Man up!

This month, I've been trying to write a 50 000 words novel. That's the challenge of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) : write as much as you can in one month time. You don't get judged on the quality of your prose but you're considered a winner if you reach the word count by Nov. 30 midnight.  You might wonder what the point is since you don't actually win anything, except maybe the satisfaction to finally finish a piece from A to Z. Well, the point is to give aspiring writers the little push they need to actually just write and not look back on what they've written; to give people like me, who've always wanted to write but never finished anything, such a tight deadline that they can't be bothered to read again every line they wrote and let themselves be reached by doubt (and consequently just abandon yet another story they started).  

This year was my first try. I say 'was' because even though November is not yet over, I know I won't be winning this year. I wrote around 12 700 words in the first two weeks, but then I got caught up in work and personal matters that just took over again rank n°1 in my priorities list, leaving my poor little embryo of a novel rotting in its file. Plus, I thought I could do it in English but maybe next time I should try in French instead.

But hey, I'm still proud of myself for having started a decent plot (at least I think it is) and having written more words on one story than I had ever written before. And even if I don't reach the 50 000 words by the end of next week, I know I have a story waiting tight in its little file for me to look it over again and continue it. I didn't write much (just over a quarter of the assignment) but I wrote enough to be hooked on a story and to know that when life gives me a little break again, I'll be excited to get back to it. Maybe I'll have been even having the time to develop better ideas for the next chapters. Maybe, me not finishing the assignment in time for winning NaNoWriMo doesn't mean it won't be a winner after all, just a little bit later than scheduled. Maybe. But in any case, I keep faith in myself and am already a little proud of my 12 700 words achievement.

I keep faith... for this at least, because for the rest of what's been going on in my life lately, I'm wandering through thick fogs, be it personally or professionally. I won't develop too much on the work front but let's just say that the near future is looking less and less certain everyday and that December is probably going to be a very stressful period. Prepare for strategies and potential exhausting mind games. The bright side is that in 3 or 4 weeks, I should be fixed on my options. The scary part however is that, I don't know yet how I will react if these aren't corresponding to the ones I am currently hoping for. But let's just let things unfold and try to take things as they come, without overthinking them too much.

And on the personal front, it's just a big whole mess for the moment. I have been letting two close friends  just drift away from me over the past few months. The situation was triggered by a thing they did, a stupid thing if you ask me, but it is now persisting because of my difficulty to forgive and get over things. So all of us have a share of responsibility for this sucky situation and I feel helpless. On the one hand, I feel betrayed, hurt and find the pill hard to swallow. On the other hand, I'm also frustrated by the current situation and wish I could just turn the page easily. The current state of things is the following: I barely talk to Friend A, pretending that I'm progressively getting over 'it' while deep down I just know I'm not there yet. Friend B just vanished from the face of the earth (figuratively speaking, of course) from one day to the other, or more accurately just shut me out of his life, leaving me there with my confusion, a bunch of unanswered questions and a resentment growing up slowly everyday as I gather pieces of the puzzle from third parties along the way. And in the middle of this is Friend C, the real victim of 'it' all, who however has no clue of 'it' and who I have to face regularly, lying to his face by omission every time I see him, and feeling every time a little bit more like the forced accomplice of Friends A and B, which I hate tremendously! This situation sucks, to say the least. I wish Friends A and B would just both man up and respect Friend C enough to tell him everything. Although, I am afraid of what Friend C's reaction might be when he discovers the truth and the fact that we all knew 'it' already...

The result of all this shit for me - in a consciously selfish way - is that I've lost important friendships. This whole story just broke something between me and Friends A and B (A especially). It's frustrating to see how relationships that took quite a while to build can be altered in just a blink of an eye's time. Things will never be the same again between us. A trust has indirectly been broken. My respect for them is fissured and I keep putting glue on it but the marks just keep showing... A mistrust has slowly made its bed between us. And I'm left alone with no one to turn to anymore. Sure there are a few candidates applying to fill the position but you can not just trigger such a bond on command. I wish I could but I can't. I'm surrounded with people who care and yet I feel as lonely as ever. I can't talk to either of all the three anymore. Friend A is trying to talk again like nothing happened but I won't (I can't) reciprocate, Friend B is not talking to anyone anymore and it burns my tongue to not be able to talk frankly to Friend C. All this refraining from talking is killing me.

