Every laugh
Every tear
All these moments
Every hug
Every story
All these moments
One more joke
One more goodbye
All these moments
Bring us closer
to the last one.
vrijdag 5 september 2014
donderdag 4 september 2014
I'm not back - just visiting
I just wish I could have known you
Like I know my dearest friends
No wait, maybe I just hoped,
it would never end
That one night,
was a night like in my dreams
At least when we were together,
when we had just met
Not when our ways parted,
that is the part that I regret.
The promise of seeing you once more
Was one that did not stand
It just seems like bad luck
got the upper hand
Never judge a book by its cover
You taught me that
Yet I only wanted your embrace
to hold me close instead
To tuck me in, calm my mind, and simply hold
me tight
Yet here I am
alone,
tonight.
I don’t even care
If you
ruined my fantasy
When you would not have been
The man I thought you’d be
At least then I would have known
You and all your flaws
At least then I could stop wondering:
“what if he was …”
dinsdag 21 januari 2014
No follow through
People are often complaining about the classical male mistake of having no follow through after a date.
(Jude Law - in my all time favorite movie The Holiday even admits it!)
What if having no follow through is the best thing that can happen? This will not be a pleading for one-night-stands or ignoring people. Rather, what I want to say is that a follow through sometimes can ruin the perfect memories of that moment the two of you shared. That moment can be a conversation, a kiss, or an entire night, that does not matter for my claim here.
Endless conversations with people who are practically strangers can be a relief and a blessing: speaking to someone who does not judge you, who has no other intentions than to have a good conversation. Same with kisses: a spur in the moment thing after a night of dancing can be just what you need. A hug and a piece of advice from that cousin-of-your-best-friend-you-just-met can be all you needed. The follow through however, could ruin it all.
Yes, all of it.
The mind has the mind-blowing (see what I did there?) capability to remember things far more romantic and perfect than they actually were.
That guy you met on that party? You brain makes you see him as the guy you could have spent the rest of your life with and get married and have kids etc.
I've been there, my mind has done that to me.
A couple of days after that special conversation or piece of advice, the guy contacts you and you get overwhelmingly happy, only to realize after a while that he is far less interesting/cute/intelligent/funny/handsome than you(r mind) thought... The entire memory then is destroyed. Smashed into a thousand pieces like it was all just a lie.
My piece of advice? Enjoy the moments you had with someone, and protect that memory. Romanticize and idealize it in your head, but do not go desperate over a follow through, and trust me: sometimes it is better that way.
(Jude Law - in my all time favorite movie The Holiday even admits it!)
What if having no follow through is the best thing that can happen? This will not be a pleading for one-night-stands or ignoring people. Rather, what I want to say is that a follow through sometimes can ruin the perfect memories of that moment the two of you shared. That moment can be a conversation, a kiss, or an entire night, that does not matter for my claim here.
Endless conversations with people who are practically strangers can be a relief and a blessing: speaking to someone who does not judge you, who has no other intentions than to have a good conversation. Same with kisses: a spur in the moment thing after a night of dancing can be just what you need. A hug and a piece of advice from that cousin-of-your-best-friend-you-just-met can be all you needed. The follow through however, could ruin it all.
Yes, all of it.
The mind has the mind-blowing (see what I did there?) capability to remember things far more romantic and perfect than they actually were.
That guy you met on that party? You brain makes you see him as the guy you could have spent the rest of your life with and get married and have kids etc.
I've been there, my mind has done that to me.
A couple of days after that special conversation or piece of advice, the guy contacts you and you get overwhelmingly happy, only to realize after a while that he is far less interesting/cute/intelligent/funny/handsome than you(r mind) thought... The entire memory then is destroyed. Smashed into a thousand pieces like it was all just a lie.
My piece of advice? Enjoy the moments you had with someone, and protect that memory. Romanticize and idealize it in your head, but do not go desperate over a follow through, and trust me: sometimes it is better that way.
donderdag 16 januari 2014
Eyes that can talk
What do people see when they look directly into my eyes?
Supposedly, the eyes are the mirror of the soul; the eyes speak a truth that the mouth cannot put into words. When I am talking, rambling or whispering to someone, do my eyes tell the same story as I do?
You stared directly into my eyes, my soul and so much more. We talked about irrelevant things. How pretty the stars were. How cold the wind was. How sad it was that you had to leave already.
Did my eyes tell you that I wanted you to stay? Did they tell you that even though the stars were beautiful, all I could look at was you? And that the wind or how cold it was did not matter as long as I was outside, away from the crow, with you?
I hope they did. But I was not able to look into yours. Your dark eyes seemed shut though they were wide open. You were looking at me, but I was not able to look at you in that way. I was in awe of your presence, your warmth and your funny irrelevant remarks. Even if your eyes had answered that Yes, you wanted to stay, to talk and to listen, I would not have been able to read that. I only listened to the words, not to the glances, blinks and stares. Not yet.
And then you went.
Off into the starry, windy night.
Farther away from the crowd inside,
but even farther away from me.
Supposedly, the eyes are the mirror of the soul; the eyes speak a truth that the mouth cannot put into words. When I am talking, rambling or whispering to someone, do my eyes tell the same story as I do?
You stared directly into my eyes, my soul and so much more. We talked about irrelevant things. How pretty the stars were. How cold the wind was. How sad it was that you had to leave already.
Did my eyes tell you that I wanted you to stay? Did they tell you that even though the stars were beautiful, all I could look at was you? And that the wind or how cold it was did not matter as long as I was outside, away from the crow, with you?
I hope they did. But I was not able to look into yours. Your dark eyes seemed shut though they were wide open. You were looking at me, but I was not able to look at you in that way. I was in awe of your presence, your warmth and your funny irrelevant remarks. Even if your eyes had answered that Yes, you wanted to stay, to talk and to listen, I would not have been able to read that. I only listened to the words, not to the glances, blinks and stares. Not yet.
