25 de maig 2007

pasejant Miss Tommy

7:30, a walk in the park, walking miss Tommy. Alltogether no place to sit on wet grass but finally made it to finish my book. Next!

During the previous walk something amazing called my attention, it was all these trees covered in something like spiderwebs.
I took my camera this morning. I carefully approached the infested tree. What do I see? Cuques de seda!. They reminded me of these silk worms.

In my story of adopted insects I got carried away from a fashion to own these "silk worms".
We used to nurse them in show boxes. Then they would create a web and eventually turn into butterflies. I guess parents allowed us to own them so we could have a close experience with metamorphosis. I was so amazed by them that in my school assignment for the science project I created a play-doh model of their different stages. The ones I am going to show are probably not them, but I was so magnetized by the image the previous day I had to register it:

Tommy was getting anxious to play, I went to the doggies area and let him catch the ball, over, over and over again until he was tired. How many times do you have to run behind a ball until you get tired? The day before he gave up quick, the ground was dry and the area more crowded with other dogs that wanted to steal the ball away, but this time, with the morning fresh grass, the breeze and all that space for him alone he seemed to have some backup energy.

Deducing: << The time it takes to ge tired to run after a ball that keeps being thrown away from you hangs in direct relation to the circumstances.>>
At some point, we will get tired. Or after catching some air we won't pick up with the same excitement.

The fresh morning breeze and the sun on eye level, the visit to the worms, the dog always running after the ball... It all became a microuniverse in open space. Alone, and still with a slight slumbery feeling, smoothed by an incipient breeze.
I sat on the foot of an old knotty tree, held my hair, hid inside my coat and daydreamt while breathing the fresh grass morning scent.
On the lake shore, not far away from me, a metamorphosis had begun. For the sake of those worms, a tree will suffer. What do we turn into? Can we hide in a coccoon and come back with new powers? Some can. Can we settle in a tree without damaging it? (well, I have an answer for that, look at Mother Earth). Is it all about being able to build a cocoon, and take some time? Or will the gardening department come and spray you away?

Today's feelings: It's a location. Currently in Barcelona. Full stomach and reuniting my identity here. A warm feeling of belonging.
More about Barcelona to come.

24 de maig 2007

how funny is that

I have been trying to add some posts, but so far, they have stayed as drafts.
For the avid "too much text" haters, I guess good news.

I am having hell at work, working with 3 different party providers in testing loops in different parts of the network. Note it is the first time I test loops and I had to do it 'live' while on the phone (some acting required).
A colleague tripped on my camera's wire and took advantage of the situation.
Result of my expertise: this face!

See the tetric darkness I work in. Did I say I am turning into a geek?
Well, the other day I opened the blinds during daytime and the guys almost turn from Gizmo into Gremlins... EEEhhh! liiiiight! Shut thaaaaat... thing!

19 de maig 2007


I knew that!

And honestly, I don't think the Netherlands even gets close to OZ or NZ...

Stuff: NZ Fourth-Best Place In World To Live

New Zealand is the fourth-best place in the world to live, according to an international quality of life study. The International Living travel website ranked New Zealand fourth out of 193 countries, with only France, the Netherlands and Australia rating higher.


Tros d'imbècil!!!!!!
Confiada, pardilla...
Per què no es pot confiar en la gent? Per que soc tan imbècil? Per que tinc fe cega en les persones? Per què penso que puc ser important per a algú!????

No queden crits, ni paraules, ni insults per definir això. I em quedo aquí darrera el silenci de la taula de treball per reprimir aquesta ràbia que m'està menjant viva.

He perdut la fe en les persones. Necessito que algú m'ajudi a recuperar-la. M'ha trobat avui, de cop, pensant.
La gent pot ser tan dolenta, i jo em passo de bona.
Espero equivocar-me, pero de cop tot te sentit... Què fort!
Necessito fer mal, no vull fer-me més mal.

Today's feelings: odi i odi d'odiar

18 de maig 2007

merci Txetxu!

