I give up... I am definitely not a resolution person, even though I make them every new year. I don't stick to strategies, so it's easy to tackle me. Please don't try, it hurts. While my body is resting on the smooth surface of a Brussels' Opera Hotel bed, my mind wonders what I am actually doing here. A seminar called 'blogging about the European Parliament Elections 2009"? Some people I met tonight seem to take the competition seriously, "better a tough competition than no competition at all". Do they really crave that I-Phone?
I feel I should be honest. No sir, I don't know anything about politics. Yes, I know Obama is the new USA-president and that the Belgian first minister is switched recently. I know the war between Israel and Palestine is one of unequality and horrible killings. They stopped the mass murder, but it is not over at all. I support the Palestinian victims and their families, but at the same time I remember Lital, Michal and the other Israeli people I met last summer. They become fan of 'their war against terrorism" on Facebook. I feel an alien in this world. I just don't understand. I feel I arrived in this world just a little bit too late, so I missed the basic instructions at the beginning. What I want is reading their minds, trying to understand the way they see the world. They. The people. The others. That is what I actually always would like to do. If I would move, I would move to other peoples heads.
People are so different and, in my opinion, very difficult beings. Everybody wants to be loved and liked. Everybody wants to make the world a better place. Nobody wants to get terrible diseases or become victim of natural disasters. But at the same time the same people still smoke in public places (even in the cafe Chez Bernard tonight), still take the airplane for short distances, still eat meat unless the bad consequences for environment, humanity, animal kingdom and the general case of empathy, people still prefer the car over public transportation, still pay more taxes for militarian than for humanitarian action, still write long blogs without really saying something new and still want to catch that brand new cellphone.. even if they already have a well-functioning one in their pocket...
Think about it...
zondag 25 januari 2009
vrijdag 16 januari 2009
Te ver dus...
Disco is not what it was in my head. I forgot about the smoke, the danger of burning sigarettes, the curling bodies in extasis of false 'joy'. Look! We are drunk and have fun! Tomorrow on facebook! Tag me, please! Show me I'm alive, I was there...
Can't you just be happy for a moment?
Can't you just be happy for a moment?
zondag 11 januari 2009
Daens and the sledding
Ok, I changed my resolution. Let's write on an average of every two days. That still makes 182 entries a year. They can be as short as today.
A weekend of not-studying and quality-time in the snow (as long as it lasts). It felt nostalgic, sliding down the Mariaberg in Zutendaal surrounded by happy kids and their moms, dads, grandparents. We felt like little children again. It can be so relieving, just some moments without doubts. Just a sledge to take control of. We landed in the bushes anyway, covered in snow.
Yesterday Pieter and I got a free ticket to Daens, the musical. Breath-taking and goose-bumping. I can still sing all the songs in my head. Even though I know the story since I was a child and even based my first book on it, it still takes me away to the Flanders of 1888, the revolt of Socialism, the fight against child labour and injustice.
I really want to enter the NOHA-programme... Action's needed!
A weekend of not-studying and quality-time in the snow (as long as it lasts). It felt nostalgic, sliding down the Mariaberg in Zutendaal surrounded by happy kids and their moms, dads, grandparents. We felt like little children again. It can be so relieving, just some moments without doubts. Just a sledge to take control of. We landed in the bushes anyway, covered in snow.
Yesterday Pieter and I got a free ticket to Daens, the musical. Breath-taking and goose-bumping. I can still sing all the songs in my head. Even though I know the story since I was a child and even based my first book on it, it still takes me away to the Flanders of 1888, the revolt of Socialism, the fight against child labour and injustice.
I really want to enter the NOHA-programme... Action's needed!
vrijdag 9 januari 2009
Green lunchbox
Daily writing doesn't seem to be my thing. I didn't evenmanage to put some words online yesterday. Life's a mess, my mind confused. It's friday again... 4 oclock. My bus is leaving in 45 minutes.
The world is dangerous, radio-active, poisonous and most of all a deadly, but extremely deadly illusion. My portable telephone is ten times as radiating as my cellphone, he says. There are so many things we should have been warned about before. But everything in life doesn't come with manuals, instructions, step-to-step solutions, explanations... there's no protection at all... And nobody even cares.
