Het was een lange week, een week die eigenlijk voelde als twee weken omdat het weekend niet als weekend voelde. Volgestopt met werk, overwerk, studie, studeren tot na middernacht, trainingen, lezingen, bijles geven, ga zo maar door. Van donker tot donker van huis weg en aan het einde van de dag buiten adem zonder lichamelijke inspanning te hebben geleverd, afgezien van heen en weer lopen en op mijn benen staan.

Nu is het vakantie en de onrust spoelt weer als een golf over me heen. Ik kan het niet; dat stilzitten, dat rust nemen, dat lekker niets doen. Wat ik kan is in mijn bed rotten totdat mijn lichaam uitgerust voelt en een misselijkmakend, brandend gevoel me het bed uit werkt. Eén dag verspilt voelt als een week verspilt. 

Het zal de winter wel zijn. De korte donkere dagen. Ik denk dat ik kan zeggen dat ik daar al een jaar of zeven, acht, last van heb. Ik vergeet het gevoel altijd, totdat een tekort aan daglicht me eraan herinnert. 

Het is nu niet alleen het tekort aan daglicht, maar ook het interview van vrijdag. Het was een interview voor school, met een vreemde. In twee uur tijd een korte samenvatting van mijn levensgeschiedenis en mijn intieme relaties. Mijn jeugd, de puberteit, hoe ik vrouwen prachtige wezens vind maar ik ze eigenlijk niet begrijp. Vriendjes, lange relaties, vreemdgaan, de ups en de downs. Ik zag soms zijn verbazing. Waarom zo onzeker? Waarom liet je dat tegen je zeggen? Ik weet het ook niet. Hij zei dat hij het heftig vond. Ik lachte het weg. That's life. 

Hij gaf me kleine complimentjes waardoor ik om half 6 met een glimlach door de regen fietste. Dat ik mooi was, en een sterke persoonlijkheid had. Zo, steek dat maar in je zak, wie is daar niet door gevleid? Ik heb het een uur of twaalf vast kunnen houden en toen was het weer weg. Toen begon de vakantie.

En nu zit ik hier weer, niet vrijgezel maar wel alleenstaand. Hoe leger de planning, hoe voller mijn hoofd. Ik maak me zorgen. Over vrienden, over studie, over mijn relatie. God, mijn relatie. Ik vertel tegen iedereen die het vraagt hoe het zit, dat ik er nu aan gewend bent, zo na een jaar. Maar ik lieg dat ik barst. Het went alleen omdat ik geen tijd heb om na te denken. Ik zorg dat ik geen tijd heb om te piekeren. Maar momenten zoals nu, 11 uur 's ochtends met mijn laptop in bed, dan gaat het niet. Ik vind het idee om over vijf dagen weer te vliegen weerzinwekkend. Mijn terugticket is dubbel zo duur geworden, ik hoor naar mijn idee nauwelijks wat van hem. Het voelt alsof ik vrienden achter laat terwijl ze me nodig hebben en ja, op dit moment, zou ik dat vliegticket het liefst opeten. Ik kan het gewoon even niet.

It took me three weeks to get where I expected myself to be when I started the job: so tired I feel like crying.

I feel completely worn-out, the bags under my eyes are reaching my toes and I'm cold all the time.

And I actually kind of like it.

