Story-telling

It's funny. The less frequent one blogs, the fewer things seem relevant enough to be blogged about. The more one blogs, the more trivial occurrences suddenly seem worthy topics. Anything becomes blog-able if you blog frequently enough.

For me it seems that life is getting in the way. I'm too busy living to blog about it much. It is very much a two-edged sword. My blog has become a diary of sorts. A means to process things. To ensure it becomes a memory, in this increasingly scattered and forgetful mind. So, naturally, when I don't blog, I miss it immensely. But my life is accelerating, and I love immersing myself in it.

And I've come up with a story I want to write. Been doing research, developed characters, a plotline. Spent a few lazy sunday mornings snuggled up to my girl in bed recounting my ideas, soaking up her feedback doused in kisses. And in between the moving, the housepainting, the admin, the working and the playing, my leftover energy is drawn towards someone else's story. A fictional one that is becoming ever more real to me, with every day that passes.

It's made me realise that everything in life is about story-telling. Wether it's keeping family memories alive, processing our own feelings and thoughts by dramatising it to others over a coffee, a boss passing on stories of wisdom to teach his team, a marketer luring you into the world of his product, a photographer conjuring up a thousand neologisms with one image... life is about storytelling. That in itself could be an interesting topic for a book/script... but if I recall correctly, it's been done before. And better.

Stories are the most effective vehicles for thoughts and ideas, if they succeed in engaging their audience. Maybe the world cannot be changed with Politics or money or guns. Maybe stories can.

Illegial Alien

When you move to the flatlands from a foreign country, you have to report yourself to the Belgian "vreemdelingendienst". To help Jo out a little, I filed the initial report online and called staff at the foreigners' department to arrange an appointment for her.

On the phone, they had asked me for the reason for Jo's move to Belgium. Since Jo's a citizen of a Shengen Country, any reason is pretty much a valid one, but I decided to stick to "an appealing job offer" rather than the "cuz she's head over heels in love with me!!" reply.

So, all seemed to go pretty smoothly. I'd decided to guard Jo's bike and wait for her outside the department later that day, thinking it'd just take a few minutes to get the necessary stamps. Some 50 minutes later, Jo finally strutts out, admitting she'd cocked up slightly.

When she first entered, the lady had asked her whether she knew this "Sarah" person. Jo being Scottish, thinks my name is "Sera". So when the lady pronounced it the Flemish way, it didn't register and Jo swiftly replied: "Erm... no, I don't think so."

When the lady, a little puzzled, tried again: "You don't know Ms.Xxxx"? Jo, finally recognizing my surname, said: "Oh her! Yes, I know her! Yes."

But clearly the damage had been done. In the mind of this lady, I'm now some dodgy trafficer and Jo needs to be subjected to a significantly lengthier round of questioning. Next time I take my girrel anywhere, I will be sure to remind her of my name.

Invite

Ladies & Gents,
while wasting my own creative efforts in BlogLand, my dad managed to write a book. It's been published *applause* and on Sunday May 18th, it will be presented to the public in the Hotsy Totsy in Ghent, at 4pm.

You're all very welcome to visit, and for those of you who can't make it to the event, do consider supporting the "Pew Family Pension Scheme", by buying the book here. Much appreciated!