Some Things Don't Change.

This is one of those inane ponderings that really should only be interesting to myself, but hey, this is my blog, and if you don't like me writing about myself you wouldn't be reading this.
It's just - I like change. I'm one of those people who get nerveous when things seem to get too routine. The kind of person who, when he has to take the same route somewhere every day, he'll take new routes from time to time just to get some variation and to try new things. The kind who'll shake up things around the office and other things he's involved in from time to time, just for the hell of it.
But even in my little world there are constants and I enjoy those.

Like eating kibbeling for lunch every monday and thursday if I'm at work. It's always a nice walk to the market, and since I've been getting kibbeling (for those of you who don't know what this is, it's a deep-fried kind of balls of cod, marinated - it's really good and a well-known snack in the Netherlands) at that fish stand for five years now, they basically only ask me anymore how much I want. I always get them on buns, with the same sauce. I know the price, too, and it hasn't changed (much) in that time. It's a nice constant. People in the office look surprised if I skip one of those days and ask me what's wrong. It's a reassuring kind of part of my personality, my life, now.

Or like getting home, no matter how late, and cat Satan running up to the door to greet me and claw the hell out of my legs while I check my snail mail and phone messages. Or going to my favourite bar which also hasn't changed too much in six years' time. It's little elements in your life that you know will be there, you know what to expect, you can relax, switch on cruise control, and sit back and enjoy it.

Or seeing the same people at the bus stop every morning and evening. Sure, they get older, and there are visible signs which life phases they are going through, but they're still the same faces. They're sort of in it together with you, you know ? These routine people and things sort of reassure you that you're not really alone and if all else falls apart, these things will probably still always be there.

It's the same reason people will like your comic, most of the time. Because they sort of know what to expect and they know that they'll probably like it. Because it comes from you, it's in a certain style with a certain kind of humour that has proven entertaining and/or interesting in the past and they can be pretty sure that as long as you're working on this comic, it will remain something along these lines. A reassuring, nice, routine stop on their internet walk. It's the 'secret' of the webcomics and newspaper comics etc. that have been around forever and are highly succesful: they have their appeal and they treasure this appeal. They try to be that good old friend that'll always be there if you need them. They're like big old mighty oaks you see on a late evening walk that have always been there your entire life and will be there for many more generations to come.

Being 'on the road' (well, rail road) for four days a week for years now also means I often have breakfast at the train station. Unhealthy and expensive, perhaps, but it means I get to sleep in some fifteen minutes longer than if I'd have breakfast at home. And I don't really have to put effort into my food that way, which is good, because that early in the morning I'm in full zombie mode. For years I went to the same place and had a tuna salad ciabatta with a small bottle of milk. Every morning. The people working there knew my face and often could guess my order. I have that impact on places I frequent a lot, apparently - people recognize my face and remember my routine orders. I like that.

And then they changed something. They took the tuna salad ciabatta off the menu and replaced with egg salad ciabatta.
I tried it a few times. After all, change can be good and I'll always be the first one to try out something new, no matter how small. Even in zombie mode early in the morning. But I didn't like the egg salad. I tried it and I really just didn't like it. And I stopped going there. They lost a regular client. This was, I think, about a year ago.
Some time last week I passed the place by and I saw an image on their menu of the tuna salad ciabatta. And the thought lingered in the back of my head since then 'hmm - I wonder if it's back or if it's just an old image they forgot to replace'.
So this morning I went back there. And saw the tuna salad ciabatta on the display. My heart rejoiced a bit and I got in line. And sure enough, I ordered a tuna salad ciabatta with milk. Early morning, so I half mumbled my order, but the girl behind the counter already knew what I wanted to order. She recognized me. She was glad to see me again. And as I ate my tasty, tasty ciabatta (apologies to Eric Burns here) on the perron this morning, I realised that where the ciabatta was a routine reassurement for me, my order was the same routine reassurement for her. And so my routine orders elsewhere are the nice, routine, reassuring element for other people and that's why they remember me.
And also, I left and after a while they changed the menu back. I'm not egotistical enough to think they changed it just because of me, because this is a national chain of food places, but I'm one of the people who made them change it back. My simply not going there enough contributed to its return.

I guess what I'm trying to say, sappy as it may seem, is.. treasure your routine, reassuring elements. And if they're people, perhaps let them know you like the routine, from time to time. That you appreciate them. And if they're comics, let their creator know how much you appreciate their work. Because if you don't, who knows - things might change. And that change may not be for the better.
Just a thought. Treasure the unchanging elements in your life. You might miss them when they're gone.
(And hey, I know I often say I don't care about my audience, but that only means I'm doing my own thing and not actively catering my readers. However, if you feel like my work is such a routine element for you, feel free to let me know. Appreciation, in whatever form, is always nice - I don't care who you are, if you say you don't want any appreciation for the things you do, you're lying.)

Tuna salad ciabatta. Hmmmmmmm, life is good.

René Talks About Death - What Else Is New ?