 I wonder how I ended up alone

Things I do not understand

Tot voor kort brak ik mijn hoofd altijd over de vraag of ik nou een introvert of een extravert was. Wat misschien een rare vraag is om je hoofd over te breken, maar het zijn van psychologie-student vind ik een mooi excuus. Ik vind mensen leuk, ik maak graag een praatje en vind het best leuk om af en toe een praatje te maken. Aan de andere kant vind ik het soms heel moeilijk om me in sociale situaties te begeven. Dit zijn vaak niet de situaties die de meeste mensen moeilijk vinden. Presentaties, sollicitaties, dat zijn dingen die ik nooit zo erg vind en waarbij ik het, al zeg ik het zelf, het er vaak goed vanaf breng. Ook het ontmoeten van nieuwe mensen vind ik leuk en ik kan vaak makkelijk in contact komen. Het is vaak net die stap erna. Ik begrijp de sociale regels niet zo goed. Waarom vormen andere mensen altijd zo makkelijk groepjes en waarom voel ik me daar altijd van buitengesloten? Is dat omdat ik ook daadwerkelijk buiten gesloten wordt, of denk ik het alleen maar en is het een soort self-fulfilling prophecy? Of wil ik op de eerste plaats eigenlijk helemaal niet tot die groepjes behoren?
Onlangs langs ik op het internet een interessant stukje over introverte mensen wat voor mij echt een eye-opener was. Of het helemaal klopte, weet ik niet, maar wat ik stond was dat introvert niet hetzelfde was als verlegen. Het is meer dat de omgang met anderen voor introverte mensen energie kost, en dat ze daar van bij moeten komen. En misschien is dat het ook wel. Ik vind mensen leuk gezelschap, maar wel op mijn voorwaarden. Ik wil niet zomaar tijd met just anyone doorbrengen.  Komend weekend bijvoorbeeld, ga ik op klimweekend. Ik ken wel een aantal mensen van de vereniging, maar nog niet zo lang. Het overgrote deel is allemaal nieuw voor me. We gaan dus ons klim-examen afleggen, maar ook hebben we een feestje in de klimhal, en we slapen er ook nog eens. Ik vind dat best heel wat. En niet omdat ik denk dat ik het niet naar mijn zin ga hebben, maar meer het feit dat ik weet dat ik meer dan 24 uur geen mogelijkheid heb om me terug te trekken. Ik heb een lange drukke week achter de rug, en dan heb ik die tijd alleen soms best nodig. Op het moment dat ik die tijd nodig heb en het niet krijg... laten we zeggen: een kat in het nauw maakt rare sprongen. En in je eentje 's avonds in het donker een wandeling maken, geeft vaak niet echt de indruk van een leuke sociale meid. Een indruk die je op zo'n introductie weekend uiteraard wel hoort te wekken.
Om eerlijk te zijn, ik zie er een beetje tegenop. Ik zie niet vaak op tegen sociale gelegenheden, ja soms wat frisse tegenzin als ik na een schooldag nog leuk moet zitten doen in de kroeg, maar ik ben bijna een beetje zenuwachtig.
Ik ben bang dat ik van die momenten krijg die ik eerder wel eens had. Op weekendjes weg toen ik in Ierland woonde, bijvoorbeeld. De mensen die mee waren kende ik best goed en we zaten met z'n allen in een hostel. We hadden heel veel plezier met z'n allen, maar toch had ik soms dat gevoel er niet bij te horen. Unconnected. Detached.
Ik ben ook benieuwd naar de vereniging. Wat ik er van heb begrepen, is het een vereniging met weinig verplichtingen, maar wel eentje die je behoorlijk op kan slokken. Weekenden weg, weg in de vakanties, wat natuurlijk erg leuk is. Er wordt veel gedate ook, binnen de vereniging. Een weekendje lekker klimmen vind ik heel erg leuk, maar ik ben niet iemand die zich graag laat opslokken. Daar ben ik niet op uit. En al helemaal niet op dates met andere mannen.
De eenzaamheid en ik, we hebben een beetje een haat-liefde verhouding. Soms denk ik wel eens dat ik gek word van het alleen zijn; vrienden die ik weinig zie, geen ouders meer in de buurt om tegenaan te praten na een lange dag, een vriendje wat ontzettend ver weg woont... en aan de andere kan kan ik het alleen zijn ontzettend waarderen, Ik heb het nodig, van tijd tot tijd. Dagelijks, misschien wel. Er zijn maar weinig mensen met wie ik me comfortabel genoeg voel om de eenzaamheid mee te delen. Wie vertrouwd genoeg zijn om niets te hoeven zeggen als je samen bent, je niet hoeft te letten op wat je doet. Wanneer ik me kan gedragen alsof ik alleen ben, maar het eigenlijk niet ben. Eigenlijk is dat het fijnste.
Morgen ga ik lekker alleen boodschappen doen. Een appeltaart bakken, studeren, tas inpakken, misschien zelfs even alleen de stad in. Mentale voorbereiden op die lange tijd zonder alleen te zijn.
Wish me luck