I should write interviews. This morning I wrote one between 8:30 and 9:30 while having breakfast, morning talks with the last traces of sleep blocking my sight. I should write a letter to myself. Seeing things clearer. Other should do that to. But I don't try to force my good advice on other people, before listening. That's not the role of an interviewer, remember? No protest, no good advice, no ego-illumination of the interviewer, ... at least not during the interview. Once writing you can celebrate the pearls of your creativity, put yourself in some else's story. Mikyung, my sweet friend from Korea, once made me realize that every sentence, every word written has been thought by the writer. That everything written really passed the neurons of a particular person's brain, that they are born there and then re-experienced by the reader. I thought it was wonderful. Obvious, of course. But nevertheless wonderful. I want to travel around, interviewing people all the time. I love talking to others, hearing their stories, even experiencing them, but I lack time to write down the words that touched me, the storylines which could learn me something for the future, the message of sentences between the lines of bodylanguage. It would be a dream to live of writing down the things I want to remember, so it can be remembered for me and shared. Dela.
I will apply for a freelance journalist job. I will. Even though I don't have time at all...
The world is dangerous, radio-active, poisonous and most of all a deadly, but extremely deadly illusion. My portable telephone is ten times as radiating as my cellphone, he says. There are so many things we should have been warned about before. But everything in life doesn't come with manuals, instructions, step-to-step solutions, explanations... there's no protection at all... And nobody even cares.
I should write interviews. This morning I wrote one between 8:30 and 9:30 while having breakfast, morning talks with the last traces of sleep blocking my sight. I should write a letter to myself. Seeing things clearer. Other should do that to. But I don't try to force my good advice on other people, before listening. That's not the role of an interviewer, remember? No protest, no good advice, no ego-illumination of the interviewer, ... at least not during the interview. Once writing you can celebrate the pearls of your creativity, put yourself in some else's story. Mikyung, my sweet friend from Korea, once made me realize that every sentence, every word written has been thought by the writer. That everything written really passed the neurons of a particular person's brain, that they are born there and then re-experienced by the reader. I thought it was wonderful. Obvious, of course. But nevertheless wonderful. I want to travel around, interviewing people all the time. I love talking to others, hearing their stories, even experiencing them, but I lack time to write down the words that touched me, the storylines which could learn me something for the future, the message of sentences between the lines of bodylanguage. It would be a dream to live of writing down the things I want to remember, so it can be remembered for me and shared. Dela.
I will apply for a freelance journalist job. I will. Even though I don't have time at all...
woensdag 7 januari 2009
Sometimes life can make you dizzy, but don't blame life for it.
New years resolutions after one week. I wanted to start them yesterday, but even failed on my promised first day. So I postponed my starting date... from today on I will post blogs more regularly. To be even more ambitious: every day. Some days a shorter entry than on other days. I just think it's necessary in a way. I trust in writing that it will provide outcomes in the end. Answers maybe. Can it really work the other way around. Can words I write tell me how I really feel, think, even wish... instead of me putting into words what I already know. Does the computerscreen write to me or do I write to the computerscreen?
Can I get to an answer by circling around trivial things? The surprise of a human size freezer in the (almost as cold as the freezer) veranda when I arrived back to Belgium. It immediately captured my attention. And everytime I pass it on my way to the bathroom my fantasy gets alive... this freezer must be here for a reason! And not only keeping my vegan burgers cold... My father always wished for a freezer-grave so his body would be guarded for his descendants. Is this freezer Leon's investment for the future? So far the horror. Don't blame me when you read a strange story in the newspaper of 2025.
Should I write about the cold? Everybody is speaking about it. The endless complaints and newsitems make it hollow. The vaccuum of 'snow', the coldest winter in 25'years', 'skating on the lakes', 'minus 20'. It's the featuring topic in the news for a week now, leaving the mass murder in Gaza in the background. Snow in Belgium for 20 minutes, dead bodies, crying and bleeding children for 5 minutes, the consequences in Belgium (burning synagogues, protesting muslims in the streets of the capital, the head of a Jewish organisation trying to say some words which don't really say anything. Don't blame him for it.
University. Suddenly no time anymore for breaking your head about the war in Gaza, snow and love (yes, I know I didn't write about that topic, but you know). Programming in Delphi, units, buttons and labels, we start slow and easy. Schedule changes, overlaps, bureau onderwijs- bureau-cracy, bureau-crazy. So far psychology. I just can't see the psychology through the trees anymore, maybe it's the snow. No, don't blame it on the snow.
