Dress - Continued

I now own a dress. There. That's that taken care of. And let it be clear: I shall be wearing it to each of the weddings. That's right. The same dress. NO MORE SHOPPING. I'm done.

I'm trying to ignore the fact that I have to wear this dress bra-less, that I still need to find shoes that match & that it requires a sparkly necklace-ornamenty type thing to offset the focus on my boobs. Apparently. Wise words of the shop-assistant. Great. Fantastic. Time to go watch the footie.

Go ARGENTINA! Or... Go GERMANY! I don't care. I've bet money on both. I just want to see red cards. Lots of them.

Dress

It seems my childhood friends have all of a sudden collectively decided to get married. In the last three weeks alone, I've received no less than 4 invitations to weddings and announcements of engagements. Luckily, the bug seems to be confined to my group of childhood friends and has of yet failed to seize hold of my "highschool", "uni" and "grown-upper" friends *sigh of relief*. I would like to take this opportunity to kindly request any friends of mine with plans to get married, to please hold off for a while. I don't think the socially well-adjusted half of my brain can contain the grotesquely opinionated half for very much longer and you might find yourselves at the end of one big anti-marriage hissy fit.

Either way, the first wedding is one week from today and I am yet to find the dreaded outfit. So guess what tomorrow's mission is. Indeed. To find a wedding outfit that subtly balances the thin line between my inherent desire for lazy-comfort-fit and my newly discovered femme-self *oh yes*. No mean feat.

Wish me luck...

Meanwhile, as a battle strategy, I shall get myself all "raaaaah"-ed up with "Roisin Murphy - Ruby Blue". Download it. It's fab.

-Roisin Murphy-

"First Ever"-s

Earlier this week, someone quite randomly handed me a picture of the boy I had my very first snog with. At a summer camp in France, some 13 years ago now. Truth be told, that picture brought back some very embarassing memories. *cringe*. Ones which quite clearly show that despite the physical attractions I may have to the male specimens on this planet, there's a distinct lack of emotional involvement on my part.

And so the story goes... The Boy was admittedly a very nice-looking lad. The biggest plusses being that he played footie with me and that he listened to Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" on replay which in my misguided early-adolescent brain translated as: "He's deep and sensitive". But The Boy had a girlfriend. One of those very annoying, ditsy-French, femme-fatale girls, who insisted on wearing skirts even when we played footie. Until one night, The Boy dragged me off behind the bike-shed and nervously told me that he had a crush on me and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Realising the opportunity to get my first official snog taken care of, I spat out my gum and said: "Allright, but you have to break up with your current girlfriend first." Upon which The Boy set off on a sprint, only to return a mere 2 minutes later with the words: "Done. NOW will you be my girlfriend?". And so I snogged him.

It lasted but a whole 15 seconds and I distinctly remember thinking: "Crap. Is that all it is?? Soooo not worth the hassle." We spent the following three hours snuggled up and snogging, until I finally decided I'd explored it enough, got up and said: "You know... I don't think this is going to work out really. I mean... we're a bit too different. So erm... maybe we should call it quits before we get in too deep".

*cringe*

I know. Teenage Soap-Drama mind.

Anyway. I'd gotten that tremendous first-snog barrier out of the way and several other boys followed. But somehow I always ended up feeling distinctly bored and disappointed. And I didn't quite seem to get why all my female friends were always so heart-broken when a guy dumped them. I always seemed to feel a tremendous relief when my boyfriends and I broke up.

But then... Enter Girls. Enter Real Heartbreak. And in some way, I supose, Enter Real First Snog. But that's another story entirely. One I've just a tad too much emotional involvement with to bluntly proclaim all over some random webpage ;-)

Today's Mp3-repeat:
-Tegan & Sara: I know I know I know

What's Your Story, Morning Glory?

It is one of those defining moments. The ones where you realise that life is somehow structured to cushion each blow it deals you. Subtly, but convincingly. Things fall into place and everything... both the good and the bad... finally makes sense. If only temporarily, appear part of a bigger picture. One you often fail to see because you're simply too close up to notice.