Reflections

It is Saturday night and I have been here for almost two weeks now. I didn't manage to get work so in staying for another week.
Tonight we ate out and had some great pizza. We cuddled and chatted and had the occasional after-dinner-cig. it was a good evening. I'm in bed now. He is sleeping. He had a long and busy day. I obviously had not. So I can't sleep.
I keep thinking about how things were exactly a year ago. I left the 28th of August. I left and I never thought I would end up here, almost a year later, at the south west coast of Sweden, spending my days at the coast or cutting the  grass of his parents' lawn.
I wrote down a couple of things the second of November. Our date, our secret date really. I couldn't sleep and sat in the living room. I was so confused. I wrote he was none of my business. One year later, wow. I an so amazed by how this has all turned out. I have been abroad so much and I love it. I love this life. I feel so much less restless. I have more troubles sleeping, and I worry more, though. It's not a comforting situation I have signed up for. Burr it is good. I am happy.

And I should sleep.

Fifty Shades of Dissappointment

After hearing about all the fuss that's going on about E.L. James' 50 Shades of Grey, I decided to give it a go. What I heard about this novel was that it was a ground-breaking piece of erotica, BDSM was involved, a piece of work that was revolutionary in the sense that women were open for once about the fact that they enjoyed reading something pornographic.
So yes, I had my expectations on these books. And oh my, what a major dissappointment they were.
I will not dwell on the actual story line here but start off immediately with my noble opinion.
First of al, one of the critics was that these books were considered to be porn. Apart from the 'yes it's porn, so fucking what?' argument, let's get a closer look on the concept of porn. Personally, I think porn is about explicitness. That's why it is called porn and not erotica. My question here is; how the hell can a novel that desperately tries to avoid calling the male genitalia by it's name be considered porn?! When you have to urge to indulge in the consumption of pornographic material, and all you get are descriptions like 'his excitement' or 'his hardness', how satisfying is that? Indeed, zero.
Point two. Before I started reading I hoped this book would be a bit different from the doctor-nurse-paperback romances one can buy in the local supermarket. Another disappointment; it is not. Including a whip or a rope in the story does not suddenly make it a revolutionary work. The gender roles in the books are still hilariously stereotypical. He occiasionally nibbles on Her toes but apart from that He is still the rich handsome dominant man with a lot of influence and She is the slightly vulnerable insecure girl. An army of feminist zombies might rise from the grave if this book is called 'revolutionary' once more.
Point three, BDSM. Okay, let's start this off nicely. We cannot say that the author didn't do her research. This is a buttplug, this is a ballgag, this is a cane and this is a riding crop. Well done, mrs. James, applause for your elaborate research of sextoys. Even our brave little heroine in the book comes to the point where she shyly admits that she enjoys the occasional spanking. So why is the BDSM- community still so upset about this trilogy? First of all, the roles of dominant man and submissive woman are quite stereotypical. But hey, that's a 50/50 chance, so fair enough. The point the BDSM comminuty rightfully makes is that the male main character, our dominant, is portrayed as a highly disturbed childhood which sadistic tendencies have risen from a horrible childhood. As he claims himself: I like to hit girls who look like my crack-whore-mum. But hey! Luckily enough for our unfortunate Dom, a sweet girl with normal sexual preferences comes along. He falls in love with her. And hooray,  because 'he loves her, he does not want to hurt her'. Because that's it right? After all, sadism is sick, and when the sadist finally gets involved in a healthy relationship, he will be cured from his sadist tendencies. Happy sugar-coated ending.

Isn't this great? All the housewives finally have their piece of 'literature' which tells them that it is all fine when you like to be blindfolded, but anything that goes further than a smack on the buttocks is sick and disturbed, but bless the Lord, there is hope for these people when a cute normal girl comes around to marry those fucked-up men.

It makes me so mad to see how BDSM again does not get a fair chance. I could go on and on about it but I won't. There are so much more things I did not liked about the trilogy that I can enlighten you about, but just let's come to a final conclusion.
For those who, like the main characters in this book, are ridiculously easily excited and pleased, go for it. You'll love it.
I did not like it. So why the hell did I read all three books? I don't really know. Maybe it's like watching a bad series, although you don't like it, you keep watching it for no reason.
Or maybe I kept reading because I secretly hoped that once, E.L. James would have the guts to actually say the word. Please, E.L., you can do it. Peeenis. It's a peeenis.

Desolate

I have crossed the polar circle in Norway today. When you turn your back to the tourist centre, this desolate atmosphere is what's left. I can't get enough of it.

