so not a morning person...

The breakfast room can get very busy and noisy. I really do not like kids in the morning, especially loud, whiny, expressive ones. Some days I can tune them out; most of the time I amuse Luuk with my grumbling.

Once he leaves for work, I fill my cup with a second helping of coffee and sit outside where I hope to find some quiet amid the thousands of airconditioners hanging out of the surrounding buildings, honking horns on the street below, and the crows that dare to sit on the chair across from me and caw expectantly.

I always thought crows were the mean birds of the city, but the pigeons actually stole more from the crows than the other way around. Funny.

I saw a black pigeon with one single random long white feather in his wing... I wonder if random feathers on birds are like moles or freckles on people. Or spots on dogs.

And why do city pigeons seem to always have messed up feet? Ten points to the best answer.

Real rain.

There must be something basic or elemental to the pleasure taken in listening to rain fall. It's like staring at a bonfire. I could do that for hours and my best sleeps have been to the sound of rain and thunder. Soothing. Therapeutic. Fantasical, in a way.
Watching tropical rainfall from the 13th floor out our window over our pigeon-poo-covered patio is just plain lovely. If the pool weren't on the 9th floor or if there weren't thunder and lightning, I would be swimming in the rain right now.
This is one of the things about the tropics that I enjoy the most. Warm temperatures and heavy straight-falling rain. This is what I miss when I am in Holland, the land of fizzy rain and feel-it-in-your-bones cold.
Sigh. I love this kind of rain.

Take a walk down memory lane...

Last night, Luuk went to bed early cause he wasn't feel well, so I looked for ways to quietly entertain myself in our little hotel room. I started reading my old blogs. I began with the first I ever wrote, continued on through goodbyes to Dordt, the big move to Holland, my oh-so-long year as an aupair, driving lessons, university struggles, wedding plans, homesickness, frustrations, questions about God, and finally up to the beginning of this past year where the memories were still fresh enough to less interesting to read through. The experience was... well, I can't say cathartic or therapeutic cause that would assume I still had some pent up emotions, tensions, or issues to work through from the past three years... but it was something akin to that. As I read, I could remember so many details that I had forgotten. I could picture the very situation, dream, or feeling that had created the necessity to write it in the first place. I relived so many struggles and small triumphs in a matter of minutes before I moved on to the next entry. I realized just how much this blog has been my therapy. It keeps me sane.
And I read through every comment left by fellow blogger friends. Wow do I miss some people right now. The feeling of nostalgia accompanied me through the whole session and didn't leave even after I finally went to bed.
I have a private journal where I write all the thoughts and feelings that I dare not share with the world. It's the kind of journal that is mostly dark and depressing and doesn't really remember the details of my life, only the worst parts of it with only occasional relief. It's not the sort of book I would like to reread through. So I am very glad today that I have kept this blog. This has become the sort of journal I can reread later when I am old, forgetful, and have grandchildren to shock with stories of my youth.

So, yeah, just thought I'd share that with y'all.

The modern child.

This morning at our buffet-breakfast included in the room deal here at our serviced-apartment building, I filled my bowl with papaya and watermelon. A full cup of some incredible coffee, of which origins I have yet to discover, in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, I enjoyed a quiet wake up to the day. The tv shared a news piece on the detrimental effects of high-heels, in the background. Fellow residents from different countries and cultures chewed quietly at various tables spread strategically through the room. A mother and her approx. 2yr old child walked into the room and I groaned. I dislike children in the morning. They are loud, whiny, and annoying, too early in the day. But this one seemed quiet enough, so I smiled at him and went back to sipping my coffee. He noticed the tv on the wall. Tugging at his mother's sleeve and pointing at the tv, he asked, "Obama?"

Kusu

This past weekend Luuk and I took a boat, fashioned like what I would imagine an old Chinese sail boat for royalty used to look like, to a tiny island of Kusu. It is small. I know people who's yards are bigger than this island (no, not in the Netherlands).