I spent my 4 days off home, apart from going to the Spanish movie festival. And not entering it.

I feel so good! I finished the house, all those little details that bothered me.
On the 3rd day the postman arrived. A packet was waiting for me.


Great, great b-day present.

Giving more names of people, since this is getting very gezellig. I will doublecheck if that is ok.

Thanks Txetxu for staying over and helping me, in all senses. You know I don't like being alone and you are great company. And very clean too :-)
Thanks for the movies: Pan's laberynth, La mala educacion, Volver (wow) and the ones I will watch next.
Thanks for the thousands of music you let me download from your private collection. I feel complete.
Specially the Pink Floyd one. Now I have everything I need.
Thanks for telling me I would be the last woman on earth you would go to bed with. In your case, it is a very big compliment and a proof of love. I take your word. You are a real friend.

And thanks for the popcorn, the beer, letting me cook for you, allow me to make you eat "plants" and let me choose my own food and not overfeed me (although you eat like a beast) and for having coffee ready when I woke up. Oh! And thanks for not cleaning my cup.

I survived 4 days without internet. It was beneficial. Somebody will save me today though and crack some connection until I find the perfect provider.

I will soon get a new flatmate and be able to share one more time... It comes handy in a very good moment.
See how it goes!

In the meantime Tommy is moving in with me again... Park walks, drooling tennis balls, licked legs and excitement everytime I enter the house... A hyperactive dog...
Oh dear!

12 de maig 2007


Tonight I had a dream, I was going to put this into the DREAMS section, but funny enough, after waking up, still remembering every part of it, I daydreamed a bit and started thinking about my mother, which had nothing to do with what I dreamt (cars and a cradle of beer), but thought it would bring me more in an introspective trip, although I know nobody will make it to the end of this post.

Mother. Some great moments I remeber as a child and very difficult ones as a teenager.
I was promising to be the easiest kid since I was born. Apparently never moaned, never made a scene, never claimed too much attention... But I was bloddy stubborn as hell. And that made the hell for my parents to educate me. I never accepted a 'no' you see? On top of it I was supertrusting, fearless, hyperactive oh and hypercreative, I had too much imagination. I lived in my own world of love and hapiness until I met my first boyfriend...

That is unrelated. I thought about her, because as Carol said, muttergestoerte Leute we never stop thinking about her and make sure we will never turn like her. And in both cases the similarities kinda filter. And it's scary. At times.

My mother allowed me to look at the diaries she wrote up until she turned about 18. Back then I could only see a very sensitive girl growing up in a slight ignorant and rough environment. A mother who made her feel dirty when she became a woman, a rather tight and controlling father.
She used to write stories all the time. I read her stories, they were full of compassion, freedom and sensitivity. She wondered about the sea, the nature of laugh, friendship...
It took her 6 years to make the step with my father, she wasn't sure. He was obsessed with getting married, she wasn't sure.
It hurts me to hear she doesn't believe in friendship, but she made a friend out of my father, I believe. I like to think she married him because she felt disappointed by some friends that put her aside to "catch a good party". I will never do this to you, cigroneta, because no matter what I love you over everything (there are levels, no matter what comes between us, we will get our chance ) <-- just making sure my best friend sees that I don't even share the thought...

But my parents couldn't stay together if they weren't friends. My dad was a loud, show off boy, with a promising future, being, as they were, the prolo-praps in a hippy generation. The ones of the cinquecentos, the girls with bras and beehives, the hairgel, tupe and polyester; the ones that looked like the boys and girls in "Grease" instead of "Hair".

I woke up this morning and I thought of her like the person in her stories, sensitive, full of compassion. And it made sense.
There are many, many things I don't agree with her, but some others she refuses to let go on the surface I find so cool.

She is afraid of being compassive, but she is: she won't listen, she will critizise and hurt you verbally when she runs out of argumentation. But when you cease talking and you leave her alone some hours, you find out she feels bad about it and will compensate you with amazing compassion and generosity. That's a thing I also realized about my sister (although she has strong argumentations and can make her point) and she is not afraid of being compassive, I think she only has it with me.

