mira!

Començo a entendre.

http://www.cepvi.com/articulos/abuso_emocional3.shtml

http://www.cepvi.com/articulos/abuso_emocional4.shtml

old picts

I am emptying my first owned flat ever, and realize how much history I left behind.

I found a box full of old pictures. Mostly form my studying years. Back then I never managed to live in one single country, although I will always consider Germany my second home and always miss it.

I don't care if I look much better nowadays. I was happy then. Not a single picture without a smile from ear to ear.
I compared them with my actual pictures.

...An image is worth a thousand words.

The softie in Christmas

Christmas has meant for years to come, family obligations and unnecessary caloric input.

These last years, as we grow older means coming closer to my beloved ones and spending some family time the old fashioned way.

Since I arrived here the air is different. But also very emotive. It has started this last day of shift when the guys managed to make me cry despite my warnings.It's a Christmas tradition in me: an unexplicable and unconsolable sadness. But I am not the only one.
On special dates you think of special people and there you go, tears just flow freely, despite my efforts to appear cheerful. I should cherish more what I have and stop concentrating in what I can't have. It doesn't depend on me any longer.

I took a walk on the alley, my old neighbourhood, with the church at the end of the street and the bar on the corner. As I was going down someone had been runned over a car. The crowd was already big enough for me to do something about it and for me to help in any way, I don't like morbid vouyerism.

As I went down the church's street towards the new library another image moved me even most. It froze my heart. Figure the sadness I already came with, the shock to see a body covered on the street and some meters further down an old man was trying to cross the street. I was on the other side. Cars wouldn't stop. I stopped one moment to observe the man had more than motor problems. And so it hit me. I turned around. The old man was lying on the ground, on my side of the path crying in despair. It is loneliness, I know. I recognize it. A new crowd formed, the cars stopped. My empathy was turning my soul into one with that old man. Because I feel lonely and being next to my family reminds me how lonely I am going to end in the years to come.
I runned to him and hugged him, gave him a kiss and kept going to visit my best (girl)friend's family.
Once again I talked about her and concluded that they should support her more than ever and forget to mention any regrets. And then, uncontrollably, there I was so vulnerable crying in the arms of her mother.
I love you as if you were my twin, Cigroneta. And I missed you there that moment. I want to see you happy because we both build up strenght together. So stay on!

I will be down all the way to 2009. Can't help it.
What bothers me the most is that I will try my last resorts to confirm I am searching water in an empty well. And to loose a little bit of life by loosing a little bit I so want to be part of mine.

So far about Christmas for me in 2008.

weirdwhatwhy and related

Hey,
I have been confirmed in one week by already 5 people (which should be a representative average number for the week + the fact that they are known and trusted sources) that I am a weirdo. Specially to women.
See OCT 27 already making its appearance.
I hear the word "hippy" more often, but it is only related to my constant state of mind, attachment to persons and detachment to 'thingies', TV, car, phone or whatever models should be in the market, design, flashy devices, cosmetics (I changed cream to olive oil), tendency to communal life, shoe ignorance, trend ignorance, no born need for shopping despite genre, environmental awareness, lack of evil radar, lack of evil thoughts or actions, groupie soul, vowing hand made music, attraction to flesh and blood humans (the smallest trace of anything related to gel, perfume, plastic or gym, the better)
and so forth. Hippie in their mouths sounds to me like unspoiled, so I take it as a compliment, despite the lifestyle I am compelled to live, NOT for MUCh LONGEEER!!!

But the weirdo thing still keeps me wondering. If it's good or bad it only reflects a concrete amazement but in way different reactions. It differences, so let's welcome it.
If I would I have known before would I have begun to live according to a tag?

So I am a weirdo, assumed. Therefore I attract weirdos, logically. But I wasn't living according to a tag, so here is the downside:
What my pleaser (because I am also a pleaser) side would try to do in the weirdo-unconciousness is trying to be less a weirdo at moments I have felt to puzzle others in highly inspired moments (to others and you: doing or saying weird things).