I think I am an interviewer. No, I am not a writer, not a poet, not a student, not a cat, a tiger, a girl, woman, vegan or (bad) daughter, torturing terrible girlfriend or 'homesick' ex-exchange student from UBC. Primarly I am an interviewing. Listegning is my life. If I reflect on the things I enjoyed in my life so far, I realize I loved these long talks, hearing someones life while sitting in a cosy couch, trying to see through the screen, sharing pieces of self-explaining silence. "To have a good interview", the lecturer-journalist told today, "your bond need to resemble a romantic relationship. You touch upon personal, intimate things, put the other in a vulnerable position of disclosure, but at the same time you give him the best gifr a person can get: a listening ear. Real listening. Two ears. "The interviewee is the star", still quoting the lecturer, "the interviewer stays in the shadow". Nothing more than almost not present, just a breeze of air stimulating the voice of the other, just temporal, but real. Don't blame the interviewer for that.
Tomorrow.
Can I get to an answer by circling around trivial things? The surprise of a human size freezer in the (almost as cold as the freezer) veranda when I arrived back to Belgium. It immediately captured my attention. And everytime I pass it on my way to the bathroom my fantasy gets alive... this freezer must be here for a reason! And not only keeping my vegan burgers cold... My father always wished for a freezer-grave so his body would be guarded for his descendants. Is this freezer Leon's investment for the future? So far the horror. Don't blame me when you read a strange story in the newspaper of 2025.
Should I write about the cold? Everybody is speaking about it. The endless complaints and newsitems make it hollow. The vaccuum of 'snow', the coldest winter in 25'years', 'skating on the lakes', 'minus 20'. It's the featuring topic in the news for a week now, leaving the mass murder in Gaza in the background. Snow in Belgium for 20 minutes, dead bodies, crying and bleeding children for 5 minutes, the consequences in Belgium (burning synagogues, protesting muslims in the streets of the capital, the head of a Jewish organisation trying to say some words which don't really say anything. Don't blame him for it.
University. Suddenly no time anymore for breaking your head about the war in Gaza, snow and love (yes, I know I didn't write about that topic, but you know). Programming in Delphi, units, buttons and labels, we start slow and easy. Schedule changes, overlaps, bureau onderwijs- bureau-cracy, bureau-crazy. So far psychology. I just can't see the psychology through the trees anymore, maybe it's the snow. No, don't blame it on the snow.
I think I am an interviewer. No, I am not a writer, not a poet, not a student, not a cat, a tiger, a girl, woman, vegan or (bad) daughter, torturing terrible girlfriend or 'homesick' ex-exchange student from UBC. Primarly I am an interviewing. Listegning is my life. If I reflect on the things I enjoyed in my life so far, I realize I loved these long talks, hearing someones life while sitting in a cosy couch, trying to see through the screen, sharing pieces of self-explaining silence. "To have a good interview", the lecturer-journalist told today, "your bond need to resemble a romantic relationship. You touch upon personal, intimate things, put the other in a vulnerable position of disclosure, but at the same time you give him the best gifr a person can get: a listening ear. Real listening. Two ears. "The interviewee is the star", still quoting the lecturer, "the interviewer stays in the shadow". Nothing more than almost not present, just a breeze of air stimulating the voice of the other, just temporal, but real. Don't blame the interviewer for that.
Tomorrow.
maandag 5 januari 2009
Back
The big clock in the UB-Link hall of the Psychology Faculty announces my first Maastricht lecture after more than 7 months. I got a long break since I was sitting in front of the university computers, my old, slow, bit and byte friends, who helped me give birth to endless blog-posts. And here I sit again, after a sangria holiday in Spain, after a 3 week Spanish language course in Andalucia, after the World Youth Congress in Quebec, after a completed wooden bridge in the Canadian forests, after siteseeing with Pieter in Montreal, after a happy reunion with Yasmine and her cute son Yahia in Seattle, but most of all... after UBC.
It feels like the morning after. Realizing the real world starts again and you even can't see the fun of the recognition. Things didn't really change so much, it seems. The Dutch system got more discriminating against Belgian student. Now we have to pay 3 euros to get from the busstation to the university, while the last 3 years we could use our Belgian Buzzypas for this 2 km-route. 3 euros, 5 times a week, for at least 6 more months. Bye bye 360 euros... How many flight tickets to Scandinavia could I buy for that?
Lecture is starting...
I write more soon, after the 'kater'...
Veerle
It feels like the morning after. Realizing the real world starts again and you even can't see the fun of the recognition. Things didn't really change so much, it seems. The Dutch system got more discriminating against Belgian student. Now we have to pay 3 euros to get from the busstation to the university, while the last 3 years we could use our Belgian Buzzypas for this 2 km-route. 3 euros, 5 times a week, for at least 6 more months. Bye bye 360 euros... How many flight tickets to Scandinavia could I buy for that?
Lecture is starting...
I write more soon, after the 'kater'...
Veerle
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)
