Oranje boven, oranje boven!

dane, the party was a wonderful beer-soaked, victory-high, oranje-crazed, happy event. no one expected it. the tension, the fear, the hope, it was so thick you could hardly breath. and then the goal! relief at having a chance, then a second goal! literally no words to describe the vibe in that bar. even with the 35*C indoors we all somehow had the energy to jump around and yell for the next 4 hours. the energy carried every single person along, finally dumping us exhausted from the excitment at our doors at 1, 2, 3a.m. the next morning. beating Brazil was almost (almost!) as satisfying as winning the cup. almost. but now there's hope. bring the Germans!

como te va?

i'm doing well.
not exactly where i hope to be these days.
i thought i'd be working hard, building my way up in some brilliant career in psychology, slowly becoming famous and well respected for my great insight and innovative work...
instead, i just barely graduated, haven't even had a job interview, still don't know where i am going or what i'll be doing, am grasping at every possibility that might lead to work, and am trying to convince myself that it's ok to take it slow and that i should find meaning in the little things i do do, like rummikub with old ladies and keeping the house in order so my hard working husband who IS building up in his career doesn't have to help clean on saturdays and can actually have a day of rest.
i was feeling sorry for myself one morning about it all, then i went to the psych clinic where i accompany some of the patients on walks around the neighborhood, and this 83 yr old told me without a trace of emotion, her entire life story (which was not particularl easy or pleasant) up to the last week in whcih she had attempted suicide.
ah, my little problems and insecurities, though certainly real and worth addressing, are at least not even close to bad enough to lose all meaning in life and wish it to end. i can live with this. and really, i've got it good. i was secretly enjoying the life of a housewife (just too ashamed to admit it cause, well, every modern girl should take full advantage of her possibilities and staying at home is simply a waste of all those years that the feminists fought for our freedom...) but now i'm just gonna accept that i enjoy some parts of this, not feel so guilty for not putting my brand-spankin-new diploma to good use, and feel better about myself.
it does help to not even look at job ads: "psychologist wanted; min 5 yrs experience; preferably fantastic stats skills and extensive knowledge of SPSS and related systems; good management skills; good analytic skills; strong leadership skills; great at conflict resolution; conscienscious, responsible, flexible, driven, client-oriented; will only be considered if a) in emergency situations can slip in and out of a phone both in seconds, coming out with a blue suit with a bright S on the front and fly away to save the world, and/or b) have a thick beard, clear blue eyes, white flowing robes, and a perceptable halo floating over head."

soccer momentarily removes all worries. HUP HOLLAND!

canta, no llores!

well, mexico's out, after a terrible would-have-been-illegal-if-FIFA-would-get-off-their-fucking-high-horse-and-introduce-video-replay goal which created confusion and chaos amongst the Mexican team and led to the most embarassing blunder in soccer history reducing hopes of making it further down to a fading glimmer. which was subsequently stomped out with the only goal that Argentina actually deserved. even the one fantastic goal by the Mexican team could not create enough hope to bring them through; it was just enough to save face and allow the team to go out with their shoulders straight.

now, with Mexico out, my hopes rest solely on the powers of Oranje.

so come on Holland!

hup! hup!

tomorrow, 16:00 hrs!

NL vs....shit. Brazil.

well, it's been a good run. at least you didn't embarrass yourself on international television with the whole world (that gives a shit about soccer) watching.

in further news, I have officially graduated and am now the proud holder of a masters degree in Applied Cognitive Psychology. (well, actually, I had to send it back and ask for a new one with my name spelled Amanda instead of Amande on it. but in a week, I'll have it for reals). today I put that hard earned degree to good use by doing three loads of laundry, mopping, cleaning the toilets and shower, playing Rummikub with an 88 yr old lady, and spending an unhealthy amount of time on gmail, Facebook, BBC, and the Daily Show website. the job search...not going so well. I was, however, kindly told that I would be recommended by one of my professors who works in the safety world and who was impressed by my choice of courses and particularly interested in my masters thesis, which, as luck would have it, happened to be in the same field in which he started his career way back when. how nice. he'll keep his eye out for interesting jobs for me. (he also previously promised to arrange an internship for me in Singapore but that never happened...so we'll see). he also informed me that he liked some of my powerpoints so much that he uses them in some of his classes. I wonder if I should ask for royalties? meh, I'll just bask in the bliss of knowing that something I did is actually useful in the real world.

well, that third load of laundry is ready to be hung up and supper won't start itself.
cheers, y'all.

hold high the roofbeams!

i watched yesterday's game like i watch a horror movie, hiding behind my knees, fists clenched, shrieking at every almost-shot (to the total confusion of our cat), commenting on every move made (to the utter annoyance Luuk), and hoping desperately that the right guys would win.

oh the relief when they did!

down the to last second i watched in this manner, convinced that somehow the other team would manage to make two goals in the last few minutes, seconds of the game. but Mexico held on and played beautifully.

i've never been so proud.

now let's see if they can keep it up!

fever.

i fell asleep on the balcony while trying to do my home-study Dutch course laying on a towel and a pillow in the sun. yes, i am so motivated.

another barbeque tonight, this time at someone elses house. i feel south african. we should call it a braai.

yesterday, the first game played by the Dutch team, saw 40% of employees calling in sick or taking the day off. that's several million people. and they all dressed in orange. and ran around their cities singing songs and waving hats and drinking beer at 1:30 in the afternoon. i didn't see that first goal in the first minutes of the second half cause i was still on the balcony watering flowers, but i didn't miss it - i knew immediately when the entire town of Gouda burst into the loud yelp of surprise followed by "gooooooal!!!!".

next NL game, this Saturday, with the Zoetermeer boys and their girlfriends and wives, plus barbeque. it's gonna be super mooi!

but first Mexico vs France. i'm already getting nervous....

for those keeping track.

hmm, it's been a while. let's see... what's happened in the last...however many months it's been.

- there was madrid for four, no, five days. great city. lovely old buildings and romantic alleys. 8eur 3-course day menus at every restaurant in town. cheap but good wine, mmmm. rows and rows of tastey olive oil at every supermarket for under 10eur a bottle! meat. and more meat. and chorizo. and sausage. bacon. grilled steak. ham. over-cooked-veggies-soaked-in-bacon-fat. didn't have real vegetables the whole weekend. fantastic museums. trees. shopping paradise for those with money...not so much us then... oh, an accidental discovery of the traveling midieval themed market with costumes, music, herb stands, and meat. finally, the return home with bags stuffed full of meat, cheese, wine, and olive oil. oh, and a whole dried pork leg (mmmmm, homer-simpson-gurgle). then, postponed return home due to volcanic ash, followed by lines, many many hours standing in lines...and 250eur pp later, another attempt at returning home a day later. all in all: a good little trip.

- weekend away with bible-study group. good times. involved lots of "settlers" and this new game "agricola". piling on the addictions here...

- several barbeque parties at our place.

- flowers and herbs growing like crazy. i'm especially proud of my cilantro plant. he's huge. i should name him...

- hung out with morgan for a brief 5 hrs during stop in Amsterdam on her way home from the other side of the world. that was good. real good.

- several weddings, Liesbeth's included.

hmm, other than that, not a whole lot going on. we help out with the youth group (turns out Luuk is fantastic with unruly way-too-energetic preteen boys who think girls aren't cool enough to listen to). i still hang out with my old ladies. still looking for a job. still have a bit too much free time on my hands, though i'm filling it with two dutch courses (one for myself and one for the dutch government, immigration rules) and in september i'm gonna do a coaching course. and today i spent several hours comparing yoga and pilate courses and stumbled across some photography, painting, and massage courses that look interesting.

oh, right, and on june 30, i get my masters diploma. finally.

life goes on. :)

The elderly-ward at the mental health facility.

"What I did to deserve this punishment, I do not know." Today is the first time I hear this woman speak in a full month, besides her occasional desperate whisper, "Help me...". Usually she sits in a chair sighing loudly as if short of breath, ignoring the goings-on around her. Today she is actually speaking when spoken to, pausing from her gasps, looking confused before resting her eyes on you and answering the question.
"Nice out today, isn't it?" I ask.
Sigh.
"The sun is so warm." I watch her through the corner of my eye; she looks around trying to find whatever it is that I seem to admire so much. "Don't you just enjoy a nice walk out in the sunshine?"
"Nee, verschrikkelijk. It's horrible."
"Ah." What else could I answer? She told me earlier that she was afraid. I do not know what of. But she's afraid. Her world is so far from my own. Sunshine does not reach it. "We can go back if you wish."
Her pace slows as we near the building. I can't tell if she is tired from the walk or dreading the return to her prison.
Back in the living area I manage to start a game of Rummikub, no small feat of it's own. Her face is turned in our direction but her eyes do not see us. "Do you want to join?" I ask. To my surprise she stands up and shuffles to our table.
"I don't know how."
"No problem, we'll go over the rules first." The well-meaning intern who smiles too much and talks to everyone like she is offering candy to a child sits next to her and watches over her shoulder.
"Ah, look, you can use that four right there. Yes, just put it there. Good job!"
"Pff, good job. I didn't do anything special."
"Well, but, well, that's how the game goes, and you are learning."
Sigh.
The game continues. My tiles are not working in my favor. A player next to me manages to play all her tiles but one in one single turn. My sighing friend watches in interest. The final tile cannot be placed. "Ah, such a shame." I say. I look up across the table, and for a brief second I think I catch a hint of an upward turn at the sides of her mouth, her eyes alive for one moment. And then it's gone.
Bari has come smiling in to hand out meal tickets. "Five-minutes till lunch! Finish up ladies!"
Her eyes are dimmed again and her breathing is long and heavy.
"Until next week!" I say. She sighs and does not look up.
I get my coat and bike home, the sun shines on my face, and I smile. It was a good day.

f-ing cat.

