, ze hebben daar veel voordelen (glijtijden ! verlof ! maaltijdcheques ! Hospitalisatieverzekering ! etc) en dat vind ik wel belangrijk.

Verder geniet ik best van mijn nieuwe leventje. Het is nog heel pril, maar mijn vrienden dichtbij hebben en nu zonder veel gedoe kunnen afspreken voor een terrasje of een bezoekje aan huis is een hele opluchting.

Er staat nog heel wat op het programma: werk vinden, appartementje vinden, inboedel bij een verzamelen, gsm nummer aanvragen, inschrijven op het gemeentehuis, bezoekjes afleggen, naar walibi gaan, enzovoorts.

Stof genoeg dus voor toekomstige blogs ! Ik ben moe. Slaapwel !

PS. check out the new movie trailer: WALL-E ! (Helemaal onderaan)

Crappy 4th of July - ode to America

2008-07-05T14:14:00.033+02:00

We were eager to see the fireworks and 4th of July Parade in Washington, DC and so we left Thursday night for a friend's house in Silver Spring near the Capitol. On our way we stopped at a Burger King to get the King of Burgers: a Whopper with cheese. These burgers are the best, I'm telling you ; big, round and scrumptious, with juicy tomatoes, pickles, onion rings and American cheese melted on a grilled patty and of course, the famous BK sauce.. hmm. To die for. Well, it's been 7 weeks since I ate my last Whopper. I guess that makes you appreciate a good burger even more. They have these BK commercials where they fool customers that they've discontinued the Whopper and people start to freak out. I found two of these commercials for you. The first one is a real live short commercial, the second one is filmed at a BK in one of Minnesota's Afro-American neighborhoods. Note that the second movie is a parody, full of profanity and so not suited for sensitive people. ;)

ONE:

TWO:

Some how, I think I'm in love with about anything that is an American icon. I love baseball caps, T-shirts with any kind of logo on (colleges, sports, etc), a comfortable sweat shirt and pants, converse all stars, pick up trucks, yellow school buses, and of course the star spangled banner. I don't know if it's the stars or the stripes but the flaunting flag mesmerizes me every time.

I vision myself sitting in my future apartment, surrounded by hundreds of vintage Cola glasses and model pick up trucks, and life-like posters of Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and Mickey Mouse hanging on the wall. Well - I don't think it'll ever come that far.

Another thing that often strikes me are the huge distances in this country. Here we are, driving down to Silver Spring and taking Highway 70 going West, when we come across a sign that states the mileage to the next cities along this Highway. Last one: Cove Port - 2200 miles ! (3520 km!). Take that, Michelin !

So Friday morning, we go to this quilted diner, one of the many authentic American restaurants around the East Coast, and have breakfast. Hits from the sixties and seventies are playing through authentic table juke boxes, waitresses in skirts run around like chickens and I'm freezing my butt off because the AC is going full blast. You can tell people are getting ready to celebrate Independence Day; some of them are dressed in a red, white and blue-outfit, especially their kids (hey, if you have a kid, why would you make a fool out of yourself, right). Platters stacked with Blueberry pancakes, Benedict eggs, sausage links and bacon zoom by while my nose lingers after, but having had a Denny's grand slam for breakfast every morning (scrambled eggs, toast, sausage links, hash browns (potatoes) and two fluffy pancakes with maple syrup) during my trip at the West Coast, I opt out for the American Breakfast and end up ordering a Philly cheese Steak.

This hearty meal was well worth it, because after taking the Metro to downtown Washington, the humidity was excruciating. Also, by the time we reached Constitution Avenue (the street that runs parallel to the National Mall), the Independence Day Parade seemed to be running to and end; we barely reached the sidewalk to see a floating eagle hovering by and dozens of smiling Krishna's yelling "We love you" to the crowd, waving and tripping over their robes.

We had to go through one the security check points before we could walk the green lawn of the National Mall. They spend millions of dollars on security; every visitor needs to go through the security gates (just like in the airport), bags are checked and suspicious people frisked. When you walk around Washington, you do think about the possibility of a terrorist attack. I mean, it's the 4th of July, you're in the Nation's Capitol with hundreds of thousands of people, what better time to be bombed by the Al Quada, right ? But you try not to worry about this and enjoy the festivities around you.

Not that there were much during the day. The Smithsonian Institute had organized a Folklife festival. Texas was the state of honor, the country of honor was Bhuton, and NASA was also present. I still don't know how NASA would have anything to do with Folk life.
Bhuton was the most interesting section on the Mall. They had built a Buddhist Temple out of wood and metal. I didn't go in there. It was 35 degrees Celsius outside, sweat was dripping down my spine and dozen of people were lined up to take a peek inside a shack that was decorated like a Buddhist temple. If I had to sweat this much to see a temple, I'd rather go for the real thing and travel to Tibet.

So I ended up doing what most Americans would do when they're too hot ; I fled to air-conditioned buildings. Thank you America for having free Museums in Washington.
I visited the contemporary Art Museum, the Smithsonian Castle and the National Air and Space museum. Pretty impressive this one with authentic satellites, rockets, space shuttles and a bunch of airplanes from the era of Grimm to World War 2.

Of course, this all American Day would not be complete without a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a Diet Coke from Mc Donalds. 7 bucks for a meal ! Very undemocratic, I thought.

The real reason we wanted to celebrate the 4th of July in Washington DC was to see thousands of Americans going out of their minds on the National Anthem and of course to see the fireworks that this celebration is famous for. But not one hyper, beer drinking American sang the American National Anthem or yelled out crazy stuff into the direction of the White House.

By 5PM, thick dark rain clouds rolled in. We were hot, tired, and soon to be rained out and since it wasn't until 9:30 PM that the fireworks would start, we decided to just head back home and go for the best seat which is in front of our own TV. And we were happy we did, because the show was disappointing. The fireworks seemed to vaporize into the misty rain clouds looming above the National Mall. Hell, the NY fire works above the Hudson river turned out to be even more impressive on TV.

What a bummer this day was. But, I did get to be a part of this big Nation's National Independence Day.

Check out a few pictures :

In 2001, Aki and I celebrated our first 4th of July with the Edlefsen family in LA. First we went to the famous Hollywood Bowl and then there was a fair at El Segundo with pie eating and hoola hoop contests. That night we watched the fire works in El Segundo. This is we're we've seen the best fire works show so far. Best part: I made a movie of it back then: stick with it till the end, you'll see why (and see a 19 year old Aki).

Language issues

2008-07-02T02:33:00.012+02:00

Today I called my dentist in Belgium to make an appointment for a cleaning this month and I noticed how weird it was for me to make a "business" call in Dutch again. I mean, it's not as if I've not been calling people through Skype in Dutch before, but it's usually friends and family and not some one I have to use my 'telephone etiquette' with. Some how, I've gotten used to the way Americans start their conversations. They often start with "How are you", which of course is NOT DONE in Belgium (again, unless you're calling a friend or family member).

I also realized that this house we live in is some kind of a Dutch bubble. Within these 4 walls we speak and hear Dutch, but whenever we want to reach the outside world, we switch to English. It has become an automatic switch; whenever I walk out of the door I talk to either the neighbors, people in the store, on the phone, .. I talk in English.

So, in a way, whenever I make a phone call, my brain tends to think I'm going to make that call in English.. and when I made that Dutch phone call to my dentist today, I ended up translating feverishly during the conversation:

"hallo, ik bel om een afspraak te maken voor een cleaning."
"Een wat?"
"Een, eur, oppoetsbeurt."

*this is a dramatization, of course* :)

Anyways, I'm so used to talking English outside of these walls that it feels weird not to. When I'm in a store and I want to pass somebody that is looking at an article, I immediately and without thinking say "scuze me". I hope I won't do this when I'm back.

Another thing that I'm going to have to be aware of is stopping for a red light when making a right hand turn. I mean, in the US, you can make a right turn on red when there's no oncoming traffic. That's a big NO NO in Belgium. Heck, if they pull me over I can always show them my California driver's license and pretend I'm an ignorant American. Haha, I guess that wouldn't work for long.

Anyways, I fooled around with this Voki thing I discovered online today. Check out my personal welcome message to the right. I think I will change it regularly, just to keep things interesting and up to date.

I usually don't like Reality TV Shows

2008-07-01T03:04:00.007+02:00

But I'm HOOKED on these American shows :

NUMERO UNO : ABC's "Wipeout" (my absolute favorite, for now at least):

Teaser:

For who wants to see part 1 of the first episode (you'll laugh you heart out !)

part 2 : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSPj2XpgUJE
part 3 : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrOhKr_MXY0
part 4 : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhrkINzH89Y
part 5 : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYt15SOlmgI

NUMERO DOS : I survived a Japanese Game show:

NUMERO TRES : The Mole (of course !)

PS. I know this "blog" sucks, will write more soon !

Keeping it fresh

2008-06-27T14:44:00.021+02:00

You've got to keep things fresh, so I adjusted my template today.

I also put up a new movie trailer; Hancock. I've been looking forward to see it come out because it's shot in LA.

It's also cool to recognize the highways he is flying over. I mean, that's where I've been driving from and to work like hundreds of times.

The funny thing is, the voice in the trailer says Hancock is "going North bound on the 110" right before Will Smith smashes through the traffic sign, but at that time he is in fact still on the 105 East leading towards the 110. You can tell because the sign he smashes shows the direction for either 110 south (San Pedro) and 110 North (Los Angeles), the highway they say he is already on.

Now, the 105 is right next to the LAX airport and El Segundo, the town where I spent my first weeks with the Edlefsen family. For this scene, they shut a small part of the 105 (the part in El Segundo) down for about a day of filming. So it's pretty cool to see the result.