And then you went.
Off into the starry, windy night.
Farther away from the crowd inside,
but even farther away from me.
donderdag 31 oktober 2013
People we meet
It is funny how every single person you meet, does something with you, has in influence on you in one way or another. They shape you in how you behave in your next encounters or how you deal with your past or future problems. Still, it goes widely unnoticed. We draw upon previous experiences before we enter new ones, making every single one of those moments unique. People you meet can be interesting, funny, weird, disarming or just so, so very special in a way you cannot even begin putting it into words or writing. Unconsciously, people can give you a piece of advice that lasts a life time, or they can make you – even if only for a short period of time – feel worthy of their attention, which honestly is one of the greatest feelings in the world.
zondag 20 oktober 2013
A roundabout of disillusions
I just do not get it.
How can one’s thoughts and feelings be so far apart from one another? While my mind is running off to a fairytale, right in the arms of my prince charming, my heart is drifting off into an entirely different direction – a far less positive one.
Will I be able to force my heart in a certain pre-scripted plot, or should I let it make a detour and just wait until it gets back on the right track, whichever one that might be?
A good friend warned me for this long before. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to listen. I was highly convinced that I should know what he, my prince charming, wanted from me, had in mind for us and hoped we would become, before I made up my own mind about those things. Well, turns out I was wrong, my friend was right. I should have thought it through and sorted it out before I told him I had any doubts in the first place. As a result, it now feels like I am not following any path at all: neither my mind’s, nor my heart’s. Instead, I am stuck on a roundabout of disillusions, hope, fear and a highway jammed with uncertainty. I am lost. The true problem here is that no one has a map to guide me through this: I am all by myself on this one.
How can one’s thoughts and feelings be so far apart from one another? While my mind is running off to a fairytale, right in the arms of my prince charming, my heart is drifting off into an entirely different direction – a far less positive one.
Will I be able to force my heart in a certain pre-scripted plot, or should I let it make a detour and just wait until it gets back on the right track, whichever one that might be?
A good friend warned me for this long before. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to listen. I was highly convinced that I should know what he, my prince charming, wanted from me, had in mind for us and hoped we would become, before I made up my own mind about those things. Well, turns out I was wrong, my friend was right. I should have thought it through and sorted it out before I told him I had any doubts in the first place. As a result, it now feels like I am not following any path at all: neither my mind’s, nor my heart’s. Instead, I am stuck on a roundabout of disillusions, hope, fear and a highway jammed with uncertainty. I am lost. The true problem here is that no one has a map to guide me through this: I am all by myself on this one.
donderdag 15 augustus 2013
Dusty photographs
I do not want these memories to fade... I do not want them to be replaced by other ones, or stay forgotten in the back of my mind, like old, dusty photographs in an attic.
Photographs are just captured details: fragments of an experience, and stories really are just ink on paper sheet. Memories, however, have the ability to take us back in time and let us relive moments of the past. The mind tricks us into being there again, smelling, seeing and feeling the same things as in that very moment. The past few weeks I have created memories I want to remember and relive over and over again, even the boring, sad or painfull ones, because overall, I have learned so much from these weeks, in every possible sense of the word. I have learned about a city, a language and a culture. I have also learned a lot about other people, but most of all: I have learned about myself.
Mixed feelings about leaving this place behind are overwhelming me. Even though going back home is not something I want, I will keep moving forward, although in life it really is only possible to move forward. But every now and then, I will let my memories take over and take me back to those times. Those good old times.
Photographs are just captured details: fragments of an experience, and stories really are just ink on paper sheet. Memories, however, have the ability to take us back in time and let us relive moments of the past. The mind tricks us into being there again, smelling, seeing and feeling the same things as in that very moment. The past few weeks I have created memories I want to remember and relive over and over again, even the boring, sad or painfull ones, because overall, I have learned so much from these weeks, in every possible sense of the word. I have learned about a city, a language and a culture. I have also learned a lot about other people, but most of all: I have learned about myself.
Mixed feelings about leaving this place behind are overwhelming me. Even though going back home is not something I want, I will keep moving forward, although in life it really is only possible to move forward. But every now and then, I will let my memories take over and take me back to those times. Those good old times.
woensdag 24 juli 2013
Double identity
Shiny, sweaty faces all around me, tourists who are desperately looking for some street, the locals desperately trying to get to work on time as I walk through the city. The city in which I no longer am a tourist, but a temporary citizen.
With confidence and without a map I make my way across the plazas filled with lost, wandering people with confused expressions on their faces. I adjusted my customs to the local ones, and seeing people have lunch at 12 and dinner at 6 now makes me grin: I used to be like that, like them. A tourist. Feeling at home apparently also shows on the outside as I noticed: people start asking me the way, or ask for advice on where to go for a proper traditional dinner. Of course I answer them, pretending to know it all, as if I have lived here my whole life.
It only gets hard when I am dealing with foreigners and locals at the same time. For the former, I belong to the latter, but for the latter, I am still, and will always be a foreigner. I must say though that for now, I enjoy having that double identity: it gives me the best of both worlds.
With confidence and without a map I make my way across the plazas filled with lost, wandering people with confused expressions on their faces. I adjusted my customs to the local ones, and seeing people have lunch at 12 and dinner at 6 now makes me grin: I used to be like that, like them. A tourist. Feeling at home apparently also shows on the outside as I noticed: people start asking me the way, or ask for advice on where to go for a proper traditional dinner. Of course I answer them, pretending to know it all, as if I have lived here my whole life.