Anyway, story goes that years ago some fishermen were caught in a storm and would have died were it not for their rescue by two giant turtles. These men built a shrine on the island where the turtles brought them and today this island contains a Buddhist temple (where a family lives and spends their days watching tv next to shrines, candles, and fat smiling Buddha statues) and a strange haphazard semi-open completely yellow 'building' of sorts on top of what looks like one giant rock. People come to the island to climb the 152 steps up to this yellow place to ask the gods or ancestors or turtles to give prosperity, luck, and/or children. It's especially good luck for a newly married couple to climb the stairs, pay a few dollars, and ring the bell.

The island also contains a turtle sanctuary with seriously a good hundred or so turtles of all sizes. They are not afraid of people. In fact, they scramble straight to you in hopes of being given some of that nasty looking red crap we were handed to share with the turtles. Some of those turtles have some pretty freaky looking mouths. But they are still cute. Especially their little bums, with their fat legs sticking out of their shells and that cute little tail... (Teehee!). If they were more interesting, maybe I'd adopt one.

The website describing the island claimed that people loved to come here to swim in the beautiful lagoons. When I think lagoon, I think lush tropical trees on either side, backed by cliffs and waterfalls, with clear blue fresh water in the middle with perhaps a shiny fish or two... Well, it wasn't exactly that...but good enough. Sunshine, palm-trees, sand, water...what more could we want? And all this with almost no one in sight. We bought lunch from the family at the temple and spent the day reading next to one of the lagoons facing the Singapore sky-scrapers across the water. That's hard to top.

But we are gonna try: 28 Feb, we are on our way to Vietnam!

Interesting...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7871783.stm

What does one do to deserve coming back as a lizard?

I made a friend at the Chinese gardens yesterday. A black lizard 3ft long appeared repeatedly in front of me during my walk through the bonsai section. He flicked his tongue a couple times and staring at me, crawled carefully to his next hiding spot. I didn't know lizards could swim. Now I do.

Day before last, I checked out the trippy Haw Par Villa, where I was informed that there are ten courts of death for those who lived bad lives. Different sins require different penalties. Robbers get the volcanic pit; gamblers are turned into blocks of ice; ungrateful bastards get their hearts cut out; and gossips get their tongues removed. After all this, the punished sinners are sent to an old lady who gives them tea that causes forgetfullness so that they can go on into their next reincarnate lives in whatever form they deserve without remembering their punishments. Ah, yes, that'll teach them.

The day before that, I visited the Sultan mosque, where I was given a scarf to cover my shoulders and received a tour and story of the mosque from a friendly teenage boy. I found out that little boys blush when you shake their hands in a mosque. Or maybe it was just that boy.

Today I go in search of Holland Village. That ought to be interesting.

Update for the interested.

Events of the past few days:
-Friday: I wandered into a market, a very modern and beautiful Buddhist monastary, a colorful Hindu temple, and a run-down, quaint Malaysian Village where I met a very friendly man who sold me a Coca-cola and told me about living in Singapore and then introduced me to a goofy old guard with a heavy accent who gave me a personal tour of the old village with some detours to show me off to his friends.
- Saturday: Golfing with Luuk at 11am (the hottest time of the day). Then Chinatown with a Singaporean girl from church and an American business man from out building. We took pictures, tried strange fruits and candies, visited another temple, then finished the night off with dim sum surrounded by the ever growing crowds of people. Back at the apartment, we started "Band of Brothers" and got hooked.
- Sunday: Went to the middle of the island where there is a tropical forest reserve to be found. Five minutes walk into the forest and the surrounding city was forgotten. We walked a total of 10km; crossed a bridge swinging over the jungle canopy; took pictures of the tree tops with city towers in the background; met some monkeys who were kind enough to pose for us long enough to take many pictures of them picking each other's butts and swinging from branches; then fed some turtles in the pond before coming across a sign with a picture of a hand dropping food to the turtles with a big red X over it...oops. Dinner was followed by more "Band of Brothers". It's addictive.
- Monday: Started the day with "Band of Brothers", felt sick after lunch, postponed a trip to the famous Singapore zoo. Felt better after more "Brothers". Golfing at 3 when the sun was a bit lower (we learned our lesson), then a walk through the Botanical gardens followed by a yummy Indian dinner...
- This morning: woke up at 6am with intense sharp abdominal pain, followed by some digestive...issues. Luuk woke up a bit later with similar complaints. Yay for yummy Indian food...
- The rest of today: Options limited. Everything is closed for New Year's... cept for the zoo. "Brothers" is done, even the extras. And we don't want to go too far without our new best friend, Mr. Toilet. That leaves...swimming pool?