found out: smearing cheese on the cat makes her lick herself more than usual which creates more hairballs than usual which makes her throw up more than usual.

of course she never throws up on the easy-to-clean-laminate but prefers spots two centimeters next to it on the scrub-for-half-and-hour-and-still-never-look-quite-the-same rugs, carpets and furniture.

both paws

i think Schatje is ambidextrous. ambi-pawed?

when i prepare to eat crackers and brie or this wonderful mixture of marscapone and gorgonzola, she sits at my feet meowing and whining, occasionally pawing me (nails out) to hint strongly that she wants some too. she doesn't leave me alone till i give her some, which of course i don't. well, cept for this little trick i found that works really well to keep her occupied for a good 15min: swipe some on her nose, face, paws, ears, or anywhere slightly difficult to reach. she cleans every last crumb off, ignoring my plateful and leaving me in peace.

anyway, i thought she was right-handed...right-pawed cause i only saw her rub her nose with her right paw. but today she used her left paw too.

so she must be ambi-pawed. ambidextrous...

sawadee ka!

got back from Thailand on Saturday. it was a good trip, though I'm not sure I feel Thailand is worth a second visit. I bet its a nice place to live. but tourism is a booming business, bringing with it some inevitable annoyances and the invasions into the "authenticity". the food is still authentic though, and delicious. and the Thai people themselves are charming and friendly; in no other country have people just come up to us for no reason other than to say hello, offer suggestions of good places to see and the directions thereto, or simply to practice their English, as they did in Thailand. and Thai massages, sigh...how I miss them. the Thai massage is a wonderful mix of of pain and pleasure that turns you into a limp noodle under the hands (and feet, elbows, knees) of a tiny Thai lady who stretches and twists and kneads your tired and sore body, forcing you into positions you did not know you were capable of and finding every painful place you were and weren't aware of, all the while smiling and nodding to you while chatting to her fellow masseurs. on second thought, perhaps a second visit would not be unwelcome.

while there I finished "Of Human Bondage" (Somerset Maughaun...any suggestions on how to pronounce that?). I feel I know Phillip, who spends almost thirty years trying to find the meaning to life and where he fits in it all, fighting toward wonderful goals only to be disappointed when reached, finding life and himself to be other than what he had expected and rationally defined, and eventually figuring out that what he really wanted was so much simpler than anything he had dreamed up beforehand. his story gives me hope.

time to finish up those errands and chores I planned to do today. next up, vaccuum the car. it's a blemish on the fine face of our street. I hate to be the trashy ones in the neighborhood; must keep up appearances!

wednesday is that inbetween place.

i'm feeling a general lack of direction and control. i suppose it comes with the territory. the approaching status of "graduate".
at least i can control some things. like the order in this house. cept i am not particularly successful in that area at the moment. the weekend full of cleaning for two separate parties and then cleaning up after each of those has dampended my enthusiasm for maintaining order.
hmm. maybe it's motivation i lack. if i really wanted a job, i'd have had one months ago. or maybe, really, the problem is that i haven't seen one that i really want. yes, that's it. of course, it would help if i were looking more thoroughly and consistently...
in the meantime, i have surrounded myself with old people and spent much of my time drinking coffee, talking about the weather, classical music and the war, and occasionally playing the odd game of Bingo. and i do enjoy it.
and probably i would enjoy it more if i didn't have that little voice in the back of my head whispering "but this doesn't make any money...".

too slow for me...

my brilliant plan is not so brilliant. well, it doesn't feel brilliant any more. i didn't know what i could do or wanted to do with my masters degree; it's soooo broad, i could work anywhere if only i could define my abilities and sell them well enough. which i can't, cause i don't know for sure what i actually can do. i'm telling myself that it's more than i think it is. anyway... so to help figure myself out, i decided to do some volunteer work in an area i think i might be interested in, namely elderly-care. so i applied at four different organizations (2 volunteer, 2 actual money making places) for a day a week at each, interviewed with a bunch of people, was signed up, and now i'm hanging out with alot of old ladies (not alot of old men around...they seem to die out younger). and these are old ladies, i'm talking late 80-90's. well, actually, one place has some men, they are in heir 70's.
been interesting so far, but really just started, so we'll see where it goes from here.
but see, my brilliant idea was to get experience, that i can of course put on a resume, scope out the lay of the elderly-care land, see how things work, see if i like it, and hopefully make some useful connections that might help me get a job at one of these places. and probably, this is still working. but right now it doesn't feel to impressive or successful. i just sit around and drink coffee and talk weather, knitting trick, and 'good ole days' with the old folks. maybe walk around a bit if it's sunny. don't get me wrong, i'm enjoying it. old folks are such interesting people. but the whole "building career prospects" part seems to be moving slowly...and as for experience, not sure how useful this all is. but then again, maybe it's all more educational than i realize, and when i come out of this phase (hopefully into the new interviewing/hiring phase) i will have learned so much more than i think i am learning right now. that's usually how it goes, right?
aegh. patience, amanda. patience.

pray much.

I was looking at some quotes on prayer and thought about how my approach to prayer has changed. I have ceased to feel guilty about not praying regularly. Guilt is not the proper response in that case, it only gets in the way of approaching Him again when I finally do feel the urge again to reconnect. I enjoy it now so much more as a result, and probably talk to God more often as well.
It's funny (or sad or interesting...or well, not funny) how several quotes in the trend of "God helps those who help themselves" were in the list. "Pray to Allah, but tie your camel too", or "Pray to God, but stear away from the rocks", etc., though the intention is clear, pray but don't sit on your ass and expect things to come to you, can go a bit further to the "Try it yourself and if that fails, then pray" kind of approach, which inevitably leads to "If you prayed and it didn't work out, it means you didn't do enough work for it yourself".... I've been a bit more confronted with this attitude lately, as my parents, just like they have for the past 27+ years have been doing, pray for guidance in the big moves and changes in their lives and sometimes the decisions they make don't make alot of sense from a rational/normal kind of perspective, which is met with some scepticism or even criticism by some people around me. I haven't quite reached the same level of trust that they seem to have, but I'm slowly working in that direction, I think.
And I came across a quote (can't find it now, it's somewhere in the list, and the list is impressively long), not sure by who, about how even Jesus got "no" as an answer, when he prayed that the cup would pass from him. For some reason I had never really looked at that bit of the story in this light before. I just assumed that, of course he died anyway cause that was the plan from the start and Jesus' prayer was just an expression of how difficult it all was for him. But he really was praying that he wouldn't have to do it, and he really did get a "no". And he is the son of God. My "no's" couldn't possibly compare. A bit of a humbling thought. So my prayers will probably look a bit more like "your will be done" than before.
In the meantime, I am gonna agree with Kierkegaard that "prayer does not change God but changes him who prays...".

this sort of stuff is why i like psychology.

we all know that time flies when having fun and slows down when you least wish it to. and we all wonder (or maybe it's just me) how that really works. obviously, the clock only ticks at one notch per second, 60 seconds per minute, 60 minutes per hour, 2 times around 12.... so obviously our perception of time is subjective. and some brilliant scientists are testing how and why that works as it does.
turns out that when doing an activity that is not particularly fun and not particularly un-fun, one's perception of how fun or un-fun it was is influenced by how much time you think it took. so if you are told it took 5 min (when in reality it took 10), you'll think it more fun than if you were told it took 20 min (when again, it only took 10). in fact, you'll think that the "20min" activity was slow and boring and you disliked it very much. funny.
it could be that different parts of your brain are activated for different activities. when the parts that focus on your body and physical experience are activated, you'll experience time as slower than if these parts are not activated. makes sense, if you think about it. when doing activities that take the focus off yourself/your body, and are more focused on whats going on around and outside of yourself, distracted and absorbed by something other than yourself, you forget your position in the time/space continuum....
hmm. explains certain elements of the experience of certain activities...

Curious what y'all think of this?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/8500285.stm

Trut.

The Den Haag - Enschede train was full this afternoon. I found, already ten minutes before departure, only with difficulty a free seat, luckily facing the direction we'd be traveling in. As the clock moved closer to 17:08, people walking passed the window toward train cars further down the line started moving faster, then running to get to the furthest possible car before the whistle blew. In the train, people shuffled past down the aisle, looking for any over-looked seats still available, bumping elbows with their briefcases and trying to catch their breath. A girl walked past against the stream wearing a rather short skirt covered by an oversized colorful sweater that I immediately envied. I wonder where she bought it? Maybe they have it in blue? Minutes later she rushed passed in the other direction, probably looking for the bathroom.
The aisle started to fill with standing passengers. A tall lady with long, greying blonde hair pulled back in an unkempt low pony-tail, draped in a large faux-fur coat the color of her hair stopped at an empty seat further down the aisle. She picked up the coat resting there and looked around. A woman sitting next to the coat said "Someone is sitting here already", to which the lady in fur responded with something most definately disagreeable, judging by the look on her face. She dropped the coat on the floor and took a seat next to the surprised woman, removed her gloves, and made herself comfortable, ignoring the protesting, shocked and amused looks of those around her. The poor coat lay in the middle of the floor as people attempted to step over, managing only to dirty either end of the sleeves and edges, the step was too big. A man sitting across from the lady in fur finally got up and bent down, his red face close to the lady in fur, mutter something about "rude" and "common decency" before picking the dusty coat off the floor and putting it up on the racks above the seats. Glances up and down the aisle looked for the unsuspecting victim who had just lost his or her seat to this unsociable assuming woman. A mini-skirt and oversized sweater made their way down the aisle, squeezing passed the standing passengers. She came to the seat where her coat had been and smiled at the lady sitting there. "I was sitting there," she must have said. "Yes, but you are not any more. You left, and you can't expect to keep your seat when the train is this full" was the probable answer, given in a quiet, determined, self-rightous tone that requires no understanding of the words to catch her meaning. All eyes were directed secretly toward or purposely away while ears strained to hear this unusual conversation. The words "bathroom" "impolite" "my coat" were heard before the girl turned to look at other passengers and ask "don't you think?". Fur lady sat stiffly, unshifting, searching through her purse with jerky movements, avoiding eye contact with the girl. More inaudible words, a look of exasperation from the girl, and then mini skirt took her coat and turn to walk the few feet away from the lady in fur that the full train would allow.
I wondered what had turned this lady so bitter. I imagined that she must be lonely, perhaps hurt in some dramatic story of love scorned or lost. But then, you never know. She may be a well-loved grandma, with dear friends from her childhood that she still visits regularly and enjoys. But today, she sat alone in her seat, pretending dignity and right.
The train stopped in Gouda, where I get out. The lady in fur put her gloves back on and closed her purse. The girl moved determinedly toward her, waiting for her moment. As the lady stood up she found herself staring into a sweet smile with angry eyes, "Have a good evening, ma'am." The lady looked up, she must have asked what she said. "Have a good evening, ma'am", the girl repeated more loudly this time. The lady muttered something in a bitter tone. "Trut", I heard her say as she turned toward me. I smiled at her and raised an eyebrow. Trut. A word akin to "bitch," I suppose, if translated loosely. Not nice, anyway.
All eyes returned to the girl to impart sympathy, avoiding any possible contact with the eyes of lady in fur who stood tall and straight under her large coat, waiting impatiently for the line to move toward the door. I wondered again how she had become as she was. I wished I had the nerve to ask her out for coffee. She must be interesting. She must be lonely. In need of a friend. But before my Pollyanna instincts could out themselves, the line moved and she was gone. She passed my window before I stood up and walked away with stiff determined steps.
A girl at the exit held the door open for people walking out. I smiled at her and said thank you before walking through the door. It is cold out tonight, I thought, as I headed down the street toward my new little home where I would wait for Luuk. Maybe we'll play another game tonight, or watch a movie.

