Thursday, 8 November 2012

This month I am a part of the NaNoWriMo tradition. A friend on facebook posted the link, and this concept immediately grabbed my attention. Up for a challenge! Finally I have something to keep me motivated to write. But it is hard. I have 8000 words now, and it is day 8. I wanted to have 10 000 by day 7. It is hard to always keep on writing different things and not know if it actually about something or not. National Novel Writing Month; wish me luck! Maybe I will have a novel by the end of this year. x

Friday, 2 November 2012

Papa van de psychoanalyse.

Psychoanalyse is best wel heftig. Ik leerde vandaag dat mensen die heel erg aan schuldgevoel lijden terwijl ze eigenlijk weten dat ze niks hebben gedaan, die mensen die juist een onschuldig bestaan volgens de regeltjes leiden... zij hebben het meest last van de superego. Zij zijn het meest onzeker en het minst gelukkig. Ze weten nooit zeker of iets nou wel of niet zo is. Ik kan mij daar best in vinden, en dat is redelijk beangstigend.

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Le fin.

You are pulling on my heartstrings. Tighter and longer every time. Up to a point where I can't push myself aside for you Not any longer. I have been holding myself back during this whole thing. Your last chance was tonight. Things went well and I was starting to appreciate us again. You pulling this lie on me though. You just played your last card and I am not sure if I am willing To give you another chance. My deck isn't endless and neither is my love for you. There are lines, and you have crossed them more than once. I have put up with this for too long. You have to endure me as well sometimes, but you really brought Things to a point where I don't know how to go back again. You leave me stuck in a place I don't want to be in. The time of playing games is over. Either you respect me and understand my wishes. Either you try to understand things and not make all of this about you. Or this has come to a full stop.

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Ik neem mijzelf te serieus. Dat is mijn probleem. Het recht is niet aan mijn zijde als ik beweer te oud te zijn om te leven. Maar soms voel ik mij zo zonder levenslust. Misschien komt het door de eeuwige grauwigheid die schuilt in mijn kamer en daarbuiten. Het kan ook liggen aan het gegeven dat ik mijn dagelijkse bezigheden vervul met hoge hakken aan en een colbertje. Ik kijk gewoon te serieus. Of kijk ik jouw te verveeld aan? Feestjes staan niet meer zo vaak in mijn agenda en ik doe meer nuttige dingen dan dat ik ze heel erg leuk vind. Het plezier heeft zich uit mijn greep weten te wrikken en ik wil het weer terug vangen. Misschien moet ik alles maar even loslaten en weer leven zoals ik dat deed op mijn 17e. Toen was het leven mooi. Nu lijkt alles teleur te stellen; mijn keuzes, mijn relatie, het weer, mijn motivatie. Ik wil weer leven en genieten.

Monday, 22 October 2012

Morning dew.

And the morning dew stuck to the leaflets like ice to the lake on a cold, winter's day. Then the bushes shivered from the fresh, autumn wind raging through the atmosphere. The roads were still and pathways untouched. Mist droplets soaring through midair as if rush-hour had only just begun. The quiet filled me with gladness and the peace soothed my pain. In an instant I felt happy. Life was full of bliss in that moment.


ANIMA from Andrew Wilding on Vimeo.

Saturday, 6 October 2012

Flirtatious Hats.

The army green hat never saw her before. It was a small, innocent hat with a dent in the middle of the top. A slick silk piece of strand tied around its belly. Always tightened nice and sir'ly. He always had a fabric eye out for the soft pink ball cap that used to settle herself on the cashier counter of the store. Tucked in the back right corner of the store, where the wall decorations gave her a wonderful splendor, an exhilarating extra touch of beauty. Every aspect of the store suited her well, and he knew they would never make a Vogue magazine together. It would be either her in the summer edition or him in the Fall edition. Never would they be seen together. This brought him to a major disappointment, as if the purpose of his existence had been stolen out of his 30 dollar life. Slipped from his textured fabric, slippery like the silk of his belly. The inside of Mr. Army-hat felt so hollow now, no head would be able to fill it completely. One day a small, blond girl chose Miss Pink-hat. The army green hat just hung there, silent and motionless on his hat stand. Watched the pieces of paper with dollar signs replace the pink ball hat. The pink ball hat was put onto the blond, curly, swishy haired head of the small girl. Army green would never be the same shade of green again. It turned darker and weary from that moment onwards. After a few weeks even the faint smell of pinkness had blown away from the store. Mr. Army-hat was never to be army green ever again, he had faded and darkened to a mere feltgrau. Never to recover again.

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Left, the direction leading to disaster

You won't be there. When there are times that I need attention or merely a hug. You won't be there, how sad is that, when there is only tears covering my window and no one is there to dry them. You were jet black and I was snow dry. Puffy and fluffy and weak for you to remember me by. The grass was shivering with the thought of Autumn arriving and the sun couldn't wait to set high. Months were awaiting to pass us by and time hasn't managed the time. You are seriously here in front of me and my eyes are running dry. Nothing left to say, not even a simple 'hi'. The exhilaration has escaped from its threshold and now the clothes aren't even scattered over the floorboards anymore. Black silk on light wood. Cushioning my fall with your black kitchenette. Not black enough yet not too white, shades of gray filling it in but just too fast to escape the eye. Nervous to out my feelings, scared not to say a thing, wondering why your side is quiet and still. The birds have stopped their morning whistle and flirt, clouds have stopped moving past the horizon. As I pluck the cats hairs off my black winter coat - Winter? but it was only Fall - and flicker them in midair. straightening myself like an iron gliding its way through a formal, white blouse. Cannot tell you about my thoughts, for I have chosen to keep them to myself from now on then. And so the blankets fell off the bedside and slid onto the cold ground, shifting with its own weight. Leaving us bare. Nude. Exposed and fragile. Which we were to begin with, the end already spelled out for us. Which has now arrived. Go on. Continue.