When you find yourself walking home at the crack of dawn, birds singing a continuation of the night's orchestral arrangements, fog in the fields gradually lifting, T-shirt strung up so the fresh summer-breeze can cool you down and return your heartrate to an almost zen-like state... there's no denying that sometimes, life can be just perfect.

Yet you set off that evening, in a near state of panic. Because life sometimes just blindsides you. Grabs you by the throat and makes you face up to things you're just not ready to face yet. You've arranged a night out in the hope of reaching a state of oblivion, where things will no longer matter. Or perhaps to find one word in a conversation with intimate strangers, which makes the panic subside.

But then you're greeted by the warm hug of a close friend, who's simply happy with the fact that you're there. Nothing more required but your presence. That in itself suffices to keep the panic at bay. It's the familiar chat. The subtle winks of comprehension. The realisation that regardless of your state of mind, you have a place where you belong.

The panic subsides, yet the pent-up energy and frustration remain. The urge to grab for a bottle, a miracle pill, a random fling. Searching for the quick, temporary release which rarely manages to solve. And then your friend brings you back to basics. Reminds you that there's little more required than your own body and some soul-entrancing tunes. A DJ succeeds in mixing his way to your innermost thoughts... and annihilates them. Stops the whirlwind in your head and commands you to surrender to sheer movement by a mere blend of beats. You close your eyes, and let your body take over.

It's almost primal. The scents of a club full of endorfines. The touch of a stranger's body moving in time with yours, on instinct. Every muscle in your body finding its own unique way to express each bassline-chord struck. And suddenly there you are, a soul that's finally connected with every part of you, and is just happy to be, right there, in that very movement.

As you walk home at the crack of dawn, birds singing a continuation of the night's orchestral arrangements, fog in the fields gradually lifting, T-shirt strung up so the fresh summer-breeze can cool you down and return your heartrate to an almost zen-like state... there's no denying that sometimes, life can be just perfect.

Just. Perfect. For one single moment in time.

You unlock the door, make your way to the shower and let the luke-warm beam wash the last remnants of the panic sweat away. You wrap up warm and watch the last of the morning's fog drift away as the sun gradually continues to rise. Right now... is perfect.

You'll fall asleep soon knowing that somehow, your life will cushion each blow it deals you. Subtly, but convincingly. And things WILL continue to fall into place.

iG'nite

I had steak, chicken & sausage this evening from a BBQ lit with a hairdryer. I know. It doesn't make sense. But it happened. And Jupiler sucks as much as Stella does. I bid you g'nite.

Today's Fisheye: City Queen


Today's Mp3 Repeat: Kruder & Dorfmeister - Sofa Surfers

While wading through a stack of books this morning, I came across the following quote by a fellow "global citizen":

"One of the blessings and curses of travelling a lot is that your best friends live all over the world. Good, because you always have an excuse to go and visit a foreign country. Bad, because you usually never have more than a few close friends nearby."



This struck a bit of a touchy chord.

July 15th will mark one year since I returned to Belgium for what was suposed to be a 6-month emergency stay after a break-up. Those first 6-months were spent in sheer denial that I was back home. I really didn't cope well with the unexpected turn of events in my life. A return home had never been in my plans and I was definitely not ready to give up on everything that had been my life. "Living abroad", however sad that may seem, had been a big part of who I was.

Several months of intense soul-scrutinizing on a therapist's couch eventually (among other things) helped me surrender to the idea of being here. It was a sort of relenting of control and an acceptance of the fact that sometimes things just have to last for as long as they have to, regardless of how eager you are to move on with your life. As it turns out, however reluctant I was to accept them, those unexpected twists in my plans have not been such a bad thing after all. The biggest upside being: the time to reconnect with an old base of friends.

In the past, I've loved every minute of life in foreign places. And I am quite certain it is where I'm heading for the next leg of my life. But the one thing I've always missed in that life-style, is the one big bonus this year has had on offer: the chance to drop in on a few mates who know you inside-out, for some quality company whenever you've any need for it.