Cosmopolitan

This is one big shopping mall. I have yet to find a building that does not have some sort of shopping centre in it or around it. Not good for my habits of self-control. And dangerous to Luuk's wallet...
It's also one big fashion show. Not good for my self-satisfaction. Suddenly everything about myself, how I dress, etc., that I had no problem with before is continually more and more flawed in comparison with them. These petite, skinny, beautiful Asian women who would look cute in anything but of course they have to make it worse for us big, tall, fat, ogres from the west by dressing in the most feminine, attractive, fashionable clothing out there. Jeans are for losers or lazy Americans. Bring out the dresses, skirts, flowing, colorful, and beautiful. While we are at it, we will make it difficult for you non-Asian women by making every dress 4inches too short. And size L...we've never heard of it.
How these people afford it, I don't know. You pay big bucks to look so hot. Nothing is cheap in this place. Maybe at one of the little market stands I might find something costing less than back in Europe, like the hand carved chess set with only three knights we got the other day, but the necessities like food, shampoo and alcohol will suck your bank account dry. But then, why buy in when you can eat out for 2bucks a meal?
This place... Hip, modern, beautiful and nothing I expected. It's so easy to get lost.

Little India.

Little India, a section in the northern part of the city, is like a village from another world that somehow got lost in the modern Singapore that surrounds it. Streets are wide enough for a row of tightly parked cars and trucks, leaving enough space for one way traffic to flow at ridiculous speeds, somehow avoiding the criss-crossing pedestrians. Sidewalks exist somewhere under the restaurants and stores that spill out of their front doors. Flowers and pottery and bangels and little statues of a fat buddha sitting next to multi-limbed hindu goddesses and fruit and scarves, all for sale at special new-year prices. How much does this cost?, "Ah, that is 120, but I will give you a good price, let's talk. You like it?"

Past the market, down the street, an old mosque, more beautiful than any I have seen in Europe. Leaving shoes at the door, I ask for a robe to cover my bare arms but am told my a smiling lady that I am dressed "ok". There is no one around and the room decorated in intricate green and gold carvings and arches is peaceful and cool. I feel the urge to pray but not knowing how well that would go over from another god's temple, choose instead to wander quietly and take pictures, hoping Allah won't mind my irreverance too much. A few blocks down, a tall, simple, inspiring Methodist church. Then a colourful, aging building once belonging to a mission, now a women's centre. A man smiles at me from his truck where he sits in the heat, waiting for something or someone. Men here are friendly and polite, not yet once making me uncomfortable with their attention.
Later I find a hindu temple, covered in stories told by minature statues. Flower garlands drape the necks of gods and goddesses, men and women bow and cry and murmur in front of them, blessing, thanking, begging for good things to come. An old woman sits in front of an eight-armed goddess, moaning and wailing, eyes wide, crossed and wandering, her arms shaking as she makes a motion of pulling water over herself. A hindu priest in a long white cloth wrapped around his waist, his dark hair in a tight bun on top of his head, a red dot on his forhead, his bare chest spotted with white and red paint, accepts gifts from devotees and drapes them around the neck of the goddess of fertility. The temple is beautiful and sad, I leave with a strange feeling of dissatisfaction, the smell of inscense following me for another block.
The sun is higher and hotter now, my feet start to hurt as I approach a buddhist temple. Next door is another, and across the street yet another. I briefly think of Sioux Center and smile at the similarity. This temple is tall, to fit the cartoonish 15m version of a cross-legged, sitting Buddha dressed in bright yellow. At his feet, rows of candy, creams, milk, flowers and other gifts. A stern looking woman sits behind a sort of desk, playing with a cellphone and not-so-subtlely watching my every move. Next door, "the temple of a thousands lights", a room full of statues and flourescent bulbs of all sizes. No pictures allowed. Across the street, another temple, this one speaking of centuries of use, built out of dark wood covered in carvings and gold symbols. Gold buddhas in different forms sit under glass cases, oil lamps burn on stands in front of them From the ceiling hang chinese lanterns, to the side a large wooden buddha, fat and happy with big droopy earlobes. The roof is covered with hundreds of clay dragons.