re-goals.

my goal to finish my thesis two weeks ago has not be realized. nor my real goal, to finish last week. my new goal is to finish this week. but SPSS is against me. how can one analysis lead to so many interactions? how am i supposed to write about this in one concise paper that makes sense and says something interesting? egh. i can't wait to be done. i'll settle for a lesser grade, just to be done. february 24 is coming too soon. i'm starting to worry that i won't have the paper and my grades in on time to graduate then. but, there is an upside: as long as i am enrolled as a student (not yet graduated thus) i get money from the government. :)

identity

i was asked to videotape myself saying "my name is____and i am____". i found it surprisingly difficult. how to choose what "...i am___" to record for other's to see? what am i comfortable with them knowing i am? and do i even know, anyway?

"my name is amanda and i am___"
- a psychologist.
- an unemployed psychologist.
- an unemployed psychologist who doesn't know where to go from here.
- a bit lost.
- not a morning person.
- a listener.
- dutch.
- dutch with an identity crisis.
- not dutch, canadian-american-mexican-dutch.
- amused by life.
- avoiding my thesis project.
- procrastinating.
- graduating soon. i hope.
- strong.
- hmm, ok, sometimes not so strong.
- having a bad hair day.
- married.
- secretly enjoying playing housewife.
- worried.
- (temporarily) in the middle of a not-so-positive funk but generally actually quite happy, really.
- all of the above, for now. we'll talk next year again.

"sons and lovers"

finished "sons and lovers" yesterday while sitting around waiting for luuk's surgery (for carpal tunnel, simple procedure, still took all day with recovery and check ups and paperwork...). i enjoyed the way characters were described and developed. i found particularly interesting the relationship between the mother and father, the slow move from passion to coldness to resolute commitment and eventual tolerance. how often does that not happen in real life! (not to me of course, we have a perfect relationship). i had a hard time, however, relating to and empathizing with the constant battling love-hate relationships of young paul. or the painful dedication to his mother. i trudged through the last half of the book, hoping for at least some hot love scene to at least make it slightly more exciting only to be treated to less than explicit descriptions of any such behavior and the constant back-and-forth of "he hates her, he loves her, he wants her, he detests her...she hates him, loves him, wants him, detests him...". egh. the focus was on the inward struggle, never resolved, quite frustrating really, and eventually somewhat boring. poor lawrence. he must have had a difficult and un-necessarily complicated life. so much import given to emotions. had he, paul, only been more like his mother, willing at least to choose a route and stick with it, come what may. instead he allowed himself to be led by the lesser, unsteady rule of feelings, passion, desire.
i suppose, at some point, i have experience this struggle myself to some extent, "do i want him, he has some power over me, but i don't really love him, what to do, what to do?", and so on. but i never really stayed in such a position long enough for it to become a real problem. perhaps the one element of the story that i could relate to was the feeling of trapped-ness (is that a proper word?) accompanied with being with someone to whom you do not feel equal. one will always have power over the other, and the other will always suffocate the first. happily, i do not find myself in that situation now. perhaps partly due to resolute commitment, accompanied with steady sense and choice. passion comes in bouts, and affection is constant. love has many forms. i suppose that is all easier when the relationship started with is equal to begin with. i guess, after thinking about it a bit, that that was lawrence's greatest struggle. but i still think he was too emotional. ah, but so it is with all them artist types, no?
cheers.

ha! the g-spot does not exist!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8439000.stm
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/8443465.stm

so we have all been fooled by Cosmo magazine and Redbook and Sex in the City and all those other "how to be a modern woman" media. bastards.

what is it with people and the obsession with sex anyway? it's great and fun, sure, but it's not the "be all and end all" that everyone seems to think it is, as one wise sex expert put it. people do the most silly things trying to get it, spend so much time and money and effort, in so many different ways, some kosher some not so kosher, to find it, achieve it, improve it, to reach this glorious end, this top of the mountain experience that yet never satisfies and keeps people going back for more and continuing their hunt for the elusive climax of all climaxes, which btw we should all have had, preferably before 30 and as often as possible.
but we (and i mean just people in general, no one in particular, and definately not myself of course)...we are so confused about sex, cause on the one hand its this grand thing that we must have, on the other hand we want to think its the most normal thing in the world, it's no big deal. and on the one hand it is the ultimate expression of love between a man and a woman (or a man and a man or woman and woman, if thats your preference), and on the other hand we pretend we can do it with some stranger and walk away unaffected. we even like the idea of fuck-buddies, for goodness sake, as if emotionless sex is good and scar-free.
woe to you if you have but one partner your whole life, just think of the experiences you are missing out on! "say what? you got married at 24? you never did it with anyone else? why the hell would you do that?! you haven't had the chance to live yet! to explore! to get out there and discover yourself! and now you are stuck, and so young too, with the same person for the rest of your life!"
but i prefer my choice, to pick one person with whom i can do all that, be free, open, safe, close with, sexually and not, than to spend my life looking for that perfect experience that never satisfies.
sex in and of itself its not so glamourous. its all the other stuff around it, the person, the commitment, the relationship, that makes it great.
that's my random two bits for the day.
cheers.

a hooter of a new year to you too!

i've been sleeping badly again. maybe it's from the move; takes time to readjust to a house, bedroom, ceiling... or maybe it's subconscious stress outing itself in my sleep rythms. anyway. it's annoying. sleep sucks and i'm tired. how to fix this?

the cats hate each other. they've had a couple of fights. both walk away with claw-fulls of each others fur. lovely. so far no blood though. i've decided i won't separate them until absolutely necessary. cept at night; no need to add yowling cats to my sleep issues. one more week and Schatje can go back to being the queen of the house. spoiled little puss. (edit: we are cat-sitting for a french friend who is galavanting through cambodia for a couple weeks; the cat [Kitty] is a big fat ball of white fuzzy fur; the cat we now officially own [Schatje] is a slightly less big ball of red fur...there is alot of fur floating around our place these days...if i yawn to big, i tend to get a mouthful of floaties, even after vaccuuming everyother day...)

taking the car for a checkup today. Bob is a little sick, it seems. he wouldn't start up the other day, and after a rescue by our local AAA-sort-of-thing, he choked alive but is holding on by a thin thread.

and i'm back to trudging through my thesis. my goal: finish it this week. my real goal: finish it next week. we'll see which goal wins.

procrastination = another word for that "not ready-to-work-terrified-of-interviews-in-Dutch-afraid-i'll-never-find-a-proper-job" feeling

i wondered to myself this morning if i am subconsiously avoiding finishing my thesis so i don't have to start thinking about finding a job. there is really no reason for me to not be done yet. this is ridiculous.
but today i am going to finish painting the bookshelf, hang up a mirror in the hallway, do some laundry, clean the house, do some shopping, mail some christmas/newyears cards (late, i know), and then see if i have time to work on stats before Froukje comes over for dinner.
i'm not avoiding. just bad at planning.

morning folks!