I felt that very strongly last night as I was sat in the Irish pub with a couple of friends watching England draw with Sweden. It felt so comfortable. I supose it never outwardly shows. I'm a restless person, I seem to be on edge all the time and my brain does flip constantly to the next few things I need to do in my life. But despite my outward appearance, I felt incredibly at home right there and then. Maybe that's why reading that quote this morning struck such a chord.

I love my old friends. My family. I've made several very close new friends during my time abroad in a wide variety of places. And my bond with each of them is probably as close as they would be if I were to see them every day. But it is true that if I follow up on the life I've in mind for myself, I will have to accept that the biggest part of my life will be spent away from many of them. And that I will never have the humongous social life that, for instance, my brother has accumulated by simply staying in his hometown. My social life will forever be fragmented. Wherever I am on the globe, my choices of whom I go to the pub with or whom to ask for a cinema visit, will always be limited by geography. I won't be able to just drop by my mum's for a cup of coffee, or take my little sister to the swimming pool after school. I will probably miss out on being there when some of my closest friends have their first kid, or when they need a comfort drink after a nasty incident in their lives. (Unless of course, I become filthy rich, buy my own private jet and overcome my fear of flying by hypnosis. It COULD happen.)

The flipside of that coin, however, is that I will have a chance to follow what feels right to me. To give into that restless urge to be someplace else and maybe one day calm it down by finding a place that feels like my own. If I hadn't stepped out of the comfort zone of home, I would not have met all the friends I've accumulated en route. I would not have been exposed to as many things that make me face up to myself. I would have probably felt less alive.

I realise this has turned out a very sappy blogpost. It might be the fact that I'm PMS-ing. Or the fact that the 900mg of ibuprofen I just swallowed to numb the cramps, are making me feel extremely floaty and spaced out. Anyway... I guess all I'm saying is: life would be just perfect if I could pocket-shrink my family and friends (old & new) and carry them with me wherever I end up going.

Today's Fisheye: Wall-stencil in Ghent, and a well placed bush. Mind was indeed in the gutter. I do appologise.

















Today's Mp3 repeat: Catlow - Kiss the World

DIY fisheye

Well, when one of you (Disco!) decides to leave a link to a DIY page in my comment section, you know I just won't be able to resist... so I present to you, the DIY digital fisheye:

I basically got a peephole with a 200 degree angle from the DIY shop for the grand ole price of 8 euros (5 squids), screwed it into an empty filmroll holder, which coincidentally fits right on top of the lens of my Olympus digital camera. So I thankfully didnt require a hacksaw (imagine how relieved my fingers are) nor did I have to use the silicon gell to attach it to my digi-lens. Tis light, tis easy, tis working!

I've not had time to stray far, but here's the first two digital shots I took:

- Click Image to Enlarge-

The World through a Fisheye

Ello Mobile

Belgium sees the launch of a new mobile network today: "Ello Mobile". Sounds rather unexciting news, if it weren't for the fact that this network comes with a bit of a twist:

The network functions as a non-profit organisation, which means that 100% of the profit they make on your calls or text messages, goes to Environmental and Humanitarian Aid Projects. It's an entirely online-based service, so all the admin (top-up, costumer service,...) takes places on the web. Their call- and text-rates are competitive and the mobile traffic occurs through the BASE network, so there should be no issues with coverage.

While the downsides might be that it is a recent start-up company (bringing along the inevitable teething problems) and that there are no specific price-plans (there is only one standard rate price plan), it is worth considering a changeover. If I have to pay for my mobile phone communication anyway, I would much rather know that the money I have spent, goes to cover the most basic operating costs only and that any profit the company makes goes entirely into Aid Projects that I get to choose, rather than into the pockets of some corporate holding.

It's a very clever concept. You can find the details of their proposed businessplan on their website. The company is launched today and aims to get 100,000 costumers within the next 36 months. The company's profits will then have amounted to 13 million euros, which will go entirely to Aid projects.

