Work and Play: a How-To

I've decided I hate work. Well not really. I just hate being at work, wishing I could be out and about! Is this what being an adult is? I don't think so; I think its contingent on where you are geographically. If I have to work, I think I'm going to move somewhere very remote, where I won't be tempted to day dream of adventures I'm not having, maybe west Texas. If this doesn't make any sense, the conundrum is that I'm already in Europe, and yet I'm strapped to a desk. And I have a priest staring at me over his keyboard (our comps face each other), and so even if I'm just listening to Christmas, country, or musical theatre through my headphones (you know, to lighten up the monotony that 8 hours looking at a computer can bring, even if well-spent) or say something slightly amusing pops into my head and I make some kind of pleasant facial expression, he glares at me like a nazi. Man, it must suck to be so serious all the time. I mean, come on, how fast can I save child-soldiers? (haha kidding)But, really, I guess I'll turn into one in the process if I can't sing along as I type.

Actually, work is great. I just need to quell my selfish energy.

I haven't written about the escapades in Dinant, yet, the lovely little village that it is, but here's a quote I read in our very floral and rather amalgated room in the bed and breakfast, where, after the three of us arrived, the outside sign went from "vacancie" to "complet"...aka, there was only one room in the inn. More about Dinant later-

"Nous desirons beaucoup de choses, mais nous n'avons besoin que de si peu."
or in English,
"To have what we want is riches; but to be able to do without is power." -George Somebody
its so sweet! even more so in french.

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most depressing article i've seen in a long time. the parkside is an anomaly haunting my sweetest memories. too many good ones. now i can better imagine the life of a refugee, to be overdramatic.

belgian wedge, the political kind

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/21/world/europe/21belgium.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

il faut luter, mais ca vaut la peine

i don't know why, but i am committed to making life difficult.

what do the antiquarians have to say about this?

first, they say to learn your history. this provides perspective.

maybe thats why i gravitate to older people. for example, i can't think of anyone i'd rather live with right now than my aged belgian mother. we talked for like three hours last night in french, which was good practice, although at one point i said "if i ever marry myself..." when i meant "if i ever marry" because i thought the verb "to marry" was reflexive...i digress. i think she satisfies my hunger to recognize that life goes on and we age and everything is going to be ok, despite my current trivial emergencies. its like old men at church in their cadillacs. its reassuring to see them. perhaps we should all live with the mindset of a retired person.

so last weekend i went to brugges and ghent and toured some WWI sites (graveyards, the Wall, the Flanders Field Museum, trenches) and have come to a much greater appreciation for the hatred of war. i'm not making an Iraq commentary here, but its not a generalization to say that europeans are socialized to hate war, thus the ambient feeling towards this particular one. to make it short, i hate that it exists, and yet i know in some cases it may be necessary. but regarding WWI, WWII and Iraq, its clear that most europeans consider Iraq another WWI, a fight without reason. which is why they've renegued from joining and taken the 'world' out of it. war stirs questions of motivation, of dedication, being dedication to a cause and dedication to your inner conscience to question everything you do. its clear that people here relive the wars everyday, no exxageration. in ghent there is an 8pm taps tribute (of sorts) everynight, with a military procession through the menen gate, not to mention that the city streets go right pass graveyards, covered in poppies. if you've seen the film 'joyeux noel' released two years ago, which commemorates the 1914 Christmas when entrenched soldiers of all sides emerged from their holiday holes and rejoiced together, you can see the morass that is our blood-thirsty nature.

another thought i had, after seeing the music film Control. ian, the lead singer, gets married very young, it seems w/o much thought but blinded by infatuation, and eventually leaves his wife and daughter for a foreign attraction, the quintessential desire for the exotic (of which i'm guilty i admit, hence my current geographic location), but which in this case is desastrous. what was his fault? why did he feel the need to leave her and go with the seductive belgian? is it because his wife was not quite as skinny, or interesting? i don't think it was anything to do with her sex appeal. but she doted on him just as much as the other girl, so it couldn't be that she engendered feelings of inadequacy as a father or husband. to be of the "gather ye rosebuds while ye may" mindset, i know i am of good age to be considering these issues. why do people cheat? its such a conundrum. you think you have it all figured out... but it happens to couples of golden anniversaries as well as the less-aged relationships. don't we seek relationships because we want there to be one person with whom we relate, if not more or better than others, but just one person we decide on to fill that role? one person to invest more time and energy than any of the others we could have chosen? so then we cheat because we get scared they'll know us too much, they'll love us too much, and perhaps we feel we're inadequate and not worthy of that much love? we all want the perfect symbiosis of mind, body that comes with the significant other we search for, but we're also scared or selfish to give all unconditionally to that person. or maybe its not everyone. maybe i'm being too broad and its only those people like myself who will do anything to avoid pain.