It only gets hard when I am dealing with foreigners and locals at the same time. For the former, I belong to the latter, but for the latter, I am still, and will always be a foreigner. I must say though that for now, I enjoy having that double identity: it gives me the best of both worlds.
vrijdag 7 juni 2013
(Not so) Pointless Nostalgic
I am still surprised by how smells and tastes can instantly bring you back to a certain memory, a sudden feeling of nostalgia creeping up your spine.
For me, the taste of yoghurt with fresh peaches or melon takes me back to the care-free family vacations in Spain in the summer: after a long day of visiting cities, villages, beaches and museums we would go to the local supermercado and treat ourselves to all things nice: a good bottle of regional wine for my parents, and local treats or delicious ice cream for me and my brother. On the tiny camping stove outside our tent, my mom would cook simple, yet amazingly tasty meals with tortillas, chorizo and so much more. The true treat was the dessert: a big bucket almost filled with rich yoghurt. At the table we would all grab some summer fruits and start chopping up melons, slicing peaches and cutting apricots, which – once put together – created a perfect ending to a perfect day. Usually these dinners were accompanied by gorgeous sunsets over the sea, right at the point where the world seems to end or bend. If not, the soft sounds of rain on our tent and some candles would do the job and create a soothing, cozy atmosphere.
Now, living on my own, in a big city far away from Spain, my parents and the ocean, it are those little moments that ease me and allow me to take my mind of things – even if only for a while.
The truth is, though, we can do a lot of things to create those moments, because just admit it, we are all suckers for nostalgia occasionally. All I am saying is: go to the store and buy the things that will make you appreciate your previous experience -- while making sure to create even more and better new memories in the near and far future! Once you have grown old, you will have a huge array of tastes, smells and other things at your disposal to dream away to the good old days, and that would just be perfect, wouldn't it?
For me, the taste of yoghurt with fresh peaches or melon takes me back to the care-free family vacations in Spain in the summer: after a long day of visiting cities, villages, beaches and museums we would go to the local supermercado and treat ourselves to all things nice: a good bottle of regional wine for my parents, and local treats or delicious ice cream for me and my brother. On the tiny camping stove outside our tent, my mom would cook simple, yet amazingly tasty meals with tortillas, chorizo and so much more. The true treat was the dessert: a big bucket almost filled with rich yoghurt. At the table we would all grab some summer fruits and start chopping up melons, slicing peaches and cutting apricots, which – once put together – created a perfect ending to a perfect day. Usually these dinners were accompanied by gorgeous sunsets over the sea, right at the point where the world seems to end or bend. If not, the soft sounds of rain on our tent and some candles would do the job and create a soothing, cozy atmosphere.
Now, living on my own, in a big city far away from Spain, my parents and the ocean, it are those little moments that ease me and allow me to take my mind of things – even if only for a while.
The truth is, though, we can do a lot of things to create those moments, because just admit it, we are all suckers for nostalgia occasionally. All I am saying is: go to the store and buy the things that will make you appreciate your previous experience -- while making sure to create even more and better new memories in the near and far future! Once you have grown old, you will have a huge array of tastes, smells and other things at your disposal to dream away to the good old days, and that would just be perfect, wouldn't it?
zondag 21 april 2013
Nightmares, dreams and nighttime fairytales
I’m a weird-dream specialist. Honestly, I have weird dreams about three times a week. Usually it becomes evident right when I wake up that something is just wrong, I can wake up angry, I can wake up in love, I can wake up in tears. After half a minute, maybe a little more, that wears off and I realize that what felt so real just moments ago, was in fact just a dream. The other day I dreamt that my Mom told me to “stop being such a bitch all the time”. Just this morning I woke up thinking that I was best friends with a classmate, who I absolutely cannot stand. Once I woke up in the middle of the night, my cheeks and pillow wet from my tears because I thought my Dad had died. When I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt that my Mom passed away too, that morning I woke up as an orphan, so when I came downstairs I was so happy to see my parents sitting there.
I once visited a doctor, kind of an alternative doctor, because I had been ill-ish for 8 weeks and antibiotics did not help. I could tell she was quite the alternative doctor: she started to ask questions like ‘do you ever have weird dreams’, ‘do you sweat a lot’, ‘do you have itchy feet’? She then graded my personality silver. I tried convincing her that really my personality was GOLDEN, but no, that did not work out. The point is that ever since I visited that doctor, I just kept wondering about what those dreams had to do with my health. Or what dreams have to do with anything at all, since they hardly ever seem to make sense.
For quite some time I wrote my dreams down into a notebook that I kept on my nightstand. As soon as I woke up I would write everything I remembered about my dreams, thinking that maybe they would make more sense then. Recently I found that notebook, and I started reading. The strange thing was that from every dream, I could recall the exact feeling I had when waking up that morning. The best ones were the ones about traveling (and I can tell you it were a lot of them), when I woke up I felt like I had been away for 4 weeks, to Morocco, Egypt, Australia or the Dominican Republic and I would just feel so… Satisfied. Or content, or happy. Words cannot really describe the feeling that well. But I am pretty sure every single one of us has had those moments: when everything is just right.
Bottom line is: dreams may not have a function of themselves, but we can certainly give them one. Learn from the bad ones, and reminisce the good ones, to get that perfect feeling back when you need it.
I once visited a doctor, kind of an alternative doctor, because I had been ill-ish for 8 weeks and antibiotics did not help. I could tell she was quite the alternative doctor: she started to ask questions like ‘do you ever have weird dreams’, ‘do you sweat a lot’, ‘do you have itchy feet’? She then graded my personality silver. I tried convincing her that really my personality was GOLDEN, but no, that did not work out. The point is that ever since I visited that doctor, I just kept wondering about what those dreams had to do with my health. Or what dreams have to do with anything at all, since they hardly ever seem to make sense.