I have a reputation for being comfortable with the macabre - well, I guess that's what you get for being the guy behind a weekly comic starring the Grim Reaper and a bunch of dead folk. But still.
A colleague's brother-in-law keeled over at his job, pretty much dead on the spot, age 48. Now, I'm not afraid to die. I haven't been since about age 8. It happens, it's a part of life, and I'm damn glad that the idea is that at some point there's an end to all of this. Not that I dislike my life, but I've long ago accepted my death and I'm constantly trying to limit the amount of loose ends in my life because I know it can happen at any time. It's hard to understand for a lot of people, but to me death is just... death.
What *does* spook me, though, is... 9 hours a day (sometimes more), four days a week, I'm in the office. That's a pretty big chunk of my life. Statistically, the odds of dying while on the job are fairly realistic. And when I heard about that guy dying there, that *did* seem weird to me.
It's not that it would scare my colleagues or that it would get in the way of my work or any such kind of consideration. I mean, I could die in a bar, or on a train, or at home, and in each of those situations similar stuff would probably happen right after. It's the thought that I could die AT WORK. It's the idea that my last thought COULD be 'now to reboot that server' or 'I wonder if I've notified that user yet'. Too much of my time and energy is already being wasted at work, I don't want to DIE here as well. To be honest.
So yeah, that's my thought for the day. Think about it. You work to live, as they say. But what if you fail at that motto and work only to die while doing so ? Terrifying.

Entertaining Like Me.

Last week my Dead Like Me Series 1 DVD came in, and I'm almost through watching all the episodes. Turns out there's one I missed ! And so far - I can't sleep too well this evening so I'm watching some episodes this very moment - it seems to be the obligatory compilation episode, where the plot facilitates the reusage of scenes from past episodes. You know the drill. It's done in a good way though.

Dead Like Me is a lot like the Grim DotCom, but I've already handled that in the past of this blog. (Mental note: the image is dead - ironic, no ? Should fix that.) So now my mind is rambling on wether or not I should do a flashback episode as well, or a series of them. Then again, Clerks (the animated series, that is) already did that in a way more funny style than I would. And it's a six panel comic strip. I'd have to pull some pretty acrobatic stunts to facilitate a plot requiring flashbacks, plus flashbacks, in six panels.

The idea intrigues me now.

And I want my series 2 DVD as well. But it's special import so it'll take longer. Dead Like Me is such a well-written show, they shouldn't have pulled the plug. But then, the trend of recent years is that every good, insightful show gets pulled, so I'll try to just be glad there's two seasons.

I need some sleep. This is a weird week - I guess it's the good kind of weird - and it'll only get weirder. More about that later. For now I'll post this, then shut off the computer and watch the rest of this episode from bed.

John Fowles, 31/3/1926 - 5/11/2005

Writer John Fowles dies aged 79

"The French Lieutenant's Woman author John Fowles has died aged 79.
Fowles died at his home in Lyme Regis, Dorset on Saturday after battling a long illness, his publisher said."

I'm fairly saddened by this news. Fowles has been of great influence on me, both personally and in my writing. As you can read at the linked page (BBC news), I'm far from alone in that. And many people have written their thoughts there much more eloquently than I have.

So I'll limit myself to notifying you all that a man I greatly admired has passed away - before I could ever let him know that I did, I might add. I always hoped to have archieved a slight bit of greatness myself before doing so, to perhaps make it slightly more honorable. My own fault for waiting, I guess.
Nevertheless, the Probeersel books, the books that started me off in more serious comic writing, that still encapsulate most of my views on humanity, the world, and everything, that took five years of my life to complete and that some still say is my best work to date, those five books were heavily influenced by Fowles. I even paid direct tribute to the man in some of the panels in Book 5, and therefor, instead of writing things that others have also written, I quote from my own work below to pay tribute to a great man once more.

Mr. Fowles, you will be missed.

Life is pacin'

I just spent most of the past week being ill at home. Horrible. The past couple of years I seem to physically have become a more normal mortal human being, the kind that can get ill for MORE than one day. I can't say I've gotten used to it yet - it's a big drain on my productivity. Colleagues and friends say it's the body shouting a 'halt' to me with all the stuff I'm doing. Well, that's all fine, but my body better know who the boss is here. The mind wants to go on, I know that much.
I was barely better and already sitting behind my computer again cramming out text I was supposed to write, standing under the shower and coming up with new material for my comics, and pacing around the house while the brain just keeps going. Can't say that what I wrote was entirely flawless, but considering I was still ill, the flaws were all minor.

It's the pacing that's starting to worry me, though. I've noticed lately that when I really get on a writing / concept development spree, I pace. I even mumble a bit. I don't notice that I'm doing it because I'm deep in thought, fitting things together, throwing away ideas I can't use, looking at different angles, etcetera. But the past few days I've started noticing that I do this now. I pace. Not entirely like a madman yet, but I pace. Like you see crazy scientists and musicians do in the movies. Pacing around in my bedroom, which is easy to do because around my bed there's an exact U-shaped path to walk back and forth in.
I'm wondering if I should worry. I know one thing, though: I've been cooked up in this house for nearly a week, I've done all my chores and all my writing and drawing, and right now I'm biking into town and going to the bar. I need to get out of this house and mingle with less-obsessed people again for a bit. Even if just for a few hours and even if it's not the smartest thing to do to my body right now, just having been 98% recovered from this illness. The alternative is going to sleep with even more rambling and crazy ideas in my head. No, no, I need to be amongst people.

Going out on the town for a few hours, folks. I think I need to.