Posts Tagged ‘life’

I got up earlier and thought I was done sleeping. Ha! Who did I think I was fooling? Back to the sofa I went to catch another forty winks and now I am truly awake. I can be such a foolish, stubborn woman when it comes to getting up in the middle of the night and thinking I am done sleeping. Mother Nature interferes and makes me fall asleep with the mouse in my hand, nodding off behind the bright screen of the PC, stubbornly sitting somewhat upright in my desk chair, chin on my chest and eyes firmly closed. It’s amazing that I don’t fall out off my chair, but we do have survival tactics that prevent us from going bump in the night.

I finally finished reading all the blogs I started reading yesterday morning and will have to start reading them again all over again after I finish writing this. You see how I don’t have very many dull moments in the day. There is always something to catch up on and I do need all those little in between moments of absolutely nothing. Those moments when I sit on the sofa and do nothing but drink coffee and smoke a cigarette and think about unimportant things. That is not hard to do, there are unimportant things that require my attention too in my life. I like to keep it that way, uncomplicated and without intricacies and made up of many simple events in many simple sequences.

This is because I don’t like the way I respond to the least amount of stress or the least amount or perceived stress. Sometimes I feel a small sort of empathy with how I understand autism works. I can imagine a little bit what it is like and I feel some of that within myself. I also saw some of it in my son when he was a little guy, so I did a lot of reading about it at one time and some of it was familiar to me. I understood some of it and recognized some of it just in small amounts and have had some fascination with it since then. Although I haste to add that true autism is a terrible thing to have and I wouldn’t very lightly wish it on anybody. I just seem to have some elements of it to some degree.

I had downloaded some new music to my MP3 player and put it on random play and it is now actually randomly playing this new music. Sometimes it seems to only repeat music I have already heard before. Oh yes, I am sitting here with my headphones on. Norah Jones is on now.

I will have another week of physiotherapy for my back, but it is so much better already and I think I am much improved and can stop after two more sessions. I didn’t think I would have this much benefit from it and I am very pleased. I can highly recommend it to anybody. Manual therapy, remember the words.

Oh yes, today is Friday, the magical day of the week. My favorite day of the week. How wonderful!

Yesterday afternoon I had tea with my sister in her garden and we had a huge conversation about life and how we two as individuals stood in it and how much we were shaped by events in our shared past and our common bonds and how those things had influenced the way in which we dealt with things as adults and wives and mothers. If you ever want to prove the hypotheses of childhood influences on the course of a subsequent lifetime, I suppose my sister and I are the proof of the pudding. We have been disfigured and misshapen and misinformed and unreliably prepared for life and at this relatively late age we have to find out about causes and effects that other people find out in their 20’s.

Luckily, between the two of us, we can be brutally honest and show our worst sides to each other and own up to our least flattering aspects, but also retrace the causes for them and hopefully learn something about them. Life is a journey taken backwards in order to move forwards, isn’t it? Those of you who have had relatively normal childhoods will not understand this. There are parents who screw up their own lives and their children’s lives royally. Who should never have had children to begin with.

Okay, enough of that. I forget to be not so serious and heavy handed . I do have this tendency to take everything very seriously, I realize that. I should be the advocate of some cause. Maybe Greenpeace has a place for seriously dedicated people like me.

My older sister is going through the grieving period of having lost her husband and not having an easy time of it. She seems to be lost and not have found a good reason to keep going. She has no motivation at the moment to keep up high spirits and because she owns her own business, she has all the responsibilities that come with that and the problems of the recession on top of it. It’s tough being a small business woman and keeping your head above water, especially if you are in mourning and business is not going well. I don’t know how to help her, except for being a listening ear and being thoughtful and understanding.

We do all seem to have a bit of resilience in us that keeps us going no matter what, although I have been the one of the three of us who has tried to bow out. We are strong in spite of ourselves. We are strong for the sake of our children. Our children are strong for the sake of us, let’s not forget that. Anyway, it’s hard to wipe us out.