Een rariteitenkabinet speelt spelletjes in mijn hoofd.

Thursday, 23 August 2012

So many things.

All these things happened and I haven't had the space in my head to organize everything into its own little hiding space. The things that happened were great things and take a special part in my life-list of experiences. Interrail was great. Berlin - Prague - Vienna - Budapest. What a trip and fuck all the scams we had in Budapest. But the parties in Berlin - WOW. No words left except 'amazing'. Can't wait to go back to Berlin and explore so much more :)

Love has hit me as well, and hit me hard. He never leaves my mind and has got me head over heels. Our love is possible even though the distance is making things hard for us. But we make it work, somehow.

I had the most exhausting and amazing week at my fraternity - all the talking and the intimate friendships we got out of it were worth the hard work. Great learning experience!

There's so many more things but for a last, I'm going to Marseille coming Sunday with my boyfriend :D Can't wait to finally actually be together like a real and normal couple.

Those were the highlights but I've been through so many more things that I'm thankful for and my dad is finally moving to Holland! Can't believe it's all finally happening.. maybe I'm taking a risk by saying this, but my life couldn't be better at the moment. I am truly happy with all the love and happiness I am surrounded by. Every piece has fallen in to place it seems.

<3


Tuesday, 3 July 2012

02

And so the moving continues. It has been a busy week... IKEA, painting walls, cleaning rooms multiple times. In a few hours I am going to paint my wall the last time (I hope). After that I can finally sleep in my new, tiny room again. Friday they're going to transport the furniture over here and put the pieces together. This room is so tiny, everything will be built around my bed, that's how tiny it is - we are the earth intruders, we are the earth intruders - Bjork has the awesome-factor. And so the pots filled with Latex white paint are still standing in their places, the brush spotted and the roller wet from paint. My fingers look like the 101 Dalmatians, but then with white on white. The headache is present - paint in the air isn't good for my breathing either. So there is still no time for my breathing therapy exercises nor for my speech therapy. Breathe in, breathe out...

Where did my oxygen go?

Saturday, 16 June 2012

So many shades of red.

This girl, she was not the usual kind, she never really was. 'Mary' is what they called here, 'Jane' is what she called herself. I prefer to call her Jane, because it's what suits her best. She is right on that part. Jane wanted to paint her hair in a different color. To get rid of the grayish tone in her hair, the grayish blond shade. It made her feel like someone she was not. This wasn't her way of living, her way of coping with life. One day she decided to walk, just walk, nothing special. The trees passed her by.. that's what it felt like, at least. Of course they didn't in reality, but Jane was living in such a reverse, it seemed as though everything was moving in the opposite direction. Green was not the color for her, too nature freakish, too greenish. It didn't convey the right message, the message of Freedom and Willpower. The trees never stopped passing by her until they did, and they did in the blink of an eye. Suddenly they were gone and replaced by buildings; houses of all sorts and shapes. Some painted in crimson, others with plain brick walls, and then others painted in a nice modern white. Breathing out sophisticated air. And there she ended her journey. The shop was standing in its upright position, facing her way. Tall and full of challenges. Five minutes later she had a hair product in her pale white hands; "Red Copper" it said. And so the decision was made and there was no going back. This would bring her senses, her self-esteem and her feeling of freedom back again. Just this simple color, this simple shade of red. Similar to the red brick buildings she had walked past a few moments ago. Small moments and small things should be cherished sometimes.

Thursday, 7 June 2012

And so the moment goes on...

there she was. With high heels on and her neck glimmering with diamonds. Like the world was at her feet and she couldn't permit people to stop smiling at her gorgeous face. Because she was worth the smiles, she was worth the love and admiration. So many lows, so many mountains she has had to climb... she has been through it all. But no one knows. They only see her expensive jewelry, her topnotch job and her unaffordable beauty. I only know because she told me and trusted me enough to keep it a secret. Which it isn't anymore. She shouldn't trust people in her surroundings, not in the lifestyle she is living.

The tea is still hot and I'm brainwashed to the point where nothing will enter my brain anymore. My flesh wound is almost fully healed and the towels are drying. This weekend is going to be full of surprises and I can't wait to start! First an exam, photoshoot and other small obligatory things to do... but now, sleep :D I salute you.

Saturday, 2 June 2012


Shivers.

She was never conscious during the entire sequence of life. She counted her steps, looked back at them and focused on the imprints in the dirt. The world looked differently today, tonight in the light of the lantern. It was like she was above everything; observing herself as an object, not belonging in the context it was in. Like those pictures that pop out of the paper. They don't completely belong to the whole, they're apart from it yet still together, completing the idea of pop-out art. The trees whistled in the wind and shivers covered her bare, goose-bump skinned arms. They slowly trickled down to her legs and she stiffened in an instant. Never at all belonging, though part of the whole. Stuck to the side of the earth, not being able to escape it all. She never realized it was just the depression taking control of her, slowly. Eating her up inside. She never saw it that way, she wasn't ever and would never be the type to suspect things like that to really exist. He observed her, "I wish she could see herself like I see her", he thought to himself carefully. At a distance. Never close enough to be noticed.

Wednesday, 23 May 2012

Ok, so I haven't been completely true to the promise I made 6 days ago. But every night when I lay in bed I think of the things I appreciated that day, so that must count. The past few days were very sun, warm and pleasant. I love my house, my homies. There are 18 students in this house and they're all special to me. Student life isn't complete without a second family surrounding you.

Today, and the day isn't over yet, I enjoyed:
1. The sun. The warmth in my face, the freckles forming themselves on my shoulder.
2. The walk. I had a walk with a girl from my house. We walked and babbled for an hour. Passing by the river, I plucked a few flowers. White and yellow, colors of the summer. People sitting in their gardens, peacefully, at rest.
3. The freedom. Just drinking my wine with ice. Enjoying the subtle taste of sweet, white, wine. The music blasting out my speakers. The water in the garden. At peace and free to do what we want.


