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Self-Inflicted Drama

a.k.a Complaining

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May 17th, 2010

it's the wrong time

white dress

Girl: I feel guilty
Boy: Don't. You cannot be guilty for something you haven't even done yet
Girl: "Yet" being the operative word here


February 25th, 2010

Recreational Depression

white dress

I miss the self-indulgence into melancholy that being a teenager and a goth allowed me. Adulthood does not allow this kind of non-sense. Is there a problem? Solve it. Occassionally you may be permitted mourning, but only in severe cases of death, accidents, disease and perhaps (although this also seems to be making its way out of the list slowly) a break-up. But if you have a good job, a great circle of friends, your health, your family members alive and kicking, a lovely boyfriend, financial security and you are approaching 30, you are not to be seen sinking. It's not just unacceptable anymore, it is unfathomable. We are too old to indulge ourselves with pointless tears and recreational depression. Life is too short to mourn it. We ought to celebrate it, as much as we can. And we are older now, more cynical, we know after years of experience that nothing is the end of the world, nothing apart from our own death, about which we cannot mourn, we just have to wait until our time comes and even then it won't be so unpleasant for us. We know that this emptiness inside is as fleeting as the sun on the Amsterdam sky in February, we know that any pain fades with time and we know that anger evaporates faster than water. With all this knowledge we proceed into adult life, smiling, brave, holding our head high and our shoulders back.

But like a birthday celebration, where much alcohol is consumed, is normally followed by a seriously painful hungover, I find it equally fitting to have inherent melancholy adjacent to any joyful pleasure or even deep happiness. I have been happy lately, happier than I have ever found myself being before. For a long time. Chronic bliss… as suspicious as chronic depression. Am I missing something? Am I in denial? And so I find shadows and demons and darkness into which I can withdraw for a while, or I start panicking. Perhaps because I don't trust this bliss. Perhaps I am doing this on purpose to balance out all the good. Whatever the reason, the people around me are as puzzled as their realistic adult age requires of them.

June 12th, 2009

(no subject)

I'm cold. In June. Indoors.

I did not walk away. Neither did I entirely forgive. I just stopped caring so much. About people and about what they think and about myself, because myself too is an enemy. Having been injected with so many of society's and other people's judgments and opinions, it sometimes stands in the way of my own happiness. So I let it all go for one night, anger, fear, embarrassment and I dove in an ocean naked. I had the most fun I've ever had and it makes me wish for escapism again. Who cares if it is not real or healthy? What is, anyway?

I've been taking lectures from a guy that calls himself  "my boyfriend" for a while now about what is right and what is wrong. I have wanted to get married for 4 years now. I was told I have to be a good girl to be marriage-worth. I became a very good girl. What happened was that I turned miserable for 4 years and I am still un-married. And now I wonder if it is time to let the bad girl take over, so that I can at least have some fun?

And what upsets me the most is, while I am going through all of this painful realizations and lonely realities the "boyfriend" is happier than ever cos "we are great". How can one person think the relationship is fantastic and the other feel like they are not even in a relationship?

June 5th, 2009



There was a period in my life when I was relatively calm, loving, relaxed and forgiving. I did not take things personally and the worst feelings were a guy not calling back, when I would cry for a bit, loneliness and boredom. It started in the summer of 2007.

From this relatively heatlhy state of being I entered a relationship, a group of people I came to call "friends" and for another period I was blissfully happy. For a moment I thought I was cured of the past curses of insecurity, even loneliness had disappeared and I was loving and loved, never bored and never afraid to be alone, because deep down I was not alone. I was convinced I had found the cure of all my problems in multiplying the people I loved. This was in 2008.

Until the circle reached familiar territory and I realised once more why I had abstained from loving too many people, from getting too close. I do prefer being alone to being with other people, generally with a very few exceptions. Betrayal, cheating, lying, selfishness are traits we all have and I cannot forgive as easy as I thought I could. Revenge would feel sweet but I am not that mean, so I just walk away. And the circle begins again. This is now.

The old pattern is to replace old people with new, but then the circle will only begin again. Perhaps I should stop seeking people, and love and any kind of communication and face the fate that has been mine for years: that of a difficult loner.

Alcohol is now my only way out.

February 24th, 2009



After ten years of labels ("diva", "student", "goth", "blondie", "foreigner", "immigrant", "allochtoon", a Dutch word (derived from Greek  λλος (allos), other, and χθων (chthon) earth/land), literally meaning "originating from another country") I am finally tired of having to put up with the labels that people put on me. What happened to "free spirit", "travelling soul", "itchy feet"? When did I become an economic refugee in the eyes of the local people? I simply went abroad to escape my oppressive mother, to see more of the world and to get good education. I never planned to stay for 10 years.