I’ve told you in the past that I thought that live was supposed to be like a novel, didn’t I? Or like a well scripted drama? Like a bigger than life epic? That happens when things happen in your life that defy normality. You start to expect and accept drama and events. If they don’t happen by themselves, you make them happen and you don’t do that out of malice, but out of a sense of need and want and hunger. You think enormous events need to take place that are life changing in order to move things along and keep them alive and well and healthy. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

Life in our family has behaved very strangely sometimes, regardless of what I did in it, but I have added to the drama of it. I do very little of it now and I try to keep the drama very small and self contained and involve the least amount of people. I do derail occasionally, but I get back on track more quickly with less wounded people.

Anyway, we need some art. Let me see what I can do about that.

I just heard this in a song, “the more I walk straight, the more I end up in a perfect circle.” That sounds just about like me and I think I will end with those very applicable words.

You all have a really nice Friday and, for goodness sake, enjoy the day. Just think of the weekend ahead of you without the least amount of dread. Just like I am so good at doing!



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Yesterday evening Eduard noticed that I was acting dysphoric and that I had been since the afternoon. I could only think that this was very perceptive of him and do something about my medication.

Actually, there was more that I could think about doing, being dysphoric and all, but that would have been counterproductive. I am still feeling quite contrary, so I am not out of that mood yet, and I see imaginary danger in shadows all around me. I am doubtful and weary and leery. I am suspicious, but I know it is my imagination and not to put too much value on it. A little bit of paranoia goes a long, long way.

Now I am sitting here having odd thoughts through which I swim towards reality. I must ignore the unreasonable and the illogical and come to some sort of rational thought. I think I still know the difference. I may have to take an extra pill.

I must document this process of me trying to emerge from my own irrational thoughts. Swimming in a jar of amoebas, trying to get to the surface and get out of it. It is thick and sludgy and tough going. Emerge I will. Victory will be mine. No, I am not like Nero watching Rome burn down or like Caesar conquering the barbarians.

I have just taken another pill (the kind that melts on your tongue and works quickly) and I have busied myself making cigarettes. I have turned on the kitchen faucet for the cats, but now they are only sitting there staring at it as if it is a great landscape feature like a waterfall. Maybe it works soothing for them, like a babbling brook does for us. They are absolutely hypnotized by it.

It is the coffee and the cigarettes that are giving me some semblance of normalcy. They are pulling me through this, but I think that pill is starting to work, because I am clambering out of that jar of amoebas now. I must get into a most normal as possible state by this afternoon. I can’t be all fragile and unbalanced. It will be unseemly and awkward if I am. Always go for the gold.

Life is a question of priorities, but as your mood changes, so your priorities change. When you are feeling dysphoric, all you want to do is feel as normal as quickly as possible and that means feeling not irritated and not suspicious and not impatient. Those are your only priorities then and you have no other goals or interests but those, unless you are so caught up in the feelings that you are not aware of them, because no one has pointed them out to you, and you are just speeding along in them being a danger to yourself and innocent bystanders.

Every change in mood brings the responsibility of its own set of priorities to straighten out situations as quickly as possible. So, in a way, you are constantly doing damage control and setting new priorities, unless you are between moods and are in a neutral space and have neutral feelings, when priorities seem to present themselves in their own good time at their own slow pace. I know very few people who live in spaces like these, but they do exist and I can hardly take them very seriously, because they have not done battle, but I do envy them their lives.

Of course, nobody is safe from external factors, such as war and natural catastrophes and death. We all have to deal with those things and receive the blows of them. These things don’t discriminate between those of us of complicated minds and those of us of easy minds. Imagine how difficult it must be to receive these blows when you are, for instance, already clinically depressed or hypo manic or dysphoric or psychotic. It is my experience that during such an episode, I can deal with the catastrophe, only to go tumbling down twice as hard afterwards and fall very deeply and stay down very deeply at an almost unreachable place. The catastrophe gets internalized and becomes part of the psyche of the person who was struck and is woven into the fabric of her mind.