Thursday, 17 May 2012

My new project.

Hi people :]

Recently, I read an article in a magazine about being happy. And tacky or emo as it may sound, there was a sparkle of truth in there. A died out sparkle it may be, because it's gloomy news. Apparently, lately I haven't been the only person in this small country that feels a bit less content about my life than before. So the article said, that for the people who haven't been walking on air lately -and by saying this I am not, to my own discontent, referring to a drugtrip- we should write down three things everyday. Three things that gave us a moment of bliss. So from this moment on, I will accept the challenge of writing down three things everyday, in order to make myself feel a little less emo and a little more hippie.

1. Today, the need to get out of bed wasn't that big. So, with a laptop on my lap, I chilled out in bed till 3 PM. This made me feel relaxed and gave me a careless feeling. Nothing was necessary, no stress, enjoying the simplicity of lying in bed. Including moments of staring at the wall, empty gazes with empty thoughts. Because I can.

2. Today was my niece's birthday. I enjoyed eating the great amount of food; meatballs, pasta, salads, bread with aïoli, chicken drumsticks, ice-cream and strawberry cake. Another niece made a nice braid in my hair, the English translation of it is 'herringbone braid'. It's quite fascinating,  real piece of art.

3. As I was on my way back home, on my bike, from the station. Darkness engulfing me. In a great hurry, as I always am when I'm going home alone and it's dark out. As if my life would depend on it, concentrated on the road ahead. And in my frenzy of haste I looked to my right and noticed the beauty of the city of Leyden, surrounded by a blackened blanket of night sky. I slowed down my movement and enjoyed the scenery for a second or three. Totally consumed by the moment. Simple things can be so beautiful at random times.

This picture stands alone. Separated from the content of this post.
 

Niet meer.

Verveling kan soms best wel snel toeslaan. Zoals zij die elke dag met hem praat, hem alles vertelt, stiekem hem wel een knuffel wil geven. Maar na die paar dagen is alles maar van hetzelfde, en dan gaat ze weer op zoek naar spanning. Hij is niet genoeg voor haar, niet meer.

Wednesday, 16 May 2012

Unwanted.

We always want something different. That something that is just that tiny bit harder to get, to achieve, to do. As children we did the things we were forbidden to do. Like the cigarette match in the car, the round thing which would light up if you pushed on the end of it. Mom would say it was forbidden, something bad would happen. This made me curious and gave some excitement to my life. What if? And that's just one simple example of all the 'what if's' that have overruled my thoughts. 'What if I open the door while my mom's driving on the highway?' 'What if I push the red handle in the bus?' We are always in search of something that gives our lives that exhilarating hint, that touch of illegal activity. And this aspect in life just keeps expanding, taking different forms, showing several possibilities, leading into different directions. Just like now. If there is someone that seems perfect, too perfect, he will never be enough. The person who I hate at times and then love at other times, he consumes me. So this vicious cycle of wanting what's not there, wanting the unwanted, the illegal, the danger. It keeps on going, never-ending, consuming us.

Sunday, 13 May 2012


Drunk again.

This weekend I realized how hard it is to let go of things in life. This weekend gave a whole new dimension to that. The dimension of your grandmother not remembering who you are; oh the drastic forms this disease can take. I will never accept a few things either, but I am forced to live with them. Like the way home isn't home anymore, and the way my health isn't really cooperating anymore. That time will heal, and the clock will have to wait and stop ticking till I have time to relax one day. Tiresome nights and days are omnipresent, and daytime feels more like living through a lucid dream and nights feel more like living through sleepless reality. I don't always have control over the things I do anymore and the things I do tend to control me sometimes. Saying 'no' is a thing I can't manage to get used to and saying 'yes' is a word that occurs in my vocabulary too often. The chocolate addiction is still the same; the silly name HEMA gives it is 'Speckled milk drops', which sounds dull. The words I have to study come in thousands. English words which I actually know but can't stick a definition to. Life can be a bitch, but hey, so can I. Sometimes life races past me and sometimes the other way around. I can't beat time though.

Friday, 11 May 2012

New people

It has this refreshing, new ring to it. But then again, we all know it is nothing more but temporary and fades away as time passes us by.

Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Tripje LR-RL

Rome was impressive, and heavy, and memorable. Heavy at most, sometimes, then at other times it was as light as a ray of sun touching your skin. The scooters were in abundance and the closeted gay men as well. The buildings and pieces of history were everywhere, I didn't know where to look. The umbrella's were lifethreatening. The kiss was there but the memories failed to remain. The piece of cloth holding my vest together is lost somewhere in Rome. Fortunately I managed to get home safely. Holland is full of flies and raindrops. Full of universities, classes to fall asleep, TV series to be grossed out with. My room is half tidy, half exploded. But I'm fine with it, because my bed is still comfy.
Dus dan snap ik mezelf toch lekker niet, big deal.

Sunday, 29 April 2012

Lex is a nice person.

Yesterday I was at Melkweg, Amsterdam.
There was an afterparty of Skrillex' concert, which took place in the HMH.
The lines were long and busy. There was a car that was parked in the middle of the line and had the nutty idea to drive over the people standing in the line. It was just like all the other concert and festival feelings I had, all over again. The prices were absurd, I have never before in my life had to pay 1.50 to hang my coat somewhere. At first, it wasn't full at all. The people were moving silently, dancing awkwardly, from side to side, front to back. They didn't know that Skrillex was going to be there in an hour. It was amusing to watch people and how they dance. Annoying to see how people were kissing during the whole concert. Pretty Lights was nice, but it took too long. People got anxious and longed to see Skrillex. He is quite a small man, and since I was standing in the front line, I could barely see him. But the lights were nice, the beats were heavy and the sweat was omnipresent. The mosh pits were present, and it was funny how the sissy girls got mad when someone would push them. How ignorant they were. It was amazingly dreamy and wonderful to be in my own, dubstep world. Where no one could judge me or say I was acting strange. The camera was in my face an uncountable number of times. I didn't mind, although I probably looked like a small drowned kitten with run out mascara. The water bottle standing on the speakers was haunting me, it needed to trickle in my mouth but our distance became fatal to us. The crowd surfers failed multiple times and the smokers got caught and sent away. The small, blue pills... of which Char thought they were earplugs, were offered and swallowed. Astonishing me, because I will never feel the need to do that. I enjoyed the vibe, the aching ankles, the many layers of sweat on my arms.. the rash I got because of it. The million gallons of water that flowed down my mouth like the Hudson River. The moment of being with my friends again. The moment I was in my huge, comfy bed and fell asleep with a dreamy feeling. Music is my drug.