I'm really hoping for this big bubble to burst soon. No matter how hard the consequences will be, they can only be sounder than what we have now. It certainly is the only option I see for us to mend these cracked friendships back to what they used to be, or stronger.

A bon entendeur...

Moaning as a way to be social

Yesterday, I have been told that I was constantly moaning. No you perv’, not in THAT sense…

It’s funny because, see, I don’t see myself as such a big moaner. Well sure, for someone who only knows me through my blog, it might sound right since I usually write about stuff that upsets or bothers or hurts me. But that’s just how my inspiration works I guess, when I’m happy, I’m too busy being happy and I don’t feel the need to write a bunch of stupid lines about it. – Because, let’s face it, all cheery and bubbly blogposts always turn out to be the same thing: boring.

Plus, being truly happy is such a rare and good feeling that why waste your time bragging about it instead of enjoying the moment? When I’m happy, I really couldn't care less about what others think about it, so why bother sharing it with them? You’ll have plenty of time to tell them all about it once the lucky streak is over. When you’re pissed, you find ways to vent, and technically, if you are constituted like most of other human beings, when you’re happy this need for venting your anger or frustration just spontaneously vanishes.

Anyway, getting back to that thing about me being a moaner : in daily life I’m pretty different than the written me. I tend to cover up and protect myself. I seem pretty normal I guess. I put on a regular sized smile and have a few chit chat topics always handy. I leave my over thinking brain in the closet and play my part. So, it is not that I take that comment of last night badly, it just comes as a surprise to me. I just don’t get on what evidence it relies on. Yes, I have a tendency to abuse half-empty glass sarcasm, but that’s not the “surface” me, that’s a special treat I save up for my friends usually. Sometimes I try it on other people, it usually doesn't take, too bad. On daily stupid stuff that loads of people complain about, on THAT, I usually don’t complain much, because I just couldn’t care less.  Or, on the opposite, I start complaining about it too, to just blend in or more correctly to avoid having people that I don’t give a crap about start wonder about me and then start being awkward with me or worse asking me too many questions. Blending in is my way to keep uninteresting people at safe distance from me.

That stupid coffee machine is not working properly? Oh yeah, totally agree, that’s so annoying. You always have to ask people 50 times before they actually do that thing you were asking for? Oh yeah, so frustrating! People always take your files out and never put them back in their right place and you always end up losing YOUR time just looking for them when you have spent so much time already just organizing them following a very strict and elaborated system that is so awesome, if only people would follow it?? OMG, you’re so right! I hate this !! Etc. Seriously, who gives a crap.

Little insider tip : when you cut all that crap and start having “heavy” discussions (about life, love, politics, art, or personal important stuff and emotions) with me that’s when you know I consider you interesting and worth of my friendship.

The daily me, available to everyone, is not a fan of excess, so I won’t complain too much, as I won’t cheer too loud. I just go with the flow. Had I been called whimsical last night, that would have made more sense to me, because yes, I have my moods every now and then, I don’t hide them, they are printed out on my face, but I don’t start blabbering everyone’s ears full with it !