For quite some time I wrote my dreams down into a notebook that I kept on my nightstand. As soon as I woke up I would write everything I remembered about my dreams, thinking that maybe they would make more sense then. Recently I found that notebook, and I started reading. The strange thing was that from every dream, I could recall the exact feeling I had when waking up that morning. The best ones were the ones about traveling (and I can tell you it were a lot of them), when I woke up I felt like I had been away for 4 weeks, to Morocco, Egypt, Australia or the Dominican Republic and I would just feel so… Satisfied. Or content, or happy. Words cannot really describe the feeling that well. But I am pretty sure every single one of us has had those moments: when everything is just right.
Bottom line is: dreams may not have a function of themselves, but we can certainly give them one. Learn from the bad ones, and reminisce the good ones, to get that perfect feeling back when you need it.
donderdag 4 april 2013
Those people
It is during the tough times, the rough periods and grey eras of your life that you get to know the people around you best. You will find that some are there when you need an optimistic view: they will cheer you up when you are feeling down by making you laugh about silly YouTube videos. Some will let you sob in misery and acknowledge that it is okay for you to feel horrible, because life simply seems horrible at times: they will cry with you and play horrible dramatic songs that make everything seem even worse.
The persons, however, that you will appreciate most are the ones that can see not only what you want, but also what is good for you. Sometimes it is not okay to be sad about something for a long period of time, sometimes you just need someone to kick your ass, set you on fire and make you live again, even if that is not what you want.
Those people, the ones that always have your best interest in mind for the long term; the ones that have your happiness in mind, and not mere short-term satisfaction; the ones that will not only listen, but also argue with you and get mad at you:
those are the ones that we can call true friends.
The persons, however, that you will appreciate most are the ones that can see not only what you want, but also what is good for you. Sometimes it is not okay to be sad about something for a long period of time, sometimes you just need someone to kick your ass, set you on fire and make you live again, even if that is not what you want.
Those people, the ones that always have your best interest in mind for the long term; the ones that have your happiness in mind, and not mere short-term satisfaction; the ones that will not only listen, but also argue with you and get mad at you:
those are the ones that we can call true friends.
zaterdag 16 maart 2013
See beneath the beautiful
He asked me: ‘why are we always looking for the perfect person, while we will never find them, while we will have to settle for less?’ I asked him: ‘does that bother you, knowing that you are going to end up with someone who isn’t perfect?’ He said it did not bother him, but as I looked into his eyes I saw a different answer. His eyes told a different story than his mouth, and at that moment I was the only one able to hear that second story, the untold. I wanted to tell him that we do not need someone perfect, but all we need is someone that treats us as if we are. I knew that this sounded too much as a line from a Nicholas Sparks novel, and not enough as the truth so I kept my mouth shut and nodded while I rested my head on his shoulders. Without saying a word I thought about how I wanted him to be that person for me, how I wanted him to know me in my purest and most selfless forms. And I know that there will always be flaws, errors and tiny mistakes, but the true goal is to find a person who looks beyond your beautiful and who actually appreciates your inside and every bit of it. Right there and right then, I felt like I had found that person, it was him.
Some people can make you feel that way, as if you were perfect. It will be the man who takes your breath away, but gives you a whole lot more back for it. It will be the man who is not afraid to show you his weakness, his struggles, his pain and more important, even: his love for you. You need to give that man a chance though, because too often we do not recognize him at first. He built the walls around him, but it is up to you to break those down, brick by brick until you know him as well as you know yourself.
For a moment I thought I had found him. My guy. The guy I needed. Even though in the end it did not turn out the way I had wanted it too, that small moment gave me some kind of hope. It is a feeling I like to recall: that moment when it finally seemed like my jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces had been put together into a coherent whole. I know now that I do not have to search in order to find, that I do not need to reach out in order to get help, but most of all: that I do not have to ask in order to get an answer to my questions.
Some people can make you feel that way, as if you were perfect. It will be the man who takes your breath away, but gives you a whole lot more back for it. It will be the man who is not afraid to show you his weakness, his struggles, his pain and more important, even: his love for you. You need to give that man a chance though, because too often we do not recognize him at first. He built the walls around him, but it is up to you to break those down, brick by brick until you know him as well as you know yourself.
For a moment I thought I had found him. My guy. The guy I needed. Even though in the end it did not turn out the way I had wanted it too, that small moment gave me some kind of hope. It is a feeling I like to recall: that moment when it finally seemed like my jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces had been put together into a coherent whole. I know now that I do not have to search in order to find, that I do not need to reach out in order to get help, but most of all: that I do not have to ask in order to get an answer to my questions.
donderdag 7 februari 2013
Midnight chatter
Picture this: a winter night, along with hail and temperatures way below zero. After a party he asked her to sit with him for a little while, even though it was 4 a.m; it did not matter to him. As he saw her hesitant smile he added: ‘it is just hanging out, nothing else’. Somehow his words reassured her and made her say yes. He told her he was taking her to one of his favorite places in the city, where he often sat to think. Along the banks of the river, they sat on a bench, their teeth clattering from the cold, but it was okay. He offered her his headphones to at least keep her ears warm, an adorable and thoughtful gesture coming from this big, tough guy who turned out to be so kind once you got to know him.
After chatting for a while, he asked her a question. The exact words she could not remember, but the answer he was expecting was one she could not even provide that easily. He had asked her to define herself, as a person. Such a seemingly simple question got her mind working over-hours and left her wondering if she was supposed to know this. Was she expected to have her answer ready just like that? True, she never had any trouble answering any other questions quick, whitty and smart, but this was different.
She sat there for some time, thinking. Meanwhile a boat passed by, making waves in the water, turning the river into somewhat of an ocean for just a little while. Finally, she explained to him who she had been, who she could be and who people thought she was.
Silently she was hoping that he did not notice that the true answer to his question had never come.