The reason they're mentioning this misplaced information is probably because the car that Hancock throws up in the air, gets stuck on the peak of the famous round Capitol Records building in Hollywood (you see this in the trailer).

The Capitol Records building is a very famous building in Hollywood and sits right next to the 101 North. To get there from where Will Smith crashes through the sign, you actually have to follow the 110 North all the way through downtown LA (you see the car tumbling through the skyscrapers of downtown LA) and get on the 101 to get to Hollywood, where this Capitol Records building is (and the car ends up on its peak). So from where Hancock smashes the sign to the final shot of the car sitting on the capitol building, it's actually still a good 20 miles of driving. I guess the filmmakers wanted to give the audience a head's up on where we are heading in this scene.

Hehe, this is probably very boring information for everybody that isn't familiar with the city, but I'm just thrilled to see it.

Anyho. Have you looked at the poll results lately ? 1 person thinks Belgium is the best country in the world to live in, 2 out of 6 digs it most of the time (unless fries and beer are running scarce), one person only likes Belgium when on a holiday in another country (haha), and 2 people would rather be put on a plane to another country than to live in Belgium.

Wauw ! That's a lot of different opinions. I guess I have learned to appreciate living in Belgium because I have lived in another country for a year. I wonder if I'll ever see Belgium as a country again and not just a 'state' in Europe. Sure, there's a bigger difference between France and Belgium than Maryland and Delaware for example, but still, Belgium really isn't all that big. But sooo charming.. instead of wanting to live in the fast lane, I'm calming down, settling into a life that I can enjoy in a peaceful way. :) And even though Belgium is not exactly Spain, compared to the US, I think Belgium is way more relaxed.

Oh, check out the new poll ! Gosh, I love these things. :)

The clock is ticking

2008-06-26T13:32:00.010+02:00

It was bound to happen after 6 weeks of doing nothing : I have a blogger's block. That sorta happens when you don't get out too much and don't meet any strange, funny or obnoxious people.

All I do these days is this:

Go for a run,
Do sit and push-ups,
Eat,
Watch movies on digital on demand (still so many movies to gooo !),
Read,
Do research on stuff,
Talk to people on MSN and skype,
Sleep,
Drink,
Eat,
Go for a run,
...

and go shopping for food. :)

So, I guess you could say my life is boring right now, but of course I'm the one responsible for it. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the ocean of time I'm having now to get into shape and catch up on reading books and watching films.

Meanwhile, I'm about done with arranging things to move back to Belgium. Spoke with the IRS (Internal Revenue Service) yesterday to ask them if I should file my taxes now or wait until next year.

It took us about half an hour to come up with this: Normally, I would need a "sailing permit" (yes, it's a term they've used since medieval times, a permit that will allow you to sail to Europe) which states that I have paid my taxes. But, after browsing 'Publication 159" of Tax law, we discovered that as a J-2 Visa holder, I am exempt of having to get that permit. That saves me a lot of trouble.

I do, however, need to file my taxes, but not until next year. And best thing of all; I will definitely get a tax refund. Too bad it won't be in Euro's, though :). But it's a nice gift anyways.

So that leaves me printing out my ticket to Belgium. I will leave from Washington International on July 10th at 6PM and set foot on Belgian soil the next day, July 11th at 7:30 AM, local time. I hope I won't forget my earplugs so I can get some sleep on the plane.

Also, packing my things will be a challenge. I'm bringing about two suit cases; maybe 1/4 of one of them won't even be my stuff but things for the family and some friends. I feel like I'm a sales agent with all of these goodies. :)

And of course, meanwhile I have contacted some prospective employers, and looked at some apartments.. I'm really excited about getting my own crib and have lots of parties and movie nights and drinks and sleepovers and what not. :)

These are the things you will read about when I get back: my life in Belgium, fresh and uncut.
Maybe I'll put my blog on hiatus until the 11th. Maybe not. It all depends on when things start happening again.

A visit to the orthodontist

2008-06-24T14:40:00.003+02:00

I always feel like they're setting me up for a hell of a ride when I'm being directed to one of the dentist seats.

They usually put me in front of the window, so I can look outside while waiting for the supervising orthodontist to check on my teeth. After some waiting, the assistant looks at my chart, spits out the obligatory "How are you doing today" and hurries off to get the tools that the doctor will be needing for my treatment.

There's one thing that stares at me every time I take a seat; a pair of black plastic protective glasses.
You can tell these are worn by every patient visiting this chair because of the fingerprints and greasy residue that's left on them. Unfortunately, the liability policy states that every patient needs to wear these protective glasses. I usually don't put them on until the very last moment. I wait until the assistant says "here we go", as if pushing the automatic seat reclining button is going to shoot me into the sky. That is my signal for obscuring my vision with the greasy glasses (I call 'em GG's).

What bothers me is that they usually start chit-chatting about what happened in the news or ask if I saw the latest episode of their favorite sitcom. They become inquisitive about your opinion on things in life and you try to answer everything by nodding your head, suppressing tongue spasms, avoiding sharp metal objects hovering over your face, hoping the subtle head movements you make will be interpreted as some useful answer to their questions.
And they actually understand what you're saying, too.

Sometimes they stab me. Every time one of their pointy tools digs its way into my gums, the assistant yells in my ear. "Oh my god, this has never happened to me before, I'm so sorry," and I think "yeah right, that's what you said last time, A-hole." Oh yes, the assistant is a dude. That's what makes it even less bearable.

My supervising orthodontist then takes over and starts talking to me as if I'm her best buddy; she asks me about my life in California, about what life's like in Belgium, what my future plans are and where she can find those delicious Belgian chocolates. And sometimes, instead of lying on a dentist chair, I feel like I'm having a session on a couch with a shrink. I mean, she asks me things I thought a dentist wasn't supposed to ask.

One time, she put the seat up and looked at me with her big brown eyes. I guess some people would give a hug or burst out in tears after what she was about to muffle through her blue mouth cloth. But all I could do was swallow down chemical residue and smile sheepishly.

She said: "Never forget - there's always a way.. OK?"

I'm really going to miss these visits.

PS. Here's a bit of Alex Agnew's stand-up comedy tour, talking about going to the dentist. I think it's hilarious:

I love roller coasters

2008-06-22T13:57:00.004+02:00

and watch other people ride them:

This kid poops his pants while riding his first coaster:

This is the world's scariest coaster :

OMG - I wanna go !! :-)

The British version :) :

Movie experience

2008-06-20T20:30:00.020+02:00

I can't believe I always end up next to the noisiest, most obnoxious people when I go to the movies.

Last week, during the dumbest film I've seen in a VERY long time ("You don't mess with the Zohan"), I was sitting quietly in my seat, patiently letting people pass until suddenly this fat chick and a dude drop their huge asses in the seats right next to me. She settles into the seat, smiles at me and says thank you, like we had made some sort of agreement that I was going to keep them seats.

I totally felt my private space invaded. On top of that, the woman places her can of coke right into MY cup holder, then wips out a bucket of buffalo chicken wings and starts chewing them down like Gollem eating fresh fish out of the creeck. Her hubbie leans forward, asks if he can have a bite, the woman grunts and as she passes the wing she was already working on, their toddler appears from nowhere and starts crying. O great.

I tried to be cool with it, you know, tried to stay open minded and all, be in a Zen-like state, focus on the movie, but when the kid started repeating the on-screen dialogue and Mom was laughing more with their own kid than the movie (I have to admit; she was cute), I could not help but give an occasional and very demonstrative sigh.

They finally got the hint and after a while she dropped her daughter into the dude's arms and sends them walking, probably off to the toilet to give the kid instructions on how to behave in a movie theater.

The woman didn't say anything, but laughed hysterically with every little thing. In the end, I didn't really miss a lot of the movie .. it sucked anyways.

Today, I saw "Get Smart" with Steve Carell. I love that guy. And it's a funny movie too. I liked it.

So did the couple two seats away from me. They were laughing out load - scratch that, they expressed their enjoyment by hollering, slapping their legs at every joke, giving in to occasional hand clapping or whistling.
One thing I got to hand to them; they made the jokes on screen become more hilarious. You could tell people around us were laughing more then the people sitting on the right hand side of the theater, where everything was peaceful and quiet.

Americans don't seem to care what other people think when they're enjoying themselves in the movie theater. And I don't blame them at all, in fact, I think their enthusiasm brings out more enjoyment for the ones around them. But when that enthusiasm goes over the top, I just get embarrassed in their place and wish I was sitting in the movie theater in Sint Niklaas, where almost nobody goes to see a movie on a Friday morning and I can enjoy the movie in my own way without any additional 'soundtrack.'

My view on Destiny

2008-06-19T15:43:00.020+02:00

The poll question for this week was: Do you believe in Destiny ?

2 out of 5 people think that they create their own future.

I agree. We have the power to create what is best for us, as long as we are conscious of the fact that the concept 'future' is a relative concept and doesn't really exist. Of course, I am not talking about practical time; if you want to schedule an appointment or whatever. You need practical time because that is how we agreed to organize things.

I am talking about psychological time.. in psychological time, the future or present does not exist. When we're thinking about what happened in the past, about that argument we had or that party we went to, we are thinking about it Now.
If we're thinking about what we''re going to do this summer, or what we're going to say when we meet the person we have an appointment with, we're thinking about that Now !

So, I also believe I create my own future, as I can decide in each moment how I will react in that very moment and then in the next, and the next and so on.

Again, 2 other people voted that some things are just meant to be.

I agree. Things are meant to Be. But 'meant to be' is often used as an excuse for pretending to have accepted something we haven't really come to terms with.. We often say "It's meant to be" because we believe that some ''outer force' has control over our lives and we think "hey, what can you do about it, right" ?