Thursday, 26 April 2012

back to basics

kind of sad how artists, the less artistic ones, have the tendency to sing lyrics such as 'one and two and three and four'. back to basics, in its most extreme form. that those artists are so out of imagination that they fail to see all the'yre doing is acting like that child, playing with the round beach ball again. red blue and yellow colors empowering the ball. crying when there's a grain of sand in their mouths.

Ik doe toch alsof ik slaap.

nee ik wil geen seks met je en nee ik ben niet zo makkelijk. als ik dat zou zijn, dan zou een roos een margriet zijn, en dat gaat ook gewoon niet gebeuren. We staren geïntrigeerd naar het schip dat zich voort duwt langs ons, op het water. nee niet in het zand, nee. daar waakt een schorpioen over zijn schorpioenenbabies.

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Mijn broer gaat altijd hardlopen als hij boos is.

Wie beoordeelt of een film goed is of slecht? Ik leer op de universiteit dat een film goed is als er veel kunstgrepen in worden gebruikt die meerdere betekenislagen geven aan het geheel van de film. Dit komt uit de mond van een professor, die worstelend met het volume knopje van de microfoon, zogenaamde subjectieve feitjes uitkraamt voor een zaal van 100 man. Ook staat dit in de boeken die ik lees, het studiemateriaal dat ik bestudeer, ook geschreven en verzonnen door mijn professoren. Maar wat ik mij dan afvraag: hoe kunnen zij de autoriteit bezitten om die uitspraken legitiem uit te mogen spreken? Waarom zijn de woorden die uit hun monden vloeien opeens feitelijk? Tenslotte zijn het maar subjectieve uitspraken die zij maken. Het zijn slechts meningen die goed, en met genoeg argumenten, geformuleerd worden. Mijn professors zijn mensen, die een studie (of twee) hebben afgerond en een degelijke scriptie (of twee) geschreven hebben. Door dit gegeven ontvangen zij een titel en het recht om leerlingen te hersenspoelen met hun uitspraken. Zo draai ik door in een vlezerige, drassige slijmerige massa, omgeven door verouderde hersencellen, van een man die gedachten in mijn hoofd plant. En dan krijg je zo'n film te zien, zo'n typische David Lynch met alle gorigheid van dien. En dan heb je een zinloze discussie met iemand die het een goede film vindt, terwijl jij de definitie van 'goed' binnen het cinematische perspectief begint te betwijfelen. Die bal kun je eindeloos door blijven rondschoppen. En uiteindelijk zal de bal toch niet eindigen in het net van Chelsea. Ik zou nooit een voetballer kunnen zijn. En dat heeft niets met mijn incapabiliteit betreffend het fenomeen van sporten te maken. Ik zou nooit kunnen dealen met al die valsspelerij, al die valpartijen om niets, die scheidsen die valsspelen en van vriendjespolitiek houden, die eindeloze discussies over het wel of niet mee laten doen van camera's bij de besluiten van scheidsrechters. En dan vind ik het nog het ergst als de winnende tegenpartij tijd gaat rekken d.m.v. het onnodig lang rollen op de grond door pijn, terwijl het met camerabeelden allang bewezen is dat zijn linker beenhaar niet eens geraakt was door de bal. Rollen, rollen en maar rollen, en dan zijn alweer de vijf extra minuten voorbij. De verliezende partij heeft geen kans meer gehad om een winnend doelpunt te scoren. De winnende partij juicht en schreeuwt, terwijl ze diep in hun hart ook wel weten dat het alleen maar dankzij hun acteerklasjes komt. Of die achterlijke coach die besluit om nog even snel op het laatste moment een honderdste wissel in te zetten zodat de andere partij tijd verliest. Wat een stelletje gemuteerde kabouters zijn het ook, en wat een dramaqueens. Doe toch mee aan de nieuwe High School Musical man, en laat het echte voetbalspel over aan de mensen die voetballen omdat het hun passie is.

Verder vind ik het prima dat mijn broer gaat hardlopen als hij boos is. Ik geef hem groot gelijk, hardlopen helpt meestal wel. Lekker je agressie en je zweetdruppeltjes opstapelen en weggooien in je looppas. Laat ze maar wegdruppelen in je voetstap. Laat ze maar wegvagen in het asfalt der vergetelheid.

Saturday, 21 April 2012

Floating little people with big balloons above me.

Cirque du Soleil was amazingly inspiring. It was so beautiful, so spectacular, so touching... made me emotional in the beginning. It is art, it is love, it is peace; putting me in a natural high. Natural haze floating, drifting through the air. The skies don't know, they're oblivious to the tent they're surrounding. To the magic that's happening inside it. I want to be passionate just like those artists are. This week was inspiring. I'm going to start doing the things I want to.

Monday, 16 April 2012

Lonely.

