What’s wrong with me? Don’t I have anything better to do than to sit here and write silly little posts for this silly little blog? I don’t know, you sit at the dining table, just minding your own business, watching the traffic go by and suddenly the urge strikes you to go post a little something. You don’t have any earth shattering news to announce, but it just is that compulsion again to write down your thoughts, insignificant as they are.
This morning I bought a booklet of stamps out of a machine, because the little post office in the supermarket was still closed. It didn’t make any difference, because in the Netherlands you can’t buy single stamps anymore, you always have to buy them in a booklet. It’s called economics. There is too much labor involved in selling a single stamp. Actually, it is kind of handy to have the extra stamps in the house, because I subsequently wrote two more necessary letters. The queen’s picture is on them and I don’t have to lick the back of her, because they are self sticking. If only all of life were that easy.
Actualy, I was sitting at the dining table thinking that life is pretty good and that for the first time in a long time I feel safe. Imagine that. All by myself in my own company, I feel safe. I have a genuine deep down secure feeling and I am not afraid of the world and all the people in it and I am not afraid of what will happen to me in that world, because I am taking care of that. I never did feel that safe with all of my partners, I always felt a tremendous amount of insecurity that manifested itself as stress that would slowly build up and up until it hit the boiling point.
I sure don’t have that now. I feel pretty safe with this person named Irene. Yes, I am coming out of the closet people. I don’t have to be Nora anymore. I have come to trust this person named Irene S**ders very much and I am mighty proud of her, so i am going to let her stand in the limelight and send Nora back to the dressing room to work as an understudy for the odd day when I have the measles or some other childhood disease that I am not likely to catch. From this point on the charade is over and I give Nora the boot, while thanking her very kindly for having helped me pull out of the dull drums I was in and the terrible crisis of love and identity. She can now go back to Ibsen and tell him a tale about the 21st century and tell him we are all still silly people and that we never learn the lessons about love and relationships.
So, from this point forward, if it is not to confusing to you, and I thank you for your patience ahead of time, please call me by my true name, which is Irene, and not Sweet Irene, because i was never that, that was just made up, so don’t call me that, although I was Irene Sweet once, but that was in a totally different life that I have almost forgotten about and it seems like a dream to me now. The only true evidence of it being my very real daughter.
Irene S**ders has some living to do, boy. She hasn’t been out much. We saw her last when she was 17 and very naive and gullible and here she is now all grown up and old enough to know about all sorts of things and thank goodness for that. What timing. She easily has another 30 years left in her to be this person, so make room for her. There is another Power Ranger heading into the world. Quiet but deadly. That’s my style.
Well, I’m just kidding and a little full of myself, but it does feel good to set myself free. I can’t wait to have my nameplate on my mailbox. My father didn’t have any sons, so I am adding the name back into use also. I don’t know what my sister is going to do. She isn’t too fond of her maiden name, but she is also not fond of her husband, so it’s a toss up.
Well, that’s enough news for one night, don’t you think? I am hungry, so I am going to eat something. Something small and easily chewable.
Have a good evening or day, if you are still having one of those. Gosh, it’s still only Thursday.
Ciao…