Not exactly. I understand why some would believe that things are just 'meant to be'. Somehow I can't help but wonder if this believe comes out of some form of passive acceptance, as if accepting that an 'outer force' is controlling your life and you are just subjected to it because you don't realize that you can decide what is meant to be - for you. Of course, we don't control every little thing in life. But do we really need to ? Where does the need come from to control everything in life ?

1 voter thinks s/he was born to fulfill a great destiny (of course now I'm curious as to who this person is and what his/her destiny could be :) )

Good for him/her ! If that is what gives that person meaning or purpose in life, that's great. But what happens when that destiny is fulfilled ? Do you lose your purpose in life ? What happens when you lose the meaning of your life when you've attained your purpose, your 'destiny' ? Won't you feel lost ? For example, a lot of people are loving, caring parents and say that their purpose in life is to take care of their children, which is absolutely wonderful of course. But by the time the kids move out of the house and the kids don't need the guidance or support from their parents that much any more, a lot of parents feel that they have lost their purpose in life and fall into some sort of identity crisis.. because the identity that they had, the thing that they had identified with all of this time, was being a parent, playing the role of being a parent.. and suddenly, this identity breaks down.. maybe not completely (you will always care for your children of course), but you catch my drift.

I don't really believe in Destiny, as if it were some faith that's been set out for me, as if the universe (or God if you will) has a plan for me that I need to fulfill.

I do believe that Destiny is some sort of thing you want to identify with, because it gives you a purpose in life, it gives you meaning. There's nothing "wrong" with this, of course, but it will never bring out your true - your never ending- meaning in life.

I believe that I'm destined to find my place in this Universe. I do believe that it is not what I do, but how I do it, that is most important in life.

If we're not fully enjoying how we are doing in life, if we're not happy about how our life is at this moment, than this is a signal that we are not living the way we're "destined" to live.

I believe that we have a collective destiny ; be in balance with life, live in complete acceptance (and the word "acceptance" does not mean condone, but we can just accept what is without having to resist it).

I also believe that this collective destiny will manifest itself differently in each of our lives. That is why we think that we each have a different destiny while in fact it is just a different manifestation of one collective destiny, that is:

Instead of living from a desperate wanting in life, our destiny will manifest itself as living from enjoying life.

At least, that is what I try to do every day. :)

On a lighter note; scroll down for a new poll and movie trailer !

PS: Forgetting Sarah Marshall was released in Belgian movie theaters today !

Future plans and present dreams

2008-06-18T13:44:00.013+02:00

I'm totally hyped about moving back to Belgium. There are so many things that I still want to do, and so many things that I have done before but have never finished or have kept up. Here's a list:

- Being a DJ: I used to be pretty good at it, mixing records, combining oldies with contemporary music, pumping up the audience with beats and rhythms. I want to know if I still have it in me. So for one day, I am going to rent a sound system and mix some tunes. Hell, maybe I even end up buying DJ-equipment. Who knows !

- Play the piano: I was in music school for two years. Learned about notes and rhythms and stuff. The second year, we got to pick the instrument we wanted to play. And I chose the piano. Not for long though, because after a few months, my friends in school were taking Judo classes. And as kid desperate to belong, I quit music school and started going to Judo practice, too.
Now I regret having never learned how to play the piano well. So, that's definitely on my to do list; take piano lessons !

- Speaking of playing music, I also took a djembe class once and I absolutely loved it. I still know how to play a rhythm or two and know how to start and end a song. I also love to dance to African music. So, one of the classes I will be taking in the future; Djembe classes and combine it with African Dancing.

- Rock & Roll : My mom used to take me to some R&R classes, and I still remember like two dance moves and know how to throw somebody from my left to my right and through my legs. I want to throw people around, jump around rock and rolling until I drop dead. So next on list ; Rock and Roll classes.

- Film making ; aaah, one of my biggest passions. I'm definitely going to buy a decent video camera and film editing software. I'll probably start out with making some documentaries, or fun stuff, maybe shooting a wedding or a dance here and there, just like I did when I was still in Belgium. And in a few years, I also want to do that 5 year evening class in film. Too bad I can't get a bachelors degree with it. But that's okay, because of this:

- Enjoy friends and family. After one year of spending my time mostly alone in a far and distant country, I've realized that friends and family are one of the most important things in life. So I'm going to enjoy, appreciate and share my life with each and every one of them. No friend is going to be better or more fun or nicer than the other. They're all as great as they are. So I'm going to have fun at parties, have friends over for movie nights and drinks, go to restaurants, the theater, theme parks, go kayaking and so much more.

- Being sporty : I don't want to lose my will to stay in shape and feel healthy. So I'm going to keep up running; or, if I get sick of it, am going to find something else that will keep me in shape. One thing though; I really want to play racket ball (squash). Any body care to join ?

- Traveling : Australia's on the list, New Zealand is too. That's my next big trip. Probably in a few years though. :)

I think of these things not as if they are dreams that need to be realized, these are things that I will be doing very soon. Probably not at the same time, or in the same year, .. but I feel like I wouldn't fully live my life if I wouldn't do these things.

Oh, sure, I still have dreams:

Buy a house of my own.
Have lots of kids.
Write a self-help book.

And die happy.

Sporty Dennis

2008-06-16T13:49:00.007+02:00

When it comes to feeling healthy, I think I have turned my life around.

I've become more sporty; I go for a run every other day and do sit-ups, push-ups and power training the days I'm not running.

I eat more healthy stuff; still not up to 4 pieces of fruit every day but at least I have a balanced diet; I eat cheese on bread, lean ham, grapes or apple as a snack, pasta, fish, almost no potatoes anymore, etc. One thing, 'though; I'm hooked on ice cream. It's taking on a form of addiction; not just any plain flavor of ice cream, but the Ben & Jerry's ones. They have unstoppable combinations ; Strawberry cheese cake (strawberry ice cream with chunks of graham cracker crust mixed through it); Cake batter (Yellow cake batter ice cream with swirls of chocolate vanilla fudge); Pistachio with caramel cookie chunks; and so on.

It's just too good to pass when you're roaming the grocery store. Boy, am I going to miss my B&J ice cream when I get back to Belgium !

We went to the batting cages yesterday. That's where you swing a bat at balls being warped from a machine. You can pick either softballs (the bigger ones) or baseballs (the tiny weeny ones) and you can also pick the speed the machine will throw them at you; soft pitch - 40 MPH or 50 MPH.

There were a few people practicing in the cages, wearing no helmets or protective gear whatsoever, and all I could see were warning signs that said : Bat at your own risk - wear protective gear - we will not scrape you of the floor..

OK, I made that last one up.

So we went in without protective gear - hey, we didn't want to come off as pussies - and hit our first (soft)ball. Aki of course had some practice already and swung the bat vigorously, hitting almost every ball.

My first try was a - well maybe not a complete - disaster. But I was improving with every round. By the third round of hitting softballs at 40 MPH, I wanted to try swinging for baseballs at 40 MPH. What a difference ! There was a I think 12 year old kid standing two cages next to us, whacking baseballs as if it were flies, and I barely hit three out of 10 or something. I guess it does take some practice.

The last round of soft balls at 50 MPH were rather painful for the wrists. The first 3 swings felt more like I was just barely stopping the balls with my bat, rather than hitting them in to the field (aka cage). But by the 4th ball, I felt unbeatable. I kicked some softball ass.

Feeling all pumped up, we went to a giant sports store to look for sport outfits and stuff. In the end, Aki almost bought two folding chairs she can use at festivals, and I bought a Nike T-shirt that says "Cornell Lacrosse" even though I don't play Lacrosse. I guess we're not that big of sports fans after all. :)

Since we were out shopping near the mall, I picked up the last items I wanted before moving back to B; two pair of really cool pajama pants, some underwear (2 for 10 bucks), and some t-shirts. Old Navy had a bunch of shirts on sale and since it was Sunday a lot of the normal sizes (which are Small and Medium) were already gone. Some times I was lucky to find one small or medium sized shirt tucked away (or hiding from greedy human fingers) behind a stack of very lonely ugly shirts. I grabbed whatever I could and headed for the fitting rooms with about 6 or 7 shirts. One of them I bought. 3.99. What a sale. The rest of them was too small, too big, made me look like a wrinkled garbage bag or a bag of potatoes.

I better keep up that work out schedule..

Lola's secret - Behind the scenes

2008-06-14T15:18:00.007+02:00

So Lola's secret is actually based on an opening scene that I had in mind for a movie. I was walking down the street one day and there was this song playing on my I-pod that reminded me of the way Quentin Tarantino shoots his films and the choice of music he picks out for his soundtracks and I thought; what would be a typical opening scene for this director ?

And I came up with this :

"Camera looks down, filming the black road up close, white road markings flashing by as we move forward, then camera tilts horizontally towards the front of a car, a red convertible, and the camera comes in closer until only the license plate saying 'LOLA' remains in frame. then the camera tilts up, levels with the hood and starts crawling towards a girl, Lola, who's driving with her hair in the wind and one end of her scarf flapping in the wind.

As the camera comes in closer towards Lola, you can see she's crying. the camera comes even closer and you can see her make up is all messed up and tears are running from her eyes. the camera comes in closer until you only see her watery eyes.

then the camera swings outwards to your left hand side and draws a slow circle going clockwise behind her head. Slowly, the road ahead becomes visible and you can see a glimpse of the horizon but you can't exactly pin-point where Lola's actually heading to ..

the camera slowly continues the circle around her head and stops where it started the circle in front of her face. only this time we see Lola's entire face in frame. "Fuck it" ! Lola yells and the camera jolts up, and backs up from her head slowly seeing Lola driving from a bird's perspective, completely cut within the frame, so you only see the car with Lola in it driving on the road when suddenly the road ends, and we see her skidding on to a dirt road and then abruptly drop from a cliff.

the camera keeps moving forward as we see Lola tumbling to her death down the ravine, ending with an explosion that barely even gives a sound to give a sense of depth.

