hard day's night

The cinema that we like to visit has a regular showing of old classics...
we discovered this by accident, then saw that we'd already missed loads, so vowed to keep a close look on the weekly list, and almost a year ago i saw that  A hard day's night would be on, next year, in August... And that was last night...

And what a delight it was!! I've been a fan of the Beatles since i got to know them after John Lennon was killed, now 30 years ago, {although i've known of them longer - they were always on the radio} and of John Lennon on particular {you wouldn't believe how much i enjoyed watching Nowhere Boy...} and i would've been thrilled beyond words if i had been able to see a film of theirs {apart from Magical Mystery Tour, which was a bit of a joke...} back then... But i had to wait until now, and watching it on a big screen, in it's original form, with the guys being so lovely and naturally themselves, the dialogue so clever and sharp, and the black & white pictures so wonderful, the music crisp and delicious, England looking almost innocent, i was left with a strange feeling of joy... Simple and intense joy...

even 48 years after it's release...

lennon, 

a still from the film

apologies

really sorry for being so utterly useless 

at keaping up with this one...

started doing my picture blog again, 

for however long it'll last... 

pictured by daan

fruit & nut case

Quite often i think Mr G deserves a medal for having managed to stay with me for so long
(but then, he thinks the same the other way around...)
and regularly i doubt 'us',
mainly because i doubt myself zo badly...
And it turns out that i was terribly wrong,
and 'proof' comes along showing how wrong i had been, yet again...
In the strangest forms, usually.
Like last night, when he came home with a little present,
knowing just how delighted i would be...

the sweety...

introspection

was very pleased to read an article in my online newspaper about the relative merits of being an introvert, as opposed to the almost constant promoting of the Extrovert Ideal, as it has been called. I keep having a sort of love/hate relationship with my own introversion, having had it pumped into me that i should be more outgoing, and try to be more social... Scared witless by my happiness to just sit and read, or stare out of the window, being very happy with my own company, my mother thought it would help if she'd 'encourage' me to fit in more with my peers. It only encouraged me to feel completely out of place, unhappy in my own skin and i spent far more energy that i ought to on fitting in, not on developing my interests...

When at college, i read about the personality types that Carl Jung wrote of, i felt the jolt of recognition, but also knew {feared, rather} that if i carried on being an introvert, i'd lead a very secluded life, and i mostly wanted to be accepted, appreciated, approved of, so i almost consciously decided to hide my introverted self, even though it didn't suit me a lot of the time... I can be outgoing and gregarious, in small bursts... Just not all the time...

Maybe the time is right now to embrace my real self, the quiet me, be happy to contemplate and not feel weird or guilty...

picture form the film never let me go

left field

on my dutch blog i wrote something about my homesickness for England, which grabs hold of me at certain points in the week/month. I've tried to analyse it out of my system, reasoning that if i'm happy within myself, i can be happy anywhere, and that is probably true, but sometimes i need a quick fix. Being with Mr G is good - we can have the kind of conversations that we sorely miss with each other - but it's not always enough... Luckily we can still watch stuff on the BBC {dreading to think when our 'provider' will take Beeb1 off as well, forcing us to have the digital package they've been ramming down our throats, which - granted - will give us access to another three English channels...}, though i can remember when we still lived over there, we rarely watched it, preferring the more challenging Channel 4, but hey - you take what you can...

Some things translate wonkily from one culture to another, and humour, especially absurd ways of looking at life,  not taking it all too seriously, allowing others to have a weird, left-field way of thinking, are almost unfindable here in Holland, or at least in the part of it where we live... And i'm having quite a hard time dealing with it...

Had another run-in with my mother yesterday on the phone, and it brought up the eternal issue i have with her: she wants me to be weak and needy, a want her to love me for being strong and 'independent'... My brother happily plays that game and gets truckloads of approval, i get withering looks ('you always need to be different, make my life difficult, why can't you just play my game...') and i broke down while talking to Mr G about the phone call, and then it suddenly dawned on me - she can't  show me that she loves me (even thought i'm sure she does), she cannot show me she likes me being strong and un-dependant, as it makes her feel she's  not in control... I need to move on from my need for her approval, as i will never get it, and come to a point where i can love myself, be my own mum, as it were... Maybe then things will start to fall into place... Who knows...

winter winds

As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts

Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms 

Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night? 

For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt 

And my head told my heart 

"Let love grow" 

But my heart told my head 

"This time no, this time no" 

We'll be washed and buried one day my girl 

And the time we were given will be left for the world 

The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague 

So let the memories be good for those who stay 

Oh the shame that sent me off from the God that I once loved 

Was the same that sent me into your arms 

Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone 

And no hope, no hope will overcome 

And if your strife strikes at your sleep 

Remember spring swaps snow for leaves 

You'll be happy and wholesome again 

When the city clears and sun ascends 

And my head told my heart 

"Let love grow" 

But my heart told my head 

"This time no"

pastels

when do we become the pastel version of the people we were when we were younger?!