She is very generous. Also, she won't show that. She'll have always expenses under control but she knows she is generous, with everyone. She loves doing gifts, something I think I inheritated. I love making people happy. And light them up now and then with something uncompromised (hate presents that have to be given in a certain date)

She is very sensitive, but found shelter in my father not to be a soft egg.
He provides the sense to the sensitivity. That makes them happy instead of profusely worried. I've never felt overparented. Well, hell! I fought a lot against that, I didn't like being overprotected or controlled (or overfed. Everyone knows I have a healthy appetite, that's unrelated but I love to repeat it. I hated my grandparents stuffing food in my mouth and following me around with edibles, God! I have such a trauma with that)
Just wanna bring Maxi on this one, because the pict is very representative

Anyway, I learnt to work on my freedom in my teenies, and despite my extreme extrovert character I could be trusted. No drugs, no (unprotected) sex, no violence and overall I think I was and I am a honest person.
In the contrary a lot of staying out and a lot of passed curfews (which made my sister's life so much easier).

As a kid I have to blame she (my mother) was the softie, who couldn't do anything but shout and get my father to do the dirty work. I hated that. I was hoping her to once give me a proper dry slap, for f**k's sake! Or some explanation that wouldn't involve "I am your mother and I tell you so".
And then she wouldn't enjoy my father's punishing and be compassive again. But she kept going telly-tell my father. I think I started behaving when he stopped hitting me one day and opened up to show me his worries. We could finally talk and I understood him. I cried as I could never cry with physical pain!

I am pretty soon going to BCN and I want to have a little chat with her. I know I can not walk up to her and say that I am going through a lost stage in which I am feeling deserted, anxious and unloved.
Vamos! if I went into detail she wouldn't understand, she would then attack and tell me I am a weirdo. I need to get some information by scratching a bit the genetical information as per why and where do some things come from. Or how to be more open and easy about it. A little 'flesh or your flesh' exchange of impressions could help see things from another angle.

Quite unplanned I came to work a bit earlier to get my internet dosis and dedicate my mother a couple of lines, after thinking so much about her the whole evening. Then, I found a comment from my sister (merci per passar-t'hi) already threatening with lecturing me. And taking over her motherly/younger-but-more-responsible-sister-role. Arrgggg...
Maybe I should let her lecture me and get the talking with mum. I think its a wicked strategy.
I remember my mother always saying she'd like us to be friends, and that's how I understood she didn't believe in friendship. I cannot trust inner worries to my mother. She would tolerate from other people, but has little diplomacy when it comes to me.
Particularly me. But asking the right questions she can be a very enriching source.

11 de maig 2007

another one cuts the fun

My old internet company has cut me access to internet. Poor me! Pity, because now I do my e-stuff from work, but I have no time to explain how ridiculous the E-spanish consulate is because I have to go out...

In any case, my next connection is glass fiber, should have been there 1 month ago. But as everything in the Netherlands, I will have to stalk them until I even get them to recognize me.
Whenever I leave this country I will remember the best thing I learnt to do is complain.

09 de maig 2007

happy new age

How strange is life... It is really a weird trip. Here I am listening to jazz tunes, bringing me memories of my last over-30 b-day. Mensch! I was so down!
Not that I am the cheeriest chicky in the stall right now, but strangely, I couldn't care less to get older. Differences, growing up.

o Some friends have been quite surprised to find me quite chilled about motherhood.
Whatever the bullocks. I will still though repeat my mantra: people, adopt! The
world is overpopulated. Travel and see.

o Last year my presents involved themes like music and sex. This year I got
anti-stress thingies (do I have to get the message?)

o I have been enormously blessed to receive many calls and mails and hugs. I have
never appreciated it so much. And that makes me wanna spread love to everyone!

o I found myself drooling for a huge sweating chocolate man in the sauna (during my
anti stress therapy present). Wait! that hasn't changed, but would you believe that
even though he was butt naked I didn't even try to look at his genitals? not even a

o I am having the anxiety attacks I had when I was 20 (isn't that cute?)