My feet hurt and the skin on my arms starts to itch, indicating a deep burn from hours of walking in the sun. I head back to our apartment where smiling workers dressed in smart suits greet me. The pool beckons, where I soak in more sunshine, this time with sunscreen on my nose, and stare at the tall buildings surrounding the pool deck on every side, my blue pool towel the only bright color to be seen.

Ranting.

I watched alot of in-flight movies the past month. Some were quite good; others I would say that I wasted my time on but as they really just served the purpose of helping me pass the time on 8+hr flights, I guess I can't really say that. But they annoyed me so much that I am going to vent on you lovely folks.

Mamma Mia!: Absolutely ridiculous movie. Potentially amusing plot, lost in Abba songs that didn't quite fit the story line. Who makes a movie based on Abba songs anyway? A warning before I started watching would have been good. I never listened to them before; now I hate them. And the ending! Pff. As I am sure none of you will be watching it, being probably better informed than I was, I can spoil the twist... The girl finally figures out that she is ok not knowing who her dad is, is happy having three new men in her life who are equally as happy to accept her as daughter and spoil her as such (go figure), and then decides that she doesn't actually want to marry the guy she was going to marry and tells him at the altar that they should hold off for a while and travel the world together first. As if they couldn't enjoy traveling together married. What is with people and thinking that you need to experience life and the world before getting married, as if after that point you can no long experience anything worth while? As if it somehow magically changes the wonderful, happy relationship you had before you married into something less wonderful and happy? Marriage is a dead end; no wonder half of married people want out.

The Women: Meg Ryan's great come back. Usually I'm ok with, even enjoy, this sort of cheesy, girls-porn chick-flicks in which after a period of uncertainy (i hate him, i love him, is it really him, why won't he call?), the girl eventually gets the guy, he fufills her every dream, totally (and very realistically) reading her very mind and of course changing from the frumpy, disgusting, frustrating man to the perfect prince that she always wanted because he finally realizes how much he loves her, can't live without her, etc., and all live happily ever after. In this movie, starring only women (the men are mentioned but never seen, even though their existance controls every aspect of their lives), her husband is found to be cheating on her with some slutty hot easy-to-hate dumbo who is obviously inferior to her in all aspects except the attention she eagerly bestows on the said man (who of course happens to be rich and goodlooking). In the end, Meggy leaves her man, finds her self, and in the midst of it all suddenly becomes attractive to her husband again who wants her back (though of course he doesn't actually dump the slut till Meg says ok to a second try...bastard). So the moral of the story is: if your husband cheats on you, it's your own fault for not paying enough attention to him and allowing yourself to become dependent, predicatable, busy, and uninteresting. To get him back simply 'find yourself' (whatever the hell that means), create your own life that does not include him, become independent, throw your insecurities and, if possible, a bit of that old fashioned modesty into the wind, and then he will suddenly find you as interesting as the slut he's banging and all will be made well. In other words, change everything about yourself and show him you won't need him and he will want you back....and you will live happily ever after. Of course, men are just like babies and wives their abandoned toy.

Ahh.
I feel better.

Back to sunshine and 28*C weather. Today I am going to find some Buddhist temples and an Indian market. Lovely.