Since this won't work for no weirdos I try to observe the no weirdos to learn from them. That is: get close to see what is what's supposed to be 'normal' (is that the antithesis of weird?)
It works in a very superficial way, as a logical and mathematical equation.


Ok, I sucked at maths, but figure the calculation: As I attract weirdos, out of a weirdo+weirdo addition should become a positive number so that's what I should stick to, no?.

So an attempt to being or 'acting' normal is always going to result in (sticking to maths) a sustraction.
Why try?
To please. Dead simple. Why the pleaser? Aaah, the bloddy hippie, I see.

Well, then, I will have to celebrate weirdness as my pleasing has lead to a lack of a positive number, basically .

And I am done with it. If only things could speed up, I am definetely on the right path, thank life and circumstances.

If only I could get the kick, that support... It would be as fast as a heartbeat. I know the weirdo I am quoting, and even not read by, I know it must be, because the equation clears the X...

So, best to keep on the same road and same track. Because I have to make very very clear, that it cannot be any other way.
If some points of view, if some actions are tagged, we humans have to accept some people are just unable to once do an effort to understand.
There goes the pleaser again striving for love and celebration of diversity.
In the end I myself have my own concept of weirdos, but it's seen more plastic than intrinsic, anyway.
I won't recover if another wound is made but I will surely learn the hard way which people are not even worth the effort (the benefit of the doubt is proving useless).

So now I am afraid. Discovering is always a painful road, and hope mine leads to success.

What is going on right now in my space if not weird, extremely cute. Animal love. Her love for love, but her love for independence (and I don't say it lighltly, she loves her hours of, say, supported autonomy, but when her time is up, she needs to be released to funnily move on to a new space of supported autnomy, what a life!)
Arriving home to being cuddled is great. And she definetely CAN cuddle, man! She is not here right now, if she was here, I couldn't even type as I would be so intrusively cuddled. Specially when I am on the computer, she just goes on the keyboard and all over my face...

I admire her. She spends hours minding her own space. Whenever I call her I know she will reply, that's about enough.
I am talking about a cat, these creatures really amaze me! The funniest thing about her is that she doesn't even have a stomach-related dependency, She knows where I live, she requests access, she hangs around, gives love, doesn't ask for more than a few cookies (2) and just enjoys the company.

Being drooled, purred and squeezed at times also works for me, so it works for us both (although I tend to request more attention than her, as I don't see her too often)
She has adopted me. I bought her a toilet so she can move in with me, if she feels like staying for a longer while. She is welcomed anyway, she can take care of herself, I try to convince myself. My downstairs and upstairs neighbours say she also hangs around with them.
I know she has an owner, I don't pretend to become it. And she doesn't expect that from me.
I just try to make sure she leaves when she feels like it not when she has to (therefore the toilet). That's the way it should be. If she gets the facilities, she won't be compelled to leave due to major circumstances and she will always be back.
And if she wants to move in, her choice, but I kinda like her as she is, with her need to go out and explore other places.

I don't know her name. She responds best to the letter "E". And she is extremely sweet but amazingly weird. Coming back to the above, she takes care of me to make sure my balance is kept.

And we fit so good together because I like her and accept her as she is (although I can't help worrying about her, we humans always think we know better).
I hope I am giving her what she needs when she comes around, so she can always find a shelter.

Anyhoo, two picts of E chewing my magazines and petting my scarf!






EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE



Today's feelings:
- it's not going to happen and I will reassure myself I am not only amazingly
resourceless but unable

- on the other hand, it is always proved to be that way. Any other sign of
initiative are unlearned (I like to look at the psychological trauma, rather than
blame it on my lack of stimulus -due to my culture we say in Catalan "d'on no
n'hi ha no en raja" (you won't get water from an empty fountain) so I am applying
my cultural inheritance as a motto and new self made motivation. Unfortunately...

- There goes the love and all. What you give, you always think is what you get.
NOOO? WRONG!

this morning

This morning things look different. I woke up, worries didn't assault me during the night.