the move is over. everything we own has been sorted, boxed, bagged, thrown out, given away, moved, unboxed, slowly but surely placed in a semi-permanent spot on a shelf or in a drawer or on a wall. (weird, major de ja vu moment, this blog post here...). anywho, we are beginning to settle, almost all rooms are organized and looking normal, the smell of paint is slowly being replaced by the smells of a lived-in house. and i am starting to remember where i put things which is cutting down on the number of turns i make and number of drawers i open when trying to cook a simple meal.
so, what else is up, you wonder... (cause, yes, admit it, my life and goings-on are up there on your list of sites to check every morning while you drink your coffee... "email, facebook, own blog, Amanda's blog, news..."). well, not much, i answer. thesis writing is going slow, it's hard to get back into it, especially when the interest in the topic has gone from the original "low-but-high-enough-to-get-me-to-graduation" to "practically-non-existant-never-gonna-finish-this-thing-graduation-so-far-away". egh. nuff about that.
i gave a workshop with my supervisor at the company where i did my internship. i was convinced it would be a total disaster, given the amount of prep time involved (none) and the amount of fear i have for public speaking (too much) and the language it was in (dutch!) and the fact that i have never led a workshop before. but, it was a great success, my nerves calmed quickly, my dutch didn't suck, they understood me, and i even really enjoyed it. ah, and the bonus was that after the workshop, my supervisor raised my grade a full point! ha!
oh, one fun event, Morgan was here for a couple days. she's off to den haag with another friend, but will be back maybe saturday maybe sunday before going on her way to other interesting lands far away. she's our first official guest in our new house with new guest room and new guest bed (yes, a whole bed!). cept i forgot to buy sheets. so she slept in a sleeping bag. i figured she needed to start roughing it before getting to bahrain and all those other strangely named countries on her list of places to go. so suck it up Morgan!... nah, she was perfectly happy with the bag. and i can't speak for her, but i've enjoyed our wanderings through Gouda, Delft, Amsterdam, stuffing her with my favorite Dutch foods and forcing all my favorite Dutch and Belgian beers on her. poor girl. she's probably relieved to be gone a couple days, just to recover from my over-enthusiastic hosting. but at least she'll have some extra meat on her bones before heading off to deserts and who knows what.
and as a final bit of news to share, i think our cat has worms. she stepped out of her kitty litter box this morning only to start running around like the devil was after her and then stop in the kitchen where she dropped her butt to the floor and dragged it around till the turd that had been hanging off her behind had been successfully smeared all over the floor and detached from her asshole. yes, this is a picture i want you to start your morning with. cause i had to clean this up and i deem it necessary to share this with others and reduce somehow the misery that is taking care of cat shit.
cheers!

time for bigger house, less stuff.

there is nothing like moving to confront you with your own pack-ratting habits, useless collections, and the "oh, I'll definately use that thing some day" objects. we have way too much shit.

Lately

October is almost done and it feels like it just started. Time is strange, it flies and it's slow, all at the same time. Not a whole lot has happened since September. We are still waiting on the keys to our house (6 days!). We've been preping for the big move, have ordered a new kitchen, are meeting up with handyman's (handymen? that just doesn't sound right), packing boxes, choosing paint colours, looking at furniture... This is the part where time feels like it slows down.

Some sad news: our pet rat Lucy died. It all happened within a week. We noticed one weekend that she was walking funny, sort of limping. We thought it was from when we accidently closed the door on her...but then she started sleeping more and eating less, even falling asleep in the most random places, like next to the tv or on the floor under the table. Very un-rat-like. Very un-Lucy-like. Then she started falling from things. She always fell before, but not as often and not as hard. It was like she couldn't hold herself up properly any more. Then, one day I let her out to run around and by the end of the day her back legs stopped moving and the only way for her to move around was to pull herself with her front legs and roll around. She stopped eating and drinking and just slept. We expected her to die that night, but every morning she was still there, half alive. Finally, on Monday, after three days of waiting I took her to the vet to have her put down. I expected to just hand her over and leave, and they'd take care of her. But the vet was a kindly man, very sensative and knowing that some people who love their pets like to be there for the last few moments, assumed I would too. I stood there as he stuck a needle as long as her body into her leg to numb her, then he gave me the box and in a quiet funerary voice sent me to the garden greenhouse in the back so I could say goodbye. I was unprepared for this. I sat there for ten minutes with Lucy on my lap, tears dripping off my chin, watching her breathing slow down till it was hard to see without focusing on her little chest moving up and down. I kept telling myself, this is silly, she's just a rat. But I couldn't help myself. The vet came back after a while and said it was time. Embarassed, I followed him, expecting to be sent away. But instead he offered me a seat next to the examining table where I watched as he checked her reactions before putting a large needle full of an orange fluid straight into her heart. Then we waited. And she kept breathing. All I wanted was to leave the room but I stood there staring, unable to move away and trying so hard not to cry again in front of this sensative vet. If I started, I couldn't stop again. I wanted it to be over so I could leave. But she wouldn't die! Her little chest shuddered and heaved, then her breathing seemed to stop, then it shuddered again. The vet tapped her on her eye and she did not react. He said she was braindead and that her body was just fighting for the last bit of life in it. He asked if I wanted to go back to the garden with her to wait. No, I really didn't want to! I asked if it was ok to just leave her, he said that was fine, they'd take care of her. So I paid and left as quickly as I could, and tried not to think of my little rat the whole way home.

It's been a couple of weeks now. I am throwing away the cage and her stuff. I have an almost full back of rat food that I don't know what to do with... Feels like a waste to throw that out. Maybe I can feed it to the neighborhood pigeons.

We are babysitting a cat, a sort of test trial at the same time. We might keep her. The associate pastor got her from the previous pastor who got her from some lady at church; they all know she's old but not sure how old... Anyway, he got married and his new wife isn't too fond of cats, so they want to find a new home. But I talked to her yesterday and she seemed suddenly reluctant when I told her 'yes, we'll keep her'. Maybe she feels guilty. Anyway, if we can't keep the cat, I'm gonna work on Luuk to convince him that dogs are actually awesome and we should have one. If that doesn't work, mini-pigs are the new trend.

I had lunch with a friend today who I've seen once in the past year, and that was over three months ago. That happens sometimes... Time goes by quickly, before you know it, it's been half a year since you last called each other and then you know that that "quick call" to catch up won't be quick at all so you put it off until an evening when you do have the time to talk but then you never have time and it's been another three months... So we finally made plans and met up. I had to ask for her address again because I couldn't remember what number it was and wasn't sure I'd recognize it if I passed it. The usual re-connecting questions and answers covered the first hour as we prepared lunch together.
'Where you been these days? Used to being in Holland again?'
'How's life? Enjoying med school?'
'What's new? Really, a new house?!'
'Any news in the relationship area?'
'No. Any news in the baby area? Ha!'
Then a brief silence.
'Amanda, my dad died. Two months ago. Complications with the chemo. Leukemia. He was 61. Now my mom is alone. We went out for her birthday last month but it was not a happy occasion. He wasn't there. I love my mom, she's sweet. But my dad was my friend. And he's gone. I've lost a friend. I miss him. But it's strange, I feel like he isn't really gone yet, it isn't real. I went to a funeral last week for a friend who's cousin killed himself; I cried more at that funeral then at my own father's. Christmas will be hard.'
I stayed for another hour; I'll make sure I call before three months. Too much happens when you wait too long, and I wasn't there with her.

On the way home I rushed into the train to get a seat facing the direction of travel, bypassing the seat next to a young teen sitting across from her mother, chewing loudly on chips, laughing and talking as if she was the only one in the cabin or onstage and with something actually important and funny to say. Her mother asked her to move her bags and put her feet on the floor so others could sit next to her.
Her answer was a flat "Nee". I could hear in her voice the challenging look she surely gave her mother.
No one sat next to her.
"See," she said.
I took a seat across the aisle, one row ahead of her. The woman in the seat across from me look up, glanced at me and rolled her eyes, then went back to her book. A boy sitting one seat ahead of me watched the girl through the space between the seats. She was very pretty. But he looked displeased.
"Mama, do you know that I hate you?"
A muffled response, probably "What?"
"Do you know that I hate you?"
Silence.
Everyone in the cabin waited for a response, but nothing.
"I'm just teasing, mama. I don't really hate you. "

it's gonna be a long day...

One thing I miss about college is the mental stimulation. Or, well, actually, just the discussions that were supposed to stimulate.
I sit here all day recoding data for this experiment I am doing to get the grade to graduate (click "play", listen, click on box, type number, click "next", click "play", listen, click on box, type number, click "next"...for 360trials for 43 participants), with occasional breaks to snack or do groceries or finish our Singapore picture album (all done!). My eyes are sore already and it's not even 9am. And the thought of doing this for the rest of the day is making me tired. In the background of my mind I think about all sorts of other things, articles I read, a play we watched on Tuesday ("De Filantroop", based on the book, "The Philanthropist", by Theodore Dalrempyl or however you spell his name, can't remember at the moment), or that discussion last week about American medical care.
I actually miss Gen300 where we could argue for, what was it?, an hour and a half?, about every major issue of our times.
That and our large mugs of spiked coffee at 10 in the morning and Jeff and Mike muttering sarcastic responses to every dumb question thrown out there by our less enlighted fellow students, particularly of the Republican persuasion...

touchy subject for once

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8305217.stm

so, apparently the netherlands has the lowest rate of abortions in the world (whodathunkit?) and the US one of the highest. and, (not new news), laws restricting it don't really do much for numbers, just for safety. so, the anwer: make it easier for women not to get pregnant in the first place. agreed. and how do we do that? teach 'em the good ole fashioned rythm method; after all, you can really only get pregnant in a 24 hr window of fertily in a month... figure out when that window opens and close the legs and you are good to go!

i wonder; it might work.

"hi, i'm late."

so, after two years of attending, we finally officially joined our church yesterday. we almost missed the confirmation ceremony. the last few times it was at the end of the service but this time they decided to do it at the beginning. we walked in 10 min late as usual only to see all the newcomers standing at the front of the church introducing themselves. we rushed to the front and sidled up to the last dude in the line just in time to say our names. of course everyone thought it was hilarious, and from now on we will be the one couple that everyone remembers from that group as the one's that were late.

morning mini-rant

Seriously...

Two black men can dress up like white chicks and its hilarious, but a bunch of white guys in (with several different ethnic backgrounds, as we were carefully informed) paint themselves black and do a Jackson Five skit and America is insulted. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8296347.stm

I don't understand this hypersensativity...

