Stones

It happens to all of us once in a while. You're on this bed, it's way past midnight and next to you there's this Kurdish guy you just met who's about to predict your future.

Doesn't ring a bell? No?

Odd.

Anyways, so he grabs your wrist and starts reading your hand.

"You think a lot... You really think a lot."

So far, so good. Anyone can tell I think a lot, if they're observant enough to notice the lines in my forehead I've had and deepened since I was about five.

Next thing you know he picks up 5 small stones. 5 little boulders in different shapes and colours. He throws them on the bed and looks rather troubled. Breaking the silence by telling me to pick one, I let my eyes wander over the boulders. Eventually I pick the black one, nearly unblemished, shiny and polished by the water. His eyes tell me to pick another one. And another one. And another one. And another one until all five stones are lying in front of us on the bed.

"Why did you pick the black stone?"
"It's pretty and curved and I love black."

He looks doubtful.

"This is not good. This really isn't good."

He keeps throwing the stones over and over as if they might change their minds. But they don't. The white stone lies closest to the black stone every time again. Not good. Not good at all.

Suddenly he starts telling me things about my recently deceased grandmother. And about the uncle I never knew. It's all a bit vague, but ghosts have never made the books because of their eloquence - or are they just being poetic? - but still, he knows more than he could know.

Eventually he decides to tell me. The black stone represents illness, disappearance and death. (I should've known, it's always the black stone! Always!) Bad things are awaiting me in Canada. Maybe I'll want to go back, I'll have a miserable time. On the airplane I should expect to be seated at the right next to the wing, but I should seduce the flight attendant to give me a seat next to the emergency exit instead. (Is it just me or are the words "emergency exit" still not very comforting at I-do-not-know how many miles above the Atlantic?)

As if to end on an obligatory positive note he tells me at least my protective father symbolises health. Oh, okay, see, now I'm comfortable...



Did I ever claim I wasn't nervous?

Believe me, I am now.

...and I take along with me.

I'd only just written I'd have Stoa members turn green with jealousy over my extreme self-composure, when I received my exact departure date and the sense of leaving soon followed.

September 19th 2006

46 more nights in my own bed.

Due to the lack of other practical information I decided to use my newfound drive to assemble a small package called "Home". Parents and brothers have already been framed but I want more. More! MORE!

So here goes:

Send me your best picture and I'll take you along with me! (Well...just a little.) I accept everything ranging from unexpected snapshots, out of bed looks, professional portraits or your latest Playboy-shoot. As long as your historical facial features reflect your warm and unique personality, I'm a happy person.

For a digital printable version you can mail me here .

Snail Mail is still being opened and welcome at the following address:

Siska Gremmelprez
Halleweg 357
1500 Halle

Other goods holding some kind of emotional value are evenly welcome.

Thanks in advance.

Nervous?

"Aren't you getting nervous yet?" appears to be the standard question whenever I tell people I'll be leaving for Vancouver for nine months next September - If all goes well, that is.

"No, my only real fear is that I'll miss my flight." is my evenly standardised answer by now.

And although it's a little more on my mind than this answer seems to give away, the truth is I'm really not thinking about it all that much. It's over a month away and I'm one of those last minute people. (You know, those people whom you dreaded to have to work with in college, who'd return your Sesame Street cd's by the time you were into Alanis Morissette and who somehow always manage to jump on delayed trains. Just remember - our intentions are good.) But let's hope the last minute will in this case turn out to be a few weeks, so I only forget 15% of what I'm supposed to take instead of the expected 73,59%.

So what else is on my mind?

My new blog, of course. Because it has to be original. The lay-out perfectly in tune with my sparkling personality, a fresh, spontaneous, witty and intelligent voice. Finding an audience, that's my purpose. As I dreamingly think about the numerous comments while I can hardly keep up with the replies. In short, eternal fame by means of a blog, a medium at anyone's disposal!

Hm, maybe I should consider going back to reality once in a while...