I didn't need to confirm myself. Things look the same around, but I take command so the boat doesn't sink.

This morning I woke up and searched for my pink underwear, just like that. Made a little ritual of putting it on.
Did a stroll to around and back and enjoyed the calm of pink on my skin.

I am thinking if putting up a new blog with "the project" and dedicate the writing to the notepad next to me.


Still thinking

arbitrari i meditatiu

Aixella d'axis, tormenta i foc
A la superfície com una branca estancada
Al fons una barca que es pregunta perquè no pot ressorgir
Minven els gestos i es refecteix una olor de brisa a
estofat de patates, té i cervesa gelada.
Entre el jardí i la porta es dissipa una silueta d'home gran.
La seva àura emperò ensopega amb els marcs de les portes.
Obre la boca i el seu alè petrifica el rembombori inacabable.
El seu silenci activa el soroll al meu cervell.

Hi sóc, però no hi sóc. O no hi sóc de fa molt.
Retorna'm els çaitis que feien tombarelles.
Al menys...

Dulces sueños

Com la cançó de l'último de la fila.
I wish these days off were the reflection of my life. I spend too few days getting it all nice and organized to destroy it on my working days. I can't combine life with work.
See if I can follow my schema, and not undo it.

I start recovering from the work during my previous holidays

The right to be happy

This is a bit boring reflective crap. These days I have been realizing that when there are expectatives of things going well I always look for something to worry about, and if not, I am reminded of it. Probably I created that energy and attracted the perfect person to bring me down. It's like having a magnet to give someone that chance.
The key person didn't throw you the rope when you were at the end of the hole. Once on the surface you remember how fresh the air can be, and I am thankful I could crawl out alone. Can't help but wonder, why once out I am being denied a hand to guide the way ahead. Words didn't help, actions would only be seen on the negative side. Of course a vicious circle tells you you might not be worth the effort after all. I keep the hope. Maybe keeping silent and letting the one process all is the solution. Doesn't look too much like that. Some people just see the problems of all.
I gave up expecting a knock on my door and the helping hand... At least there is no foot pushing me into abyss...

Maybe I just need a holiday. But so far, I am just going to sleep again to live the wanted reality in dreams.
I have been composing things lately I hum on the way to somewhere. As usual. Being here is like being stuck, but I am secluded for a while. The release will make it a very long journey on the way to nowhere.

Best things always happen on the way to somewhere

Left Brussels with the sense of finding a spot where I can recognize smart and witty people. Sometimes it is hard to be a linguist and be able to have a conversation without analysing the discourse or going around in words trying to create the most coloful one after the previous one. In such circles you stop feeling like a freak and simply enjoy the beauty of words per se.

I am thankful you asked me to take the bus to the station when I left.
There I sat in front of a couple, an elder man and a woman. Out of the nothing they started talking to me: The conversation was a mixture of French and Netherlands. They told me both their age. The woman was a Balonne and the man Flamish. I want to yield them my seat, but they share a double bank. She has that rosy healthy roundness and he is a thin and why not mention, as it is what I thought, in an excellent shape.
Their image sharing a bench transports me to how I wanted to see myself in about 40years.
They almost steal my thoughts while scanning them with tender eyes and what could be glasy eyes of emotion.
She asks him: and how old are you? I am 84, he is 82. Look at us.
They noticed they stole my heart on our casual encounter and will make sure I leave the impression with me wherever my next destination might be.

They share their secret for their longevity and great shape: not to smoke, eat little and work.
Although when he was in the war, he did smoke a lot, a lot, veel! 100 cigarettes a week at least. 100 sigaretten! But those were other times and now it is a bad thing to do.
He explains me stories of the war, says in German: the Germans told me: willst du essen, dann arbeiten! My smile is almost drool, I am kinda falling in love with the opa.
Now he doesn't smoke, or drink. It is bad. She replies: only wine, one glass a day.
And hits him with the elbow to remind him: parlez a la mademoiselle en français. He had spoken to me in Dutch so far, and the few words I reply, as far as I am concerned were somehow Dutch as well. Wherever she took I could be a Balonne, I won't spoil the fun.