El Bobberino, if you aren't into the whole brevity thing...

we bought a car (news, for you non-facebookers). it's a lovely 1995 Suzuki Swift with pink, purple, and mint green stripes on the side that end in a palm tree and "Florida". it makes all sorts of wonderful noises and the passenger door can only lock and unlock from inside. we love him already. and we named him Bob.

sexgod

The bible study group that luuk and I go to is starting a new topic. We decided to study a book by Rob Bell (the pastor of what apparently is a well known church that I happened to go to a couple times in Michigan and realy liked, Mars Hill). The book is "sexgod", and already with the preface I was sold. I was disappointed when I came to the end. I wanted to read more. He says so beautifully and simply what I have been feeling and never been able to get out in the right words when trying to. I can't wait to get into this book, and before even reading it, I am recommending it to everyone I know. Even if you don't like what he has to say, I know this book will be good for discussion. So read it. And let me know what you think.

oh, to be a wanderer...

ever hear yourself talking in a group and wish you could make yourself shut up but you can't so you just keep going while silently wishing to yourself that no one else notices how annoying you are? all those things that i can't stand in other people seem to just flow out of me with no control. i realized that i start to do this when i become comfortable in a group. this is, of course, a sign of a good thing. i have found a little niche where i fit, or feel that i fit, where i can be at home enough to let loose and relax. but there is a saftey in being unknown; it's dangerous to get too comfortable. i can just watch all those annoying, loud, obnoxious, "look-at-me-look-at-me" parts that i normally keep tightly packed away in a group of strangers and lesser-knowns bubbling to the surface and coming out when i let my guard down or have a glass of white wine. i find myself half wishing to move again before it's too late.
of course, i probably am more aware of those parts of myself than anyone else (i hope). and i seem more annoying and obnoxious to myself than anyone else (i hope). at least, no one has complained yet to me.
on a side note, this is the amazing thing about marriage... someone who has known me long and well enough to see these parts of me that i most hate has chosen to spend his life with me. though, i think secretly he's more amused than annoyed when i find myself loosening the belt and letting my hidden less-than-attractive underbelly blubber out into the open.
so anyway...
i don't really have a point. well, maybe i do. i want to know if you have this too. i'd feel so much better about myself if i knew that everyone else dislikes themselves sometimes.
hah!, ain't that just sweet?

for the sake of writing

i should really only post when i have something to say...but i get sick of seeing the same old last blog at the top of the page and decided it's time for a new one.

last night i painted. originally the painting was going to be a gift for someone but i liked it so much, i might keep it. now i just have to make a new one for that gift... or wait till i know if i can hang this one up. well, actually is a series of three. so i need alot of wall space. which we will have in our new house, cause it's bigger! yay!

speaking of new house, it is taking forever to get to november 2. why is time so slow? and luuk's three weeks away is crawling by as well. only three and a half more days!, but it feels like he's been gone for ages... i suppose it's good thing. but ugh, man, it's only september! we still have october to crawl through! and i have so little to do...just finishing that workshop, which i hope to wash my hands of on sept 30, and testing participants for that endless experiment. i should get extra credit for all the hours i am putting into someone else's pet project. oh, did i mention that that workshop will have to be presented in Dutch? i have never given a presentation in Dutch. this kinda freaks the shit out of me... but i'll live. i always do.

anyway... lunch today with a medical student friend from texas doing research here for a year and possibly a visit to the anatomy museum, her suggestion of course. go figure. i suggested doing something touristy. she suggested looking at body parts. alright!

i'm so 'ronery!

man, i was not made to be alone. luuk's been gone since sunday on another of his training things for three weeks (the last one!), and i am home with only lucy to keep me company, and well, she's not exactly the most companionable... entertaining, at least, climbing up empty wine bottles and knocking them over to drink whatever spills out, climbing up my pant leg when i'm cooking cause she knows there's something yummy going on above the edge of the counter and then getting stuck at about the knees and then just sitting there clinging for dear life til i help her down, ripping the corners of our carpet (which normally would piss me off but we are moving so now i don't care), trying to jump up to the third shelf where she has never been and is absolutely convinced it must be interesting cause she does this all the time but then only manages to slam into the edge with her face and fall to the ground (she really does this)...
anyway...

so, back to me. i'm bored out of my mind. especially at night when luuk is usually around and we watch 'family guy' or play 'settlers' against each other. or do other things...

not so fun on your own.

the two worst things to do on your own: laughing and farting.

watching a funny movie or tv show is just no good on your own. something hilarious happens and i start pointing and waiting for a reaction, then realize no one's there so i just laugh on my own but my laugh sounds so weird unaccompanied so then i just smile and well, that's just not as satisfying as a good wholehearted laugh. and later when i make an offhanded joke or reference to something funny that happened in that tv show, no one knows what i'm talking about so i end up explaining it and then just feel like a total loser for spending so much time watching tv on my own.
and farting...ugh. especially loud ones. when luuk is there we just laugh about it or run away together, but when alone i can't laugh cause it sounds weird unaccompanied, and running away seems silly, so i just sit there in my smell, looking around for the candid camera, hoping the neighbors can't hear through the walls, then kinda hoping they could and wishing they'd offer a loud bellow in response.

so this is why God made two of us. its not good for a man or woman to be alone. after a while, you start going a little nuts.

it hasn't even been a week. lets talk again in two, see how i'm doing...

old storks and stuff.

the stork is kinda a national symbol in this country, though you rarely see them in the wild. but i pass a field every day on my way to work where i see two storks standing in the grass probably waiting for some frogs to leap by. there used to be three but i like to think that in true 'vicky, cristina, barcelona' style the one flew away to find herself leaving the other two to fight and hate each other and throw frogs at each other in the middle of the field.

on another note, every morning this wonderfully strange and interesting lady gets on the bus at delft central and gets off at the same stop in the middle of a tiny town with 20some buildings probably dating back to the 1800's. her hair is red, uncontrolably frizzy, and greying. her face is laced with wrinkles and the skin on her hands is spotting with age and starting to develop that odd transparency that for some reason old people get. she isn't old quite yet, but slowly growing into it. her face is in a permanent half smile, as if she knows a secret about the world and simply cannot help but be amused. and when she gets off the bus she always leaves with a loud cheerful "goedemorgen" to the driver. i think she would be an interesting person to meet.

i am reading hemmingway, "a farewell to arms". i like how his sentences run on for half a page without punctuation.

some friends of ours (well, luuk's really, but i like them too) might take over our apartment when we move out. they want to keep all the kitchen appliances that we don't want, including the shelves and bar table that we put in with Dad, and flooring. if they get the apartment, it means we don't have to fill in the hundreds of holes hiding behind the wood boards we screwed to the wall or pay for dumping our old carpets. nice. bring on the two month rent deposit return! :)

The end of a wonderful summer.

The sun comes up later than it did just two weeks ago. The nights are getting longer, the days shorter, and I even see some leaves out my window at work that are changing color. Getting up in the morning is slowly becoming more difficult (though that might partly be a side effect of this horrid cold that I caught just before the weekend...). Holland is beautiful in the fall, romantic. But after fall comes winter and Dutch winters are rarely beautiful. I dread Dutch winters. They are cold, wet, windy, grey, dreary, dark. Morning light starts at 8, and night begins to creep in at 4. Just thinking about it depresses me.

so, shisha/hookah/waterpipe, not so good for you...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8214097.stm

morning glory

everymorning i share a tram with the same people. the cute, wonderfully-smelling guy with a blonde ponytail. the lady who always wears pink flowered gloves, no matter how hot it is outside. the guy with Down's who sits in the back burping occasionaly, grining and muttering to himself, and loudly repeating "Ssssex winkel" every time we pass the sex-shop around the corner from the grocery store, all to the shock and embarassment of the old ladies who board at the rest home just down the street. the tall girl with long hair who for some reason always wears her belt on top of her clothes and never through the belt-loops of her pants. sometimes i manage to get the tram with the only woman driver on line 1, who never smiles when you say "goedemorgen" but grunts in reply before clanging the bell and lurching the tram forward.
the tram is scheduled to arrive at 8:19 but i risk missing it if i am not there by 8:15, and even then i'm really pushing it. why public transport in this country manages to always be early or late but never on time so that no matter what time you get there you end up waiting 10min is beyond me. and of course, i regularly miss the bus i mean to catch in Delft. i either arrive too early and he comes to late or i arrive late and he left early. either way, i end up waiting 20min before i can board my connecting form of transport.
at my stop, i get out, followed by a guy with dark hair who immediately lights up a cigarette and proceeds to walk 10 feet behind me till we reach the gate where i swipe my pass and open the door for both of us, at which point he offers the only word i have ever heard him speak, "dankje", and we part ways. sometimes i forget my pass and he has to step in front of me to open the door, then i say "dankje", smile, he nods, and we part ways.
then i work, go home, have a nice quiet evening at home with luuk (whooped his ass at Settlers last night...he got me back though), go to bed, wake up, and do it all again.
ah, mornings...

found in an old social psych book:

Innocent victims tigger more compassion if personalized. In a week when a soon-forgotten earthquake in Iran kills 3000 people, a lone boy dies, trapped in a well-shaft in Italy, and the whole world grieves. The projected death statistics of a nuclear war are impersonal to the point of being incomprehensible. So international law professor Roger Fisher proposed a way to personalize the victims:

"It so happens that a young man, usually a navy officer, accompanies the President wherever he goes. This young man has a black attache case which contains the codes that are needed to fire nuclear weapons.
I can see the President at a staff meeting considering nuclear was as an abstract question. He might conclude, 'On SIOP Plan One, the decision is affirmative. Communicate te Alpha line XYZ.' Such jargon keeps what is involved at a distance.
My suggestion, then, is quite simple. Put that needed code number in a little capsule and implant that capsule right next to he heart of a volunteer. The volunteer will carry with him a big, heavy butcher knife as he accompanies the President. If ever the President wants to fire nuclear weapons, the only way he can do so is by first, with his own hands, killing one human being.
'George,' the President would say, 'I'm sorry, but tens of millions must die.' The President then would have to look at someone and realize what death is - what an innocent death is. Blood on the White House carpet: it's reality brought home.
When I suggested this to frinds in the Pentagon, they said, 'My God, that's terrible. Having to kill someone would distrot the President's judgement. He might never push the button.' "

(Fisher, R. (1981) Preventing nuclear war. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, March, 11-17.)

check this picture out...

http://www.safetyphoto.co.uk/photo1/electrical_socket/death_by_electrocution.htm

weekends are too short.

i have a serious case of the monday's. really not in the mood to do any sort of work. the computer is not on my side, either. slow bastard. not really sure what i need to do, anyway. tomorrow i am meeting with my supervisor(s) to discuss what i have written up so far for Part 1 of the workshop. I suppose I could read some more about risk theories to add to Part 2... but I am pretty much done with Part 2 already. And Part 3 is a group activity section, which involves very little research on my part...so that's done already too.
on a more interesting note, a friend got married this weekend. don't really know her new husband that well, but he's a good guy. it was good. a meaningful ceremony. smiles, tears, yummy reception food, good fun and friends. i like these kinds of weddings. when you know they have a good start to a (very likely) long journey. just plain good.
yes, i realize i just used the word good five times. it just fit the day.
anyway.
back to monday.