After chatting for a while, he asked her a question. The exact words she could not remember, but the answer he was expecting was one she could not even provide that easily. He had asked her to define herself, as a person. Such a seemingly simple question got her mind working over-hours and left her wondering if she was supposed to know this. Was she expected to have her answer ready just like that? True, she never had any trouble answering any other questions quick, whitty and smart, but this was different.
She sat there for some time, thinking. Meanwhile a boat passed by, making waves in the water, turning the river into somewhat of an ocean for just a little while. Finally, she explained to him who she had been, who she could be and who people thought she was.
Silently she was hoping that he did not notice that the true answer to his question had never come.
zondag 3 februari 2013
A while ago
Silently falling, the last leaves from the trees. Autumn has done its job, now it is time for the winter, in all its dashing white glory, to arrive in this country. This country where everyone complains about the cold in the winter, the heat in the summer and the rain in spring and fall. This is the land of the indecisive people that never seem to quite wrap their minds around how to behave out in the open. Skirts and tops that are way too revealing, or double jumpers and long underwear that make people sweat in public, everything is possible here.
In this world of seemingly available possibilities though, I am stuck. Stuck because I do not know where to go next. Where else will I be able to find a home as warm and comforting as I have right now, right here? It will be an absolute challenge to find something quite like this. But is that even what I want? Something similar? Similar things will bring similar problems and similar bores. To be honest, I do not think I can handle this kind of boredom again. Of course, it will also bring similar joys. However, maybe it is the point to find joy in other things, in other situations, where I am not yet used to everything. It will be challenging, it will be hard at times, and it will be disappointing at times, I am fairly certain of that. Finding happiness in a new surrounding and in a new setting will give me a more fulfilled feeling, a feeling of an actual achievement even. At least, that is what I hope.
And then, after a while, there will be the day that I return to this country and all of a sudden I will see how small my world had been before I left. It will probably strike me how simple life had been thus far, in this country where people are brutally honest about strangers, but painfully silent about people they know. Where and when I will start this new experience is something that is hard to say. I will have to arrange it, though; I cannot just let it come, because it simply will not just come. Cautious planning and careful thinking will get me there, but most important of all: my motivation. My motivation will get me wherever I want to go.
In this world of seemingly available possibilities though, I am stuck. Stuck because I do not know where to go next. Where else will I be able to find a home as warm and comforting as I have right now, right here? It will be an absolute challenge to find something quite like this. But is that even what I want? Something similar? Similar things will bring similar problems and similar bores. To be honest, I do not think I can handle this kind of boredom again. Of course, it will also bring similar joys. However, maybe it is the point to find joy in other things, in other situations, where I am not yet used to everything. It will be challenging, it will be hard at times, and it will be disappointing at times, I am fairly certain of that. Finding happiness in a new surrounding and in a new setting will give me a more fulfilled feeling, a feeling of an actual achievement even. At least, that is what I hope.
And then, after a while, there will be the day that I return to this country and all of a sudden I will see how small my world had been before I left. It will probably strike me how simple life had been thus far, in this country where people are brutally honest about strangers, but painfully silent about people they know. Where and when I will start this new experience is something that is hard to say. I will have to arrange it, though; I cannot just let it come, because it simply will not just come. Cautious planning and careful thinking will get me there, but most important of all: my motivation. My motivation will get me wherever I want to go.
maandag 15 oktober 2012
Tough life of a teenager
Oh how confusing the life of a teenager can be at times.
You want to drink, but you do not want the hangover the day after. Man, those are some serious decisions to be made. You may decide not to drink at all and still have a nice evening, but certainly it would be more spectacular, embarrassing, shocking and hilarious when you got drunk. The day after however will also be shocking, it will be shocking how horrible you look and how horrible you feel...
Another dilemma is that you want to eat the entire chocolate bar, bowl of M&M's, and jar of Ben & Jerry's, but you absolutely do not want to be a chubby kid. Because everybody knows: chubby kids are well... chubby. And that is not a positive thing. Of course there are boys that dig them lovehandles and stuff, but generally speaking you better be average sized to get yourself a decent boyfriend! Also, you want to watch the latest episode of Gossip Girl, but you do not want to have to wait a whole more week for the next one. This really is a painful dilemma. The best thing about waiting is that you can spend one entire Sunday afternoon a month watching episodes of your favorite series, preferably accompanied by a chocholate bar and a bowl of M&M's but yeah, we have addressed that issue before...
People always talk about the children in Africa being so poor and having such a tough time. But honestly, they do not even have decisions to make, so doesn't that make us, Western teenagers much more miserable? The African kids should feel sorry for us Oh the tough life of us teenagers... (and no, I am not being serious, it is called sarcasm! I can proudly say I speak sarcasm fluently)
You want to drink, but you do not want the hangover the day after. Man, those are some serious decisions to be made. You may decide not to drink at all and still have a nice evening, but certainly it would be more spectacular, embarrassing, shocking and hilarious when you got drunk. The day after however will also be shocking, it will be shocking how horrible you look and how horrible you feel...
Another dilemma is that you want to eat the entire chocolate bar, bowl of M&M's, and jar of Ben & Jerry's, but you absolutely do not want to be a chubby kid. Because everybody knows: chubby kids are well... chubby. And that is not a positive thing. Of course there are boys that dig them lovehandles and stuff, but generally speaking you better be average sized to get yourself a decent boyfriend! Also, you want to watch the latest episode of Gossip Girl, but you do not want to have to wait a whole more week for the next one. This really is a painful dilemma. The best thing about waiting is that you can spend one entire Sunday afternoon a month watching episodes of your favorite series, preferably accompanied by a chocholate bar and a bowl of M&M's but yeah, we have addressed that issue before...