So she talks to me in French, and I reply in my poor French. And he goes on in Dutch and I feel like the referee in a biligual chitty-chat tournament.

- A glass of wine is bon pour le sang. Zhat is nothing! C'est pas trop!
- And beer, he replies. If there is no wine, we drink beer. He mentions a brand I
should buy. Beer contains quinine. Quinine is good. (I wouldn't dare to put that
in doubt)

I look at both and want to know more, but I don't really know what to say. Nothing about me, please. Any reference to my life would now break their perfect balance and the beautiful triangle of casual bus-talk we had created. They don't ask me anything, they talk about themselves and the war. They notice I have hungry eyes to know more.
They are all laughs and sweetness, I want them to adopt me!

I forget I have my camera and that I find their image so sweet I would have loved to keep it somewhere else but my mind. I was just too amazed by them to think of taking pictures, they were too sweet to spoil it.

I am sitting on my way back and recording random conversations while snoozing and savouring the first bit of freedom I enjoyed in Brussels. I made the first step to what Yoyo calls my "masterplan" and it feels a bit closer.

I left the Brussels flat feeling closer to a future I want to make mine.
I try to delete the bits of sadness and mornings awaken in despair, although I somehow live with them, and they remind me to look ahead and learn from mistakes I made in the past.

I repeat and dream my masterplan and get anxious to have it all yesterday, but no big changes will come without a transition.
The hope is there. And it is the last thing you loose. It auto-feeds itself when you abandon and leaves you on standby to gain some room and lift you up again. It's hope and me hand by hand.

és tope!

Could not find the group who sings that or the song anywhere, but I have it stuck in mind.
The Halloween weekend was a weekend of pleasing and succumbing to a night out, to forget those things I would have rather done and for which I can't find the company.
Only needed to remind myself I was playing the idiot and it was less of a drag.
They took me to a room where one of the best DJ's there is played. I missed my earplugs. Among the noise I went upstairs and my eyes where wetting when looking at the human mass consuming noise. And me being part of it.

But we went to another room where there was no mass, music wasn't that noisy (at least to my dinosaur ears). Dancing with a music or an environment I am not fond of I started humming the song:

"It's great, it's great to pretend you are an idiot hey! I tell you tell you it's great is great I tell ya it is the max!"

There is a Catalan song that just goes like that, with an ear-fucking beat. I thought it was a genious satire when I first found some group that displayed what I think in such a brief tune, that I wanted to publish and I can't find... Merda
That for a Sunday night.

The following Friday I had a Halloween party. Mingled with a bunch of strangers and felt somehow good. Only I had went too far on my imagination and my idea of scary.
I had no budget but I love dressing up, I love acting. I went on the process at work and came half dressed up to go to the party when getting off, at 23:00.
lots of the guys took pictures of me. Before putting a rubber skirt on, a balck tooth a wig and my paiting my sifilitical scary touch I heard from different sources that I was looking smashing.
One for the records: dramatic make up, exaggerated parfume, glittery top and colors galore on nails, eyes and lips. My idea of a slut in progress... guys found it sleak!
Whether I am wrong on the concept of what a woman should look like or be I had to conclude "guys you like sluts!". They nodded. So they do.