And then cut to black."

Then I thought, OK, let's analyze this scene:

OPENING SCENE

"Camera looks down, filming the black road up close, white road markings flashing by as we move forward, then camera tilts horizontally towards the front of a car, a red convertible, and the camera comes in closer until only the license plate saying 'LOLA' remains in frame.

--> this bit tells us we're driving down a road, and the person that this car belongs to is called Lola.

then the camera tilts up, levels with the hood and starts crawling towards a girl, Lola, who's driving with her hair in the wind and one end of her scarf flapping in the wind.

As the camera comes in closer towards Lola, you can see she's crying. the camera comes even closer and you can see her make up is all messed up and tears are running from her eyes. the camera comes in closer until you only see her watery eyes.

--> this bit tells us that Lola is driving there for a reason, that she is not happy and to make you wonder what has happened to her.

then the camera swings outwards to your left hand side and draws a slow circle going clockwise behind her head. Slowly, the road ahead becomes visible and you can see a glimpse of the horizon but you can't exactly pin-point where Lola's actually heading to ..

--> this is to give the audience a glimpse of where Lola is heading, maybe even revealing the reason why she is driving, or where she is driving to ?

the camera slowly continues the circle around her head and stops where it started the circle in front of her face. only this time we see Lola's entire face in frame. "Fuck it" ! Lola yells

--> this bit is to enlarge the drama and to grab the audience even more.

and the camera jolts up, and backs up from her head slowly seeing Lola driving from a bird's perspective, completely cut within the frame, so you only see the car with Lola in it driving on the road when suddenly the road ends, and we see her skidding on to a dirt road and then abruptly drop from a cliff.

the camera keeps moving forward as we see Lola tumbling to her death down the ravine, ending with an explosion that barely even gives a sound to give a sense of depth.

--> "Oh, surprise element ! Don't you want to know why she was crying and what happened to her ? And why she drove off a cliff ? :-)

Cut to black."

Do you think Tarantino would shoot this kind of scene ?

That's when I started thinking of reasons as to why she was crying and why she drove off of a clip. And that's how Lola's secret was born. :-)

The end of Lola's secret

2008-06-12T23:41:00.008+02:00

At the top of the mountain, hot wind was blowing through Lola's hair. The desert Valley opened up in front of her and she was relieved to see the road stretching into one straight line, leading right to the canyon.

Lola reached for her purse and wondered if her cell phone would work. If she could only call the detective she went to see the other day. Maybe he could go and check the house, see if every thing's OK with Lizzy.

The cell phone played a tune as she opened it up. Lola dialed 911. She knew she had to make a scene in order to get someone check out the house. She also hoped that she could talk to detective Morsley to tell him that Tony was going out of his mind and that she feared for her live.

Lola heard the phone dial.

"911 Emergency, how can I help you."

"Thank God, you need to come over here, my husband's gone crazy. I'm afraid he'll hurt me and my daughter Lizzy."

The voice in the phone responded, slowly. "Calm down, Ma'm, we need to know your address."

"You already know my address, I spoke to detective Morsley this week, he stopped by our house ! He knows what's going on ! "

"Hold on, I'll put you through."

The car rolled down the slope and gained in speed. The dry desert air vaporized Lola's tears.

"Detective Morsley." His voice sounded weary, like an alcoholic who smoked 5 packs of cigarettes a day.

"Detective Morsley, this is Lola, we spoke earlier this week about my husband. Tony ?"

"Right, Miss Matthews. You caught me at the right time, I was about to call you with some news."

Lola flinched. News ? Did they find the boy ? Was Tony getting arrested ?

"Miss Matthews," the voice croaked, "Tony was not the one who killed that boy."

The phone produced static noises as Lola passed the power cables leading to the power plant.

"What ?" she said." Tony didn't - "

"No." Morsley sighed. "Frank did."

Lola dropped her cell phone. All of this time she had believed it was Tony who'd accidentally killed that boy.

"But - but Tony was driving that night. He told me." Or did she dream all of this ?

"Miss Matthews, Tony was promised a large sum of money from Frank to stage all of this. In fact, Frank was driving for Tony because he was too drunk to drive. We have witnesses at the bar confirming this. Frank probably had a little talk with Tony when he purposely had hit that boy up the hill, and promised Tony everything in the world if he could hide him in his basement 'till all of this would blow over. "

That's when Lola realized something. Frank had left his cap in the basement. The night she came home and Lizzy was listening at the basement door, it had been Tony who was moaning and crying out for help.

Tony had been bleeding to death, stabbed in the gut by Frank, who had escaped through the window. But he forgot to take his cap with him.

Lola had freed Tony, wondering what he would do to her next. But Tony was infuriated, and had stormed out of the house yelling he would kill Frank.

So Lola had gone to the police, telling everything she knew.

Lola's phone yelled at her. "Lola ?" it said, "Miss Matthews !"

Lola picked up the phone.

"I'm sorry, I just.." she started crying, "How did you find out ?"

"The cap that we found in the basement belonged to the boy. We did a DNA analysis on the hairs found in the cap. Turns out he's not a random kid either; he was Frank's bastard son."

Morsley paused to give Lola a chance to take this all in.

"A few years back, Frank raped the Sheriff's wife. She wanted to keep the baby, but the Sheriff wouldn't put his reputation on the line and was afraid people wouldn't respect him anymore. "

Lola stared in front of her, hypnotized, listening to Morsley.

"So they got a divorce. But his ex-wife couldn't handle raisin' a boy just by herself. So she killed herself. Frank had heard about her death, and when he understood that the boy would go out looking for his dad, Frank decided he had no intention of raising a kid either. So he went looking for his son and thought killing him would take care of this once and for all."

Lola put all of the pieces together; Frank set Tony up. He knew they needed the money. He purposely got Tony waisted so Frank could drive, so he could find the boy that would make his life even more miserable. Or so he believed.

In her heart, Lola knew that Tony had been too proud to admit that he wasn't in control of this situation. And so he had agreed to hide Frank, take the money and hopefully run away with his wife and daughter.

And now that Lola hadn't trust him, had betrayed him by going to the police, Lola understood that Tony was mad at her and had kicked her out of the house. But that didn't mean she forgave him for what he had done.

The car sped down hill topping 85 miles per hour. Lola saw the canyon closing in and touched her brake. It cracked. The brakes didn't work. She pushed it again. Still nothing. Morsley croaked through the phone.

"Miss Matthews ? Are you still there ?"

Lola held out her phone and looked at it for a second. The she put it back to her ear and said: "I think Tony cut my brakes.."

"He did what ?" Morsley yelled through the speaker phone.

"I think Tony cut my goddamn' brakes !" Lola screamed.

She dropped her phone and tried stumping the brake pedal once more. The canyon drew closer and closer as she was steering the Cadillac downhill, trying to keep it on the road. But the brakes didn't respond at all.

Fuck !

She reached for the hand break and saw the picture of Lizzy taped to it. She jerked the picture loose and looked at her daughter. Intuitively, she turned the photograph over and recognized Tony's handwriting.

The Cadillac jumped off the cliff and flew forward in the air for a few seconds before plunging into the canyon. The birds that were sitting in the trees next to the river hurried away from the canyon as the car crashed into the rocks and exploded. Lola had fallen on to the river bank. She was holding on to Lizzy's picture, bleeding from her head and completely unable to move.

With her last breath, Lola read Tony's message again. It said:

"I'm sorry."

-----------------------

The phone in the living room rang. Once. Twice.

"Hello?"

"Mr Matthews?" A voice croaked.

"This is Tony, who's this ?"

"This is detective Morsley."

Tony wasn't surprised to hear this voice.

"Listen, I told you I did not kill that boy."

The voice on the phone laughed.

"Oh, we know you didn't."

Tony froze.

"But we know you killed your wife."

Lola's secret - part 3

2008-06-12T04:58:00.013+02:00

"Frank and I were heading home from the bar. We had a few beers, I admit, but I was still clear enough to drive."

Frank hissed. Tony shot him a threatening look and continued;

"So we were drivin' up Route 90 and by the time we reached Dead Man's summit, the sun was already comin' up."

Tony shifted his weight and the chair squeaked. A drop of sweat ran across Frank's temple.

Lola leaned toward the table. "So, what exactly happened ?"

Tony sighed.

"A boy was driving his bike in the middle of the road," he said, "We hit him."

"What ?" Lola gasped. "How did you not see - "

"The sun was in my goddamn eyes !" Tony slammed the table. " Couldn't see a damn thing !" Frank and Lola lifted their drinks off the shaky surface.

Lola really tried to stay calm, but her voice was trembling. "So was he .. dead ?"

Frank hadn't spoken for a long time but chose to say something now:

"No, the boy was still alive."

Tony stood up and raised a fist. Lola grabbed his arm and prevented him to hit Frank, who in his defense had already jumped off of his chair.

Lola's high voice bounced off of the black and white tiled kitchen walls. "Will you stop it already !"
Tony sat down again, took a deep breath and continued;

"So we buried him."

This was too much for Lola to deal with. How can you bury a child like that ? Driving intoxicated is one thing - irresponsible at most, but in this deserted shit hole of a place, people were drunk all of the time. But, driving around waisted and burying a child alive ? That's just messed up. Tony could get a live long sentence or even worse for that.

Lola veered up from her chair, knocking it over on the ground. "You buried him ?" she said, "How could you do that !"