People always talk about the children in Africa being so poor and having such a tough time. But honestly, they do not even have decisions to make, so doesn't that make us, Western teenagers much more miserable? The African kids should feel sorry for us Oh the tough life of us teenagers... (and no, I am not being serious, it is called sarcasm! I can proudly say I speak sarcasm fluently)
zondag 14 oktober 2012
A girl can dream, right?
In the winter we will spend long cozy evenings not in front of the telly, but in front of the fireplace while looking at each other over our steaming cups of tea. I probably spent all of the afternoon in the kitchen with my children, baking a delicious pie for us to enjoy after our supper. And then when all is said and done, the sun has set and the children are off to bed, my husband and I will silently sit next to each other, his arms wrapped around me, counting ourselves lucky to have such a blessed life. We will realise that it could have been different, it could have been so different. My husband and I will make breakfast for our precious little children before taking them to school and go our separate ways to work. The daily rituals are always the same, but never will they be a bore. It will be our days, our lives, our little universe.
When spring finally comes after a long, cold winter, we will redecorate our house to let the fresh air in. Our children will stand against the wall and carefully measure how much they have grown over the winter and draw a new line above the old one. They will be disappointed because they want to be bigger, they want to be stronger and they want to be older. All I want is for them is to stop growing, to stay this way for just another couple of years so that I can enjoy it for just a little longer. My husband will tell me how gorgeous I look when I am sitting on a little bench in the garden, reading a book that I have read so many times already. He will kiss me on my forehead and go for a long walk with our children. When they come back we will all sit around the big and robust wooden table that my husband built with his friends. The children will raise their voices because they have so many adventures to share with me. How the youngest one tried to climb a tree and how the two siblings helped him getting out again when he had climbed too high and got scared. How their dad just stood there watching them because they had convinced them they were strong enough to solve the problem by themselves, and they were right. They had grown up.
maandag 29 augustus 2011
Nederlanders op vakantie
Het blijft een heel interessant fenomeen: Nederlanders op vakantie.
Wij als Nederlanders zijn misschien nog wel het meest herkenbare volk in het buitenland.
In het buitenland is alles duur, dus wat doen Nederlanders? Juist, we nemen lekker overal onze eigen lunch mee naartoe, bij voorkeur een 'Franse' baguette van de campingwinkel, besmeerd met de meegebrachte pindakaas of hagelslag. Of nog erger: pindakaas én hagelslag! Zie je ergens op een picknickplek (een bankje) een gezinnetje zitten met broodjes, terwijl daarnaast een heerlijk eetcafé/bistro/restaurant zit? Het zijn Nederlanders.
Een stel van middelbare leeftijd, loopt gezellig met een DIRK-supermarkttas over de camping. De vrouw heeft waarschijnlijk een gebloemd jurkje aan van de V&D, de H&M, of de C&A, want Nederlanders zijn gek op grote commerciele modeketens. De man gaat gekleed in een zwembroek met polo, uitgezocht door z'n vrouw. Beiden zijn eerder rood dan bruin gekleurd door de zon, want ze willen natuurlijk vooral genieten van de zon aan het water. Al deze kenmerken schreeuwen: WIJ ZIJN NEDERLANDERS!!!
Nog meer dingen? Nederlanders praten Nederlands, en ja, óók tegen Franse obers praten zij Nederlands. Vinden ze heel grappig, onder het motto: 'Hij praat Frans wat ik niet versta, dus praat ik Nederlands' "HAHAHAHAHA" De bierbuik van de desbetreffende vijftigjarige nederlandse man schudt heftig mee met zijn bulderende lach.
Ook typisch Nederlands. In een restaurant is het namelijk helemaaaal niet erg om hard te praten.... (tip; het is WEL erg, dus ssssssst)
Nederlandse kindjes vallen in het buitenland vooral onder de categorie: schattig.
Meisjes in een roze bikini met ruches, jongens in een zwembroekje en een duikbril om hun nek, maar het meest opvallende: hun blonde haartjes, netjes in een vlechtje, dan wel kuifje. Met hun blauwe ogen laten ze menig italiaan of spanjaard smelten: 'Che bella bambina!'
Ze zijn trouwens ook te herkennen aan hun fietsjes, stepjes of zwembandjes, lekker makkelijk.
Al deze typische Nederlandse dingen zijn misschien iets aangedikt, maar feit is wel dat Nederlanders heel gemakkelijk te herkennen zijn op vakantie in het buitenland. Misschien omdat je ze van verre aan hoort komen, misschien vanwege bovenstaande dingen, of een heel ander 'je ne sais quoi'-iets.
Waarschijnlijk pas ik zelf trouwens ook wel bij dit geschetste beeld, want wij nemen zelf óók wel eens pindakaas mee op vakantie.......
Wij als Nederlanders zijn misschien nog wel het meest herkenbare volk in het buitenland.
In het buitenland is alles duur, dus wat doen Nederlanders? Juist, we nemen lekker overal onze eigen lunch mee naartoe, bij voorkeur een 'Franse' baguette van de campingwinkel, besmeerd met de meegebrachte pindakaas of hagelslag. Of nog erger: pindakaas én hagelslag! Zie je ergens op een picknickplek (een bankje) een gezinnetje zitten met broodjes, terwijl daarnaast een heerlijk eetcafé/bistro/restaurant zit? Het zijn Nederlanders.
Een stel van middelbare leeftijd, loopt gezellig met een DIRK-supermarkttas over de camping. De vrouw heeft waarschijnlijk een gebloemd jurkje aan van de V&D, de H&M, of de C&A, want Nederlanders zijn gek op grote commerciele modeketens. De man gaat gekleed in een zwembroek met polo, uitgezocht door z'n vrouw. Beiden zijn eerder rood dan bruin gekleurd door de zon, want ze willen natuurlijk vooral genieten van de zon aan het water. Al deze kenmerken schreeuwen: WIJ ZIJN NEDERLANDERS!!!