In the end stating that shoes I can't walk on, jewels or parfume don't rock my boat tagged me as weird.
I want to add to: boys and their toys - what I didn't know is that they also like to play with dolls.

reflection on good and bad

I once did a donation. What kept me thinking is that I was giving away genetical information and that women are born with a limited amount of eggs, they are predefined by birth. we loose an egg every month and it stops when the predefined number has reached its peak.
Keeping that concept in mind and transmitting it to goodness and evil I woke up today absolutely convinced that there is a limited renovable amount of goodness and evil. The Ying and the Yang.
My thought was that we all have our good and bad sides, and some people are predominantly bad. I want to believe is a minority but it makes me wonder how some of them make it to leading positions. That is scary, good and more capable people are going to yield to them to avoid being bad (or unethical, or unrespectful).
I was wondering why have we got the bad in nature, when we all have been raised to know that we should be good.
I think we are genetically conceived to be born mainly Ying or mainly Yang. That's why you can't imagine a world full of good people.
If there were too high a number of good people, the number would rebalance, by birth or a person would develop his/her mean side when a bad person would leave this world. The inheritance of Yang or its development when the numbers drop.

That for the reflection. I arrived to the conclusion there will always be mean human beings and lots of them will reach a high charge.

I wish it would work like that with happiness. If I have used up so much sadness I must have only a whole bunch of hapiness left, no?
Then... bring it on!

Toegh, in memoriam

I have been looking for pictures of her and I finally found this one, when she still was a fatty (well and me in my teenage splendor):



When I first heard of her death I couldn't quite get her out of my head. Some weeks have passed and now, specially after a hard day, when I think of home, her bony figure comes again to my mind ad her helpless face stays in my thoughts until bedtime.

I would probably not think so much about her if I wouldn't have seen her degrading. Once having been quite a chubby cat she turned into skin and bones. Shaky how she walked and sad how she looked.

I took care of her on her last 2 days of life.
The thing that called my attention was her expressiveness. Once a very independent "leave me alone" kind of cat I could see her following me around, just standing there, and looking in despair. She was like a silent figure that would stand a few meters from you. Probably making sure that you would be close if anything happened, scared as she was of all the funny things going inside of her.

I won't get into the ugly details of her slow killing disease. I also have had my reflection on euthanasia, a theme I have thought so much about. I don't know if I would have taken the step myself, it might have to do with the character and I have always thought I can deal with pain, with suffering. I don't like it, but I'd rather decide myself when to stop with it. Having someone else decide for me wouldn't be fair.
So if I ever go on a coma, I wouldn't like to be switched off, I know I would be struggling, I know myself.

That aside, my family is now missing a member.
The news of her loss was as if a link to many memories had became already a ghost. In any occasion at my parent's place she has always been there, any lunch, any get together... She was part, I picture her. It will be strange not to see her again in all those gatherings I always expect her.

We will miss you. I hope you found your rest now.

what, 3 months?

It has been a sweet time coming to an end in Barcelona. Not enough time to write (thought I would have it) and too many things have happened and many changed.
Although not being someone comfortable with changes, in this city and my neighbourhood -where everybody knows your name- things needed a change.
I have been enjoying giving my cat endless care and dedication and I hope she enjoyed the classical music in exchange of the ongoing TV buzz, maybe I am too boring for her. Maybe this is our goodbye and it is sad to see her so helpless.

Wonderful how we have managed among friends to have a taste of yesterday and how also the near future is linked to an effort of acceptance. Things do change.
Great to have seen my crazy sis and cousin (and the hurricane of laughter they create wherever they set foot somewhere), friends from childhood, to be seen and recognized, neighbours and the mild sunny mediterranean Indian Summer.

Not ready to go back to NL under any circumstances, I have been here almost 10 days and kinda connected as if I had never left, some 12 years ago.

I have figured out a masterplan and to sweeten the return I am being awaited back in A'dam by my lovely ex- new- ex-flatmate and flatmate again. You know the one who makes me smile and the one who always gives me a good night kiss.
Have to catch a flight in a few hours.
Kiss tot zo.

I am definetely sure that the average lifetime of a blog is around 6 months. This blog was to organise thoughts in writing, but I don't sit in front of the computer that often any longer. I won't change the world, but I will still try, with or without a glass of red.
Though I still hope to be able to throw some thoughts, it will come a time again soon I will be more prone to divagate or share in this format.
Pity, really wanted to bring some enjoyment much more often, oh, all those unregistered thoughts, where do they go?