The image above is made from a collage by Lisa Sarsfield. Here is the original:

Yesterday, I spent a lot of time sleeping. Every time in the morning I thought I was done, I went to sleep some more on the sofa, until I was well and truly done at noontime and I walked Jesker, but then Eduard came home early in the afternoon and we took another nap together until 4 PM, which was lovely also. I don’t know where all this need for sleep is coming from, but it is most welcome. I get so very grumpy when I need to sleep and ignore it and it feels like my world is falling apart when all I need is sleep. I also feel a great desire to eat when I am tired, so that’s a real big signal. It’s hard to ignore that one.

Our Queen was on a state visit to Estonia. She was traveling by herself, except for all the usual attendants and security people, of course. She is 70 years old and her husband, whom she loved very much, died some years ago. Sometimes the crown prince and his wife accompany her on visits, but often she goes alone and I feel so sorry for her. She always has a cheerful, smiling face and always looks attentive and interested and never seems to tire. She always has to look as if she is in the best of moods and as if she is knowledgeable about every subject, which she probably is, knowing our Queen. She is the best ambassador to our country that we have, but the the cameras show her sitting by herself at the dining table at some state diner and she is all alone and I do feel for her. We think she is going to abdicate in two years time, at least, that is a slip of the tongue she made to the many journalists that follow her.

There, that was just some information about the Queen I threw in. A bit of culture about the Netherlands. Oh, and her name is Beatrix of Orange-Nassau and the crown prince is Willem-Alexander of Orange-Nassau. I think he will be King Willem the IV.

I bet in England, Charles is never going to be made king and William will be crowned king after his grandmother, so you will have a King William there as well.

It has just started to rain like crazy and it is thundering also, so our spell of heat is over. It was fun while it lasted, but I didn’t get out in the sun much. There will be no tanning for me ever again. No extra wrinkles in this delicate skin which is still peachy smooth. Hey, I can’t help it, great skin runs in the family.

Okay, I think I am off to bed again. have a great day.


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Fabulous Funky Friday.

‘t Pothuuske

Thursday evening 10 PM. I started ultradrian rapid cycling at 6 PM and although it came as a bit of a shock, when I thought about it later, it really didn’t. I had an odd day. Got up very early, then spend several hours being completely absorbed in trying to download ring tones for my mobile phone, which I could not get to work at all and I was so absorbed in that, that the house could have burned down around me and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was completely distracted to the point that I failed to pay the proper attention to Eduard and Jesker and just basically neglected them.

Then, foiled in my attempts at getting the ring tones, I went back to bed and slept for several hours, not wanting to push my luck in the sleep shortage department.

I slept for several hours, but instead of getting dressed and cleaning up the apartment as I usually do, I got involved in blogging and did that for several hours. I also organized my images files. Then I drew up a really nice contract between Eduard and me about his one afternoon in the week off, that he gets to spend however he wants, that we were both happy with and got all the spelling mistakes out of that and we copied and signed it.

Then I messed around with my mobile phone again, because now I didn’t have a single ring tone anymore and suddenly I got it to work and now I have about 10 ring tones which is 8 more than I asked for. Well, happy days are here again!

So, I was super absorbed in not my regular kind of jobs and being kind of obsessive about them and feeling like I was kind of in a stupor and having not eaten properly, so when six o’clock came along, so came the very down mood and eating didn’t help. Pretty soon I was in bed crying my eyes out, feeling that the world was coming to an end. I had taken all my medications and luckily I was asleep very quickly and when I woke up I did feel better. It isn’t over yet, but I am getting there.


Needless to say, I didn’t get any housework done and things are piling up after one day even. There is dog hair everywhere and the dishes aren’t done and the laundry needs to be hung up to dry. But that will be for tomorrow.
Friday in the very wee hours of the morning. I remember writing the above text and getting so frustrated because of all the mistakes I kept making in it. More than usual I mean. No doubt none of my medications had worn off yet and I thought they had and couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t type anymore. At one point I was even swearing and it does take something to get me to do that! I ended up going back to bed and sleeping some more and I think I am okay now, but I am not sure. I am not sitting here all depressed bawling my eyes out, so that is a good sign.