I'm sitting in the family van, on the way home after a game of putt-putt. I feel a light tap on my shoulder but ignore it. A few seconds later, another tap. I see in the rear-view mirror that Kayla is giggling to herself. She slowly reaches forward, unaware that I can see her. Her hand almost touches my shoulder and I quickly reach around and grab it. Ha! Gotcha!
"How'd you know my hand was there?"
I have an eye in the back of my head. Didn't you know?
"No way. You don't have an eye in the back of your head." Her voice pitches a little higher than usual, a hint of doubt.
Yes, I do. Every one starts growing one when they get married so by the time they have kids, they can always see what is going on behind them.
"Nuh-uh."
Yes, it's true. Ask dad.
"Dad, is it true?"
(Stiffled snicker...), Yep... (Hehe!)
"Nuh-uh. He's lying."
Well, just ask mom when you get home. You'll see.
"Nuh-uh. It's not true."
It is. Just wait till you get married, then you will get one.
"No, as soon as we get home, I am looking it up on the internet!"

Quickie

Lucy is drinking the last bits of my coffee out of my cup. I was thinking of getting seconds... A new cup might be a good idea.

Something that made me happy this week: finding out that there is a place in town where I can buy clove cigarettes! I haven't had one of those in over two years. I am so excited!

Another thing that made me happy this week: yarn. I took up crocheting again, just for a bit, to make a scarf for my old lady. She keeps commenting on all my big, fuzzy scarves, so I decided to make one for her. I had forgotten how therapeutic crocheting can be.

I have two weeks left of this semester. Before we leave for Texas I have to: research the Challenger accident, prepare my part of a one hour presentation, study for Cognitive Aging final exam, catch up on all the Cog.Aging reading (meh), get and finish the take-home exam for Human Error, pack for two trips (TX; Singapore), arrange someone to take care of my plants, stock up on Lucy's basics and take her to friends, work out details for when/how/with whom to do my masters thesis, find out of I am getting that internship at Vopac while in Singapore... and yeah, that's about it... Oh, and before Saturday I have to write a poem in Dutch about my father-in-law for Sinterklaas.

Oh, and a third thing that made me happy this past week: we put up our Christmas tree! And I love it, in all its gaudy glory!

and they will remember me for my amazing achievements reached with such incredibly little effort...

are psychologists allowed to self-diagnose? i think i am exhibiting some symptoms of SAD or winter depression or whatever you want to call it. i sleep alot, but not well, am always tired, feel very unmotivated, can't concentrate, hate going outdoors, and just want to curl up under a warm blanket all day. or maybe its cause i don't exercise enough, don't make myself keep a regular sleep schedule, and it's just plain cold in our house... hmm.

so, this masters program is (deceivingly?) easy. i will take a total of 6courses by the time i am done. i go to class max. 4 times a week. i have one big assignment for each class and only have one test, so far. what am i really learning, anyway? i am afraid i will leave this program feeling as incompetent and unskilled as i did before i started. shit. or maybe i know more than i realize i know and will be the brilliant psychologist who comes up with some world-saving theory or system that beats them all. yes, yes. that's me. the unmotivated, lazy, student who can't even bother herself to use capital letters when writing her blog, with dormant genius, just waiting for the right moment to show it's potential.

'tis the season to pull pranks...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/west_midlands/black_country/7704603.stm

"i'm all aloooone in the world... there's no one here besiiii-hiiide meeee-hee!"

i hate it when people go and get one of those things for their blog where you can only read it if you are invited.
and of course they don't invite me.
bastards.

luuk is gone for 10 days... 2 down, 8 more to go. i slept like a baby last night; 8hrs straight. if you know me, you know that is a feat worth celebrating. but i hate being alone in this house. its creaky and spooky when alone. and there are spiders, which i now have to kill on my own instead of calling my brave husband to do it for me. and when i am alone, i get lazy with cooking, so i start eating like crap which means either i get fat or i get under-nourished, depending on the mood of the week.

a once close friend who i lost touch with for the past four years found me on facebook yesterday. it's really quite cool to hear people's stories after you have been out of touch for a while. this guy, i though would spend his life in the same town he grew up with, married to someone he had known all his life, and send his kids to the same school and church and die only three blocks away from his childhood home. but now he is an engineer now for some nascar team in a completely different state. traveling the country. granted, he is marrying a girl from hometown...but he's taking her with him.
funny how things work.
i like facebook.