o I actually carried a 1:30h phone conversation 2 times this week with people other
than my two best friends. I guess, not working with phones allows me to get wild

o I have been officially told I drink too much. And of course, as the control freak I
am I will do something about it tomorrow or next Monday.

o I got surprised of my TV knowledge until 1996. Wow, there are things you don't
forget even not caring about them. I thought it wasn't possible. I don't think it
works the other way around.

o I am going to my first rock festival ever and I don't care being called a hippie.
I was one once in my previous life anyway. Although I begin to think I was a man
instead of a woman... Which makes very weird my affair with Jim Morrison, not
because of me being gay, but for him being bisexual. Well, it was the 60's anyway.

Today's feelings: Mental enema

08 de maig 2007

"the therapist"

I begin to accept. So what if I tend to have anxiety if I repress feelings? I must say it's nicer to cry. The neurons are amazing, they really are.
I found the solution. "The therapist", a friend used and experienced with it gave me what I should take. I found it so so cute I took it as a birthday present.
Although it inspired me to handle it some other way and get away with it in a much easier way. Conformation... And will.

... remt bepaalde prikkels af in de hersenen en werkt kalmerend. Gevoelens van angst, spanning, rusteloosheid en bezorgdheid nemen af. Ook eventuele lichamelijke klachten die het gevolg zijn van de angst en spanning (beven, klamme handen, transpireren, hartkloppingen, gespannen spieren) worden minder.

These magic pills...

And further, oh, I promise I won't use it, alternative medicine should work better. And I think I know the remedy. My door to acceptance.

Bellow the cute pink savior, good sleepless night!

02 de maig 2007

sorry, nena

Es pero que encara llegeixis el meu blog, així et puc preparar pq et dec excuses.

And directly connected to the apologies comes the reason of yesterday's madness. I have been treated like shit.
I don't know why I allow it, or let people untrust me, throw silent shit on me.
This affected me deeply and I had an anxiety attack. I just felt I couldn't be left mute, but I had to repress it and feel slapped as a bitch.
I hadn't had one since 1998, but since I know how to handle it I had it ok without having to call the ambulance.
I guess it is the first thing one thinks about when having an attack: "this is it, I'm dying!

I got to know anxiety when I left my hometown for the second time to go back to Germany. It was really, really hard. I was carrying the shock of the death of a close family member and worse, the weight of leaving my family. And a very special person who probably remembers all that pain. I had forgotten how much it hurt to leave. But I chose a new language and public education from a job I already had in a marketing department and the man I love most in this life.
Back then you want to convince yourself you are doing the right thing. I will never know what it would have turned up of me, of us in BCN, but I have to say the choice was right, but it's hard to stick to it sometimes. Specially when everybody else turned their back on me.
I felt bad, because I felt refused straight away. I was living, as I do unconsciously in two countries at a time. This hasn't change.
I couldn't handle the distance, but I knew I had to. Every night it was the same. I was feeling I was about to die. And I was scared to think that nobody would understand. I would get up the bed and think I should knock on some door, ask for help. I used to do it as a kid, but those were no anxiety attacks. Those were panic attacks, because I couldn't be left alone. I'll have to talk about it with my mother. She's never mentioned, but I remember very well.
Back to the anxiety, I just wanted to describe it, because otherwise I forget all I saw, thought and felt.
The ceiling was getting dark, and shapes were coming, my heartbeat accelerated. And then I recognized it: this is it Selveta. Start breathing or you'll die. Everything twists and you reach a mute calm, and the lights dim and and everything is peaceful and quiet. And then you try to listen to yourself and you are not breathing. You wonder if this is death and for a moment try to accept it. And then, I jump out of the bed, wander around the house to show I am not dead, wonder if I should call 112 and go to bed again because I am cold.
Then I remembered that something reached and overpassed my pain level. It felt very heavy, very heavy. I couldn't breathe.
I like to think romantically and believe that I can't stand being left alone. Mum?