Monday, January 30, 2012

A compliment that made my day II

The huge psychiatric organisation in Utrecht where I applied for a job called me this morning.
Due to cutbacks they unfortunately did not have a place for me, but the lady informed me that for a psychology student, I had loads more of practical working experience and she could see that I could work hard in health care, something other psychology students usually would not do. They now knew who I was and I definitely had to call back in March for a summer job.

This is the first time I experience that I have some serious advantage from my past job and I feel so happy that I get recognition from mental health care professionals for working my ass off the whole year. It is a bit pathetic how much this boosts my self-confidence, but it is so good to finally see that all the times I had to skip parties, going out, gigs and whatever, all the times I was mopping up urine from the floor, not being able to see my (now ex) boyfriend, all the times I had a backache from lifting hundred- kilo people, and worst of all, all the times I had to iron clothes,  pays of.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Antichrist

I just finished watching the  movie Antrichrist by Lars von Trier this morning.
I am still a bit in doubt whether I liked to movie or not. It was not as scary as I expected it to be. Acutally, the reviews said it was gory and bloody but personally I did not think so. And when it comes to movies, I am a serious sissy.
Anyway, one thing I definitely loved about the movie were the shots. Especially when the woman was going into some hypnosis-like therapy performed by her husband, the pictures were gorgeous. I just wanted to share a couple of screenshots first.





There are some things I would like to note. The screenshots I posted here are all filmed in slow-motion. It looks kind of like a painting or photograph I would adore. Also, there are only two main characters and apart from their toddler who falls out of the window at the beginning of the movie, there are no other actors. Also, the movie lacks music. Apart from an aria by Händel in pro- and epilogue and one occasional background-soundtrack, you only hear the wind, the sounds of the woods and the actors talking. The actors are fantastic by the way (Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbough) and the movie would have failed completely without the great acting.
And then the commotion about the movie. Apparently, there has been a lot. I do not really see why. Yes, there is nudity, sex and masturbation, and the camera does not turn away when the woman puts a large screw in her husbands leg or cuts of her genitals with a scissor. But I don't get the commotion this film causes in a world where the majority of people watches movies like Saw or Hostel. I find the violence far from grotesque and I would be unfair to put off the movie as a tasteless horror. In sum: I found it enjoyable to watch, it provoked a little disgust in me on occasion but most of all: it is eyecandy.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

A compliment that made my day

"You dress like you are not bothered by fashion and just do whatever you like"

Confession


After waking up this morning I was showing my dad a surfing video filmed at the Irish coast. 
Then I realised my ongoing headache and moody behaviour might actually be caused by being homesick. I miss Ireland. I'd never fully admit it but I miss going out on Sunday mornings to return in the evening, all covered in mud, cold, tired and unable to walk another single meter. I miss drinking a bottle of Jack and feel absolutely shit the next morning. Or even more embarrassing: feel nothing at all because I'm getting used to it. I miss the cracks and the holes in the pavement on the way to University trough Castletroy. I miss the awful grocery shopping at Aldi. And I miss the people (and yes, someone in particular. A lot.)
I have been walking my dog every day now for a long time, and that is nice, but long not as satisfying as the hiking. I was talking to my dad this morning and I might just go away in April. Do some hillwalking somewhere. I have to get out.

Friday, January 27, 2012

It is Friday night, I should be getting dooown.
But instead, I am annoyed by my headache which I have for about a week now and therefore, locking myself up. I should be writing job applications but I am drawing an octopus. I am wondering if leaving Ireland has affected me more than I would admit.


Singsong

Music by singer-songwriters is excellent music to listen to if you want to be a little alternative but can't stand electric guitars or when you just want to get into a depression.
Occasionally I come across a singer-songwriter that I like but usually I find them whiny and just want to punch them in the face, tell them to get the fuck over it and be a man. Because they are usually men. Skinny men with dark weary eyes and at least fifty percent of them has a beard. I do like composers with dark weary eyes and beards, but then they are from Poland and compose classical music about the holocaust. They lock themselves up in cellars and are usually long dead, by suicide.

No, then the singer- songwriter. He starts of his career as Bringer of the Nagging Song in his late twenties (because before that age you cannot grow a full beard). His name is usually pretty long and difficult and he has to be grateful to YouTube for giving suggestions when you start typing, or else you will never be able to find his music.
His first album will have a short title that makes you wonder, like 'Fog'. It could also be a very long name like 'Confessions of an old one-legged man in a secret garden'. As long as it makes you wonder, it is perfect. The cover of the album should be some kind of vintage photograph of a senseless place. The singer-songwriter will receive his first fame by giving in depth-interviews at late-night radio shows and playing his first single, 'I Sail Away In My Dusty Canoe', unplugged on guitar. And us listeners will tremble with empathy because of his sad lyrics about his disturbed childhood and lonely roadtrips.