Oppdal

I love hiking!

Trondheim

Little by little, one travels far.

Oslo

I left Oslo yesterday morning and I still haven't figured out whether I liked it or not.

Quarter to nine - Does it ever get dark?

Fagernes / Leira

This place is very pretty and I loved hiking today. Although it was a write short and easy one, having mud on my boots and wind I my face makes me smile. Also, I am finishing books and the coffee is good and strong.

Oh and by the way, there is no wifi. To be fair, the only thing I hate about it is being out of contact with my loved one. Apart from that... it's such a relief!

Twijfels.

In de stilte van de Noorse bergen krijg ik eindelijk de ademruimte om na te denken. Niet te tobben of te piekeren, maar denken over zaken die er toe doen. Helaas betekent nadenken vaak twijfelen. En vooral nadenken in een ander land roept twijfels op.
Want het is zo fijn, dit leven. Rondreizen naar nieuwe plekken. Ik begin te begrijpen waar die oude hippies het altijd over hadden. Dat je hard moet studeren om te kunnen werken om geld te verdienen om dingen te kunnen kopen die je niet wilt of niet nodig hebt. Er is een soort angst in mij wakker geworden, een angst om straks verstrikt te zijn in het web van diagnoses en instanties en regels, waar de grondbeginselen; een passie voor het menselijk denken en doen, een onverzadigbare interesse, zijn verdwenen. Ga ik nog wel zo gelukkig worden van het volgen van dit pad als dat ik in het begin dacht? Ik ben al vaker en zijspoor ingeslagen en dat viel altijd mee. En meevallen is zacht uitgedrukt, het was vaak prachtig; de pieken en dalen van komen en gaan, van blijven en vertrekken, van vasthouden en loslaten, wachten en kiezen, doen en laten. Van verstandig zijn, op je bek gaan, in de zevende hemel zijn, zandhappen, door de grond zaken, met lood in je schoenen toppen bereiken, stijgen en dalen.

Branden, branden, branden, en ik weet niet in hoeverre dat op mijn huidige weg kan, afgezien van opbranden.

Going up North

In three days I will start the trip to Scandinavia. I just finished my four first shifts at forensic departments and I liked it, especially the last two ones. Right now I am getting my room in Utrecht ready to leave it for two months. I don't know when I will get back yet, I haven't booked my return ticket. I look forward to going away again, it has been two months now since my last trip (which was also to Sweden), and I'm very excited about the nature so far up north in Scandinavia. I also keep my fingers crossed that we will get an opportunity so spot whales, that has been a dream since I was a little girl. So yes. Apart from some friends that I would have rather stayed close to at the moment and a financial situation that is still quite difficult, I can't wait to leave Holland for some time. The summer weather has been non-existent here, and I don't mind at all if it's not 30 degrees but I don't like those grey rainy days. I hope there will be plenty of days that sun and wind will burn the skin of my cheeks.
It is going to be interesting to go on a vacation with my parents and little brother again. The last two years I have been getting along with my parents very well so I don't see much troubles, but things have been running less smoothly between my parents and my little brother. Since I moved out and spend the first semester abroad, I noticed much less of this than I would have when spending a lot of time at home, but I am very aware that things aren't going great. I really hope this will not affect the holiday too much. And it's going to be an interesting situation anyway because we will be spending days together in the car and in small cabins.
Anyway, it's exciting. I wonder what kind of things we will encounter this time, so far my parent's and I have overcome floods, bomb threats and camping next to nuclear plants... so Lapland, bring it on.
After three weeks of travelling up north through Norway and going back south through Sweden, my dear parents will drop me of at my beloved boyfriend who I haven't seen for two months by then. Something I look forward to a lot as well. I have to confess I found the last weeks difficult. It might have been due to the fact that it were the last weeks of school, when I usually tend to start feeling somewhat exhausted, but to be fair, I was just an insecure little bitch. I'm usually quite confident about myself and my relationship and when I don't, I have ways to deal with it. It just didn't work this time so I ended up having sleepless nights and intrusive thoughts, wandering around during the day, not taking care of myself, unable to study and staring at the walls.  After finishing and passing my exams I fortunately started to feel much better. I hope it was a temporary thing because I hate being a mess.
Upcoming weeks should reload my battery to serious hights 'cause I'm gonna need that power the upcoming year of studies. And the year afterwards. My last year of bachelor will consist of trying to pass my minor in criminology and do my bachelor thesis, and all of that with good grades. I will also try to boost my working experience and find an internship, so all in all it's going to be... well, tough. I hope the Scandinavian winds will blow last year's mess and troubles out of my brains (yes, I'd like to believe the wind clears my brain) and that I will return clear and energetic for a Hell of a year.