I just took an oxazepam and my mood stabilizer, because I realized I was a little off schedule with those and every little bit helps, doesn’t it? I guess it really means that secretly I think I am not okay at all, but for now I will pretend that I am. I will pretend that I am brave, even though I am not at all.

I’ll make some art, that will help.

Monet 7
I seem to be using a lot of yellows and greens, I must get over that and try an get into some other colors, or am I destined for these?

Oh Lord, I am trying my best to be so cheerful here , but the point is that I am not.

I have to think, if I were on my own in this world, how would I fix this problem? What would I do?

I would probably first eat a whole carton of non fat yogurt in bed with the lights on. And I would try all the different ring tones on my mobile phone. Then I would turn on the radio and have music and I would take a slew of pills and go to sleep. And I would keep repeating that until I was over it, even if it took weeks.

Somehow that seems like a perfect solution and as soon as Eduard is awake, I will start with that program. I will move the radio to the bedroom and eat lots of yogurt and take pills to sleep with. And I won’t come out until I get over this miserable feeling, except at night to blog.

Well, I’m glad I solved that problem!

Yellow Tulips

Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to read some blogs I go. There is not a sensible thing left in me to write down, except to say that if all is vanity, I am the vainest of them all. All of those in agreement, raise their hands. Thank you!

Have a fabulous, funky Friday and make fists full of dough. With poppy seeds.


P.S. The medication I took has done its job and I feel much better now. In another half hour I can take the rest of it and I should be as good as new. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind!

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It seems that I am bound to sit here all night writing posts. I am doomed to post writing, so it is very important that I point you to the post below this one which you really should read before this one here.

First for a new paragraph of Six sentences go here:

Hanging up Laundry.

Accolades will be received with the kindest of feelings and be hugged to my body for warmth. But that is not the post I am talking about, that one is down below. Once you’ve read that one, you can come back here.

I have actually gone to sleep for awhile but I am up and about again, after I started to drift off to sleep behind the computer. I had enough sense to safe this little bit of text in spite of my sleepiness.

I just read all of your comments that I received on my other post. You people don’t mess around, do you, you tell it straight like it is and that’s the way I like to hear it. So keep those comments coming to that one and this one as well, of course, but I got super feedback on the other one. You are all so righteously indignant for me and I need that after getting a bit of a brainwash here. Getting a bullshit story! It’s good to have friends like you who set me straight. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I need to hear the straight story, people.

I made some art last night, but now I have to find it as I forgot which folder I put it in. Hold on…there it is, at the top of the page, but I have lost the original image. They were stacked vegetable and fruit boxes. You’ll have to take my word for it, then. Scout’s honor.

The husband is still laying in bed having hopeful dreams, no doubt, that last night was all bit of a nightmare. Well, it was a bit of a nightmare, but that doesn’t make it less true. We’ll see what he is planning to do about his date today, as he didn’t want to discuss it last night, being very weary and having had too much wine too drink. I bet he’ll get up all cheerful an happy and pretend that nothing is basically wrong, except that Irene had a conniption fit that lasted 6 hours. But then she does have tendency to be mentally unstable, you know! A good night’s sleep will cure that. and some pills taken at the right time. Right!

I said tohim last night, “You two are a real right pair, you know, you don’t care what happens to someone else as long as you can be together.” Eduard says that basically it is my choice to react the way I do and that with time I’ll get over it. I think I will go and take my medicines now before I get overexcited again.

Okay, done that.My psychiatrist did increase my mood stabilizer yesterday and we’ll see if it has any effect, I should be able to tell fairly quickly in both the ups and downs, but that does not make me a mad woman who can’t reason and know when something is not right and goes against my better nature.! For God’s sake, I have been lied to.