Todays's feelings:
the one you know you are tired but afraid to sleep too much

and the results show

A trip further into my karma downspiral. One of the worst case scenarios.
I was expecting some results. Well, they came like a ball of lead on my heavy head.
I am growing elephant skin. And bloddy Confutius says it can still get worse!

how we identify

I wish the writing would take place one a month. In between I've had of course a deserved break of holidays and even though being quite an Internet junkie I am still not one of those who goes around carrying their computer wherever they go.
I still have a sense of manual writing.
For the ones who care it is all a hecktik and consumining life and the moment you lower the guard, bam! Anything strikes back. It keeps me busy. I gained the strength and even though I would much rather be busy with other things and at least have the illusion of feeling happy I'd much rather go through this whole nerve-wrecking situation than facing enough free time and have time to think and feel lonely. I fear it.

No news for the day, and this is rather a proof of life and update.
Two little points:

- Poker? I have never known how to bluff and I feel rather unconfortable lying.
So I will have to bluff to prevent lying.
- I feel unconfortable being lied to. I invite people tell the truth, I
can embrace it with a better feeling of knowing that both the potential liar and
the "liee" will now feel much relieved. At least I do.
- And holding to this thesis, I still believe in truth, which makes me partly a
liar, because in the end... I am a skeptic. I am going to read Descartes these
days, see if it enlights me.

It's a big day today. And I am 30 min away to get very important results. I will share.

good girl

That was good.
Everybody. Never try to lie to yourselves.

curt

The worst thing of getting to know one's previously ignored acts is to be able to recognize the simptoms, the future moves and the consequences.

I am at this very moment acting passive-aggressivity out, out of spite, and due to lack of active-aggressive ressources. I don't like to have to and I hate to detect it, damn!

And knowing I am digging my own grave by doing it (because I so very know the consequences), I make a call and shout:

Somebody do f*** something about it, I don't like to be left as a 'later' option: unanswered questions, vague remarks... No feedback. Words that don't deliver and no actions.
The funniest thing about my attitude towards it is that from the very beginning I know for a fact it is a resentful act that only accumulates hatry and negativity. Since it is passive, it reflects and bounces back stronger, right on my face, because I am sensitive and all. Give it a few months and I will be anxious and down.

And still, man! How can I do it any other way?

Beware the passive-aggressiveness. I don't want to, but I can't do better. Hope I am wrong, and something will be done. I am awaiting action, awaiting is passive, the frustration, aggressive.

Today's feelings:
Cuddled with a fury cat, it felt great, but my nose itches.
Waisting time
Confusion: the Homer Simpson way, I don't know, but I don't care (so far)
Confesion: I know too much I shouldn't know, but it is too late now.

Maripreocupacions

Hostia,
It is going over me. Everyone. From the events last year I can say I noticed I got older. I see the signs, some are flattering, and the ones that are not...

The most obvious sign resides in the ability to be worried about external factors, and I call it the Maripreocupations sign. I've always been aware of others but was never before so worried about people, on how they feel or how to try to make them feel better.
I noticed too many things I think can be wrong, and also took the time to look at my 'belly' and let people access it and guide me through. Believe me if I say, I didn't worry about that before.

I gave up fighting over more enviromental matters, the macrouniverse, and decided to begin with the microuniverse, a much more emotional trip.

Humankind has a distinguished touch of not listening unless there is a reward or a punishment involved. Of what we are doing to the world... Nobody cares, we stick to our own business and try to get the best out of it. Maybe I am trying to approach that attitude, and if it should make other people happy... Marypreocupations is maybe not made for it.

I observe... And suffer. I try not to complain too much, bacause I am not always right. What a vicious circle.

I am trying not chat people up in shops and tell them how bad it is to consume tuna, I let the guys who did some work in my appartment fill out bin bags without separating paper from stone but can't help to bite my tongue in despair. I still notice, you know?
I let them mind their microuniverse and don't try to remove them from their limited frame.
In the meantime I work out a couple of rough corners, as I slowly crawl out of the grey cloud. Let's get priorities sorted.