A day of snapshots

Midnight waves

because I just really want to talk to someone. Doesn't matter about what really. I had a lonely walk to the train station through the dark forest-y area I work in. It was at the point I was walking down a hill and couldn't see where to put my feet when I started to feel uncomfortable. Who knows what kind of people did not return from being on leave and wander around at that place. Anyway, by the time I managed to get someone on the phone I already reached the train station so I decided to talk to mum all the way home, so I almost felt as busy as all the dressed- up people on the train who were ready to go party. My Saturday night consisted of chilled chocolate milk, salad, cheese, crackers and episodes of Criminal Minds. I do not want to complain about solitude and neither I want to whine about my new job. But the attitude from my colleagues to psychology students in general depresses me. I know they would prefer to work with people they are familiar with and yes, I know I don't know shit about 'the real deal', there is not much I can do yet apart from reading books and making exams. But seriously, I am trying. I am trying so hard to become something more than the programmed young female psychology graduate who 'likes to help people'. I am trying so hard to be a little bit different, a little better, a little more involved, but it seems as the closer I get, the more hope I am losing. To be honest, the thought of not getting a job, or becoming a psychologist who makes shitty diagnoses and just asks 'so, how have you been this week?'... my God, it's sickening. I don't want to get stuck in this niggling world of over confident health professionals who do not seem to have a passion for people. Stuck into procedures and patient folders and deciding which medication to use.
I am starting to feel incapable. I would rather have people saying straight to my face: you know what, love? You don't know shit. But they don't. It's the looks on their faces when shaking hands with 'the new one', the way they smile when you tell them you're 'just a student'. I am not wanted. I know. Don't pretend otherwise, you don't have to be a psychology student to notice, let alone a fucking mindreader. But at least give me a damn chance. Have some faith. Please put some energy in me to learn me something. I can do all the dirty jobs the whole shift long but just grant me the experience.



I'm tired.

I love you very much, he said, you know that right?
And I said, yes, I do
and I love you too
but sometimes I suspect
we both
actually
don't really have a clue.

Rememer me?

Hi, remember me? The girl who doesn't dare to sleep with the lights out. Who couldn't read a chapter on zombies because it was too scary. The one that had nightmares from Batman movies. The one that watches Harry Potter from hidden underneath a blanket. The one that runs to the bathroom at night, in case of monsters. Hi, remember me? The girl that got extremely upset when people got angry at her. The one that wants to be liked and considered nice. The one that takes criticism extremely serious. The one that hates fighting, the one that hates arguing.
So yeah, hi, it's me again. I just finished my shift at the department for mentally insane offenders. What I did today? I took two of them to the grocery store. It was lots of fun. Yes, mum, I went alone with them. If I brought a taser- gun, beloved boyfriend? *giggle* Of course not. It's not dangerous, no need to be scared. I love you too. Don't worry about me, I'll be safe.

Sad but true

You know? That kind of news that makes the world stop turning for a moment. Young people getting ripped out of life, family left behind. It just happens too often. It really gets to me every single time and still I haven't found anything sensible to say to those that are left behind. You know? That kind of news that makes you realise how lucky you are to have your loved ones. It reminds you what the important things in life really are. Forget about your little daily problems. Tell people how much they mean to you. To enjoy every second in life and appreciate all of it. All the things you learn, see and experience. All the great people you meet and all the happy memories you create. You know? It can be gone in just a few seconds.

A wise title

I'm so artsy

I am running out of bandshirts to slaughter & reincarnate. But I love the result though, they keep getting better

ZERO SUM // NIN

Do you remember the time we...

And all the times we...

And should have...

And were going to...