To be my own hero is what I've always wanted to be. I can do everything alone, I don't need help. Make my own friends, find my own house, manage to get home safely.. by my own. It is hard to admit that that's not always enough. That, in the end, I am as fragile as the rest and need someone by my side sometimes. That feeling hit me really hard this past weekend. Not just the feeling that sometimes, and just maybe, I want someone to take care of me instead of me always doing it myself. That I want someone to hug me when I'm about to collapse. Someone to squeeze my hand when I'm in pain, or hold me when I'm cold. To not only fill that empty space in my bed, but also the one in my heart. It's very hard to deal with that alone. The hardest part however, is that I don't think I will find that person to be there for me. I can't imagine what that person would be like. How that person could deal with me and accept me, like my friends do and I do myself. Being lonely isn't everything, being alone isn't enough eventhough there are a thousand friends surrounding you. Telling you they'll always be by your side, catch you if you fall. And somewhere, I am jealous of her. That she found that someone that won't give up on her and she can't give up on him. Yet in another place, I still want to be alone. Why can't being alone and being together get along for once?


Bike

That odd moment when you're on your bike, straight behind two people you mildly know, but not good enough to race and bike besides them. And that you adjust your speed just so they won't notice you're behind them and wait.. and hope.. and wait until they take a turn you don't have to take. And then BAM finally bike back home at your own speed. Fuck I hate those moments.

Regina puts the G in Genious. Rediscovering things is fun.

It's alright it's alright it's al it's al righttt. No-one's got it a-l-l-l-l.

Saturday, 14 April 2012

Bloemen in mijn haar.

Zojuist zijn 11,5 uren slaap mij verstreken, en de rust heeft zich geplaatst in mijn aller-slaperigst lichaam. Een boek heeft zich in mijn schoot gelegen met de naam "The God of Small Things". Ik snap niet zo goed waarom de 'of' schuingedrukt staat maar ik hoop daar snel achter te komen. De voorkant is wel mooi en exotisch met die roze bloemen die ik wel in mijn haar zou willen hebben, in de zomer althans. Arundhati Roy is wel een bijzondere naam, maar dat is mijn mening. Ik vraag me altijd af wat het betekent, waar het vandaan komt, zo'n naam.


Thursday, 12 April 2012

Drie kleine biggetjes.

De manier waarop die jongen achter zijn vriendin aan huppelde, met zijn armen om haar middel, terwijl ze liepen. Geweldig hoe voldaan hij keek en hoe zuchtend en geïrriteerd zij. Dat zijn de momenten waarin ik blij ben dat ik bij de single party hoor. Haha. En dat moment dat je met je ipod oortjes in je oorschelpen ronddwarrelt... lopend op de beat van de muziek. Stoer voor je uit kijkend alsof je alles en niets dat je tegen komt kunt vernietigen met die blik van je. Dat ik in de tram zit. Voor me uit kijk door het raam. Het liedje waar ik naar luister is overal in terug te vinden. Alle woorden die genoemd worden kan ik in beeld terug zien. De manier waarop die jongens rennen, de ontevredenheid die rust in het gezicht van de vrouw op de brommer. Heb jij dat ook niet? Dat de eerste versie van een liedje in je hoofd vaak toch wel de beste versie is. Ook al is het origineel technisch of emotioneel of lyrisch gezien beter. Dat heb ik tenminste wel vaak, toch wel. Ik wil dan vaak het origineel niet eens meer horen, omdat dat mijn beeld van het lied dan zou verstoren. Het zou de betekenis vernietigen.

Monday, 9 April 2012

I don't love you.

Actually I love you.
In moments like these I suddenly realize you're on my mind too often to not love you.
And the fact that you've been haunting me in my dreams should say enough.
I don't want to love you and maybe I don't, but there is something deep inside that feels.
Something.
Something I can't get a grip of.
I know you have been through too many things, more I can think of.
I'll take care of you.
But I can't.
I don't know how I can deal with your lifestyle and your way of thinking.
Sometimes you know how to touch the strings, let them trigger my annoyance.
To a point where I feel like I hate you.
Like you're nothing but a kiss, a hug, an embrace.
You shatter me into a million tiny pieces and then when I've picked them up again
you do the same.
You touch me, like.
There are no words.
I don't understand this, and I hope it's just my mind playing tricks with me.
Because you should know, I'm not supposed to love you.
We cannot be together the way I would want us to.


I have loved and I have lost.

Meestal hou ik niet van dit soort liedjes, en die Drake gast is maar een beetje naar. Maar toch is dit heel mooi. De clip, en de combinatie van verschillende geluiden. Zo simpel en toch zo ingewikkeld. Mooi. Het stoort me trouwens best wel dat Facebook nu opeens een of ander official connecting people ding gebruikt met de naam Branch Out. Copycats. Ga lekker je eigen naam zoeken ofzo.

Saturday, 7 April 2012

AS JY LAG

Jou lag is 'n oopgebreekte granaat
Lag weer
dat ek kan hoor hoe lag die granate

-Ingrid Jonker.


Friday, 6 April 2012

Under the water of the shower, seeing drops spread everywhere. With my head against the tile wall, wondering what makes life so wonderful. Inspired by the moment I am in.

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Rode stippen op je blauwe lichaam.

En nu vraag ik me af hoe het is om een film over mijn leven te maken. De film zou lang niet zo schokkerend, emotioneel en mooi zijn als die van meneer Caouette. Wow, wat een interessante film. Het grijpt heel erg aan tot het punt waar de angst toeslaat, maar dan weet het weer de geest tot een zodanige kalmte te brengen dat het OK is. Toch vind ik het nu niet leuk om alleen in dit oneindige bed te liggen. De onrust van de film settle't zich in mijn bestaan. Daarnaast heb ik het liedje van een reclame zeer per ongeluk gevonden, zonder dat ik ernaar zocht. Het jurkje dat het meisje aan heeft op de foto van de song is heel erg leuk, ik ga denk ik ook zo'n jurkje kopen deze zomer. Mijn knieschijven flatteren echter niet zoals de hare.

Monday, 2 April 2012

Implosion.