Tony leaned back in his chair, spread both of his arms and held out his chest as if trying to catch a ball. "What was I supposed to do, take him to the police station? Point them to the blood on my truck ?"

Lola thought about this. After all, a live without Tony might not be so bad.. things were not running smoothly between them these last few years. Ever since he got laid off by his boss, Tony wanted to become a successful independent contractor.

"I promise you," he had said to Lola during a romantic candle lit dinner, "I'll be the richest contractor this desert has ever known." And they had kissed and made love and Lizzy was born 9 months after that and they were the happiest couple in town. For a while, at least.

Only, Tony had failed miserably at building a successful business. And that had put a strain on their relationship. Of course, with Tony in jail, Lola would have to find a better way to support Lizzy and at the same time manage to be home for her, too. They could move to the city, find a better life, move on with their lives..

"I - I dunno what to say, Tony." she said, pulling up her chair, "This is just - wrong."

"I told him to go to the Po-lice and tell'em that he'd just found the kid lyin' on the side of the road like that." Frank said.

"Yeah, like that wouldn't make them suspicious of us." Tony grinned at Frank.

But Frank still didn't seem to be impressed by Tony's attitude. "And dumpin' a little kid in the desert, comin' home lookin' like we just slaughtered a cow is a better way of dealing with this ?"

Tony kept his cool and looked up at Frank, who continued his rant;

"How about our clothes, my cap ?" He threw it on the table. The bloody fingerprints were obviously still fresh. "The dent in your car ? The loose bumper on your truck ?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded to Frank, "Whaddabout that ?"

"The mechanic at the repair shop is gonna know you had some fix-ups done. He might tell the Po-lice. Maybe we should go out and run him over too, then. "

Tony's face reddened. "What d'you suggest I do, then. "

Frank stood up and walked toward the kitchen door. "I'll fix up your car tonight, you go to the cops tomorrow and tell 'em you saw a boy rottin' in the desert."

Frank picked up his cap from the table. "I'll make sure I burn this out in the field and no one ever needs to know. And if you're too scared of telling the law, then I will."

Lola had not never thought Tony would be capable of what he was about to do. He jumped up, took a knife out of the drawer, twisted Frank's arm around his back and held the knife to his throat.

"Here's what we're gonna do," Tony gritted through his teeth, "You're gonna fix my truck," he said, "and then we're gonna let you stay in our comfy dark basement 'till all of this has blown over."

Lola was paralyzed by what she was witnessing. Tony has lost his mind.

Frank looked down at the knife pointing at his throat. This guy was not fooling around.

"And after that, you're gonna leave this town and move to goddamn Afrika for all I care, but I don't wanna see you ever again."

Tony slowly pierced Franks throat with the point of the knife. A drop of blood thickened on the blade.

"Ya got that ?"

Frank nodded carefully.

Lola tried reasoning with Tony. But he wouldn't listen. His mind was all made up. And he promised her that, if she ever tried to help Frank escape in any way, he would kill Frank and lock her up in the basement, too.

After Frank had fixed the truck later that night, Lola had to tie Frank up against the wall next to the heat installation. He would get a glass of water twice a day, some beans, bread and an apple for a meal and could only walk around the basement for one hour every day.

Lola really tried to take care of Frank as much as she could, given the fact that she needed to go to work and take care of Lizzy too, who, of course, knew nothing of this whole ordeal. Lola would come home after work at night to find her daughter sleeping in her bed or watching TV early in the morning, while all of this time Frank was tied up with his face pointed to a basement wall covered in mold.

Lola would bring Frank more water and food as Tony was starting to loose interest in what was going on in the basement. Of course, Tony would still check Frank's condition every day and punch him in the gut just to top of his misery, and then lock the basement door before giving Lizzy a goodnight kiss in the kitchen.

Lola never heard from the Police or was told stories at the diner about a boy found dead in the desert. She guessed that Tony and Frank had buried him well, or that the coyote's had found the body and had bitten it to pieces.

One night, Lola came home late from work, and saw Lizzy eavesdropping at the basement door.
Lola dropped her coat and car keys and ran over to her daughter who was listening intensely for sounds.

"Lizzy?"

Lizzy looked up, scared.

"Mommy, you're home !" She swung around Lola's neck.

"What's the matter, honey ?" Of course, Lola could already guess what was going on, but she didn't want to upset her baby.

Lizzy's voice whispered in her ear. "I hear someone moaning in the basement." she said, "I - I think it's a ghost."

Lola felt her blood sink to her feet. How's she gonna explain this ?

She whispered in Lizzy's ear; "And did the ghost say anythin', sweety?"

Lizzy's big brown eyes just sort of stared at Lola. She must have been frightened.

"Well ?" Lola said, keeping her eyes fixed on Lizzy.

"I'M GONNA DIIE !" Lizzy screamed.

Lola almost dropped her daughter. She knew it had been Frank calling out for help. He might had managed to untie the cloth in his mouth, hoping to reach someone up stairs. Lucky for him, Tony wasn't home. Being a Friday night, he was probably out drinking at the bar.

"I'll go and take a look," Lola said and she put Lizzy at the stairs to the second floor. "Just wait here, and Mommy'll be right back, OK ?"

Lizzy nodded and sat down on the first step, holding her head in her two palms.

Lola walked through the kitchen and opened up the basement door. She heard Frank moaning in the dark below. Step by step, she moved further down the stairs, holding her hand against the damp wall for balance, until she reached the ground floor.

Lola felt a light switch sticking out of the wall. She hesitated for a second, took a deep breath, and flicked it.

Lola's secret - part 2

2008-06-10T15:59:00.015+02:00

The Cadillac drove off the road touching the dirt shoulder. Lola steered the car straight and continued up the hill. She had no other choice than to drive to town. She really needed to go and tell the police what happened. Things had really gotten out of hand. Tony had gotten out of hand. She should have never allowed it in the first place.

Traffic signs stated the percentage of inclination and warned her to slow down. Lola switched back and forth between the throttle and the brake of her old car, hearing a mechanical grunt while steering the car up the windy road.

Lola knew this road by heart. She'd driven every mile of it a thousand times before. She knew how lonely this road was, laid out in the middle of the desert, making her commute to work possible. She loved how Route 90 was actually a scenic route going up hill first, topping Dead Man's Summit and then opening up to the desert valley glistening below.

Lola had seen this valley in every way, day and night. In the morning, the sun climbs above the mountains shielding the desert from rain, and as the sun revives the sky with red and gold, as if God himself had painted it, a subtle breeze would bring coolness to the valley.
At night, stars wink from above while the moon shines pale light upon a black vastness of land, lighting up the white road markers painted on the tar of the road that Lola was now driving on.

Lola loved how, after having reached the summit, she could just put the transmission into neutral and let her car roll down the steep slope that goes on for miles and miles until it reaches the middle of the valley, the place where the Colorado river eroded a deep canyon over millions of years.

She would often stop at the point where Route 90 veers away from the edge of the canyon, following the stream of the river. Not a lot of people knew that this was a perfect place for swimming and jumping of cliffs into the water. Lola used to come here all the time with her parents when she was younger, and she had promised Lizzy that one day she'll show her this special place, too.

"Dead Man's Summit - 1 mile."

The sign announced the last few curves before reaching the top of the mountain. This is where everything had started. One night, Tony and his buddy Frank had come home in shock, covered in dirt, looking pale like the moon.

Lola had just put Lizzy to bed. They'd enjoyed a fun night together, playing charades and dressing up like fairies. Spending time with her daughter was unusual for Lola, what with working nights and weekends at the diner.
Lola wished she could stay home with her daughter, or at least work part time during the day, but as a building contractor in this scarcely populated area, Tony could not put enough money on the table to support this.

That night, as Lola came down from the stairs, the first thing she noticed were the muddy foot prints by the front door. She followed them into the kitchen and saw Tony furiously washing his arms and hands, his shirt and arms almost completely covered in mud.

"Is that blood on your hands?" Lola jumped closer to the sink but Tony pushed her away. Frank sat down across the kitchen table, looking frazzled, reaching for a cold beer with fingernails as black as the night. He seemed to have already washed his skinny arms and hands, but still had his cap on, and bloody fingerprints were all over it. Lola's eyes switched from the blood stained cap to Tony. She grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him toward her so she could see his face. But she didn't have the strength.

"What the hell happened to you ?" she said.

"Nothin," Tony turned off the faucet and reached for a towel. Frank seemed to disagree. He gargled in disbelief.

Lola looked at him. "Care to explain, Frank ?" He took a sip from his beer and shrugged.

"Better to keep it to myself," he said, " I wouldn't want my buddy to go to PRISON !"

Tony turned and loomed over Frank, supporting his weight by placing his two hands on the table.

"If you want to stay alive, you shut - the - hell - UP !"

Frank was not impressed by Tony's threat. He tried to laugh it off and took another gulp from his beer.

"Com'on Tony, be serious, in a town like this, somebody's going to find out a boy's gone missing."

Lola stood perplexed, covering her mouth with both of her hands. It seemed to slow down her words. "Wa-did-you-do, To-ny ?"

She quickly snapped to her senses as Tony threw aside the kitchen table as if it was made out of Styrofoam. It smashed into the china closet holding Lola's old vase collection. Tony grabbed Frank's throat and pushed him against the wall.

"If you say one word to the cops, I'll bash your fuckin' head in."

Frank tried nodding. He couldn't. Tony let go of him and Frank reached for his throat, gasping for air.

"But you gotta ," Frank coughed, "at least tell Lola."

Lola was still standing in the same spot, looking at the two men in front of her. Suddenly, in one minute, they had become strangers to her - this kitchen now felt strange to her, like some back room in a bar filled with the stench of beer and the sweat of fighting men.