Have I also become more introvert??? Meeee???

If this post doesn't explain the title of this blog, who knows what will.

denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance

Oh no, I casually stumble upon the Kübler-Ross model, very interesting, and realize again I am missing a stage: anger. and that pisses me off!

No time to write these days, it is a pity. But also you wouldn't like to hear of very boring routine, right? You have enough with yours.

Will come up with something, once I have a decent internet connection. My good 'old ongoing issue with providers...

Oh, for the records, I am purchasing my first TV. Don't feel too good about it, but I will make sure it serves my PC. It is a purchase per request, FYI.

the one with the kids

I was back home these days. And I am not using the word "home" loosely.
I scared the crap out of my parents. I am sorry. I have this "she is so tough" reputation and I saw them frozen and speechless when I broke down on the eating table and I was pushed to explain in tears a bursting very short version of my worries. I think I needed little talk for my face spoke for itself. And my grief. For once I saw them looking and listening to me instead of the TV. I still feel a bit ashamed I couldn't control those sudden emotions, but that was how I felt and I think they empathised and I am so thankful they showed understanding. It also needed little talking on their side.
I am sleepless after a few too many wines at a little gathering I did with friends.
Another funny feeling. A friend said he would pop in with the kids. This whole family thing got me. He walked in and kissed me and the kids right after. I had made a soup and the house smelled yummy. I got back in a milisecond that warm family feeling I got when I cried on the table, a couple of days prior to that, back home. Not considering myself much of an entertainment for kids (also ironic considering the amount of them I have entertained for hours back in my Au-Pair days) I didn't really know if I was being a bit of a bore. There was food and booze, but I had a few snacks, funny fizzy sodas or games...
But somehow we turned the venue into a crazy "changing eye colour party". I have to say my friend "the therapist" was there and her bubbly personality made its part of the spontanious idea.



It was fun just to see the kids so amazed.
The idea of wrapped little humans and the helpless little toddlers you have to run behind is not so appealing. But they grow.
My visit had the perfect age, when you can talk to them , they have criteria and they get just about the essential message, they can do things on their own and their personality is already taking shape. I like kids exactly the moment they start being independent. Maybe that was my mum's little hell, but I like to see them on their way to leaving the nest some day.



Look how cool this pict is. The kid wanted to leave just "one eye". It has its geniuos. He found it quite cool so.

Too late to have kids and too late to live with a bunch of adults. A loose though of today's adultescents - the 30-somethings.
I still miss the days in the student flat, always full of people, full of life and those characters you confront your personality with. And that also fits in my idea of a family, I am not so square. The conventional conception is best to fit the consuming world, and capitalism of course. But my Hühner in that shabby house were my family too. Had to say.

nature's caprice

I was cooking today (which is extraordinary given the few times I cook for myself) and opened a bag of potatoes.

\

... Could not peel this one ;-)

ja no canta l'ànima

No life sountrack. No clouded mind and the word of the week: procrastination.

I have realized of traces of what I could call a profile of my personality disorder.
Findingout is great, since to me everyone has some little mental disorder, some of us are extremely demanding tothemselves, some the lazy kind, some susceptible, others shy... And I am passive-agressive.
I add some of the features, deleted the ones that don't really apply:

Ambiguity
Avoiding responsibility by claiming forgetfulness
Blaming others
Chronic lateness and forgetfulness
Complaining
Does not express hostility or anger openly - (e.g., expresses it instead by leaving notes)
Fear of authority
Fear of competition
Fear of dependency
Fear of intimacy (infidelity as a means to act out anger)
Fosters chaos
Intentional inefficiency
Making excuses
Losing things
Procrastination
Resists suggestions from others
Sarcasm
Stubborness
Sullenness

My two best friends agree it does apply. So there you go.
I feel much better since then, silly enough. I just thought I can't get pissed off, but I guess I sublimate into a complete mess. It would be easier to get angry, but I never think I will get anything out of it.
I mean, I have been quite angry lately, but how do you act it out?
I guess I connect anger to revenge, and even if they call it sweet or so, I feel destroyed if the subject, being a person, would get damaged. Doesn't work for me, but I guess I still have to change my attitude.
I don't want to get ambiguous (eeeh!)