Daydreaming

I noticed this morning one of life's little pleasures that I hadn't really ever realized how much I enjoy: getting lost in my thoughts. For the 45 min travel time to the office, I usually take a book (right now I am reading "Nudge", which I recommend to all you politically-minded psychological's out there) but sometimes I don't feel like focusing and I let my mind wander. Occasionally I will stop to notice where I have let myself wander into, but for the most I just roam through the random parts of my mind that normally go unexplored. Somehow, this exercise is very relaxing. Maybe there's something in the early morning sunlight on the canals and green fields....

mini-update.

today, i got a tour of some of the work that the company where i am interning does. including at two shell refinaries. pretty interesting. probably boring once you are actually doing the work. its slow and time consuming and not pleasant. the only thing different about yesterdays work might be the location and the outcome of the tests they run. they use magnetic, ultrasound, and x-ray machines to test pipes and connecting parts. sometimes they just test loose parts on the ground before the parts are sent of to where ever they will be used. some times they climb ten stories of scaffolding to test a piece of metal. occasionally they have to hang off the sides of pipes and towers to get to that one piece they couldn't reach. crazy stuff. i can see why safety management is important. so now i feel a little more important. (in case you didn't know, i'm developing a safety workshop for the 'health, safety, quality, and environment' department). and now i have a better (albeit still incomplete) picture of what it is that they actually do. all these technical terms... a bit much for me. seeing it does more for me than reading it or getting an explanation from a well-meaning but confusing dutchman with a heavy accent.
still trying to figure out if this is for me. still wondering if i choose the wrong direction with this masters. still feel slightly unsettled.
guess i'll just have to wait and see.
i'm hoping for some writing on the wall.

Sexism at the office.

I know you see me. You walk in a couple times a week to talk to Tamara; we share an office, you can't possibly have missed that. The least you could do is acknowledge my presence in the room when you are here. I don't need to be your best friend. But come on. You know I'm here.
The way you ignore my side of the office would under other circumstances perhaps be admirable. You can sit here talking for half an hour, diligently averting your eyes to every side of the room except my corner. My increasingly-less-enthusiastic smiles and attempts to make eye-contact with you in an effort to make our now all-too-late introduction less awkward are expertly avoided. At this point I feel it would be impolite for me to walk up to you and shake your hand - I'm afraid it would only point out your own rudeness.
This will probably go on until October when I leave and we will have never met each other, though I know your name and that the cute boy in your department doesn't really like you that way and that your job stresses you out more often than you enjoy it and that you are thinking of taking night-classes. I was, after all, in the room while you exchanged gossip and stories with my office-mate.
The men at least came by to say hello when I started working here. Sure, they just wanted to meet the new blonde intern. But at least they acknowledge my presence. They invite me to join them for lunch and even stop in during the afternoon lull to chat about cars and buying houses. They aren't just friendly, they call me "lieve schat" and "sweety". But you, you women, you don't just pretend I don't exist - you know I'm here. You see me and have said so much more with your avoiding eyes than any man could with a passing pinch in the dark hallway.

Discrimination without prejudice

What do you make of this paragraph?:

"A mindful outlook recognizes that we are all deviant from the majority with respect to some of our attributes, and also that each attribute or skill lies on a continuum. Such an awareness leads to more categorizing and consequently fewer global stereotypes, [that is] increasing discrimination can reduce prejudice." (Langer, E.J., 1989, Mindfulness).

Mindfulness is, in short, acting in a manner that is not automatic or unquestioning. Meeting someone using a mindful approach would mean paying attention to details that you would normally take for granted upon first meet (which usually we end up doing eventually the better we get to know someone), to discriminate this person from the global category that they would otherwise fit into if you met them in the usual, automatic way.
One reason that we carry prejudices is because we categorize to deal with the world. When we meet a new person we pick up the details that are most salient and use those to define the person we meet and categorize. We mindlessly accept these details as defining the person until they do or say something to make us think twice about our definition. When I first meet someone, he/she fits in a category: black, white, Mexican, American, Dutch, nerd, jock, friendly, unfriendly, asshole, bitch, saint.... The more I get to know someone, the more I discriminate him/her from any category or group in particular and the more he/she simply becomes John or Jane, with all quirks, strengths, tendencies, characteristics that define this particular person.
All our efforts to reduce discrimination and therefore reducing prejudices and racism has, in fact, only contributed to the problem. In an attempt to not-discriminate, to treat one person as exactly the same as the next, I impossibly attempt to deny this natural tendency to categorize, and I do not allow myself to re-categorize based on that individual, instead holding them in the global category into which they originally fit. To discriminate, in this sense anyway, is to reduce prejudice.

oh yeh-uh, woo-hoo, oh-yeh-uh!

we have a house! we got the one we wanted for the price we wanted. and quite quickly too. we put in our last offer at 4pm and got the call at 7pm announcing our new ownership! we are home owners! well, not officially yet...we have to sign the papers and stuff next week. but it's ours! woohoo!

Baby yet? No? How bout now? No? And now?

At this moment, I have at least 3 friends who are pregnant (I feel like I am forgetting someone) and 5 with new born babies (four in the last week!).
Luuk's sisters occasionally drop comments into the conversation about how fun it would be to be an aunt.
My sisters say things like "I'd like to go back to Holland some time soon...a baby would be a good excuse..."
Gram's hinted at it yesterday and then pretended to take it back. But she didn't really take it back. She wants great-grand-babies. When we are ready, of course. But now would be nice. The clock is ticking you know...
Our mom's try a more sensible approach and just give us good sound advice about this house we want to buy...make sure it has enough rooms for, well, just in case (wink wink).

Sigh.

Oh the pressure. :p

Goode-bye Michael.

It's strange when famous people die. Our extended reality has been altered. It's not like they hold a particularly important place in our daily life. But when they are gone, we miss them. Something somehow changed. We don't like it. Famous people aren't supposed to die. They are supposed to live forever or at least as long as ourselves to continue to grace our newspaper headlines and tv shows with reports about legal cases and scandals and canceled shows and speculations about private life...

Ah, Mr. Jackson. You will be missed. Today I will play some of your albums that have been gathering dust on the shelf. I will only remember those good times, long ago. And will talk about you with my friends for days as if we always cared.

Here's to you and a life incomparable. Cheers!

addiction anyone?

for some reason I keep checking the usual websites every few hours, as if something might have changed since the last check.
maybe if I would quit checking and would starting writing emails, I might actually have some responses.
not much I can do about the news... the world only turns at the same speed it always has...
the probability of more than one new house appearing on the sale list every week is pretty slim as well, let alone a new on each day...or hour...or half hour...
and well, facebook and blog only change when something interesting happens to people I know, and seriously, how many more of my friends can announce pregnancies or engagements at this point?
I suppose all this checking might explain why my paper is developing at a similar rate to the rest of the internet world. though, I can proudly say I have finally finished it. I will read it once more before handing it in on Monday. never know... what I think is brilliant today, I might find silly tomorrow.

speaking of tomorrow, I am going to an open-house route in Gouda to check out about 10 different potential future homes. though, really, just two of them looked really good. but you never can tell from the pictures alone.

so yeah, that was my day.
toodles.

Ridiculous dissatisfaction.

So, I got a 7.5 on my last exam, which translates to an 8, which here is a very good grade. I was quite happy with this grade until I took a closer look at the list and realized that several people got a 9, several more got a 9.5 , and several even got a 10 (which is supposed to be impossible to get in Holland unless you are particularly brilliant)... Now I do not know how I should feel. If that many people could get perfect and near perfect grades, I must have seriously misunderstood something that they all somehow got. But I tried to accept it and be happy with a grade that in itself is a good grade. Until last night when I found out that a girl in my program who from the beginning has seriously annoyed me but I have been trying to see in a different light and like her anyway cause that's what Jesus would do, got a 9.5, which translates to a 10...
Oh the envy! The annoyance! The petty frustration! I studied so hard for that exam! I thought I really had a good grasp on the topic! She didn't study as much or as long. She didn't try as hard. How can she have two, count two!, full points more than I?
My 8 now feels like a failure.
What the hell?
This is ridiculous.
Seriously, Amanda. Get over yourself.

relief

Had my first participant yesterday, ran the pilot successfully without supervision. Ha! Take that Eprime! No computer program is too messed up for me...or well, my supervisor (assissted with some uneducated guesses on my part). Two more this week

Yesterday I went to a "mindfulness" workshop. It was a bit different from what I expected. Still not sure what to think of it. Apparently what I had in mind was "awareness", being aware of how you interact with the environment you are in... whereas "mindfulness" is more centered in the body and experiencing every moment, bringing yourself to the 'here and now' by focusing on your physical reactions.... There where moments where was afraid our workshop was gonna turn in to a new age meditation session but it managed to stay just on the right side of that thin line.