Tony turned around and looked at Lola. His eyes were filled with regret, as if he wanted to apologize for what he had done.

"OK, I'll tell her." Tony said, and he put the table back where it belonged, slid the chairs underneath and sat down, and so did Lola and Frank and they shared beers and everything seemed normal again for a split second, like they were about to have a dinner party and Frank was the first one to have arrived.

Then Tony started talking..

Lola's secret - part 1

2008-06-10T13:32:00.018+02:00

This has got to stop.

Lola wiped a tear from her nose and checked her face in the rear view mirror. Her hazelnut hair was messy, her blood shot eyes made her look tired, God she was tired, and her forehead was showing a sun burn; driving at noon in a Red Cadillac Convertible down desert route 90 was not something a local would do.

But she had no choice; he had pushed her out of the house this morning, throwing her stuff out the door, leaving her underwear and clothes scattered over the front yard (except for the white linen dress that he had given her for her 30th birthday, that was something she guessed he did not want her to have any longer), and one picture of their 6 year old daughter Lizzy.

"Somethin' to remember her by." Tony had yelled this morning as he'd flipped their daughter's photograph at Lola's chest while she was pleading to let her stay.

Of course, Lola had been completely surprised by all of this. At 6 AM, she was drinking a glass of water after a long night working the grave yard shift at the diner, sitting in the kitchen in her night gown, ready to go to sleep, when Tony stormed down the stairs carrying a leather suit case.

"What're ya doin'?" Lola said as she saw him place the suitcase at the front door. Lola looked up at Tony's face. His balding head looked shinier than usual, his green eyes were staring into space and the scar on his cheek made him look even more mad.

"You leavin' me ?" she said.

"No," he folded his arms, "You're leavin' us." He didn't look at Lola. He wouldn't give her even that kind of recognition.

A pause of silence, not the same quiet that Lola had been enjoying while drinking a glass of water, but a moment filled with anger, tension and the ache of a stomach that was now upset. Lola's heart pumped despair and disbelief through her body.

"W-What d'you mean ?" she said, as she stood up from her chair, her gown touching her bear feet. "Why?!"

His eyes shot an angry look at her. "You know why."

Tony opened the front door, that same door that had welcomed Lola to the house this morning after a hard night at work, and she looked at the gaping hole, the exit that would become like a kick out of the house.

"I have a goddamn right to know why you throwing me out on the street." She sat down again and gestured to the chair standing on the other side of the table. But Tony had no intention of discussing it over a glass of water.

He walked over to her, grabbed her by the arm and pushed her out the door. Of course, Lola struggled, kicking - screaming - demanding an explanation, but Tony was too overwhelmed by anger. She was pushed out on the lawn, falling backwards, her elbows sinking into the grass, followed by the picture of Lizzy that Tony flipped at her chest. The leather suit case flung open as it hit the ground beside her. And then he had shut the door.

She had stood there in her ripped night gown, holding Lizzy's picture, the world turning around her, thoughts shooting through her head, hearing voices telling her that what she explained to the police yesterday, might have been a big mistake.

PS. Part 2 is for tomorrow. ;)

Having goals in life in relation to abandoning fruition

2008-06-09T14:11:00.016+02:00

In response to a previous blog about fruition, people have send me emails stating that how we as humans need goals in our lives to pursue, things we want to achieve and learn from.

This is how we evolve and don't stagnate.

I completely agree that we need goals and that having ambition to achieve something is a building stone of being happy in life.

But that still doesn't mean that we have to perceive this goal to be a realization in a future moment. If we refer to this goal as being in the future, that means you have not accepted the way things are at this very moment. All we ever need to achieve is what we have in this very moment.

How about wanting to pursue a goal that has obviously not materialized yet in this present moment ?

When we believe that we have already attained our goals, if we believe that this is already our reality now, then what we believe inward will also manifest outward. 'Cause that is how we perceive. What we mentally label inward, what we think, becomes our reality outward.

So if you want to achieve a goal, become something, learn something, get a new job, house, or whatever, then believe that you have already attained this, so that this becomes a part of you, IN you, something tangible, rather than something that lies ahead of you, OUT of you, not reachable.

This way you have goals not out of neediness, but out of 'havingness'.

Act from the richness that you have inside, act from abundance, instead of acting from lack of.

This way, you can achieve goals in life, without having to think your present moment is lacking of..

If I apply this to my personal life situation, then one of my goals would be making movies. I know getting a degree in film would help pursuing that goal, and that time-dependent thinking would say that I only can make movies when I have attained that degree in a few years and find a way to make movies.

But if I redefine what would normally be expected of you when you want to make movies, then I'm already making them.

'Cause in my mind, I'm already coming up with stories to shoot, I'm already visioning scenes and camera movements, I'm already casting or even see me acting in a film, I'm already thinking about how I would edit it, and so on. And the moment I have a camera at hand, the only thing that I will be doing is shooting that what I'm already thinking, or visualizing.

And that goes for so many things in my life right now. Sure, I need a job soon, but what kind of job ? Something I feel comfortable in.. so I'm not just looking for a job, I'm trying to visualize a job that I think I would feel good in. And from that realization, I take action and know that I will attain exactly what I'll need for my personal evolution.

How would you apply this to your life ?

PS. Does having a lot of time on your hands make you think or what !

Gridlock

2008-06-08T13:30:00.003+02:00

Watch this amazing short film, made in Belgium:

Let me know what you think of it !

PS. It's subtitled in English, too !

Poll results and new movie trailer

2008-06-07T23:08:00.003+02:00

I'm positively surprised to see that 3 out of 5 poll takers think their life is not boring at all. You see, I thought the majority of us would think that our life IS boring. We go to the same jobs every day, meet the same people, eat the same food every week, travel the same route.

What is it then that makes your lives NOT so boring ? Enlighten me :-).

There's one person that thinks chocolate is like a drug saving him/her from dying of boredom. (just kidding ;-))

And one person feels she or he has a mediocre life by just having fun. That's fine with me.

I'm glad to see that nobody feels miserable enough to shoot themselves. Yay ! *clappy hands*

There's a new poll for this week. Scroll down to take it !

Oh, and also, check out the new trailer below : it's the new Paramount production of KUNG FU PANDA !

The Mole

2008-06-06T16:41:00.004+02:00

ABC, one of the biggest American networks, is now showing the real life TV program called "the Mole".

Yes, DE MOL, the Belgian TV show that was a hit in '98 on the Belgian network TV1.

In the end credits, names of Bart De Pauw, Tom Lenaerts and Michiel De Vlieger roll by and I think it is exponentially cool to see a Belgian format make it onto the American TV screen.

Hooray for Woestijnvis !

http://abc.go.com/primetime/themole/index?pn=about

PS. You can also watch the first full episode (which is really good) on this site (click on watch full episodes to try), but I think it probably won't work if you're outside of the US. Bummer, I know.

About a storm and buying a book.

2008-06-05T23:56:00.033+02:00

The tornado warning that interrupted the radio broadcast of one of my favorite country stations was surprising, if not frightening. It started with a high-pitched distorted sound, like a satellite transmitting data.

*Piiiirrt*
"This is a message delivered by the National Weather Agency."
*Piiiirrt*
" A tornado warning is in effect until 4 PM for the following counties: Arundell, Ellicott, Bel Air, Baltimore.."
That's us!

I white-knuckled over the outer loop of the Beltway, driving 70 mph in an attempt to make it home before the rain clouds would burst and cause everything to flood. Plus, our Newfoundland dog Fai was still in the back yard and even though she generally loves water, a heavy downpour would be too much, even for her.

It seems that every time you really need to be somewhere, everything and everyone will get in your way. The cars in the endless one lane street leading to our house wouldn't budge, school buses screeched to a halt like every other block or so and school kids seemed to be crossing the road like turtles on a beach.
As people turned into the residential side streets, the road to our house cleared. I could finally put my foot to the throttle. I'd barely reached the front door when I heard thunder roaring and rain started falling from of the sky like a cold shower.

I was happy to see Fai hiding underneath the little porch roof. Of course, she didn't even realize what was going on. She hopped inside wagging her tail. She was happy to see me. Then immediately she started whining to get back out and play with her ball.

"No, Fai, now is really not a good time," Rain was pouring down like a waterfall. Some of the younger trees were almost blown horizontally from the wind.

Fai jumped on the chair standing in front of the window to see what was going on in the back yard. I still think it's incredible to see this 100 pound dog jump onto a relatively small chair, sitting her giant behind down to stare outside like an old lady on a gloomy day.

As I observed Fai sitting in front of the window, I was amazed at the brutal force of the winds swooping outside. I imagined cows and rooftops whizzing by our house.
But aside from the strong winds and lots of heavy rainfall, the weather was nothing like another Hollywood disaster storm movie.

Later that day Aki returned from work. I told her about our stormy adventure and she said, "A storm ? Really ? Oh, I never noticed a thing at the office."

That goes to show how local this kind of weather can be. I could've been hanging horizontally from a tree holding on for dear live and screaming for God as power poles and cars shot by.
I could see a 20 foot dump truck just leaping over my head as it gets sucked in by a monstrous tornado, while Aki would've been sitting in a meeting, discussing her elegant garden design over a nice hot cup of coffee.

Gosh, I just love to exaggerate.

Meanwhile, things have calmed down weather-wise, although with temperatures rising every day, Baltimore has become comparable to a steam treatment at a spa. I mean, every inch of my body exhales sweat. Yuk.

Right now, I'm sitting in the air conditioned Towson mall enjoying a large diet Coke as my patronage to the food court, enjoying a mix of odors coming from Panda Express (Chinese food), Flamers (fried chicken food), Villa (Italian food) and the occasional stench of garlic coming from Sarku Japan.