Maybe last night’s comment derives from the fact that this person only – mostly – knows me from work. And yes, as I said, at work, I do a lot of social complaining. But I just try to contribute to the group effort! Because, let's face it, when people are not talking about the weather (on which they spend huge amounts of time complaining, by the way), they moan just about everything in the office. And since I'm an assistant, who do you think they blabber full with it? That's right, me! I have a boring job, it's a fact. I can’t seem to find work in my field of interest, I keep encountering people who have jobs in my field of interest and who, without bragging or anything, are way less qualified and intelligent for the job than I would be, and yes, it might be true that all this is getting on my nerves and contributing to the fact that I tend to fill the enormous amount of time I have on my hands doing literally nothing, criticizing every other thing every now and then. It’s probably a way to vent, combined with an option on how to pass the time when I am having just about enough of Facebook and other online procrastination tools. And I know I should act on this and find a more appropriate job, and I’m trying, I’m applying every week to a bunch of positions. I sometimes am picked for an interview, most of the time I'm not. And when I do get picked, it never worked out so far, but I continue! And in the meantime, I just have to stay where I am, being paid doing nothing or nothing much. That’s just the way it is. Until the dices roll in my favor, that’s how it is going to be. It is frustrating, that’s for sure, but I accepted the fact and I’m confident, things will change, sooner or later. So all of that couldn't be the cause of this constant moaning accusation either.

All in all, I don’t see myself as a moaner in the general sense of it. As much as constantly overly happy people annoy me, people always complaining about every single detail (especially those who, you know, have it better than you, in general) tend to really get on my nerves. People asking themselves meaningful questions and going through a thinking process that leads them to rather negative conclusions, now THEY don’t annoy me. See, I don’t qualify this as moaning. Moaning is purposeless. Thinking and coming to conclusions, may they be positive or negative, is something totally different. It’s something you can work on, develop an argument upon, and start having one of these “heavy” talks I was referring to before. As I said, if I do complain about meaningless stuff, it usually is a way for me to contribute to or initiate a social interaction. Just like chit chat, complaining is a way to break the awkward silence between yourself and a person with whom you know you have nothing to talk about except maybe for that annoying disfunctional coffee machine.

So maybe, maybe this guy, this guy who thinks I’m a constant moaner, is just someone I have nothing genuinely interesting to talk about with. Maybe when I’m out of chit chat topics to discuss with him, I move over to complaining because nothing else is coming from our conversations. Maybe, just maybe, that means we should just accept the fact that we don’t have that much in common and that we covered everything we had available for us to share. Maybe it’s time that we just start spending less time together and both go our own ways, meeting people we’ll both enjoy the company of, and stop wasting each other’s time. Maybe. I mean, it’s just an idea...

My story with Miss H.

It’s written in a little card. Just a little cute card, as cute and little as her. I read those words every now and then. They are stored in this card, which is tucked in this teeny tiny envelop that safely lays in between the pages of my journal. I stumble on it every now and then and when this happens, my fingers are always pulled to open it. I know exactly what is written in this little cute card and yet, it gets to me every freakin’ time. It’s not long, just a few well put phrases. I lay my eyes on the paper, recognize her handwriting, start assembling the words one after the other and I hear her voice reading them to me. And then I cry. I cry just a little, just a few tears wetting my eyes and rolling down my cheeks, no sobs or running make-up, but enough to feel a lump in my throat. And I remember how much my life is an empty hole without her in it. Someone took away a piece of my puzzle and I can’t put the picture together anymore. I couldn’t tell you in precise facts or moments how she became such a big part of me, but she grew like a tree, spreading roots in every direction and little by little wrapping me up like a life jacket. She was my emotional life jacket. I couldn’t make a decision without sharing my thoughts with her first and listening to hers. She was my rock through stormy weather and my ray of sun on quiet seas. I would cry and laugh often simultaneously in her company. Slowly but surely she made herself a comfy bed in my heart, leaving behind only a mess of cold sheets when she moved away.

She moved across the ocean and across the next continent. She ventured back “home” for her but in unexplored and out of space territories for me. She was getting back to her previous life and I was scared. Scared she would close the parenthesis of her time in Brussels, remembering it like a dream, vaguely and from afar, like an old box gathering dust, left behind, in the past… She is like those beautiful things you can never grasp, like a mellow cloud or a shooting star. And I was scared she would have just passed through my life as smoothly and quickly as these do through the sky.