I know

And I know you remember

How we could justify it all

And we knew better

In our hearts, we knew better

And we told ourselves it didn't matter

And we chose to continue

And none of that matters anymore

In the hour of our twilight

And soon it will be all said and done

And we will all be back together as one

If we will continue at all

And you never get away
And you never get to take the easy way
And all of this is a consequence
Brought on by our own hand
If you believe in that sort of thing
And did you ever really find
When you closed your eyes
Any place that was still
And at peace?

And I guess I just wanted to tell you
As the light starts to fade
That you are the reason
That I am not afraid
And I guess I just wanted to mention
As the heavens will fall
We will be together soon if we
Will be anything at all

This confession has meant nothing.

Compared to a year ago it is more quite now. Last year I just lost my head in my job. Just a little bit too much death underneath my hands. I can't say this from the past year. I cannot say I have been working my ass of the whole time, not with studies, neither with work. My last exam will be in two and a half hours and I am pretty sure I will fail it. I didn't manage to do it, I don't know it, I don't understand it. Not that there is plenty to lose, but still, I despise failing. It's not like last year where I would have been trying to keep myself together, just those last weeks. When I look at the summer pictures from last summer I can see it: I look terrible. Tired and worn- out. Now I have just been staring at the walls and inspecting the tiny new piece of scar tissue on my knee. I just couldn't do it. Stuck and anxious and I know I won't feel this sense of relief when I walk out of the lecture hall in a couple of hours, finished with my third year of studies. I will have failed and too much has happened this year. I can't leave it all behind with closing the doors of University this time.

I got all I wanted, now there's too much to lose.

This is not an anthem or a threat in someone's name

But a promise that tomorrow

Will rock & burn, and things won't change

THIS IS NOT AN EXIT

The void keeps chasing me like a crack in the Universe. Sometimes I think I love and hate things too much at the same time, too much to stay sane.

Music is too nice to quit listening. Nighttime is too comforting to go to sleep. Cigarettes are too nice to quit. Booze eases too much to stop drinking. Conversations are too interesting to stop. Studies are too interesting to be done. Love is too great to give up. Life is too short. It just is.

Thunder flashes occasionally through my window. I am tipsy. And realise I am so happy. So, so happy. Still poor, still in a crazy long-distance relationship, still going strong. So, so, so happy. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Kind van de Wereld

Rusteloos, ik gaf het eerder vandaag al te zijn met een foto en een plaatje of wat. Ik nam de hond al mee naar buiten en heb een uur gelopen, de zon in mijn pas geverfde haren en ik wist dat het mooi was. Het hielp, voor een paar uurtjes. Mijn gedachten gaan alle kanten uit en ik val van blij in boos in tevreden in ongerust in twijfels in irritatie in apathie in zekerheid. Ik probeer een excuus te verzinnen; hormonen, zenuwen, de ene minuut wil ik zo graag sorry zeggen voor alles wat ik denk en voel en wel zou willen schreeuwen, het andere moment liever helemaal niets meer zeggen. Overmorgen een toets, weer presteren, soms voelt het nutteloos, ik kan het toch niet. De dag daarna weer vliegen, weer een koffer, weer in de trein, weer uren wachten, mensen kijken, door de offlicence winkels, vrouwen van de make up die me aankijken, ja ik weet dat ik er niets te zoeken heb, niet met mijn bankrekening in ieder geval. Ik hoop dat de zon schijnt als ik in de lucht ben, en dat ik bij een raampje kan zitten, en naar de wolken kan kijken. Cadeau van de natuur, een aardige attentie, om me gerust te stellen dat ook al weet ik mensen niet in de lucht horen, het wel goed komt. Laatst dacht ik nog aan mijn Sinterklaas surprise van twee jaar geleden; een huisje op voetjes. De gedachte stak een beetje in mijn maag. Het zou in ieder geval een oplossing zijn voor al dat gesjouw, maar een huisje op voetjes? Op dit moment zou ik niet weten onder welk huisje ik voetjes zou doen.
'Het is zo'n leuke meid, waarom kan ze niet iemand dichterbij vinden?' Tsja, waarom niet? Dat is het punt niet, het kan wel, de vraag is waarom de lichtelijk onmogelijke dingen altijd zo ontzettend aantrekkelijk zijn. Het voelt pas echt als het ook pijn doet. De mensen vragen zich meer dan eens af hoe ik het vol hou, iedere keer weer, ook dat is de vraag niet. De vraag is waarom ik het wil, waarom moet er steeds wat moois kapot gemaakt worden en plaats maken voor iets wat opnieuw pijn doet. Want ja, dat doet het, en ik geef het niet toe, zeker niet de komende tijd. Het gaat allemaal makkelijk, de anderen begrijpen gewoon niet wat echt liefhebben is, wat het is om echt voor iemand te gaan, iemand te hebben die het waard is. Maar stiekem, in the back of my mind, weet ik eigenlijk niet zeker wie nou wie niet begrijpt. Waarom kunnen anderen tevreden zijn, waarom moet ik mezelf toch bewijzen dat ik dit wél kan? En op avonden als deze, dan doet het pijn, pijn, pijn, en ik wil het zo graag ontkennen en negeren, ik weet absoluut niet wat ik met mezelf aan moet. Wat dat betreft ben ik afschuwelijk stom. 21 jaar en ik bak er nog steeds helemaal niets van. Het gaat wel vooruit, maar ik laat de mensen achter die weten hoe het was, hoe ik was, waar ik vandaan kom en wat ik geleerd heb. De anderen die er ook waren, weten het simpelweg niet. Op een compliment hoef ik niet te rekenen. En het wordt zo aantrekkelijk om weer terug te vallen in het oude patroon, de enige reden waarom ik praat is omdat ik wil dat het werkt. Ik wil gewoon dat het werkt, het aan mezelf en aan de rest van de wereld bewijzen, I can make this work ook al doet het soms stiekem pijn.