But the past is the past and now we can only change the present and the future. How do I get rid of these labels? How do I become a girl in a bar? A woman into fashion? A straight-forward, blunt, impulsive person? How do I get people to see behind those labels and look at the human being whether she drinks in a bar in Amsterdam or in a club in Greece? If my own (now ex) boyfriend cannot see me totally as the woman he is in love with, but as the "Greek" girl, what chance do I have to get rid of the adjectives?

Maybe I ought to stop answering questions. Where are you from? Nowhere. Does it matter? What are your hobbies? I have none. No hobbies, no country, no answer.

Just like others don't like to be judged by their wealth, heritage, job or assets, I don't want to be judged by where I come from. I have lived abroad long enough to be rid of the benefits of moving abroad. Can I get rid of the drawbacks now too please?

October 7th, 2008

Out of the tree of life...

Companies have a certain structure of employees who work 1 hour a day, send administration emails for the rest 2, talk to their colleagues for another 2 and do personal stuff for 3. Or employees who work on one order line for 30 minutes. You are either slow or too fast. Which person works 8 hours a day and manages to finish everything while having spend no time on non-work stuff? However a manager's status, salary and his/her good CV are proportional to the number of people he/she has under him/her. A department has a certain budget and based on the budget people hire new people. Not based on the business process need, but the budget. Everything is money driven. Fine. But with this world-wide economic crisis why do we hire 4 people who work 2 hours a day and pay them all equally and not 1 person who can work 8? Call me naive or too strict but I'll never understand and I have been trying for 4 years now.

I was A LOT busier at school and as a student. Ah well. This is the civilised world. This is the West. This is Tommy Hilfiger. You don't have to pick up hay to get your bread, you can also chat online with your friends and write blog entries and you get even more bread. Let it be.

September 29th, 2008

For Chris...


I am mainly updating because chrisdesu asked me to. And because I have nothing to do at work. See, I was never busy at Sole Technology (the skate/snow- boarding company I have been working at since November 2006), but since I only have today and tomorrow to go, I am even less occupied with work stuff. So I looked at Candy Candy's fanpages and plot summary on Wikipedia (if you don't know the manga animation of Candy Candy you are a barbarian cos you have been raised watching Thundercats, Transformers or G.I. Joe), at various facebook pictures of friends, their pets, offsprings and spouses, read male e-zines online, female yahoo questions and answers and eventually I ran out of things to do. After Tuesday I will be working at Tommy Hilfiger, a company that needs no introduction or explanation. No-one even asked me why. Not even my boss when I told him. No, I am not stressed, however I probably should be, then I wouldn't have misplaced stress on my head and right leg (which feels like it has its own headache). Tommy Hilfiger, new job, new start. Did I mention the new house? That's still in the works though as most furniture is absent at the moment. I live on a bed, with internet, a landline (available upon request to those who want to call me), a bathtub, a washing machine/ dryer, a fridge (a baby blue SMEG fridge may I say) and a couch. I bought some candles to make the bathroom cosy tonight for mine and Freek's 6 month anniversary. Freek is the boyfriend, I met him on the 29th of March at a very interesting luncheon to which I was invited by my friend Amanda, to whom I will be eternally thankful for introducing me to the love of my life. His name is Dutch and is pronounced like "break" and not like "freak". Despite my extensive knowledge of the Dutch language and pronounciation however, Freek thought I'd find it difficult so in the first few weeks he called himself Frederik, which wasn't his name at all. I told him that I might as well call him "Bob". So, Bob, or Frederik, or Freek, is a 28-year old (so am I, by the way I threw a pretty crazy, drunken birthday party on the 16th-17th of August) publisher/writer/entepreneur/stubborn idealist from a town/village/farm in the middle of nowehere in the East of Holland. He is extremely handsome and can be very witty if his teeth don't hurt.

This entry has killed only 18 minutes and I still have an hour and a half before it is home time. I might as well read some of your blogs.

December 16th, 2002

Back on Earth

Ah it was all pointless anyway. And it still is... Am I being vague, abstract? Oh dear... I have got nothing to say, I am boring.

EDIT: This journal is FRIENDS-ONLY. If you add me I'll probably add you back unless you're a colleague or someone else I bitch about.
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