Nog meer dingen? Nederlanders praten Nederlands, en ja, óók tegen Franse obers praten zij Nederlands. Vinden ze heel grappig, onder het motto: 'Hij praat Frans wat ik niet versta, dus praat ik Nederlands' "HAHAHAHAHA" De bierbuik van de desbetreffende vijftigjarige nederlandse man schudt heftig mee met zijn bulderende lach.
Ook typisch Nederlands. In een restaurant is het namelijk helemaaaal niet erg om hard te praten.... (tip; het is WEL erg, dus ssssssst)
Nederlandse kindjes vallen in het buitenland vooral onder de categorie: schattig.
Meisjes in een roze bikini met ruches, jongens in een zwembroekje en een duikbril om hun nek, maar het meest opvallende: hun blonde haartjes, netjes in een vlechtje, dan wel kuifje. Met hun blauwe ogen laten ze menig italiaan of spanjaard smelten: 'Che bella bambina!'
Ze zijn trouwens ook te herkennen aan hun fietsjes, stepjes of zwembandjes, lekker makkelijk.
Al deze typische Nederlandse dingen zijn misschien iets aangedikt, maar feit is wel dat Nederlanders heel gemakkelijk te herkennen zijn op vakantie in het buitenland. Misschien omdat je ze van verre aan hoort komen, misschien vanwege bovenstaande dingen, of een heel ander 'je ne sais quoi'-iets.
Waarschijnlijk pas ik zelf trouwens ook wel bij dit geschetste beeld, want wij nemen zelf óók wel eens pindakaas mee op vakantie.......
dinsdag 28 juni 2011
I'm still Dutch
Oké, misschien was ik iets te optimistisch. Het lijkt wel alsof ik in het Engels mijn stukjes zelf minder leuk vind. Misschien is dat ook wel zo, ik ben en blijf een Nederlander!
Niet helemaal waar.
Ik las laatst al mijn oude stukjes terug, maar het enige wat ik zag was een dalende lijn qua optimisme!
Dus vanaf nu, is het optimisme terug, want ik schrijf weer in het Nederlands!
Há, op twitter ben ik fervent volger van de 'Awkward moment when' account. Je raadt het al: allemaal voorbeelden van genante momenten verschijnen op Twitter. Herken je jezelf erin, dan is het natuurlijk de bedoeling dat je het "Retweet", maar dat laat ik meestal achterwege, het is niet voor niets AWKWARD
Toch even een paar voorbeelden:
- "The awkward moment when you go into your wardrobe to find Narnia, but instead end up just being a moron stuck in your wardrobe"
Ja dat is natuurlijk onwijs vervelend. Ik ben 16 maar natuuuurlijk geloof ik nog in de magie van de fantasy-films, dus meteen nadat ik Narnia had gezien, raapte ik al mijn moed bij elkaar en je raadt het al: ik liep de kast in. Nou moet je je even voorstellen dat mijn kast nog niet eens 1 m2 is, dus het was sowieso al krap. Die enorme teleurstelling toen ik bij de achterkant van de kast aankwam, zal ik nooit vergeten. Ik hoopte natuurlijk dat er geen einde aan de kast zou komen, maar dat viel tegen toen ik een bloedneus had: ik had mijn hoofd gestoten...
Oké je merkt het al wel weer. Niet alleen typ ik weer in het Nederlands, mijn verfijnde gevoel voor sarcastische verhaaltjes is ook weer teruggekomen!
Maar dan even zonder grappen. Er worden ook momenten getweet / twitterd waarvan ik denk: 'JA, dat heb ik écht altijd!!'
Bereid je voor op de serieuze voorbeelden, jullie gaan me weer een stukje beter leren kennen:
- "The awkward moment when someone walks in on you singing to yourself."
Oh hoe vaak ik dat al wel niet mee heb gemaakt. En dan precies op de momenten dat ik het liedje eigenlijk niet meer aankan. Denk aan uithalen á la Céline Dion, Beyonce en Glee. Die momenten dus.....
Oh terwijl ik dit typ zing ik trouwens mee met mijn playlist, dus jullie hebben geluk dat er geen audioverbinding is.
- "The awkward moment when you go completely out of your way to avoid someone and then end up running into them anyway"
Deze kent iedereen wel denk ik. Lekker in het zonnetje aan het fietsen, in een chill tempo en ineens zit je achter een slome dikke man. Natuurlijk zou je deze persoon normaliter meteen inhalen, maar je beseft je dat het je leraar is; die ene die je haat. Het is sowieso al awkward om een leraar buiten school tegen te komen, maar om 'm dan ook nog in te moeten halen? Dat gaat te ver. Gelukkig weet je een omweg, gewoon even tussendoor en dan rechts links. En daar staat hij dan weer, voor het stoplicht, z'n dikke buik op zijn benen hangend, met het zweet op zijn rug. 'HÁ, VERA!' 'Ah........ hai meneer......'
Hoe triest... Voor niks die omweg gefietst.
En hoe Awkward is dat allemaal?
Take a look at my awkward face:
Opzich zou ik nog eeuwen door kunnen schrijven over Awkward Moments uit mijn dagelijks leven, maar ik denk dat jullie eerst even moeten wennen aan het feit dat ik überhaupt iets op deze Blog schrijf, dus succes met het verwerken van deze shock!
xliefs,
Vera
Niet helemaal waar.
Ik las laatst al mijn oude stukjes terug, maar het enige wat ik zag was een dalende lijn qua optimisme!
Dus vanaf nu, is het optimisme terug, want ik schrijf weer in het Nederlands!