I remember one time we visited my brother in his student place, and he put a cd on with music he'd learnt about recently. Quite startled we heard Firestarter from Prodigy make it´s way out of the speakers... What?! My brother into Alternative Music?!! Whatever next... A bit of leap from Iron Maiden and Guns & Roses in his teenage (my brother was in his early twenties when the Prodigy thing happened), but fairly understandable... Great was my bemusement when a few years later, he'd moved in with his girlfriend and there was no Prodigy cd  in the house, and gone too were the books that he'd been so chuffed with - every Dickens novel written - and practically every other item that may have been characteristic of him, or as i'd gotten to know him over the years, as a young adult. The music coming out of his stereo was bland middle of the road stuff and the books on the shelf were my sister in laws, or at least condoned by her... In fact the whole house was done to her taste, and Beige best described it...

Had my student-brother been a version of himself and was the middle of the road version the Real Him?
Do i have a similar story to tell - i remember listening to Nirvava and Pearl Jam and PJ Harvey when i was in my early twenties, feeling fairly displaced at the time and not knowing where to go, and a few years later settling down into a life that became predictable and a bit dull, with babies and early nights, my travelling bug quelled...

I've become a pastel version of myself....
Was that the real me?
Is who i am now the real me?

Who knows....

i.d. please

Something must've gone terribly wrong when i was growing up and went through the 'identification stage' of childhood...
I've read enough books on psychology to know that i should've identified with my mother, and turned into a nice little girl, but hey, my mother had 'issues', and plenty of them, and most of them were to do with girl-things, so i found myself nudging towards my father... He was much more fun, liked me, and so it was way more comfortable to do 'guy-things' than girl-things... Though i learnt a few - i can sew stuff, and i can nurture my kids {thankfully} and i do actually occasionally wear skirts - but they're few and far between... I like popmusic, i make lists/charts, i like gadgets, i {want to} know how machines work, i analyse things into oblivion, i live on my own planet, i'm pretty self-centred... For a long time i never thought of myself as a girl, which was fine, until my feminine features started to appear, and i went into denial... And a huge crisis...

And still, i have no idea how to deal with my body, most of the time...
I have no idea how to be a Woman... Most of the time...
I don't want to be a woman...
And i don't neccesarily want to be a man...
But i feel incredibly attracted to men... {him...} {and him...} {to name just a few}
And not to women...

And so my identity crisis carries on...
Into oblivion...

books that awoke my spirit

carrying on the Emerson-challenge, my blog-friend Kati and i
set ourselves a few challenges along the way...

We did one about books.

“Books are the best of things, well used. What is the right use? What is the one end, which all means go to effect? They are for nothing but to inspire.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

As an - eternally budding - writer, i place a lot of importance in some books that i've read during my life so far. I'm not a good reader, i must admit, finding it quite hard to stick with stories, losing track very easily {i blame dyslexia}, and i've found it wonderful that a lot of the Classics have been made into films or tv series {all kneel & praise the BBC drama department!!}... Recently the screen version of Great Expectations was shown, and now i finally got what the whole Miss Havisham thing was all about... Also the newly made, modernised Sherlock Holmes version - but for entirely different reasons - pleased me no end...

A few novels have opened my eyes, mainly during teenage, and a few as a maturing mother, and have been crucial in lots of different ways: in the way i look at myself, how other people view the world, and the way i use English -which is not my first language, but has become an incredibly important way of expressing myself, and defining who i am... Here's a few stories {in either book- or screen form} that made a difference in my life:

* brideshead revisited - evelyn waugh
Originally brought to my attention as a series, and never read as a novel (way too long), it opened my eyes to a lot of things: in Sebastian i recognised the oppressed, over-praised (as a child, especially by his nanny), under-supported side of myself, and loved the lavish language used - i thought it was beautiful, so florid and rich, something i so needed in the austere home i lived in, where copiousness was frowned upon heavily by my mother. I felt i found a world that i needed to be in, and the seed was planted to leave Holland a.s.a.p...

* maurice - e.m. forster
Another one of recognition and discovery, the feelings of passionate love for someone when it wasn't 'the done thing', i also recognised myself in the main character of this book - the gay young man, who is trying to find a way in which he can deal with his true identity, knowing he will lose the support and 'love' of his family and the people around him. Somehow this is far more natural for me than any woman-based stories i've come across... However well written...

* it could happen to you - isla dewar
which then is pretty contrary to find a feisty Scottish woman in my list... When the kids were growing up, i discovered - in the local library, here in Holland, of all places - a stack of novels by aforementioned lady... I loved them, and i also felt inspired by the way she wrote... Granted, there was no Waugh-style floweriness, or Forster's almost distant way of looking at the human condition - these books had feeling... And back then, that was what i needed more than literary distance... I felt somehow a slight shred of confidence to put pen to paper and construct my own stories... Although i still compare myself to the way the Great Writers wrote and feel that i fail miserably...
Also, the landscapes she described - barren Scottish coastlines, craggy beaches - appealed (and still do) massively to me...