I just bought a book with my European credit card (a Visa) which, unlike an American credit card, has a chip in it.

This totally dumbfounded the newbie-cashier in Borders. She practically yelled out her cry for help through the intercom system (clearly, this girl is not aware of the fact that the concept of a microphone has evolved from a wooden cone that you yell through, to a very sophisticated electronic gadget that picks up, transmits and amplifies even the squeak of a mouse into a crystal clear sound.)

One of the customer service people standing in the cook-book section twitched and jerked his ear plug out as if he'd just gotten electrocuted. He glided over to our register and asked the helpless rookie what her problem was. Clearly he was indulging the fact that his what I assume must have been maybe two more weeks of experience behind this counter makes him the cool kid in town and that no financial transaction would go wrong when he's in charge of handling this complex piece of machinery.

He swiped my card and asked me politely if I could enter my pin code.

Our faces lit up : receipt paper rolled out of the pay pad. Transaction completed.

Then he spoke these wise words:

"So like, whenever you get like, a foreign card, just go ahead and put it in the system like a debit card." He closed the cash drawer. "That'll totally work."

The young cashier girl grinned. "Totally," she said, repeating the head cashier's lingo by means of acknowledgment.

The guy nodded, pleased with the respect he now had gained, and zipped back to the cook-book section.

"So where you from ?" the girl said, handing over my credit card.

"Europe," I said. I didn't feel like going into countries and all that.

"OOOOooooh !" The tone in her voice had this 'that explains it' quality to it. She studied me as if she was sure to find green alien ears sticking out of my head.

"Thanks," I said and walked away.

I can still feel her eyes burning on my back.

Bits and pieces for today

2008-06-04T14:11:00.022+02:00

The weather has turned extremely humid again; thunder clouds loom over us, and we're waiting for a downpour that will make tonight's commute a living hell. I feel wet even though it's not raining (hey, maybe I'm just sweating profusely?).

And summer's back. Yesterday temperatures reached 30 C again and they will not drop below this threshold the next 10 days or so.

Mornings used to be crisp and cool, birds singing with new found energy, happy to announce a new day. Today our cheery friends whistled only muffled tones.

God, I miss dry and sunny California.

I'm going window shopping today. There are about thousands of books to browse, hundreds of CD's to listen to and it's going to keep me busy all day. I'm one of those people you can drop off in a Barnes & Noble, rambling like a tod in a bath of balls in Ikea.

I might even go watch that Indiana Jones movie. Finally.

PS. I got back from my previous employer that there are no job openings anymore. Plus I also found out that the Narafi full time day film school has reached its attendance limit, and because the 5 year program in the Art Academy evening school will not give you a bachelor's degree, I just feel totally fucked. On the other hand, thanks to my ability to stay positive I'm sure some other job prospect will turn up somehow, leaving me enough time and energy to pursue my passion in film. This, however, leaves me with unrest that I now have to accept and let go of until I'm back in B and can start doing something about it. I just wished everything would have turned out the way I planned it to. I was going to go back, start that job I know is a steady job, start film school and be all happy and ambitious the next 5 years. Now I'm left with the remnants of a plan that is hanging by a thread. I'm not giving up, though. Never.

I guess you could call me a buddhist

2008-06-04T00:57:00.005+02:00

One of the most powerful teachings of the Buddhist tradition is that as long as you are wishing for things to change, they never will. As long as you're wanting yourself to get better, you won't. As long as you have an orientation toward the future, you can never just relax into what you already have or already are.

One of the deepest habitual patterns that we have is to feel that now is not good enough. We think back to the past a lot, which maybe was better than now, or perhaps worse. We also think ahead quite a bit to the future - which we may fear - always holding out hope that it might be a little bit better than now. Even if now is going really well - we have good health and we've met the person of our dreams, or we just had a child or got the job we wanted - nevertheless there's a deep tendency always to think about how it's going to be later. We don't quite give ourselves full credit for who we are in the present.
...
In one of the first teachings I ever heard, the teacher said, "I don't know why you came here, but I want to tell you right now that the basis of this whole teaching is that you're never going to get everything together." I felt a little like he had just slapped me in the face or thrown cold water over my head. But I've always remembered it. He said, "You're never going to get it all together." There isn't going to be some precious future time when all the loose ends will be tied up. Even though it was shocking to me, it rang true. One of the things that keeps us unhappy is this continual searching for pleasure or security, searching for a little more comfortable situation, either at the domestic level or at the spiritual level or at the level of mental peace.

Nowadays, people go to a lot of different places trying to find what they're looking for. There are 12-step programs; someone told me that there is now a 24-step program; someday there will probably be a 108-step program. There are a lot of support groups and different therapies. Many people feel wounded and are looking for something to heal them. To me it seems that at the root of healing, at the root of feeling like a fully adult person, is the premise that you're not going to try to make anything go away, that what you have is worth appreciating. But this is hard to swallow if what you have is pain.

In Boston there's a stress-reduction clinic run on Buddhist principles. It was started by Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn, a Buddhist practitioner and author of Full Catastrophe Living. He says that the basic premise of his clinic - to which many people come with a lot of pain - is to give up any hope of fruition. Otherwise the treatment won't work. If there's some sense of wanting to change yourself, then it comes from a place of feeling that you're not good enough. It comes from aggression toward yourself, dislike of your present mind, speech, or body; there's something about yourself that you feel is not good enough. People come to the clinic with addictions, abuse issues, or stress from work-with all kinds of issues. Yet this simple ingredient of giving up hope is the most important ingredient for developing sanity and healing.

That's the main thing. As long as you're wanting to be thinner, smarter, more enlightened, less uptight, or whatever it might be, somehow you're always going to be approaching your problem with the very same logic that created it to begin with: you're not good enough. That's why the habitual pattern never unwinds itself when you're trying to improve, because you go about it in exactly the same habitual style that caused all the pain to start.

There's a life-affirming teaching in Buddhism, which is that Buddha, which means "awake," is not someone you worship. Buddha is not someone you aspire to; Buddha is not somebody that was born more than two thousand years ago and was smarter than you'll ever be. Buddha is our inherent nature - our Buddha nature - and what that means is that if you're going to grow up fully, the way that it happens is that you begin to connect with the intelligence that you already have. It's not like some intelligence that's going to be transplanted into you. If you're going to be fully mature, you will no longer be imprisoned in the childhood feeling that you always need to protect yourself or shield yourself because things are too harsh. If you're going to be a grown-up - which I would define as being completely at home in your world no matter how difficult the situation - it's because you will allow something that's already in you to be nurtured. You allow it to grow, you allow it to come out, instead of all the time shielding it and protecting it and keeping it buried.
In other words, anything that you can experience or think is worthy of compassion; anything you could think or feel is worthy of appreciation.

This teaching was powerful for me; it stuck. I would find myself in various states of mind and various moods, going up and down, going left and right, falling on my face and sitting up - just in all these different life situations - and I would remember, "Buddha falling flat on her face; Buddha feeling on top of the world; Buddha longing for yesterday." I began to learn that I couldn't get away from Buddha no matter how hard I tried. I could stick with myself through thick and thin. If one would enter into an unconditional relationship with oneself, one would be entering into an unconditional relationship with Buddha.

This is why the slogan says, "Abandon any hope of fruition." "Fruition" implies that at a future time you will feel good. There is another word, which is open - to have an open heart and open mind. This is oriented very much to the present. If you enter into an unconditional relationship with yourself, that means sticking with the Buddha right now on the spot as you find yourself.

Right now today, could you make an unconditional relationship with yourself? Just at the height you are, the weight you are, the amount of intelligence that you have, the burden of pain that you have? Could you enter into an unconditional relationship with that?

Thanks to : "From Start Where You Are : A Guide to Compassionate Living" by Pema Chodron, Copyright 1994, Shambhala Publications.

A world of smells

2008-06-03T14:04:00.016+02:00

Being subjected to the unfortunate symptoms of hay fever and having my sense of smell barricaded by a stuffed or runny nose makes me appreciate the times that my nose is actually clear, so I can scent all sorts of aroma's.

It even seems that, because of the occasional lack of smell, I've become more aware of smelling than before. Like a blind person that lost his sight and now has super hearing.

There are smells I am confronted with in this very moment:

A Cinnamon raisin bagel. There's nothing like it, so the vendor in the Bagel Bro Shop claims, but there's something about the smell of cinnamon in the morning that is just not quite right in my mind. Maybe it's because of the fact that I have associated it with the bread pie that my dad used to make for us when we were younger and living in the same house and that I feel protective over the fact that nothing else but my dad's bread pie can smell like cinnamon and raisin, purely out of nostalgic reasons.
Since we have bought a few of them and Aki doesn't really eat bagels in the morning that often anymore, I reluctantly toast them every other morning or so, smearing a bunch of whipped cream cheese on top to tone down the cinnamon taste.

Rotting flowers. I bought them last weekend to color up the living room. They're Memorial Day themed, a combination of white, red and blueish flowers. I really wanted to buy Day Lilies because I love the smell of lilies so much, but since they only had these, I forfeited for the star spangled banner type ones. Of course, THEY've never smelled like anything except for a neutral flower odor. If there even is such a thing.
Right now, they're not in a complete state of deterioration yet, but like the fan club of Morbids chant: you rot away the moment you're born.

Cat pee. I love cats but I hate the smell of cat pee. There are wafts of it that reach my momentarily cleared nostrils. I've become one of those people that sit quietly one moment and suddenly jolt into a frantic sniffing of air the next, saying:

"I smell cat pee."
*snif snif*
"Do you smell cat pee ?"
*snif*
"I smell it.. it's cat pee."

And then, as predictable as 2 + 2 equals 4, I start looking for the source and no corner or pillow in the house is safe from an ammonia attack. OK, now I'm exaggerating a bit here.