I signed up first thing this morning. Do me a favour, if you're a Belgian network user... just have a look at their site. There's no point "waiting" for the service to develop further. It needs subscribers now to develop properly. So just get yourself a SIM card (even if you don't use it as your main contact number) and get texting. The company deserves a chance. The world could do with a few more non-profit concepts like this one.

Who wants a guarddog when one can have...

Jack, the tabby cat. Just have a look at this article on the BBC news site:

"New Jersey, USA - A black bear got more than it bargained for after straying into a family garden in the US state of New Jersey. The unwelcome intruder was forced up a tree - twice - by the family pet, a tabby cat called Jack. The terrified bear was only able to make its escape when owner Donna Dickey called the hissing cat into the house"


"Ms Dickey said Jack liked to keep a close watch on his territory. He doesn't want anybody in his yard," she added.

I think this settles the cat versus dog debate, non? *grin*

Trivial Globetrotting

Four reasons NOT to play Trivial Pursuit's Globetrotting Edition with your mum:

(1) She moves her pawn wherever she wants to, regardless of how the dice fell

(2) She mouths hints at you which are COMPLETELY wrong and then giggles when you answer incorrectly

(3) She deliberately picks difficult questions relating to countries you wish to visit on your travel stint and tells you she won't allow you to go travel there if you get the questions wrong, cuz "you're clearly not well prepared yet!"

(4) When you do answer her daftly picked questions correctly, she tells you you can't go travel anyway, cuz "you clearly already know the place, so what do you want to go there for anyway?"

Oh. And she steals your cookies while ur focussing on moving your own pawn to it's legit spot on the board. Honestly. Talk about role reversals.

DISCLAIMER: I do genuinely love my mom, despite her cheating & cookiemunching.
PPS: If anyone wants to buy me a gift, the Trivial Pursuit 80's Edition would be fab, thanks.

Barcelona

Just got back from la cidade catalan. Too tired to write, but couldn't wait to leave you with a few pics of places that left me absolutely gobsmacked: The Pavillion of Mies Vande Rohe & The Sagrada Familia. Click any image to see a larger version of it.

Wir Haben Es Nicht Gewusst

At what point are we no longer responsible for our own actions? When do certain actions or behaviours become excusable? Are we ever really blameless? Is mob-mentality a solid enough excuse for our sometimes erratic and unjust behaviour? Is fear for our own lives justification for malicious acts towards others? Some argue "Responsibility" should always be weighted against the circumstancial background, or defined within a societal context. Should it really?

The ease with which Europeans have shifted responsibility for the events that unfolded in WWII onto the German people, has always baffled me. Are citizens who helped a malicious government into power more to blame than the citizens who follow its orders once they've been invaded & annexed by it? Were the Belgian, Dutch, French, Austrian, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese citizens' & governements' actions so much more excusable because they were under siege or occupied? I've always felt the blame/responsibility is equally weighted. Unfortunately it's not until recently that local and international courts have started to call on the responsibilty of other European countries and institutions.

Towards the late 90s, Switzerland's financial holdings were the first to undergo proper re-evaluation of their warpast. Swiss banks were forced to own up to their own "warcrimes". And a few years later, the Swiss governements "neutral" stance during the war was finally criticized.

Yesterday, in an unprecedented ruling, a court in Toulouse has ordered the French state and the rail firm SNCF to pay compensation for deporting Jews during World War II. SNCF had tried to defend its own actions by stating they had been forced by the local Vichy-regime and the German occupiers. The plaintiffs, both children of a deported Jewish father, won their claim on the grounds that while the German occupiers might have forced them into complying with the deportations, it was SNCF who chose to do such by means of animal transport carriers in order to save money on guard personnel. SNCF also continued to demand financial reimbursement of "traintickets" for those journeys even after France had been liberated.

While the matter of personal responsibility is perhaps less clearcut (although that's highly debateable), our habit of excusing corporate actions by a miriad of societal & contextual arguments has long since lost its palour. It's about time we recognize that each of us plays a part in the bigger picture. And that it takes people to participate in malicious systems in order for them to work.