RESTLESS

Nighttime

Wuthering Heights

Give me hope in silence
It's easier; It's kinder
Tell me not of heartbreak
It plagues my soul, plagues my soul
We will meet back on this road
Nothing gaining, truth be told

I have this weak spot for Jane Austen & Emily Brontë novels. Especially rainy foggy moors, pretty dresses with mudstains on it and inseperable romance and agony.

I have seen a lot of pictures like this come across different websites lately.

I get the point. I get the point that people think it is wrong that the media and fashion industry tells us what is considered a beautiful person and what is not. But apart from that, I think this is very hypocrite and it truly pisses me off.

For some reason it is now rude to call a curvy woman chubby or fat but it is perfectly normal to call a skinny woman an anorexic skeleton. They are 'victims of fashion and modelling industry' and 'look ugly naked'. It is unhealthy, wrong and unnatural.

'When did this become hotter than this?;' Well my question is: Since when is it considered rude to comment on curvy women's body shape but is it acceptable to call skinny woman unattractive?

I was very skinny when I was about fourteen years old. An age where you are definitely insecure about your appearance. Take my word on it that classmates called me 'way too skinny', 'anorexic', 'unhealthy' or even 'freaky'. I did not suffered from an eating disorder or other medical condition, it was just how I looked. But no way I could say anything about more curvy girls because that was rude and unfair. People always told me not to complain about my body shape because 'everyone wanted to be skinny', even though people were telling me I had an unattractive body shape.

I am not saying this because I want to inform people about my high school issues. I just think that this whole campaign on the internet about how hot Marilyn Monroe is and how unattractive Keira Knightly is, is just as wrong as it would have been the other way round. The general point that should have been made is that every body shape & size should be valued, whether this is confirmed by media and fashion or not. Nothing is more attractive than a woman who is confident about the way she looks and feels at ease with who she is and what she looks like. 

Don't let anybody ever tell you that the way you look is wrong. A part of your beauty might come from the inside and your lovely personality, but damn girl, you like fine just the way you are.

A New Home

I have been doing okay lately. Two exams coming up next week, in developmental psychopathology and clinical neuropsychology. I look forward to see my boyfriend who's visiting me next week. It has 'only' been about three weeks since we have seen eachother. 'Only' three weeks haha, standards chance when you live a thousand kilometres apart. When he leaves I will fly to Edinburgh where I'll be visiting one of my best friends for a couple of days.

So, good things coming up. Utrecht is starting to feel like home, which is good. I still don't have a job and I am slowly getting used to a sober lifestyle, but it is still quite tricky sometimes. It's also good for creativity, to fulfil my urge for nice food and new clothes I have to come up with other solutions then just buy a shitload of stuff. Last year I earned about 400 euros a month without having to spend that on rent or food. At the moment, after paying my rent, I have a 180 euros to live on, this includes money for groceries. It's quite a chance, but hey! Challenge accepted! I'll manage. I still have two job applications sort of running so fingers crossed for those.