Here is a portrait of me using lomography. I have to look the meaning of that word up.

Lomography emphasizes casual, snapshot photography. Characteristics such as over-saturated colors, off-kilter exposure, blurring, “happy accidents,” and alternative film processing are often considered part of the “Lomographic Technique.” Users are encouraged to take a lighthearted approach to their photography, and use these techniques to document everyday life, as the Lomo LC-A’s small size, simple controls, and ability to shoot in low light encourages candid photography, photo reportage, and photo vérité.

Well, you grow a little wiser every day, another word added to my vocabulary, although I think Lisa Sarsfield used it recently too on her photo page, which I have lost the link too.

I am so ready to get properly dressed now and to take on any battle I need to take on, although I know I’ve got all morning. I feel so damn righteous and he will make me feel like a child that always wants to get her way. Because he has been so good to me all these years. Talk about laying on the guilt!

Ciao, I must go powder my nose and put on my warpaint.

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Fairly good Friday.

So, here I am again on this fairly good Friday morning after a good night’s sleep for a change. I must have a very clear conscience to have slept so well. Is it possible that all this time I didn’t? Nah, who am I fooling! I am as innocent as a newborn lamb, ahum!

Last night I went to the film house with Eduard decked out in my newest clothes, looking rather smashing, if I do say so myself. I sat at my usual corner of the bar, where I can observe all the action and all the people and had cappuchino’s and Coca Cola lights with a twist of lemon. It is a pleasant way to spend the evening and eavesdrop on the conversations around me if the music isn’t playing too loud.

I check out everybody who walks in or who stops by the bar to get a drink and see them as potential partners, well, at least the men I do, and I imagine what it would be like to wake up beside them in bed, and then you realize that there are very few you would like to with. I check out the women to see how attractive they are and what they wear and how they’ve fixed their hair and their make up. I always like the most unusual women, the kind that really stand out from the crowd and not because they are the most attractive.

I like unusually decorated women with beads and earrings and bracelets and interesting rings. No diamonds or gold! I don’t like men with short stubby fingers or hair in their ears or coming out of their noses. I don’t mind baldness one bid. And I like women who have slightly messy hair, as if they just woke up with it. I don’t like short men and I do like tall women. I would hate to have to look down on a little dude and I would love to look up to a taller woman. I am 5 foot 7 inches myself, at 171 cm, I’m the short one in the family. They used to call me little Irene. Oh yes, I do like it when women wear super red lipstick and it stays on really well and I am always amazed by that.

Every head bartender chooses his music and last night we had Jazz all night long and that was so nice and mellow. Some of it was real slow and sexy, with the saxophone or with Sarah Vaughn, whom I learned to love very early on in my life, because my father was a fan of hers.

You don’t need booze to have a nice night out, I am the living proof of that and Coca Cola lights with a twist of lemon make you feel just as nice. Oh, and there was one man who sat at the bar and kept checking me out, which was flattering, of course, but he was with a woman who was obviously his wife and then I thought he was a pathetic creep for doing that. His wife was a nice enough looking woman too, so really…

There was a big movie poster hanging on one of the walls with a woman’s face on it and the title of the film: “Il y a longtemps que je t’aime.” I fell in love with that poster and just had to have it and I asked Eduard what I had to do in order to get one and he said, all I had to do was ask, so he went off and in about 5 minutes he came back with a rolled up copy of one. He is going to buy a big frame for it today and then we are going to hang it up in the bedroom where I can look at it every night when I lay in bed. It is so super romantic and it is just what I always want to say to Eduard. No, romance doesn’t die after 50.

I feel good now, like I knew I would. That’s the title of a song, people! At least I think it is. I am probably a bit hypo manic, but for heaven’s sake, isn’t that ever so much better than being down and morose and out of sorts. I’ll go now and take all my medications and that should straighten me out in no time at all.

Have a Fumbly Fairly Good Friday and do not wear any Frumpy Clothes. The Frumpy Clothes Police is out full force on Fridays.