You had that day. That day where suddenly everything came bursting in your face. The world suddenly crashed down on your shoulders and everything was just too much. The things you do, the house you live in, uni... everything turned into an overload of stuff which you just can't seem to handle. Being sick for three months is too tiring. Just way too much to handle as life goes on with all its activities involved. You can't seem to find the missing piece of the puzzle and the chaos in your head expands by the second. Even the phone call ending up in yet another problem makes your eyes explode. And as the tears roll over your cheeks in thousands, you call your mother. She gives an eye opener you didn't want to hear but had to. So this weekend you're going back home. Back to mom. Sleep, read and do nothing. That's what you need, actually more than less often. And actually someone had to be by your side, but you're picky and insecure so you haven't managed to arrange that yet. The plant is still dying and the candles are still dripping. Everything in this room suddenly seems messy and your head is still bursting. It feels as if you're the only one that has issues with this busy life, because everyone around you seems to live a perfectly happy and healthy life. Mom said that you're really not that special, that you're really not the only one with all these problems. You know but you still fail to see it. The sun crashes through the crowds, but it doesn't manage to reach your lawn yet. The sun is always brighter on the other side. The grass is always greener. Then a man appears and cleans up the trash of other people, the trash you meant to clean up because it was clogging up your head as well. Minor breather at that, thank you for the oxygen mister Cleansy Man. You are the person I am. Yellow flowers are so beautiful, it seems like they light up with the sunshine reflecting on their buds. I'll be a yellow flower bud someday.

Thursday, 22 March 2012

The sun can shine in so many ways.

The warmth I felt on my skin today was a warmth I hadn't experienced in a while. It felt really good. In some sense the sunbeams can transport energy into your every cell of your entire being. They wake me up in the innocence of the morning. When the dark blanket has made room for the lighter one. And the light engulfs my eyelids. Wakes me up and brings me in a mood they would call gay in the 50's. I like the word 'gay' as a defining word for 'happy'.
Dreams can be so powerful and effective. This morning I woke up after a dream I didn't want to dream. And the boy in question looked at me in strange ways today. And I wondered maybe just maybe and, what if, he dreamt the same thing last night. Is that why it now feels double as awkward as it should feel. Or did I give signs without noticing.

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Een week geleden probeerde ik een visgraat vlecht te maken. Ik was er niet goed in en donderde neer als een steen in het water. Met van die spetters om me heen, onophoudelijk om me heen spetterend.
And I've always been jealous of her, even though I knew she wasn't better. Those skinny arms, and legs, and that nice nose of her. I never understood why things didn't work when they did with us. I always thought she was perfect and I was every flaw she didn't have. Still don't understand what you saw in me when she is what you used to have.

Friday, 16 March 2012

Ik moet mijn boompje eens water geven.

Het is ochtend in Leiden. De roeiers slaan hun eerste slagen. Aangestuurd door een oudere man, met of zonder echtgenote, die een tikkeltje nors voor zich uit staart. Ik zit op mijn fiets en waggel enkele meters vooruit. De alcohol giert nog door mijn benen. Ik probeer de lijntjes, die onderbroken dingetjes die aangeven dat ik op een fietspad fiets, te volgen. Mijn vader komt aan om 11u op Schiphol. Ik ben al trots genoeg dat ik binnen twintig minuten ben opgestaan, heb gedoucht en op het station ben aangekomen. Op het station blijkt er een behoorlijke omleiding te zijn, ik zucht en fiets terug naar huis. De teleurstelling is groot. Sorry papa. De terugweg was nog zwaarder dan de heenweg maar ik heb me erdoorheen weten te vechten. Ik kom thuis aan en denk terug aan gisteren. Heerlijk hoe een rot avond kan veranderen naar een geweldige avond op de soci :) Daar ben ik student voor, zegt men dan. De alcoholische versnaperingen beginnen wel aardig aan te modderen bij mijn buik en benen. Call me a whiny adolescent girl, but it is true. Verder vind ik alcohol nog steeds wel fijn hoor, ondanks de negatieve effecten die het heeft op mijn dunne bestaan. Ik moet mijn boompje eens water geven, hij voelt zich net zo slap als ik.

Tuesday, 13 March 2012


You are the pillow to my bed.

Friends.
They disappoint and then they let go.
They come back and give you a hug as if nothing has ever been over.
Sometimes
you don't speak to them or see them for a week or half a year and then when you get back together it's like time was never an issue.
Time can be non-existent when it comes to friends.
Love can be permanent.
Hugs can be endless
silences can be the most comfortable place you have ever been in.

Friends are there to be forgiven, always.
The process may take a while but in the end you always reach the island of forgiveness
You have no choice, really.
They are there to be shouted at
babbled to
cried with
laughed with till you get so many cramps in your tummy it feels like you're dying.

Friends are there to be missed.
And the pain reaches the kind of pain you feel when your heart has been broken and torn to pieces and chewed on several times then spit out and thrown onto the streets only to be run over by a truck. It hurts more to miss a friend than to get over seven lost loves.
It feels so good to see your friend again, even if you last saw her two hours ago.
To hug each other like it's been forever, or to hug each other just because you can.

Friends will never leave, and if they do they have never been true friends to you.
Or they have been only a friend for a part of your life.
The good ones, the real ones, the permanent ones stick on you like glue.
Make you hate them but love them at the same time.

 I don't have many of those friends, maybe countable on only one hand.
But that is what makes it so powerful.
They never come in large numbers, which is why they are there to be treasured.
They are there to enjoy every second of
every minute of every moment spent with them.

Friends aren't just friends.
Flowers that never die.
The lucky charm in your pocket when you're about to do something nerve-wrecking.
The Buddha belly you rub when you need something good to happen.
The big stuffed bear you hug when all you need is something to hold.
You are the cherry to my pie.
The marshmallow to my hot chocolate.
The earphone to my i-pod.
The pen to my diary.
The sugar to my tea,
the cookie to my ice-cream.

My everything.


Thursday, 8 March 2012

Purple feather.