Dog heat. Yes, you can smell a dog in heat. Fai is in heat. She's licking her groin area more than is forgivable and when we go for a walk she pees every 30 seconds to get her smell about.
Other than that, she's still pretty calm, except for the occasional howl for male dogs in the area, followed by a visit of the always escaping pit bull a few doors down. If you wonder what dog heat smells like (then you're a very sick person, hehe), it smells like cheese. Not the good kind, but those really smelly ones.

The outdoors. Occasionally, in between all of these comfy other smells, I also get a sniff of fresh oxygen wafting in from outside. And with this, a load of pollen reaches the tiny hairs inside my nose and I start sneezing again and this precious moment of smell clarity is over.

A weekend out in the country.

2008-06-01T23:34:00.049+02:00

This picture was taken yesterday afternoon at I believe half past 1 when it was rainy and chilly outside and the best place to be was tucked away in bed with a fluffy sweater on. This was not in muggy Baltimore but in a house that belongs to my NY friend Elaine in what she calls 'the country', which to Baltimorians is a 5 hour drive up North to Yulan, NY.

I was sleeping because of the unavoidable effect that going to the country has on you: you become overwhelmed by weariness and fatigue. However, our main reason for going to the country was to help out Elaine with all sorts of chores on the grounds, but the rain was preventing us from working outside. And so I ended up doing exactly what everybody does when they spend time in the country; I took a nap.

The nap was unintentional. I was actually reading a good book for a change. It was NOT the novel I spent 25 bucks on in Barnes & Noble, a book called "Enlightenment for Idiots" which the blurb on the back of the cover promised to be "a very entertaining read".
This is not a self-help book but an extremely sappy story about a wanna-be Yoga teacher who writes about traveling for Idiots - like the dummies series - for a living. The protagonist is a woman in her mid 30's who has a mindset of a 16-year-old and is preparing herself for a spiritual journey to India in search for enlightenment. But not before endlessly wondering if she could leave her boyfriend and all of the drama behind for two fucking weeks. I gave up on page 75. At this point she was still deciding if she should get a convenient, state of the art travelling bag or a simple giant black suit case. She wrote about it in her diary, talked it over with her friends, family and had about a 3 page discussion about this topic with some generic store clerk. I mean: how long can it take for you to buy what you need and get on a motherfucking plane? They should have changed the title of the book to : "An indecisive idiot." Big yawn.

So I surrendered to this bright, yellow book that was standing on Elaine's bookshelf that, as you can see in the picture, is resting on my belly. The book is called "How to be Good" by Nick Hornby and is an absolute page-turner. Again not a self-help book. It begins to tell the story of a female doctor who is doubting if she should stay married to her ever-complaining and utterly sarcastic husband or just leave him and be done with it. Then it elaborates on her dealing with her husband who's suddenly become enlightened by a spiritual healer. From being an egoistic and aloof character, the husband turns into an emphatic goody-two-shoes, nurturing a wish to cure the world from starvation. He suggests that every family in the world takes a homeless person in and provide him with food and money. To set an example, he invites a local bum into his own house which leads to various strange - but funny - situations for everyone. You see how this guarantees an entertaining story about how to create a better world.

Anyways, sleeping was not all I did that day. We went to the recycling center and visited some surprisingly authentic old towns in the neighborhood. It's a different world out here in the woods, there are different laws and it really is like in the movies where everybody knows each other and the sheriff pulls you over for no apparent reason. Well, you're likely to be pulled over for speeding, cause here you have roads that you could easily drive twice the posted speed.

And here and there you come across these typical family restaurants and saloons or antique stores where you can still buy wooden golf sticks. And finally, exactly when a thunderstorm of hell broke loose, we checked out of the local supermarket that made me think of the old corner store in the town that I grew up in.

Later that night I tried a new sweater that Elaine had dug up from her closet:

The skunk outfit didn't really fit me of course; the sleeves barely reached my elbows. But it kept me warm for our BBQ that night. Aki wore a hillbilly outfit and professionally grilled corn on the cob for us. We also had steak and shrimp and bell peppers and squash. The perfect meal after a day out in the country.

Today, Sunday, we stopped in Scranton, Pennsylvania to take a look at that church they show in the opening credits of NBC's "The Office" with Steve Carell. I absolutely love that show, the American version of the British original series by Ricky Gervais. It's about a paper company in Scranton called "Dunder-Mifflin". And even though it's actually filmed in Van Nuys, California, coincidentally the neighborhood where I used to live in LA, they mention Scranton and show us buildings from the town.. take a look at the album.

Film school

2008-05-29T13:41:00.018+02:00

So meanwhile I'm getting my life on track so that when I return to Belgium I can pick things up where I left off.

I'm looking into getting a bachelor's degree in film. Not only have I realized that the realm of movie making is something that has been a part of me for almost my entire youthful life. As a kid, I was addicted to TV shows, as crappy as they were, Neighbours (the Australian version), the A-Team, Melrose Place, and so on.

The first movie I ever saw in the theater was "Home Alone". My friend Wendy can still vouch for my obsession with everything that has to do with this movie (NY, Xmas decorations and a bad taste for comedy).

When the era of video cams erupted, I was first to lay my hands on one. Michel, a former boyfriend of my sister Lynn, had this ancient monster that actually recorded film. This was the first time I peeped through a lens that was not my second hand photo camera I got as a Communion present or something.

But it wasn't until my brother bought his own camcorder that I really discovered the wonders of film making. I borrowed his camera and went to Spain with my niece and coincidentally made a horror movie that included a car speeding away from a house at night, a search through the ruins of a house, and my grandmother snoring like a monster truck. It became a classic.

In 2001, Aki and me went to the West Coast to visit Kirsten, and K was extremely generous to let me use her digital camcorder. I shot footage like a scientist discovering alien life on earth. Back home, I made 4 cute little movies from that trip. I used my first edit software and felt like a kid in Lego-land with all the gimmicks and effects that this program had to offer.

I believe it was for my 20th birthday that I got my very own digital video camera. Aki had arranged this. I was completely stunned. Not only did I now have my very own magical film recording tools, I was amazed at the generosity and kindness of everybody around me. I mean, what had I done to deserve this kind of present. I think it was the best thing I ever got next to the cake that my friend Elgertsje had made in the Wapper youth club. I wish I had a camera with me then to have marked this Kodak moment. I was standing behind the counter serving drinks when suddenly all of the lights snapped and a bunch of lit candles on a creamy cake zoomed over to me. I stood speechless and was fully surrendered to my emotions.

But as I was saying, not only have I discovered that film making is just my 'thing' (I haven't mentioned the countless times I watched my dvd collection and analyzed every shot or memorized my favorite lines), but I also really want to get a Bachelor's degree. Not just any kind, I want a film degree. I lived in LA and checked out the tuition fee for film schools. I think Long Beach film school was the cheapest with 'only' 10.000 dollars per year. Of course, the school you really want to get into is either UCLA or NY Film academy. Both in the range of 30.000 to 60.000 dollars a year. I mean, how could I ever raise that much money ?

I did some school exploring in Belgium (which kinda sucked cause there you are in LA, the movie capitol of the world with a lack of financial resources and now you need to look for a place that's as far from this city as the sun is from Pluto.) and found three schools: The Film Academy in Brussels where hand drawing is a mandatory class. Fuck that, I mean, I still draw a matchstick man with five pointy sticks for a hand and I have no desire to change that.

The other school is Narafi Film School in Brussels, which actually looks really cool. If I'd win the lottery and were able to live financially free for the next three years, I would so do it like, right now.

My only doubt is that I'm really sick of having no money, especially when coming from a place where I was financially worry free. If I could get a scholarship to put me through school, then this definitely would be something to look into. So one of the things when I get back to B is find out how this could work.

A third option was evening school in Antwerp. I was totally siked when I discovered that you could also do film at night. I had it all figured out; find a boring, got-nothing-better-to-do-than-poking-my-nose-and-feeling-perfectly-fine-with-it-too kind of job, go to class at night for the next 5 years and fill up any spare time with enjoying life.

Now I find out that this night school doesn't offer Bachelor programs, but you will get a part time attendance certificate to get you started after 5 years. Again, fuck that.

Well, I'm still debating what is more important to me. Getting to learn about this passion of mine without necessarily having to receive the credentials for it. Or sacrifice the freedom that financial security brings and go to school for the next three years.

Ah, life decisions are always so freakin' wonderful.

Intro to this blog - another one ? Yes - now read it ! :)

2008-05-29T01:07:00.007+02:00

The word "real" in this blog title refers more to how this blog is going to be a reflection of what the real me is like, rather than the desire to question the genuineness of life.

'Cause all I know is what is real to me. All I can write about are the things that happen in my reality of life and how I perceive these things to be of value to write about.

And I want to be as real as I can be.

You'll find stories about my daily life here, stories about people I encounter in the street, on the bus or in a restaurant. You'll find quirky stuff and sad stuff, you'll read about my interest in film making, philosophy, music, stories, drama, and so on.

It all depends on where the roller coaster of life is going to take me.

The real adventure can be found anywhere. You don't have to base jump off of a sky scraper to feel alive. You just have to be aware of the fact that you are and that every moment is an adventure in itself, no matter how insignificant a moment may seem... you never know what's going to happen next.

So, this blog is going to be the most unpredictable one I ever had the urge to publish. I'm sure it will get VERY interesting for me to read again for years to come. Yes, years. I'm planning to stick with this blog for ever.

PS. Oh, there's lots to see and do on this blog, too. Check out the poll below and vote, or watch the trailer of a movie that I think is worth seeing in the theater. I'll keep it interesting by changing it every week !