She is the one popping in my mind and giving me comfort whenever I feel small and broken. She is the one I have a thought for in times of joy and happiness. My heart breaks a little whenever I realize that she is again not there to live it with me. She is the one I wish I’d get an email of in my inbox every morning, the one I would want to hug for no freakin’ reason every day. She is, for me, what some call their special person, the one you bond with and you don’t even really remember how or why. But you bond, almost instantaneously you bond. You meet and you feel a connection. You read it in her ways, in the way she looks at you, you feel it in your guts.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing romantic in all of that, or maybe there is but not in the common sense of the word. It is indeed love, but it is a stronger love than romantic love. It is the kind of love that is commonly referred to as siblings love. Even though, I don’t completely agree with the term as I have never had such a strong connection to my brother, for instance. Yes, we share the same genes and blood but we are just not on the same page. She and I, I feel like our souls reached to one another. I feel like it was no coincidence that our paths crossed. It is encounters like this that make you wonder if there isn’t indeed a destiny for each of us.

This all might sound cheesy, I know. And I am not saying that she is perfect. Perfect is boring. She has her flaws, like we all do. And yes they annoy me at times, just as my flaws annoy her at times too, I guess. But her heart is so big that when I see her smile or read a few words from her it makes everything okay. I love her like I never loved anyone before. I am not in love with her, I just love her.  And when you truly love someone, you love every part of them. Just as it does in romantic love, distance sucks in true friendships. I want her to be near me all the time. I want her to be the first I can call when I am taking an important step in my life and I want her to be able to do the same with me when something big happens in her life.

I never had a sister but I wish that if I did, we’d have a relationship like the one I have with her. Even though, I’m pretty sure that I love her in an overwhelming way for her and that she loves me back but probably not as much, or in a different way, I will always love her no matter what. I was never big on friends growing up. As a teenager I would dream of lifelong friendships, of growing up in the same little town and being surrounded by people who, I knew, would always be there for me and me for them because we would have known each other forever. A chosen family. And I know I am not a marginal case, or else shows like Dawson’s Creek would never have had the success they got. But I am getting off subject here… This to say that she is my chosen family.

I love her and maybe I even fell a little bit in love with her too. Heck, I don’t know anyone who hasn’t! My biggest frustration is that I have to share her with others. I sometimes secretly wish she’d be a bit more of a loner like me so that I could have her all for me. But then, we’d probably wouldn’t be what we are now. And I have to learn to share anyway. I know that I’m emotionally very demanding. I get frustrated, then pissed and then, I hold a grudge. But that’s where it’s different with her: I can never hold a grudge against her.

I love her with no restrictions. And I wish I’ll find one day someone to romantically love that way and share my life with, someone who will be able to read me like she does, who’d see through my mask with her clarity.  Miss H., this is my declaration of love to you: You should have been a man. Then all would have been perfect and we could have been living happily ever after! ;)