And after this not-so-interesting update I'm going to spend the rest of my day on braindamage. Lovely! (and yes, I mean that)

2 November 2011

 There is something fascinating about your own scribblings from the past.

I cannot sleep. My  mind gives me no chance to sleep. I have been watching the ceiling for more than an hour now. The darkness behind the bathroom door which is not closed. The door of the closet isn’t closed either. I don’t like open door when I try to sleep.

                Have been watching the dim light shining through the curtains. The old, vague, tartan curtains. Almost as ugly as the dusty lamp on the dark ceiling. I have been watching this room more than once. The nights when I wasn’t able to sleep as well. These nights are different than the nights back home. It is not the panic, the suffocating realization of things I don’t want to think about but can’t control. These are not the nights when my heart starts pounding, my muscles freeze when I try so hard to avoid letting my mind take control. Think. Of. Something. Different. Please. Stop.

                No. This is different. I used to fall asleep after gaining control again, when the panic faded away. But now there is no point in trying. I gave up. ‘Going to have a glass of water.’ There’s no point in lying actually. He will understand. Maybe it is just lying to myself. Refusing to admit I am not able to control my mind, again. Yes, it is probably like that. But that’s all right. He would understand the lie as well. I guess.

                I’m snuggling in the big leather chair under a blanket. Waiting for my body to get cold, my eyes to get sore and my mind to get tired. Watching around the living room and the kitchen. My coffee cup with some cold coffee in it. I didn’t finish it. Loose paper where he scribbled some things on. I can’t read them from here. I’m not going to try to read it either. It is none of my business. Actually, he is none of my business. Should be none of my business at least.

Doggystyle.

 

Gotta love it.

5 days to Dublin

"The trick is, can you still do these things that are not considered 'classy' and still be classy?"

- Dita von Teese

Grocery shopping

Actually, the distance is a bit too large to walk. But since I don't have bike yet, and it is not that far away that I would bother to take a bus, I grab my backpack and walk to the store.

The shopping centre in my new neighbourhood is pretty big and they have loads of useful stores, like supermarkets, drugstores, clothing shops and much more. This is the first time I am spending time around my new room in Utrecht when there is some sunshine, so I do not mind the walk at all.

One of the first people I pass by is an unhealthy looking man who gives me an unpleasant grin when he passes. He leaves traces of an unidentifiable odour in the air. He is followed by another man, somewhat younger, but who gives me the same grin and carries the same heavy-looking bag. Looking at the trace of empty cans of cheap beer they left on the pavement, I am pretty sure what those bags contain. Thanks for the warm welcome, I say to myself.

The supermarket is huge. Enormous. It feels like I am on a holiday in France and enter one of those hypermarchees for the first time. The only thing that's missing is the freezers full of whole fish and lobsters. I have already crossed the vegetable section three times and still have not found the onions and garlic I was looking for. I did found bananas for baking, vegetables who look like hairy branches and grapes. To protect myself from eating the whole package of cookies when I am home, I go for the grapes.

After paying at the cashdesk, all the things I have forgotten pop up in my mind. I'll buy the salt and pepper tomorrow. And the sugar, and the coffee. 

On my way home I notice a group of young men is walking towards me, blocking the road. As I come closer, I look the guy in front of me right in the eyes (well, sunglasses), because that 'go the fuck out of my way' trick usually works. It does not now. And since I am not really looking forward to getting into an argument with a group of six guys wearing trashbags with Nickelson written on their back, I decide to jump on the cycling path just before I hit his shoulder. I see the same arrogant grin on his face and feel like slamming his face with my bottle of olive oil.

Yes, a nice neighbourhood that sometimes reminds me a little of Limerick. But this is more the Dutch version. And still better than Limerick, to be fair.

But anyway. I'm going to prepare my first meal here in a couple of minutues (coucous! yay) and my friend asked to go out with her tonight. I agreed, what means I will be wearing her party-clothes (who will look a little tight on me) and that she will have to bring me home on a bike (we are so Dutch!) but it's going to be fun fun fun. I'll just leave my olive-oil-bottle-weapon at home and have a good time.