Sometimes love can just wait. It's been waiting for almost two years now in my case. In the time being I have thought, multiple times even, that I had found love. But it only lasted for a month, or two. In the end I always thought to myself "this wasn't real love. It was merely the love I feel for wanting to fall in love". I don't know what I'm waiting for and, frankly, I am not waiting at all. I feel good as I am right now. All the bullshit from this past month about people liking me and me liking people, and in the end not liking those people as much as I thought I did. The drama is finally over. Of course, sometimes I loved the attention. But the attention gets kind of boring when you have to wave it off every time. I don't know what I feel. Maybe I don't feel at all. Maybe my heart was stolen just like Grahams heart was stolen in 'Once Upon A Time'. I hope the wicked witch won't crush mine though. I hope someone finds my heart before she decides to. Am I even searching? No, I'm not trying at all. But I don't believe in trying to find love. I've been there before and honestly, I did not like it at all. I felt so forced upon. Like I was making things happen that didn't have to. And maybe I'm just making things bigger in my head than they ever were. Maybe I have this great idea of love that simply doesn't exist. But then again, I do KNOW how it feels and how I felt and how easy things were. So I'll just let it come to me when it comes. Till then, I'll be a happy single, just as I am right now. No men for a while. It can be so tiring at times. Maybe doves have it easier than me? They let fate decide. I hope to be a dove one day. A white one, with a single purple feather. Stand out for once. But then maybe I don't want to stand out. Maybe I just want to blend in with the rest so people won't have to stare at me. Observe me. I don't want to be in the spotlight. It tends to make me nervous.
Maybe I'm not purple, but Bordeaux red.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Tegenwoordig kunnen kleine meisjes groot zingen.

En vroeger kon dat ook wel. Maar toen was alles geforceerd, ingeleid en nep - fake. Nu, niet. Meer. Het zijn echte stemmen die weg dwarrelen in de onvergetelheid van het onzinnige. Stemmen, nymfenmeisjes die zweven op oneindige onschuldigheid.



Sunday, 19 February 2012

She does not grasp the emotion of it all.

Bon Iver claims that love can be skinny. Love cannot be skinny though, it can only be fat and thick.. and omnipresent. In both mind and physic. Love can't be of a different kind, or of a different substance. It will always feel the same. It will always hurt as much as give pleasure. Love has so many sides, it will always be equivelent to itself. It will always be as much good as it is bad, needed as much as neglected to a bad state of mind. Love can't be skinny.

Fold my old week and unfold a new one.

And so I started listening to new music and it made me wonder, wonder away into a world of more wonders to wonder about. Birdy is just a copy-cat with a nice voice. But technically cats can't have voices, they only miauw. So something is not really right there. James Vincent McMorrow is going to Lowlands. Which depresses me, because I can't go to Lowlands this year, for the first time in three years. And it would be the first time I wouldn't see this person at Lowlands, which would be different. Now I'm not going though, and apparently the person in question isn't either. Apparently it had the same urge as I did. The urge to start something new, get active. And now we're both going to do the same thing. Coincidences can be so surprising at times. I don't mind. Because this music I started listening today, and a few days before this day, has made me realize this is my time. I feel good. 1901 is a really nice song. It makes me feel new things inside. Gives me some sort of an epiphany. I have been way too cranky this past week for a person that lives such a wonderful life in such a magnificent world. I will sort out all the knots of the pretzel this week. Untie all the chaos in my head. Give new beginnings to loose ends.

Saturday, 18 February 2012

Soms kan lesstof inspireren.

Nu inspireert het mij om ze na te doen. Maar dan in mijn eigen versie.



Het leven de jouwe,
het leven de zijne.
Maar mijn leven is mijne.
Wat niet van jou zijn kan,
is ook niet het zijne.
Wat van dit leven is, is
het hare
het mijne
Maar wat ik niet grijpen kan,
kan slechts
Verdwijnen.

-Prins.

Thursday, 16 February 2012

FUCK YOU

I am drenched in hatred. I would so badly like to drown your head in the sweat of an ugly man. I would like to punch your molded face and spit in your every sad cell. Cut your arrogant face off, peel it piece by piece and sell it to all the people that hate you as well. I would like to shout at you, yell at you, fight you, give you a miserable life.

But I'm putting on a huge smile, as you waste away in misery.
And I am not lowering myself to your level, you're just a mere finch of my 20-year old past.

The world in an eggshell.


Unbelievable.


It's so strange how the universe can be just like a creature that swallows up other little creatures. Just like this picture. The smaller circled thingy is supposed to be the remnant of a former space galaxy. As goes that each larger galaxy eats up the smaller dwarf galaxies. I am merely repeating the facts another article has just fed my brain with, but still, I would like to share this with you. So actually, galaxies eat other galaxies. This means that they are just like cannibalistic people and just like fish that eat each other... so in turn a galaxy can be seen as a living organism. Which it is, in fact. It moves, rotates, consists of particles that affect other particles. And the distance at which these particles 'live' can be measured in years, which also apply to humans. This remnant, this dwarf galaxy, this remaining black hole is 200 million years old. The part where my brain cells get lost in a weird mumbo jumbo is HOW can people like us measure years? When this thing we're measuring is so beyond human, beyond imagination, beyond measurable. I still don't believe them.

Monday, 13 February 2012

soms

Soms, in barre tijden als deze, doe ik 's avonds mijn bikini aan. Puur voor het zomerse gevoel. Soms vind ik dat fijn, niet altijd.

Contradictions in my mind.

Studying is something so useless, yet it forms your life to a point where it has meaning. The book lying in front of me debates the concepts of meaning and words representing the meaning of an object. Representation; this new course that belongs to the new semester that has just begun. Norman Bryson is this man who thinks he can legitimately state philosophical thoughts by using words no one really knows the meaning of. Even the book itself says it's not important to know these words. Actually I am laughing right now at how difficult people can be about such simple things sometimes. And deep inside I know that maybe this is the exact thing I find interesting. This is the exact thing I chose for, in the end Film and Literature are about representing things that aren't really there, or at least not now, in the time it is being conceived. I hate having to read these things but at the same time I love the complexity of it all.