Le long périple d'un jeune diplômé en quête d'emploi

Allez un post en français, une fois n'est pas coutume... Le mémoire de master est fini, rendu, défendu. La cérémonie de proclamation semble déjà bien loin dans les mémoires, tout comme ce grade qui me sera tout juste passé sous le nez. Mais franchement, qu'est-ce que ça peut bien faire finalement?
Non, maintenant, c'est une toute autre aventure dans laquelle j'ai dû me lancer depuis déjà presque 3 mois : la recherche du Premier Emploi. Des majuscules oui, car il s'agit d'une denrée rare. Autant dire que la quête s'apparente à la recherche d'une aiguille dans une botte de foin, comme dit le dicton. A qui s'adresser? Répondre à des annonces? Envoyer des candidatures spontanées? Oui mais à qui? S'inscrire dans les bureaux de recrutement, oui? non? Comment écrire LA lettre de motivation qui tue? Comment se vendre pour sortir du lot des 150 autres candidats qui se présenteront au poste avec un profil, dans les grandes lignes, quasiment identique au vôtre? Bref un parcours long et éreintant, parsemé d'embûches et sinué de méandres, on se croirait presque dans le Seigneur des Anneaux, même si l'on espère secrètement qu'on aura pas besoin d'autant de tomes pour arriver au bout du chemin.
J'entends souvent autour de moi dire que "la recherche d'emploi est un job à plein temps", c'est pas si faux. Ca bouffe du temps mais surtout, ça vous bouffe toute votre énergie et, il faut savoir garder le cap pendant la tempête pour ne pas se faire souffler du navire en cas de gros vent. Car oui, le plus difficile finalement est de garder espoir, garder confiance, que dans le fond, on vaut quelque chose, qu'on est la perle rare qu'une boîte recherche mais ne le sait peut-être pas encore. Il faut quotidiennement se répéter et se convaincre qu'on est pas pas assez connectée, pas trop grosse, pas pas assez blonde, pas trop casual, pas trop indépendante d'esprit, pas pas assez bouffeuse de lion, pas inadaptée au marché, pas trop nulle, pas à côté de la plaque et qu'on aurait dû étudier autre chose, pas "que" trilingue, et j'en passe...
Y'a des matins plus faciles que d'autres et en hiver, je sais pas, c'est peut-être le manque de luminosité, mais ils ont tendance à se faire plus rares. C'est alors que le doute, doucement mais sûrement, commence à vous narguer. Il vous fait de l'oeil, de loin, mais jamais de si loin finalement. Et putain qu'il est chiant quand il s'agit de rédiger un dossier de candidature, quand il est question ni plus ni moins de se vendre, comme un vulgaire pot de confiture. Du coup, on le fait moins souvent. Et ça fait du bien de souffler un peu, de penser à autre chose et faire autre chose que des dossiers de candidatures. Le danger est de se laisser aller à cet esprit "vacances" trop longtemps. Faut toujours se rappeler à la réalité, "eh oh truc muche, faudrait peut-être s'y remettre, non?". Non, il n'y a pas de doute, le doute est le pire ennemi du chercheur d'emploi, il arrive sans prévenir, s'insinue doucement, et finit par vous avoir à l'usure si vous ne faites pas gaffe. Et si vous restez en gare trop longtemps, le risque est que le train de l'emploi reparte sans vous. (Et les tickets sont non remboursables). Alors quand on voit qu'on stagne, qu'est-ce qu'on fait? Une formation par-ci, un cours de langue par là, un entretien avec un Xième cabinet de recrutement, car ça a tellement bien marché avec les autres que pourquoi ne pas essayer celui-là aussi? etc. On écoute poliment nos amis et conseillers emplois nous rassurer, "non mais tu verras, là t'es dans la sale période, mais dans quelques mois tu vas trouver quelque chose, j'en suis sûr. C'est qu'un mauvais cap à passer". On veut y croire, mais bizarrement, ce speech devient de moins en moins convaincant. Alors au lieu de tourner en rond, on s'occupe. Bénévolat (même moi qui crois dur comme fer que tout travail mérite salaire, j'ai cédé), sorties entre amis (pas trop vu qu'on a pas sous, ah beh oui!), ciné (ah non ça aussi c'est trop cher maintenant, vu qu'on est plus étudiant), voyages (on en rêve). Tout comme on rêve de tout ce qu'on pourra faire le jour où on aura un revenu mensuel : déménager, emménager, enfin voyager (bon, faudra patienter un peu, mais on pourra), acheter un nouvel ordinateur et remercier l'ancien trop plein, investir, pouvoir se payer une formation complémentaire, etc. Mais surtout, on rêve du jour où on n'aura pas à se demander où on en sera dans trois mois et comment jongler avec trois centimes sur la dernière semaine du mois.
Depuis ces trois derniers mois, depuis que je suis dans cette merveilleuse phase transitoire que la Belgique qualifie de "stage d'attente", je ressens de plus en plus au quotidien comme, non pas un plafond, mais une vitrine de verre entre les gens qui ont un emploi et ceux qui n'en ont pas. On aimerait bien être comme eux, on ne demande que ça!... mais on ne l'est pas. On aimerait nous aussi intégrer cette bulle de privilégiés. En plus, ils ont tous l'air de dégager une aura, comme s'ils vivaient dans un monde rempli de ouate, tout semble tellement plus simple pour eux... Ca pique d'autant plus l'ego quand tous vos potes y sont déjà et que vous avez l'impression, c'est le cas de le dire, d'être resté sur le carreau.
Jalousie? Un peu sûrement. Mais de l'impatience surtout, je ne connais pas un seul demandeur d'emploi qui dans le fond ne souhaiterait pas être embauché dès demain. Non, nous ne sommes pas une bande de glandeurs. Non, nous ne sommes pas moins compétents que vous autres travailleurs. Car la recherche d'emploi en fin de compte n'est pas tant une recherche qu'une loterie. C'est à qui postulera le premier au bon endroit au bon moment. Ni plus ni moins. Reste à voir si la chance me sourira plus ici qu'au lotto.