P.S. Image courtesy of Lisa Sarsfield and John Mora.

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Monday evening, 7 :30 pm. I’m on my own again, drinking decaf, listening with half an ear to the Belgian news, knowing it doesn’t matter if I miss most of it.

I took a nap this afternoon and woke up at 5 pm slightly disoriented, but feeling ever so much better than before I went to sleep when I was suffering from one panic attack after another and I could not stop them from happening, no matter what I tried.

In the Netherlands we call them fear attacks and maybe that better describes them, because I do feel absolute terror when I have them. It’s like being in a very scary movie that you can’t get out of. My oxazepam ended up being quadrupled, but I can increase it one more time and maybe I will try that and see if it gives me any relief.

The fear attacks start early in the morning before the medication has had a chance to start working and, of course, I reach for the wine to calm my nerves. It does have an immediate effect and that is what makes it so appealing, although I do hear your chorus of concerns in the comments box and I will try to not reach for the wine first thing tomorrow morning but increase the oxazepam first and take it sooner to head of the first attack.

I realized this afternoon that I looked on the calender wrong and that my appointment with my SPN isn’t until Wednesday. That seems like an awfully long time away and I talked to her on the phone in a panic today and she was able to waylay some of my fears by just talking very calmly to me. I don’t know if she knows how scary it is to have a panic attack and how it immobilizes your head into one state of mind and that is the one of fear.

I feel like a puppet that’s being jerked around and about on its strings by a crazy unpredictable hand. I should not let it get the upper hand of me, but I can find no solid ground under my feet. I realize, being manic depressive, that this is a worst case scenario for me to find myself in and that this is not at all conducive for the stability of my moods. I can only assume that the workings of my medications is keeping me somewhat “normal.” Ha, I laugh about that word.

Eduard invited me to go to the film house with him tonight and although it sounds tempting, I find I do not have the right kind of enthusiasm and curiosity to go. Whatever happens there, will have to happen without me. I don’t feel like drinking and there are only so many cappuchino’s you can drink on one night, even though they do come with good cookies…

…much later. I’ve just had an hour and a half conversation with my sister in law who also happens to be a therapist and she told me some very interesting things and gave me lots of feedback. She told me about a kind of therapy that is called Past Reality Integration and that may be very helpful to me, She gave me the name of the website that discusses it in detail and there was a book there that she recommended and I ordered it right away while I was on the phone with her. I am never one to waste time on ordering helpful products and I am all for reading literature that can be helpful to me. The website is called www.prionline.nl. There is an English flag in the corner for the English language site.

Tuesday morning 4:45 AM. I’ve just reread all of your comments and I realize that I am abusing the wine and that I have to stop using it as a crutch, especially while I am taking so much medication, and that I really can’t keep imbibing in it the way I do now as if there is no tomorrow and every day is a new opportunity to drink and the day before didn’t count, because…well, it just doesn’t! I am probably poisoning myself if I use it the way I do along with the medication and I was drinking at least a liter a day. This is by someone who doesn’t regularly drink at all! It’s all nothing or everything with me.

So, today I am going to take my medication on time, with an increase in the oxazepam, and lay off the wine completely and whatever panic attack I am going to get, I’ll just live through it and remember that it isn’t actually going to kill me, even though it feels like it will.

It is also the talk I had with my sister in law that helped me very much as she said some very pertinent things to me, which I won’t discuss here, because they are very personal of nature and although I bare a lot here, I will not bare all. Needless to say, they have to do with having been a little girl in difficult circumstances and how you carry that little girl with you into adulthood and have her automatically react to major life events in the primary sense at first.

I stayed up and waited for Eduard to come home last night and told him that I do not want a divorce now, but that I want to consider all of our other options first and he agreed with that and said that is why he made an appointment on Wednesday afternoon with the psychiatrist.