It's weird. I know.

"Just at the point where the eye thinks it knows the form and can afford to skip, the image proves that in fact the eye had not understood at all what is was about to discard." -Norman Bryson

Nothing, just nothing. Useless and nothing, just all we need.

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Balloony Geese. Or aren't they?

Listening to Foster the People "Helena Beat"makes me wonder about all the simple things that surround me. Just a few minutes ago I was sitting in the car, my brother embracing the steering weel, moving the car forwards. The sun was setting, and I saw a group of geese rise to the sky like a set of balloons. In their beautiful 'V' shape. One at the front, switching places every once in a while. They are such amazing animals, however due to their annoying personalities their beauty isn't seen as often as it should. They fly, swift through the air... floating on the horizon. After a while we drove past that same group of geese setting themselves down on a new spot. A place where they could hide themselves from the rest of the world. Be their own selves. Another fascinating site to see: two people biking through a Dutch landscape. Looking at each other, heavily involved in their conversation. You can call it what you want, decide which color you are, but I want to be red. Not just the simple red, the cheap red people with no sense of style use as their curtains. I am bordeaux red. A color, full and intense in its own mysterious way. Comforting and deep. A color I can confide in, let my emotions float in. But sometimes the color branches out, into different varieties of that color. Just like a tree can branch out into different, yet still the same, but smaller versions of itself. Each branch branching out into other 'littluns'. Each depending on the other larger branch. In the end, it will always be the bigger branch they owe their existence to. Just like how the littluns in 'The Lord of the Flies' by William Goulding are dependent on the older children, like Ralph and Jack. The big ones eventually decide which course the littluns will head in. The more agressive one, where they hunt for animals and eachother. Or the course of the decent people, the course where they try to survive by acting logically. Branches also have the ability of making their own decisions. Sometimes one decides to branch out, into smaller and more gentle branches. Sometimes a branch grows out a new, maybe even bigger and tougher branch. Sometimes they just stop branching out. They stop. Like some characters in the novel just stopped living. Gave up on life or gave up fighting. I'm not giving up yet. I still want to branch out.

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Figment

And just when you have lost hope
that the one thing you wanted to achieve in one go
would actually be achieved

it suddenly is there
the figments of hope that ran away all come back
crawl back into your arms
they ask for more, they want you to have more
hope.

makes you realize that
maybe, just maybe
the thing you hoped would happen
is happening right in front of you
as you watch
stand by the gates
gazing.

if you want something
and that something isn't just some-thing
it is everything you live for
apart from the things you long for
you can grab it
touch it
make it happen.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Mr. Ocean

The ocean is full of unsolved mysteries
full of creatures unseen
drops of water we can't see
eternity we can't resolve.

I want to swim through the drops of this ocean
let the drops touch my skin
see them evaporate in the sunshine
feel the cold yet refreshing water awaken me.

I want to pick up my soft-top surfboard
paddle into the far unknowns of the big waters
swim away from the things I left unsolved
the things I left unfinished.

Sit around the bonfire at night
lie down and watch the ink black sky
wait for a shooting star to pass by
feel the freedom of the summer.

I need you summer
not just to put a healthy glow on my skin again
but to put me back to life
make me happy again.


My friends said it wouldn't be this bad.

"There will be tears" and there sure have been.
"I can't be with you, but I can dream" and I still am.. dreaming.

Frank Ocean defines my emotions, every time again.

Saturday, 21 January 2012

Toes.

My toes get cold quite quickly. So when I lie in bed, in my huge empty bed, it's hard to keep them warm. I crawl in a little bundle and hold my feet tight with my hands. It never really helps. I need you to keep my toes warm. Even if that is all you would give me, it would be OK.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

I want to get to know you all over again. Let's see where we end up this time..

Colors.

It's so fascinating that going for a walk can clear your mind, put things into perspective to such an extent that things that seemed so irrelevant or difficult before, suddenly seem so evident. I walked past the building with the rainbow colors. I still wonder who lives in that apartment building. One color per floor. Colors can be so fascinating, I don't know why. When I see trees with multiple tiny lights, the colors of the sky that fill the horizon after a sunny day... something strikes me. The magic that fills the earth is real. It exists. And we are allowed to watch it happen, we are allowed to profit off of it. The earth seems so powerful, yet we use its miracles like we're unstoppable. As if we rule the earth, when in truth, the earth rules us! I walked past a house with the name "Helena". Names on houses; me likey! Keeps me wondering what made the owners give it that exact name. Maybe the name belongs to a family member, maybe it reminds them of an important myth. There are so many things I don't know, and never will know. So many people that walk past me, and whom I can't ask what they're up to or what they live for. I don't even know what I live for.

Monday, 9 January 2012

Chaos.

Chaos is overruling my life at the moment. It's kind of bringing the whole 'Hello I am chaos, I'm going to make your life as chaotic as is possible' to a whole other level. First of all the mess I keep putting myself into, puts itself into a new mess.. to such an extent that my mind can't keep up. The song 'Turn Me On' by David Guetta makes me want to dance my chaos away. But I can't.. because chaos likes staying, it's very dependable. Since it needs me to organize the chaos so it can create new chaos, because once you're chaos... you can't keep making new chaos out of chaos. So.

But yeah this roommate is leaving. My room is temporary. I want to move into her permanent room. To achieve this I have to arrange a get together with new potential room-owners of my room. Choose someone. Arrange a contract for that person. Oh yeah.. and arrange my own contract for my own new room. Bluh. Hello stress. Oh and I forgot.. I have three exams and a paper this month. That's all. No stress. Zennnnnn..n..n....n . . . ...

MAKE ME COME ALIVE
I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE

I'm turning 20 this Thursday, can't. wait.