Gracias Zi.4 por tu postal. I've been meaning to write you my sweet ode to the sign of the times, but I have been a bit too busy procrastinating. I will make a time to come down to Bayern, but I have a big flat moving coming on. I was stressing before and I reckon it will be a bit of a hell. Mostly for the pocket.
No, no more flat talks until the flat comes, which will occupy a whole month of boring posts.

Well, enough for today. Checking out and lying down to stay awake all night!

slowly over

Still sick after eating airport food. Hard to push myself to go to work, but now it is as if traveling would have never happened. Came back and the same darkness, sadness and hopelessness overwhelmed me.
But this time I feel much better, so I am a stage further.

The latter is positive, because it gives a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.
Maybe the fact that I have hardly eaten in days is connected to the whole cleaning process and lets you think clearer.

Leaving the body aside my soul is still rotty. I guess it is all connected. The other day once again after a cold and rainy bike ride I blamed it on this country. Stopped on the top of a canal and shouted it out loud: I hate this place!
It is killing me, ever since I came I lost all the most important things to me. But I have no place to go. I don't know where.
I cling to those references in life, people that make you happy, make you think you are worth it. The ones I had closest and helped me go on in this routinary chaos slowly somehow withdrawn. With that joy of mine of being expectant to go back to restful arms I had my little reason to live. What is life then otherwise? You have to look forward to something, to someone.
Without it you can imagine. Yes, I am here and I do things every day but I might as well be dead and you wouldn't notice the difference. I just don't know how to get out of this and nobody saves me. I had my saving boat, my island to recover. But we cannot expect other people to be a reason for you to feel happy, can you? What if they turn you down? then you can't be happy at all.

Being rejected is one of the most horrendous way a person can feel together with ignored. Nothing good with becoming acquainted with a new sensation. Maybe only the part that I know I will never do that to anyone. It is not my character anyway. I bind to persons for life. I don't understand how something can change from knowing someone you know you can rely upon and share your bits in life to becoming a ghost.

Miss infinite teas, films, soundtracks, cuddles.
Mostly the looking forward to something, sharing small bits, being part.
I guess I will have to travel more and maybe, maybe one day I won't come back...

survived all but junkfood

Almost 3 weeks since the last time I wrote. Back from the holidays, and haven't had the chance to write in between. I suppose a good sign that we were busy just traveling, the way it should be.
I survived any other food in Perú or Ecuador. I made a big impression on people on how much I eat. Anything mixed with anything, whatever the state, just no meat, I am vegeterian.

Not a single stomach ache, nothing. And then I see myself in NY waiting for my connection flight, I have 6 hours ahead and think I should eat something. But all they have to offer is so gross. Not even some foods in China grossed me out as much as the American junk food. But I decided to eat something. Bought some peanut butter cups, remember I loved them when I lived in the US. And had 3 (supersized, as I couldn't find normal ones), then the least disgusting thing I found was a spring roll, but I couldn't even finish it (once again, I am not particularly picky with food) and then, to top it up, the only available "coffe" was from that overrated Starbucks (3 filials in just one corridor).

And guess what happened





+



=




My connection flight lasted 6:30 hours. They didn't switch off the fasten your seatbelt sign in 2 hours. Turbulence was not so bad, but they wouldn't let me go to the toilet.
Nobody attended me when I pressed the fight attendant button. I kept hassling the stewardesses asking for mint tee and water. My stomach was killing me, cramps, nausea... I filled up three puke bags. Nobody wanted to collect them, so I had to keep them next to me. And then finally hit the toilet when I had the chance to go. Baaah, baaah, baaah! I thought I was going to choke.
A real bad experience, and still feeling sick after that.

Never again fast food.