Making lemonade is what keeps you going

Hello world, it's been a while.
I've been pretty unconsistent on this blog and for this, I apologize. Even though I think it's a good sign as well as a not so good one. On the one hand, it means I'm too busy to worry about my life and write about stuff that upsets or scares me, on the other, my creativity has been flirting with the sealevel for more than a year now. I had a few little sparks of enlightment happening to me once in a while, but nothing consistent or worth persevering on.
What happened during the past year in my life? Let's see... I fell in love in the late summer and stumbled off my cloud roughly in the middle of winter. Exactly a month after this unexpected fall, thinking I couldn't fall deeper, I had a very disturbing encounter putting me to the edge, forcing me to pause and put my life in perspective, take a breath, think for a second, in order to avoid entering a vicious circle of selfdestruction. Once the fire put out and the ashes dusted, I spreaded my wings slowly and carefully again and reality catched up with me. My master thesis wasn't gonna write itself, it was late March and it was about time I reconnected with the world and its responsabilities.
Ever since, it's been a quiet and lonesome time. Working on a project as big as the final piece of your six years of studies can be pretty insightful and a good way to test yourself, your strength, your nerves, your selfconfidence and your patience.
But once most of the research was done, around three months later, I started to take again some time for myself. I had surprised myself noticing in the meantime that I could go several weeks without a thought for my lost love. Feeling the healing process going its course is a warm feeling, it is comforting and reassuring. I was now ready to mingle with the crowd again.
In the last few weeks, I met incredible people, from all around the world, and of various horizons and interests. Who thought I could find that atmosphere in Brussels? I guess anyone but me, so far! The change feels good, I breathe again, I feel my bones again. And the thesis writing process is going its course as planned. Sure, I still have the usual pinch of doubt kicking in whenever I'm writing a paragraph, my wellknown lack of confidence not being that easy to shake off obviously. But it's still satisfactory to see the words adding up and formulating what's been occupying my mind every day and night for the last 4 to 5 months. I'm obsessed with it, I wann do it right.
The countdown has started, in exactly 22 days at the latest, I will have to hand it in and pray for the best. The oral defense of it takes place sometime around early September and I'll sure be stressed as hell by then, but one step at a time. Two thirds are now written. The last part should be layed on paper by the end of this week. Next week re-reading and editing are on the menu. And then, it won't be in my hands anymore.
But as I said, the last few weeks weren't only about work. I met people, certain people in particular. Let's say one, more specifically... I can't say what it is yet, because I don't know it myself, but it feels promising so far and I sure hope the future has good cards planned out for us. All I know is that it is the first time since the year started that I've smiled that much and who knows, 2011 might even not be all in all that bad after all...