Thursday, May 27, 2010

Live with it or leave with it.

My mom always has had faith in me. Back in my school days, a week or so before my exams, she got a call from the principal who was worried about how I would do during those exams. My mom subsequently asked me about how I would do and when I told her it would be fine she told the principal the same. End of story for her. (It went well btw)

Years and years later during a trip down memory lane this 'incident' came up. I asked my mom how she could trust the word of an 18-year-old who wasn't exactly the poster boy for the model student. It couldn't have been my blue eyes. According to her it wasn't as much what I said but the way I said it and she then warned me for that. She warned me that people could easily make the mistake of taking my jokes for reality because I often switch between those in the same sentence. Not everyone is able to read between your lines she said.

Even if that were the case I just can't imagine people taking my words too seriously. Shouldn't I do that first? I mean that most of the time I don't even remember exactly what I have said because it is just what it is. A funny intermezzo. Nothing more, nothing less.

Writing a blog entry or a letter is different because there I can't use the tone of my voice to make the distinction that is needed but communicating directly with someone in voice or even via instant messaging with the use of emoticons I can't help myself. I have to make jokes. Or..I believe the term is quips.

Recently a friend came to me about something I had said to her. I couldn't remember it but she was somewhat upset by it and even more when I didn't remember it. I'm absolutely sure I didn't mean to hurt her feelings but I obviously did. Not remembering it is quite a good indication I didn't mean it btw. But I am who I am and those quips are part of me. I can't say sorry for that.

Live with it or leave with it.

Monday, May 24, 2010

I'm not that interesting

I was approached last week by someone who wanted to write a book about me. Or at least a book based on me. That surprised me and to be honest frightened me as well. How does a book based on me work? Do I tell my stories, even the ones still in the closet, and does the writer adapt those so I can remain the (mostly) private person I am or would I be reading a book one day in which most of my friends would clearly recognize me? Am I old enough for a book? Would the privacy of those around me be guarded? Am I interesting enough or will it become a very small book? Numerous questions flooded my brain.

Of course I know I've written quite some intimate stories on-line but I've always tried to tell them in a way no one could point a finger and say: "That's about you!" Of course those who know me personally and read the stories could figure it out but to make the identities known to a more general public I find a little awkward. And of course everything I do or did on-line is somewhere to be found.

But do I want it bundled and presented as one? No, I decided after a good nights sleep and some discussions with Nath. I know, taking into account all the influences that one runs into during life, I'm a successful self-made man. I know my views on certain things are a little off and therefor sometimes interesting to others. I know my lifestyle is in itself material for a book.

I know who I am (I think) and in the end decided I am not interesting or successful enough for a book (yet).
Feel free to disagree *LOL*

Friday, May 7, 2010

Life coach

I met a few of my friends today for a drink and one of them told us that he had been talking to a life coach lately and that she had helped him tremendously. I had never heard of a life coach so I asked what a life coach does. He told us that she listened to his problems or for instance what had happened to him on a certain day and then gave him advice. One of my friends who is a lawyer grabbed his blackberry and started typing when he asked him what a life coach costs per hour. He told us he paid around $125. My lawyer friend added that to his typing and told us we could bill him for approximately 3.5 million for listening to his problems for the last 30 years or so. The advice we gave him would be on the house LMAO.

In all honestly: Life coaches are a scam. There is no degree needed for it and other then a reasonable amount of experience in life for being able to listen and give advice I can't think of any job requirements. Part of being a friend is being a life coach and you won't get billed for talking to a friend.

I hope he has seen the light.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

8th grade

"You managed to do it again. How do you do it?" It was obvious what she meant and I could only smile sheepishly.
"It wasn't my fault, this time but to answer your question, I position myself strategically and wait for a moment of opportunity. Once it presents itself I jump on it."
"Look I'm not mad or anything but I'm pretty sure my next invite, if I even get one, won't read Nathalie plus one."
"I'm sorry if your social life will take a hammering because of this. I'll come up with things to replace it with."
"Get your mind out of the gutter."
"But hun, I'm thinking of you."
"Like I said, out of the gutter!" I had her smiling again.

Why we had this discussion? Well... Nath asked if I would tag along to a vernissage she had been invited to and as I had nothing really interesting to do and still need some paintings for my new home decided to join her. Last time I went to one with her I made someone cry so she stressed that I had to be on my best behaviour. I promised I would try.
Anyway when we got to the studio where the vernissage was being held I regretted my decision. My first mistake. The works were by a Picasso wannabee and using the name of the great master is too much credit for this artist.
**Skipping forward 30 minutes.**
I was nipping from my glass of white wine and looking at a painting with a great grey blob in the middle thinking "What the ... is this supposed to be?" when someone came up behind me and asked what I saw. I answered truthfully. My second mistake. I told whoever was behind me that I didn´t know what I was looking at and that if he told me it was an elephant I would argue that a grey splatter on a canvas wasn´t really an elephant. The person behind me said: “Well, if you don’t see it you’re not worthy.” Somewhat baffled I turned around. “Wow that was a flashback to the 8th grade. But did you really say that I’m not worthy…of this junk?” I said pointing at the paintings. The woman/man opposite me turned on his/her heels and left the building in a rage. Someone later said it was the artist…….