* stuff by margaret forster {no relation}
more distant than Dewar's writings, less emotive, very beautiful... Looked at life in Northern England, the harshness of it, at the beginning of last century...

* winnie-the-pooh - a.a. milne
pre-disney, of course... Crammed full with nuggets of wisdom and beauty...
 'some people care too much... i think it's called love...'

switching sides

i keep reading in all my self-help books that the people that are in my life are there because i attracted them... Which - basically - means that {coining a phrase i'm very familiar with} it's my fault that they're there, and i made my bed, so now i'll have to lie in it... Duh...

At first this notion  depressed me intensely... I've attracted the people that give me grief, that aren't very nice to me, that keep making my life stressfull, rather than mellow and peaceful... It's my responsibility... By being the way i was in the past, this is now my reality... How awful!! Boohoohoo...


But slowly it's dawning on me that there's a massive plus there too - if i can attract negative, then surely i can attract (and i am attracting) positive as well?! I can turn this around, be responsible for the good things in my life too?! By fading out the negative in my thinking, hopefully it will be replaced by more joyful, fun, happy people and situations. Only: that takes time, and i'm not very good at 'time'...

fifteen minutes to go

We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons 

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last year i did the writing challenge that was devised 

by the good people of trust30, 

an organisation that sets about to keep the thoughts
and beliefs that R.W. Emerson, 

a thinker and do-er form a few centuries back, alive.

This challenge was set out to get people
to think about their lives 

as they are now, and could possibly be changed,
through {daily} writing excercises...

i decided to do them again, in English this time, 

and weekly rather than daily, 

see what comes out almost a year on...

todays' challenge:

You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live. 

Set a timer for fifteen minutes. 

Write the story that has to be written.

Life's too short to be wasted on silly nonsense...
Yet a lot of the things i do is pretty silly...
Watching stupid clips on Youtube, having arguments with the kids about the clutter in their rooms, fretting over feelings and the lack of certain things in my life... Why do it?

Cos that's what i've been trained to do, by the best trainer i had in my life: my mother... 

And i can see that it brings nothing of value, no happiness, no joy, just tension...

And if there's one thing i should've learnt - almost a year ago now - is that life is so precious... And it can be over, just like that...

Thing is, i have spent most of last year figuring out what it is that i really want to do, who i really want to be with, and although the answers are there, the guts to execute them, to live by them escapes me... and yeah, i admire people who can follow their hearts, do what they feel is the right thing to do for them, i feel a failure for not being able to do the same...

Maybe i judge myself too harshly - the time isn't right, things aren't falling into place as they would do if the time was right, and i know that as soon as the time is right, things will happen, but my level of patience is too low to accept that for now....

{well, actually, time's running out, i've only got 5 more minutes...}

So:

 live, enjoy, love, feel, relax, be patient... 
Be happy with what you have... 
Do silly things...

jump start

jeez, nearly three weeks on, and still no new post...
not that there isn't anything happening here, but i suppose it's been mainly very personal stuff, things i don't feel a need to write down on this blog (where as i've been having an emotional pour out on my dutch one...)

Januari has been an eye opener, in many ways.
for one - i've figured out that i'm finding it very hard to let go of something special to me... I feel i'm clutching at straws, but there's nothing much to go on anymore... and i'm stubbornly denying this... Scared of the results, of the reaction... Maybe i'm even scared that something nice might happen... Maybe i deep down don't feel i deserve it... Maybe...

Maybe i should just jump, and see where the stream of life will take me...
Maybe, soon...

the beatles

daring to jump

pic from here

10 things for 2012

{this wasn't going to be a direct translation of my dutch blog, but if we don't tell enybody...}

ten things, for this year...
maybe by having it in writing i might get on and do some of them!

1. have my purpose in life figured out
2. knowing how my intuition sounds (as opposed to the one talking jibberish) and allowing myself to follow it
3. having seen a band (or two, or more) play live...
4. go to England {i feel so incredibly homesick it {almost} hurts...}
5. finish reading a novel...
6. make a big felt bag, in lots of garish colours... having my firend Mo as an inspiring, enthusiastic partner should help... as will her new studio!!
7. stop holding a grudge towards certain people...
8. do at least one thing on my {very secret} list of all-things-i-don't-dare-or-should... and see if the world will fall apart...
9. put away the christmas tree...
10. accept that i will probably never feel as happy as i was in 1991/1992 (or maybe i will - visualise!!! - who knows...)

sandman

oh well,  just as i feared: the enthusiastic start hasn't been sustained...
{woman, know thyself...}
but, now that the kids are all back at school, and a new week lies there,  stretched out before me, an attempt to get going with 2012 properly...

this little clip i found on facebook, where my friend P posted it.
incredibly beautiful, and very inpiring...

welcome 2012

make 2012 the special year 

- for yourself -

that it has been told it will be!!!

* * *

this link is a nice one to get going...