Anywho, those of you who have never heard of this probably don't care too much. The only reason I mention it is cause I am supposed to help set up a workshop for safety mindfulness and I am not really sure how safey would fit with this version of mindfulness. Maybe they stole each other's term and what I will be doing is completely different. I hope.

Now, to finish that paper from hell.

Feeling better. A bit.

Ok. It's a new week. The experiment is still not ready to go, had to cancel some participants. Ah well. We'll finish in September.
That paper is still probably ok, so I am just gonna finish it. At some point. In between experiment stuff. Has to be done by Friday though. And I have to hand it in with a picture of myself. Will need to go get some pictures taken. Kinda annoying...
We got some sunshine this weekend, made me a bit happier.
Enjoyed some Jazz aan de Gracht (on the city canal/water systems). Good good. Found a new jazz club we might visit more often.
Watched 'Rachel Getting Married', liked it, alot. Cried a bit, destressed.
Played games yesterday, beat Luuk twice. :)
Then watched some 'Scrubs' and 'Simpsons' before crawling into bed.
A good way to round off the weekend.

I feel like complaining...

This experiment is taking forever to get started. We have our first participants signed up for Monday and I am starting to fear that we won't be ready. Actually, that's not true, I already had to cancel two participant meetings. Egh.
So much for being done in August.

My thesis/experiment supervisor seems to think that everything involved in the experiment is a teaching opportunity and instead of just telling me how things work she starts asking me rhetorical questions to get me to think about it and figure it out on my own. But my thought processes seem different from hers so I never understand her questions so I sit there trying to figure it out on the spot in front of her feeling very stupid and slow. She does this for a living, knows every detail about how language and the programs and bilingualism and testing... I've been dropped smack into the middle of it all with nothing. And when we are done, I will likely never use any of this stuff again. I don't need to learn this stuff, I just need to know enough to do the freaking experiment and write a paper and graduate! Quit teaching me damnit!

And this paper on that topic I know nothing about, I had a brilliant topic, finally, and was making some headway. Got a general email this morning to all students from our prof with more specific requirements, might mean that the topic I have now isn't quite what she is looking for. Crap.

There is a pile of un-ironed shirts waiting for me downstairs. I tackled half of it earlier this week and ran out of hangers; bought more, so now I can get back to it... They've been sitting there for days, untouched. Makes the house look messy.

How is it that the dirty laundry basket is never empty? It's like Elijah's oil and flour. A miracle. I wash, hang up, fold, put away, turn around to find more to wash, hang up, fold, put away, oh and of course occasionally iron. Where does it all come from? There are just two of us in this house!!!

Oh, speaking of houses, one good thing that happened this week is that we might have found the house. Maybe. I'll get back to you on that.

Ah. But now it's Friday. I can make it through this day and then I can come home, crack open a beer and for a couple of hours forget about it all and just relax. Tomorrow I will tackle laundry. And Monday will be back soon enough to overwhelm me again with life.

some people believe the craziest shit.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8089351.stm

What happened to "this master's is easy, I barely feel like I'm studying"?

So, I am done with exams. Forever. Unless I study again some day. But forever for now.
You'd think I'd be relieved. But apparently I am still stressed. Maybe that's got something to do with the unfinished experiment for one class, with it's corresponding unfinished paper, both due next week; the yet-to-be-started research proposal for another class on a topic that I have very little understanding about; the experiment for my thesis project that is still in the setup-up stage and we have two weeks (if I want to stay on schedule) to get started and find another 29 participants (yay for friends who want to help!) and finish collecting data, then the results and thesis and review which I am starting to think won't be happening till sometime this fall; and then of course the internship that will be starting midsummer. Pff. So much for done. I think I prefer exams. At least I feel more in control and capable. For half of this stuff I feel so incredibly incompetent that the only thing that keeps me going is that I simply have to get through this so I will no matter how bad I am at it. I thought a masters was supposed to prepare me for the real world. This one has mainly succeeded in revealing further to me just how unprepared I am. Or maybe it's the real world that I'll be good at, it's just this academic/research stuff that I'm not so hot at.
Oh, and on top of this all, we are looking for houses. To buy. Leiden or Gouda, for those of you who are interested. Something close to the station. With a backyard, in the sun. And enough space to stay there for a few years (read: babies). It's perfectly normal to find this a bit of a scary process, right?

Bet-dieting. I guess money is the best incentive afterall...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8063440.stm

Here's a scientific topic for ya. Bear with me, it's actually interesting...

So, I am reading all these articles for one of my classes (Economic Behavior) and some interesting ideas come up once in a while. In particular, one that caught my eye was on the norm of self-seeking. Basically, the concept is this: We have become more self-seeking over time because at some point someone told us that we, as rational economic beings, are always and only looking for ways to maximize our utility, to get the most out of every exchange for ourselves with no thought to the other person other than what is necessary to keep them exchanging with us. This is not a foreign concept to psychology - any long discussions on whether or not true altruism exists will attest to that. But at the same time, psychologists are very aware that people do strange things that don't seem to make rational sense, also in economic behavior. There are countless experiments and studies on the anomolies and "errors" of people's economic behavior. In fact, we are very often not rational, not self-seeking, and do not always maximise our utility. More specifically to this particular article, we, at least some of us, care about fairness. Now, there are different kinds of economic beings: those who care about fairness (prosocials), those who only care about their own outcomes (proselfs). You can actually measure who is which with a test that focuses on attitudes toward social issues. Anyway, some studies seem to indicate that the difference between these two sorts my partly have been enhanced by this self-seeking norm; in fact, we have all been influenced by this norm. Basically, we have been told for so long that we are only and always self-seeking that we believe it; we can easily think of many examples supporting this idea; we are suspicious even, of anyone's seemingly selfless behavior. As such, we are surprisingly (or not surprisingly?) not very willing to admit to being un-self-seeking. People are more likely to give to a charity if they can get something back, even if it is something small like a pen or a t-shirt. The theory is that this isn't because we are so willing to give large amounts of money for pens or t-shirts, it's because we can justify it later: "Yeah, I gave some money to the AIDS foundation, but I just wanted a t-shirt..."; "I walked with the breast-cancer walk cause it seemed fun and I needed to get out...". People who become involved in organizations working for some cause are generally better accepted by the people within the organization and without, if they have been affected by whatever it is they are working for or if they have some sort of personal investment; obviously you couldn't possibly care the cause for single mothers if you yourself are not a single mother or child of a single mother, right?
A major role in all this is played by our expectations of the behavior of others. We believe that everyone, including ourselves though perhaps to a lesser extent, are self-seeking; so we act as if they are all self-seeking. We justify our own un-self-seeking behavior, and we mistrust the apparent un-self-seeking behavior of others. Further, in any sort of exchange situation, we act as if they other is trying to get the most out of it at our cost so we must as well, perhaps in a way protecting ourselves. In experiments where one person is the allocator and the other is the recipient, the allocator divides a sum of money and gives part of it to the recipient, and the recipient accepts (in which case he gets only what he was offered and the allocator keeps the rest) or rejects the offer (in which case no one gets anything). Now, usually the allocator will give 50% or close to it; this could be fairness or it could be fear of rejection if the offer is too low. But in a version of this game where the recipient only has limited power, so if he rejects they both get a lesser percentage each, something strange happens. The less power the recipient has, the less money the allocator offers. But, when the recipient has zero power, the allocator suddenly switches and gives 50% again. Why is that? Some theories say that the powerlessness of the recipient invokes social attitudes, like when taking care of a baby or a helpless old lady. I personally think it has more to do with the other person being completely unable to act in a self-seeking manner and not the allocator is free to also no longer act in a self-seeking manner. Or maybe something combining the two ideas. Interestingly, those who have been highly trained in the economic theories that assume self-seeking nature often act in a more self-seeking manner. Studies comparing economics students to students from various other study subjects shower a large difference in the amount of money offered as allocators. Is this because they suddenly become more selfish? Or does it maybe have something more to do with their expectations of the behaviors and attitudes of others?

This is not to say that people are always and only really self-less under our charade of self-seekingness. There is too much evidence supporting self-seeking behavior. But it is nice to know that we are capable of being self-less, probably more so than we give ourselves credit for.

This isn't Nam.

I hate it when dreams stay with me after I get out of bed. I was dreaming that I was in the army in the middle of some war. We were caught by the enemy and put into some sort of retaining pit. We were beaten and someone tried to drown me but somehow I managed to find a way to breath under water if I took very tiny breaths through my nose. Then suddenly we were escaping, and I was no longer the only woman, another appeared out of nowhere beside me. We were running away from the male enemy soldiers for obvious reasons. We managed to get guns and started shooting at them, they shot at us, we ran but were caught again. This time it was by one of our own guys who must have been working for the enemies as well; he handed us over to a general on a train and told him that we were traitors and should be put to death. The general took us, and we were so weak from being beaten that we couldn't get up, they just dumped us on an open bed car. But at some point the general disconnected our car and left us; he was doing us a favor and giving us a chance to escape. So we ran, this time ending up in corn field. Some teenage boys saw us and started to chase us. They were French. We followed another boy into his farm yard, but suddenly found ourselves in water again, with tall reeds surrounding us, and a dog was barking at us from the yard where the water ended. We ran into the house and were followed by the French boys. A man resembling Johnny Depp sat on a rocking chair and watched from above his tipped glasses. He told us to defend ourselves and so we started beating the boys up for trying to hurt us. We were hitting them with parts of the guns that we somehow had in our hands again and they tried to fight back but we knew too many fighting moves and one by one we beat them down. Then I started to whip them with a stick on their butts and they all mumbled and cried that they were sorry. Then I woke up, in a rage, no one there, just birds chirping on the other side of the window. It took a while to shake off that lasting impression.