let that be my confession. and my un-masked self-disclosure/ conscious plea for help. if you know me, please hurt me so i'll get used to it and learn that its not something to run from. thats right -white flag to abuse me in whatever fashion amuses you.

i think the main idea i was inching my way to was the question of confronting our inadequacies, as ian could not do. and how that plays out in relationships and can hurt the people we love. basically i think his problem was that he wanted to love his wife, but deep down he hated that his life was so perfect. for some reason, thats a very uncomfortable feeling, and one which i relate to. cue avril, please, "my own worst enemy"...
the answer to all my questions will undoubtedly lead me to the merits of humor. it is a saving grace, a gift from God along with many other strategies of healing, but one which i find to be stronger and more effective than most anything else. it is no panacea: no false remedy as one finds with alcohol, drugs, fill in your own blank. "a light heart lives long," sayeth my favorite proverb. if we don't immerse ourselves in humor, but rather deeper into our selves and our search for truths, i think we ultimately find ourselves at the same end. its means to an end, because when it comes to human nature, we're inexplicable. and theres just not enough time to worry about it. there is no "control" possess-able (yeah molly, i made that one up for you).

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying."

"To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time", Robert Herrick

"A chacun de ces instants, où il quitte les sommets et s’enfonce peu à peu vers les tanières (dens) des dieux, il est supérieur à son destin. Il est plus fort que son rocher."

"Quand les images de la terre tiennent trop fort au souvenir, quand l’appel du bonheur se fait trop pressant, il arrive que la tristesse se lève au coeur de l’homme: c’est la victoire du rocher, c’est le rocher lui-même. L’immense détresse est trop lourde à porter. "

-Le Mythe de Sisyphe, Albert Camus.

danger de mort

vanzen. only in europe. so i went for a walk yesterday evening in the forest, which is fortunately my backyard. i know this might be me exercising my "woman's right to change her mind", but based on the visual and sensory pleasures, which by far surpassed experiences i've had of natural kinds in austria, germany, france, and england (and even new-foundland-ian) i must admit my conclusion that belgium is quickly making its way to the top of the list of most wildly beautiful places i have ever seen. i wish i had my camera cord handy, and i'd upload the pictures i took, because by no means is my convoluted english doing me any favors in expressing to you just how breathtaking this part of the world is. i think i could only compare it to descriptions of the 'walden pond' kind, the new england countryside, where the air is brisk w/o being desert-arid, the flowers are striking and unexpected, as in the non-cultivated, Rousseau-savage type. an outing alone will inspire more than almost any human interaction could, i do believe. there's just something about getting out and hiking alone. anyway, probably the most memorable part of my walk yesterday was the ridiculous sign i saw on my way back to the main road. "DANGER DE MORT," it read, meaning, danger of death. as i approached the sign, the feelings of intimidation setting in, i saw in smaller font the words, "RUINE DE BATIMENT," or destruction of building. Looking through the chain-link fence, of similar ruin, i saw a crumbling stone castle. well, i'll call it a castle, because by american standards, it certainly qualifies. i know real-estate developers who would pay good money for this batiment to be the cover girl for their housing development. the estates of chateau blanc...but no, here they use the opposite vice and instead turn you away from the site, by threat of death, because its just not quite as romantic to them, i suppose. less dilapidated royal buildings draw tourists just as well, and whats more, there are just too many of these similar 'castles' to care enough. whats one more 18th century example of decentralized political power and wealth? and yet, i wonder if its for sale... at least it would be good for a reenactment of a hitchcock scene, not that any of those were in europe. were they? my memory escapes me.

on a last note, i have been blessed with more market adventures. i'll spare you the embarassing details, because of course i probably have a greater affinity for the market than i should, but its only because i find locals at their most entertaining when they are screaming like used-car salesman in hopes of persuading you that their chives, parmesan, or bloody veal fillets are really the best buy. well, and i love fresh food. my outings this week, in conjunction with my laxadaisical sunday behavior, awarded me an entire bag of mangoes for a euro (thats ten), as well as a grocery sack full of bright red grapes, also one euro. apparently, if you go to the market right before closing, they pull the cici's pizza game and give you everything for almost nothing. its great! except then you have to carry it all home, ride with it on the train, wash it REALLY good...you get the idea. but anyway, i was thrilled because mangoes afford me more happiness than you might otherwise know (thanks to ashely aceto), and during the year i watch the price for them until they hit $1/each and then i splurge and buy them. if this is the only kind of gambling jackpot i ever hit, it was worth it. man- go crazy!!

oh, and i started the internship today. its time consuming, but purposeful. and i need a little purpose because i think i'm having too much fun being a tourist.

ciao for now,
lowra