So, basically, I need to retrieve some of the power over myself that I seemed to have given away and to not feel so helpless in all of this. I do have the power of choice and I do have the say over what happens to me. I am not a puppet on a string! I celebrate that fact by having made a series of new images and posting them here. Maybe I will do more if I feel celebratory in the next days.

Now I am going to wish you all a terrifically tireless Tuesday with much dragon slaying and damsel in distress rescuing. Trusty steeds can be borrowed at my stable at 8:00 AM continental time.


P.S. Tomorrow will be my 500th post.

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Leaping tall buildings.

Monday morning 8:30 am. No sooner have I finished writing one post or I feel compelled to start another. It is this necessary compulsion to write down my thoughts and my fears, as if this post is my therapeutic talk I have with you, my audience, and by writing about what I feel, I will lighten my load and understand better the process of what I am going through. What I really need is a real life therapist, but my appointment with my SPN isn’t until tomorrow and to me that seems like a long time away.

I took my medication while the fear was vibrating through my body like an angry swarm of bees. I waited for it to work, to take the edge off and then found myself reaching for the bottle of white wine, because I know it will take the edge of immediately. Kids: do not try this at home! Every parent who walks by here with her kid on the way to school, will see me sitting here with a glass of wine in my hands. “Be careful kids, that’s where the alcoholic lady lives! The one with the cats that always sit in the window.”

I realize that I do not sit in the director’s chair of my life. I am letting the destiny of it depend on someone other than me and it is a scary business. I am not even the leading lady, but I play a secondary role and am at the whim of stars greater than me. There is one person holding the reins in his hand and he is playing his cards close to his chest and showing a poker face. Who would have thought that such a kindhearted man could be the gatekeeper to such heartbreak.

It’s always been my secret ambition to be an alcoholic and maybe now I will become one. It all depends on the outcome of my life. You either do that, or jump of a tall building and I do have a fear of heights, tremendously! I always have the urge to fly off buildings, as if I am harking back to some prehistoric time when I was a creature with wings.

So, I drink white wine and I feel ever so relaxed and all the fear that I feel bubbling up in me like hot lava, cools off to a gentle pool of softly simmering water that you could even comfortably bathe in.

Am I a tortured soul? I think I must be and be like the literary giants who were tortured and wrote great literature while suffering from great mental anguish. Not that I achieve that kind of quality, of course. I would not compare myself to Hemingway and shoot my head off with a shotgun. Or be like Fitzgerald and drink myself to death.

I will just be an obscure blogger who thought life got very uncomplicated and easy suddenly and then was made out to look like a fool and had the contrary proved to her quite open handedly and cruelly one day, because life turns out to be a joke that a very funny Semitic God plays on you. He of the Jewish humor who was so readily embraced by protestant Holland. What do you mean, the desert God? You mean the God of low lying polders and dikes and windmills.

Well, anyway, which by the way is my favorite word, anyway, back at the ranch, the cats are laying on the bed and the dog is splattered on the ground in the hallway. Sometimes he chooses the most uncomfortable spaces to lie down. I think there is a method to his madness, but I don’t know what it is. I am still looking for my own method to my own madness.

Possibly I have ended up in the wrong reincarnation and I was meant to be somewhere completely different, in another body and another life and this is just a complete misfit. I thought in the end there, I had it all figured out and that I was in the right place with the right person after all, but it seems that you can momentarily be lulled into a sense of security that is not after all the real one, no matter how much you want it to be, no matter how much you promise to give your life for it.

Do you think that some people have misfortune smile on them more often than others? Have shit happen more often than others? Have bad karma? Is there a solution to it, or do you just sort of have to live through this life and hope for betterment in the next one? Or do you suddenly cut it short?

Well, this is turning out to be such a long post, that I am just going to publish it as the second post of today, while reminding you to read the real post of today that is below this one and has the neat link in it to the Six Sentence Paragraph which can’t be missed.

I am truly in the blues and would sing them if I could, but I can’t carry a tune and will never make it to Motown or Nashville or wherever they sing them.

Ciao, i miei viaggiatori del collega.

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