Wow do I have some fucked up dreams.

The pursuit of happiness.

I've often thought, and remembered again yesterday during a conversation with a friend, that one thing people rely too much on which leads to their unhappiness is the very pursuit of happiness. I think happiness cannot be a goal in itself. It an elusive goal, found best when not looked for. Have you ever been in a really dark room and tried to focus on the few things in the room that have a tiny bit more light on them? For some reason, when you look straight at it, it disappears, but when you focus on something else and look at it out of the corner of your eye, it's much clearer. I think alot of people are depressed because they find that they are not happy. Know what I mean? One of the best therapeutic approaches to depression is to give the patient an activity that he/she must do; by giving them an activity, their focus is brought down to the task before them instead of their misery and unhappiness; eventually they often can enjoy the activity and in the end there is some satisfaction to be derived from the completed task. Or, take a marriage, for example. If the whole purpose of marrying someone is for that person to make you happy, or you both to make each other happy, you will inevitably be disappointed at some point and possibly become very unhappy with each other. But if your purpose in the marriage is something beyond mere happiness, then perhaps happiness can grow out of the meeting of that purpose. If your purpose as a couple is to help each other grow and to become better persons, then encouraging each other and watching each other develop will bring some joy in itself. If at some point you find yourself unhappy it is a sign that something is not going right. But to focus on that happiness, or lack thereof, would be pointless; instead you have to figure out why it is that you are unhappy, what it is that is going wrong and fix that. Happiness will inevitably follow when the couple works together toward the same goal.
I'm doing a course on decision making; one thing that I read recently was that people constantly over- and under-estimate how they will feel about certain outcomes. We are terrible at predicting our emotions. In particular, we often think that our response to those things that we are dying to have or to those things we absolutely dread will be much greater than they are in the end. We are affected by so much more than just that one thing in any given situation and when we predict our emotional response we tend to forget that it will not be the only thing we are responding too. In our pursuit of happiness I am convinced we do the same thing. We focus on those things that we think will bring us great happiness, but when we actually get it, we are disappointed because it wasn't everything we thought it was...or rather, we had overestimated its capacity to bring us happiness. Instead, if we were to put our energies into other things, perhaps more noble activities like work or helping others or whatever it is that we feel called to do, we might find much more happiness in the mere process and outcome than we could have hoped for.

Oh, the ships are burning...there'll be no turning... back for you an me!

I had a conversation the other day that is still bothering me because I didn't feel I defended my case as well as I could have had I been first given three days to replay it all in my head and make up all the right answers in retrospect.
Egh.
Well, anyway, we somehow got on the topic of marriage and I mentioned that Luuk and I decided before we married that divorce would never be an option/solution. The response was that we were setting ourselves up for disappointment because what if something happened and we did end up divorced?, we would feel it was a personal failure. I said yes, I guess I would see it as a personal failure, and then proceeded to try to defend what I had just said with a bunch of unconvincing arguments that I have much improved in my head over the past few days.
But what struck me was that "personal failure" bit. Is that so bad? I would imagine, at this point in my inexperienced life, that if we ever divorced it would be because one or both of us hadn't done everything we could to not only stick together but to love each other (and I never met a couple who divorced still loving each other). Are we so averse to responsibility that we would hope not to feel like a failure or like it was our fault should something go wrong? (And we say "should something go wrong" as if it were some outside force that we had nothing to do with...). That we could ever take seperate ways and not feel any guilt or responsibility seems impossible to me; and if it is possible, then I suppose I should no longer be surprised at the state of relationships these days.
When Luuk and I said "no divorce", it wasn't without the recognition that things don't always go as you expect/hope, or that it won't always be easy (though I must say so far it's been a breeze...maybe it helps that he's out of the country...ha..ha... just kidding...sniff, oh, I crack myself up...). But "no divorce" is part of "commitment", "loyalty", "faithfulness". (In Dutch there is one word that seems to encompass them all: trouw). If we are both commited to each other, commited to sticking together, to helping the other grow, to encouraging and supporting each other, etc., and if we are loyal and faithful to each other above career, friends, and blonde bimbos and handsome colleagues, then it seems to make sense that divorce will not follow. But making the actual decision to never consider divorce does two things: it forces/enables (depending on how you look at it, I guess) us to look for other ways to solve things if we ever get to the point of not being able to stand each other, and it gives us more space for trust (or reduces fear/distrust), I think, given that we both know the other will not be thinking divorce or looking for a way out but will, like me, be looking for a better solution.
So, basically, I think that removing that option, or burning that good ole cliché ship, creates the space where a relationship can thrive in complete trust. And if something goes wrong, then it really is our own fault and we better take the responsibility for it or we'll never be able to patch things up. Doesn't that make sense?

What is this world coming to when "world peace" isn't enough?

Ok, regardless of my usual disdain for this competition, and regardless of what I actually think on the subject of gay marriage, I'm annoyed with this: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8009359.stm . Do they seriously want Miss America to be an airheaded bimbo who doesn't have an opinion of her own but takes on only those opinions regarded as okay or cool by the organization? Pff. To be appalled that she would say what she did...ridiculous. Freedom of speech and equality for all, my ass!

Also, yesterday I read an article in one of the free newspapers on the train (Metro) about how all of a sudden more Americans are "coming out of the closet" about being atheists. As if they were scared to before. It's some sort of reaction to Bush and the ultra-conservatism that was rampant in the past 8yrs. Since when have Americans been afraid to admit to not believing in any god? Did I miss something?
Sometimes the way other countries see the US just boggles my mind. Where do they get these crazy ideas?

Strange

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8007895.stm

A quote. Any thoughts?

We only regard those unions as real examples of love and real marriages in which a fixed and unalterable decision has been taken. If men or women contemplate an escape, they do not collect all their powers for the task. In none of the serious and important tasks of life do we arrange such a "getaway." We cannot love and be limited.

-- Alfred Adler

One of my favorite memories.

I must have been around 6 yrs old, maybe older, I'm not sure. We were on furlough/homeleave, staying in Canada for a couple months after traveling from Yucatan to Michigan to Alberta in the van. We were staying on my uncle's farm in the honeybarn. It had a kitchen and a bathroom and shower, so with a little bit of work it was easily turned into the coolest house we ever lived in. We could even rollerblade and bike indoors, though we got in trouble if we tried to go through the kitchen.
We had packed as light as we could for a six-month van trip through the continent. The kids were allowed to bring a few toys along. I had a cabbage patch doll with brown hair made of yarn. Carmela had the bald one.
My parents liked to listen to Paul Harvey on the radio every day over breakfast, or lunch, or one of the meals anyway. This particular day my cabbage patch doll was cranky. I had put her in a doll crib while eating but she kept fussing through the whole meal. When I was finished, I picked her up and patted her back and bounced her, but she just kept crying.
"Amanda, please be quiet, we are trying to listen to the radio."
But daddy, it's not me, its the baby.
Bounce bounce, sniffle, sniffle, waaaaa!
"Amanda...."
Shhh baby, daddy is trying to listen to the radio.
Sniffle, sniffle....waaaaaa!
"Amanda, how many times do I have to ask you?"
Baby, shhh!
Waaaaa!
"Amanda! Shut up!"
I almost dropped the baby in shock. Daddy had told me to shut up. That was a bad word. If we knew anything, it was not to say bad words to each other and "shut up" was one of the worst cause mom said it was rude, there were nicer ways to ask someone to be quiet. And daddy had said it and he never said any bad words except for shit but that was ok cause mom said he grew up in Canada on a farm, though we couldn't use it...
I ran out of the barn, into the farmyard, and hid behind one of the silo's. I cried and felt sorry for myself. It wasn't my fault, I was just playing with my doll. That's what babies do, they cry! Daddy had been so mean!
It felt like I had been there for a long time, though it was probably only a matter of minutes or however long it took my dad to find me. He appeared around the side of the silo and sat next to me. I looked away and sniffled, wanting to be angry but mostly I was just hurt. Then he said "I am sorry. Will you forgive me?" That was the first time I distinctly remember him apologizing, and to me. I don't remember what I said, but I am pretty sure I forgave him on the spot.

Who says the west is free?

"Singapore is a fine city;" I was told often. "A fine for smoking, a fine for chewing gum, a fine for this, a fine for that..." A typical complaint by a Singaporean who had apparently never been to a country lacking in clean streets and fresh air. They do not realize that those very constraints on their freedom provide the space to live more freely.

In Singapore I was free to walk through the streets without staring at the ground to avoid pieces of gum scattered literally everywhere that had melted in the sun and would create a nasty mess if stepped in; to walk out my front door without having to step over a gigantic pile of dog-poo that some asshole had not even thought about picking up. I could walk around at night, alone, without constantly looking around me and making sure I had my cellphone and house keys ready for just-in-case. I could get in the train without being assaulted with the smell of some passenger's onion-and-mayo french-fries or the occasional teenager who likes to see if he can get away with smoking in the back of the tram.

Singaporeans take for granted the freedom they have to go about their day without being bothered by these and other albeit small but very annoying factors because there are not only rules imposed on them, but people follow them (most of the time) even if simply to avoid a hefty fine.

Yes, a fine city indeed.

Neighbors

From our apartment, I can see two pigeon coops. One is across the street on the rooftop of another place identical but mirror image to ours. Once in a while a boy in a man's body stands on the rooftop calling to his birds, cooing and whooping to wake the world. The other is behind us, two houses down where occasionally I spot a chubby guy with a big smile standing quietly, watching and petting his little friends.
In our neighborhood there are alot of fat pigeons. They have full feet, no missing parts. Clean feathers. Fluffy faces. Sometimes, when they've enjoyed their roost for a while and are ready to set to flight, they lift off, then drop a foot or two, then fly off fluttering and weaving about under the strain of carrying their heavy chests through the air before plopping down again to rest and poop on someone else's railing.