It is of great importance that you do not become too famous. For example, John Mayer, he is not underground anymore, that makes him uninteresting. This is probably because his name is way too easy for being a real singer-songwriter (he has no beard as well). Same goes for James Blunt. He has more of the dark weary eyes than John Mayer has, and he even has stubbles, but: too famous.

No, let's talk about singer-songwrites like James Vincent McMorrow (now thát's a name!). I have to admit I do like one or two songs but he is just the perfect example of the modern singer-songwriter. He is Irish, a beard, a difficult name and writes songs like 'Early in the Morning I come calling' and 'We Don't Eat'. We do not know if James is one of those pricks that phones you out of bed or might be a representative of the Anorexia Society, but at least: he makes you wonder!
Another example I stumbled upon and gave me enough inspiration to write this entry was 'Phosphorescent'. (again, thank you youtube because I had no clue how to spell it). I listened to his most popular song called Wolves. The song is about an awful childhood trauma of the singer, namely: he thinks there are wolves in his house. With an unstable voice (I already started trembling full of empathy) he brings us the following lyrics:

They tumble and fight
And they're beautiful
On the hilltops at night
They are beautiful

Apparently, this is what Matthew Houck (that is his real name. Good undergroundy choice of artist name isn't it),  thinks about when he thinks of wolves. Wolves tumble and they are beautiful. We just forget for a moment that wolves like to tear you apart, eat your guts and will drool on your heart while doing so, and will sniff your genitals when they are done with you. No, wolves just tumble around a bit on hilltops at night. The singer- songwriter reduces the wolf to something with the same reputation as a hamster, in exactly the same way he replaces good lyrics with unbearable poetry, 'what-the-hell-is-he-talking-about' or just plain bullshit.
But worst of all, he changes feelings towards bearded men from fear and admiration to empathy and pity, by replacing their axes by guitars. Where are the times bearded men with guitars used to be named Kerry King and instead of complaining about their traumas, traumatized us by yelling: God Hates Us All!- ?

Wake up wake up

Those moments where you wake up in the morning, you find yourself lying frozen in your bed, and you finally realise you have been dreaming. Thank God. But your nightmare has been so upsetting you feel exhausted, even after sleeping for eight hours.

It happens every once in a while. Bad dreams, serious bad dreams. When I wake up I find out I have not been moving a long time or that I have been crying in my sleep. I have no clue where they come from, I am a very happy and lucky girl in general. When I was younger I used to have troubles with falling asleep because I was scared. The past years I sometimes had panic attacks. Had my bad and my better times. I even had a period about a year ago I was having nightmares every night and I became a little nervous about going to sleep. But I had almost no problems with sleeping anymore since I moved to Ireland and came back again.

And tonight again. A nightmare where I have been so scared and upset that I still feel like I need to recover from it. Luckily I have the sweetest little brother ever who is now making me tea. The sun is shining and I will go for a run afterwards. Because in the end, it was only a dream.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Mooore pepper!

Have been drawing most of my spare time today. Not that I am good at it, but who gives a shit.


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Black as Ink

Found the calligraphy pens. Should go to bed.

I finally got myself a nice large notebook with blanco pages to put in the things I have been collecting.
All the things that were in my head today got out, now I am happy, satisfied, and tired.

Het wordt een lange reis, een lange reis
Het heeft hier flink gestormd vannacht
Maar het klaart al op
Je hoort de vogels weer, je ruikt de regen nog
Misschien een andere keer
Misschien een andere keer
Want we moeten verder
Hoe dan ook tot het niet meer lukt
Tot het niet meer gaat
We zien dan wel weer
Alles op een rij

Ik blijf bij jou tot aan het eind
Zolang deze auto rijdt
Ik ben een twijfelaar
Maar jij nog meer
Dus dat zijn er twee
Ik ben niet meer heel erg sterk misschien
Maar ik maak je aan het lachen
Dus daar moet het dan maar mee

Het wordt een lange reis
De langste reis

Alles is oké
De horizon en het vlakke land
Ik rij en jij leest mijn hand
Ik ben een waterman dus deze week zit alles mee

De grote zon
We stoppen bij een tankstation
Waar de mensen doen alsof het nooit zo is geweest
Ik zie, ik zie wat jij niet ziet
Het is oranjerood en komt ons tegemoet
En alles is nu goed

- Spinvis, De Grote Zon (most parts)

Look what I discovered! A scanner.





grim.