Há, op twitter ben ik fervent volger van de 'Awkward moment when' account. Je raadt het al: allemaal voorbeelden van genante momenten verschijnen op Twitter. Herken je jezelf erin, dan is het natuurlijk de bedoeling dat je het "Retweet", maar dat laat ik meestal achterwege, het is niet voor niets AWKWARD
Toch even een paar voorbeelden:
- "The awkward moment when you go into your wardrobe to find Narnia, but instead end up just being a moron stuck in your wardrobe"
Ja dat is natuurlijk onwijs vervelend. Ik ben 16 maar natuuuurlijk geloof ik nog in de magie van de fantasy-films, dus meteen nadat ik Narnia had gezien, raapte ik al mijn moed bij elkaar en je raadt het al: ik liep de kast in. Nou moet je je even voorstellen dat mijn kast nog niet eens 1 m2 is, dus het was sowieso al krap. Die enorme teleurstelling toen ik bij de achterkant van de kast aankwam, zal ik nooit vergeten. Ik hoopte natuurlijk dat er geen einde aan de kast zou komen, maar dat viel tegen toen ik een bloedneus had: ik had mijn hoofd gestoten...
Oké je merkt het al wel weer. Niet alleen typ ik weer in het Nederlands, mijn verfijnde gevoel voor sarcastische verhaaltjes is ook weer teruggekomen!
Maar dan even zonder grappen. Er worden ook momenten getweet / twitterd waarvan ik denk: 'JA, dat heb ik écht altijd!!'
Bereid je voor op de serieuze voorbeelden, jullie gaan me weer een stukje beter leren kennen:
- "The awkward moment when someone walks in on you singing to yourself."
Oh hoe vaak ik dat al wel niet mee heb gemaakt. En dan precies op de momenten dat ik het liedje eigenlijk niet meer aankan. Denk aan uithalen á la Céline Dion, Beyonce en Glee. Die momenten dus.....
Oh terwijl ik dit typ zing ik trouwens mee met mijn playlist, dus jullie hebben geluk dat er geen audioverbinding is.
- "The awkward moment when you go completely out of your way to avoid someone and then end up running into them anyway"
Deze kent iedereen wel denk ik. Lekker in het zonnetje aan het fietsen, in een chill tempo en ineens zit je achter een slome dikke man. Natuurlijk zou je deze persoon normaliter meteen inhalen, maar je beseft je dat het je leraar is; die ene die je haat. Het is sowieso al awkward om een leraar buiten school tegen te komen, maar om 'm dan ook nog in te moeten halen? Dat gaat te ver. Gelukkig weet je een omweg, gewoon even tussendoor en dan rechts links. En daar staat hij dan weer, voor het stoplicht, z'n dikke buik op zijn benen hangend, met het zweet op zijn rug. 'HÁ, VERA!' 'Ah........ hai meneer......'
Hoe triest... Voor niks die omweg gefietst.
En hoe Awkward is dat allemaal?
Take a look at my awkward face:
Opzich zou ik nog eeuwen door kunnen schrijven over Awkward Moments uit mijn dagelijks leven, maar ik denk dat jullie eerst even moeten wennen aan het feit dat ik überhaupt iets op deze Blog schrijf, dus succes met het verwerken van deze shock!
xliefs,
Vera
zondag 16 januari 2011
Red Carpet
Your red carpet, is it glamorous? Or is it full of adventure?
I don't mean the red carpet at the Grammy's or the Oscar's or whatever,
I mean the red carpet that leads you through life and all the beautiful things that come with it.
It's rolled out, hopefully all over the world, but maybe only in your homecountry. That would be a shame: the world has so much more to offer than that what you know now. Let's be honest: who of you guys has been in all 5 continents already?
I guess no-one has... But maybe your red carpet has several directions. Life doesn't want you to take a straight path. It probably wants you to go off-road.
Take a trip down under in Australia, go hiking in Europe, have lessons from a zen-master in Asia.
You name it, life has it.
The only thing is:
you should not blindly follow your red carpet, try to be a daredevil and go off-road:
I don't mean the red carpet at the Grammy's or the Oscar's or whatever,
I mean the red carpet that leads you through life and all the beautiful things that come with it.
It's rolled out, hopefully all over the world, but maybe only in your homecountry. That would be a shame: the world has so much more to offer than that what you know now. Let's be honest: who of you guys has been in all 5 continents already?
I guess no-one has... But maybe your red carpet has several directions. Life doesn't want you to take a straight path. It probably wants you to go off-road.
Take a trip down under in Australia, go hiking in Europe, have lessons from a zen-master in Asia.
You name it, life has it.
The only thing is:
you should not blindly follow your red carpet, try to be a daredevil and go off-road:
woensdag 15 december 2010
Harry pottaaaah
I'm in love, i think.
Ron Weasley is my new hero. Don't you guys think he is awesome?
And now don't say: huh, Ron Weasley?? Who the hell is that??
Because if you don't know him, you're an ass, and you've been living under a stone for the past 10 years.
I normally don't dig the ginger-kids, but even I have to admit that he's pretty cute, right?
A couple of weeks ago a friend and I decided to throw a Harry Potter Marathon at het place. And so we did.
We sat up all night watching Harry Potter part 1-6. Though I must admit I fell asleep halfway part 4. We decided to take a nap (at 4 am) and continue at 9 am, so after we had breakfast we went back to bed and laid there for another 4 hours.
WE LOVED IT. Every time Ron entered the scene we started laughing even when he didn't say anything... Just his face makes me smile already.
During the Christmas break we'll go to the cinema to see the latest one: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. And this is the point where I need your advice:
Is it cooler in 3D or will we be having nightmares after watching?
I'll soon post something new, and something that hopefully will actually be interesting, in the meanwhile you might enjoy my other online pages,
www.vera-vienna.blogspot.com
snowflakesandsunbeams.tumblr.com
www.twitter.com/VeraVienna
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