Walked for more than an hour with my dog today. I did that yesterday too. I really missed having a good reason to wander outside on my own. It was a grey day, quite cold, and my dog was very happy to jump in all the mud piles. And since he is white and fluffy, I had to drag him to the bath when we returned.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Grain Filter Time

I edited an old series of photos I took when my dad took me to his working place, the underground in Rotterdam.
This was in the phase when they just finished digging the tunnel and started building the underground line.
I think they work out quite well in black and white and I also added a grain filter.







to be honest, after seeing the example, I came to the conclusion that the low quality in combination with the black background and the grain filter doesn't work out too well, but I want to post them anyway. For anyone who's interested: they are on my facebook as well, in slightly different versions.

Bits & Pieces







A story I started years ago and I don't know what it was supposed to be about.

The image shattered. The dream was ripped apart by the furious beeping of the alarm clock. She sat upright. Sleep gushed out of her eyes, from her whole body. With an angry slam she put an end to this morning-torture. She rubbed her eyes. Grey morning-light was filling up the tidy room. Normally it would have been dark, but she forgot to let down the curtains last night. Every morning the room looked the same. Stylized, wood, tidied. The double bed that was too small with the blankets which were still warm. She shivered and stepped out of bed. Her feet sank into the dust-proof carpet and she walked to the closet and put on her bathrobe. She reached for the doorknob and instinctly drew her hand back again as her warm skin touched the cold steel. Then she entered the hallway.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Sunday morning

It's Sunday morning and I'm slowly waking up.




Friday, January 20, 2012

Back

You know that you moved in with your parents again when you come home from the pub, 
a tiny little tipsy and your mum comes down to the kitchen in her pyjamas to tell you that the awesome melted cheese and ham sandwich you are preparing is VERY VERY UNHEALTHY.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

The Noble Art of Exaggerating

Since I have officially returned from Ireland this Saturday and there is no chance I will be able to go hiking or climbing the upcoming weeks, I decided to go for a run.
I cannot say I kickd myself out of bed for it, because I cannot remember my alarm clock going of, but I rose at 12.30 and was then busy with finding out I passed all my modules in Limerick. Hurray!

But back to exercising. After that I pulled on my sporty clothes which I now own due to climbing mountains in Scotland and went out. It did not go too well but anyway, I did it. The thing is, when I go for a run, or actually just do something in general, I have the tendency to really overdo it. So I did not only go for a run, no! I ended up half naked in the living room, doing yoga exercises and eating yoghurt. During that my mind was filled with ideas about smoothies and saunas and those sort of things. Which is dangerous, because I sometimes even almost pass out of the steam when I have a bath or cover the whole kitchen in yoghurt, orange juice and tiny apple pieces when making smoothies.

This urge to exaggerate has always been present, for example, signing up for the chess competition after playing chess two times, writing ten pages of a book and start contacting a publisher. As a ten year old.
But even in my teenage years, I continued this habit; when I wanted to stand out from the group I decided to cover my face in eyeliner and wore so much gothic jewellery I looked like a hedgehog, when I start my freshmen year at University I immediately sign up for the honours course and even in Ireland, I do not just join the Outdoor Pursuits Club, oh no! I decide to climb both Ireland and Scotland´s highest mountain without any hiking experience. And succeed.

The Noble Art of Exaggerating includes diving into something new and make a huge amount of fun of yourself for doing so, and I love it. Now it is time to finish my very healthy banana- yoghurt and polish my nails (another thing I tried to become an expert in, ending up in buying sixty different colours in two weeks and spend hours watching youtube tutorials).
May the Force be with you.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Nevis

The greatest adventure is what lies ahead,
Today and tomorrow are yet to be said.
The changes, the changes are all yours to make,
The mold of your life is in your hands to break.


 I have spend ten days in Scotland, had two days of winter mountaineering training and reached the summit of Ben Nevis. After climbing Carrantuohill in Ireland, this is the second highest mountain of a country I have now climbed this semester. Let's say I have climbed some more mountains who were not made of earth and rocks this semester, but I am now back in The Netherlands and I do not feel so restless anymore. 
The upcoming time I will have a lot of important things to do: start my studies in Utrecht again, find a new job and maybe find a new apartment. Move out with my parents, but first I have to decide if that is financially possible. So, lots of important decisions to make but I am glad to say that at the moment, I feel capable of making them.