we bought a basil plant a few weeks ago. it started dying so i thought i was watering it too much so i stopped watering it as often and then it really started to die and i found out from an italian friend (of course she would know) that it needs to be soaked in water all the time and so i really soaked it and now its alive again... anyway,so this basil plant also came with a steady flow of fruit flies. they are everywhere. i thought i woulda killed them all by now but they keep appearing. and they are little bitches to kill too, cause they are small and they fly really erratically (wow that can't be how you spell that), so i end up swatting at the air most of the time. fuckers.

my cold is finally starting to wind down. i spent last week on the couch drinking tea and blowing snot all day. now i just sound like a dying smoker hacking her lungs out. this is slightly less annoying and disgusting. and my head doesn't feel 10lbs heavier. yay.

on that note, y'all have a good day. cheers!

d'oh!

my ballot application came back in the mail with no explanation. so i sent it again. but now i think it really is too late. crap.

Don't forget to vote.

I filled out my absentee ballot today. I think I might be late. Why doesn't Iowa have an online option for procrastinators?

Frankly, I am so sick of this year's political mess that I really don't even feel like voting. Maybe I subconsciously delayed my application for absentee voting so I would have an excuse not to vote. I am an irresponsible citizen. But seriously, what a circus. When did American elections get so crazy? Do candidates/parties in other countries spend billions on making a big show of self-proclamation and the defamation of the opposition? It makes me nauseous. I was actually excited to see Obama as a candidate. That excitement has turned hard and dark, like something cooked too long and too hot. The only thing motivating me at the moment to vote is the slight possibility of Palin becoming President. What an embarrassing disaster that would be.

If it's not too late, I will do my duty. And then, I hope never to hear the words "maverick", "change", "Obamarama", or "McLame" ever again. And if people even start thinking about the elections again before Jan 2012, I will sew little Canadian flags to all my bags and jackets and start saying "eh?" in every other sentence.

Vitalizee

yesterday, i had my first experience at a european spa.

a friend of mine is getting married and needed a de-stressor; three of us spent the afternoon together in much more intimate circumstances than i am used to spending with friends.

we feel much closer now.

i have never seen so many naked people in one place.

i have never been naked in front of so many people at once.

after about 5 min, i got used to it. no one is really looking any way.

4 hrs of steam rooms, saunas, herbal baths, whirlpools and salt scrubs: pure relaxation.

next time i am going to book a massage.

pre-quarter-life crisis

today as i sat in my 9am class for which i had pushed myself out of bed at 7:30am and forced my breakfast and coffee down my throat and rushed to the tram stop to get into the overfilled, sweaty, smelly tram, so i could again rush to the train where i could sit next to van Morningbreath, i realized that i was not met with the reward that any subject that i have ever loved learning about has ever provided. i am forcing myself through this because i have to. because i chose this masters program over others. because this program would require less premasters courses. because i thought i could start last year. which i didn't. so now i am regretting my overenthusiasm and lack of patience. maybe i shoulda waited for something better.

the art of applying psychology... really, marketing psychology or selling psychology... so not my thing. and what about this applied data analysis class i am doing? again, not my thing.
what if human error and cognitive aging turn out to also not be my thing? the only two other courses left in my masters program are neuromodulation and some other one that i momentarily can't remember. is that what i really want to work in after i get that nice little paper entiteling me to a bigger salary?

what i am i doing in this program?

i don't even know what i would prefer to be doing. all i know is that i don't like this at the moment.

maybe it will get better. maybe cognitive aging will turn out to be the class that starts my amazing, fulfilling, lifelong career in...old people.

when i started studying psychology, i did it because i thought it was really interesting. few subjects interested me as much. but the prospect of applying all these interesting facts about how people work and think, and actually doing something with it all seems so unsatisfying. so maybe it's not this program. maybe it, whatever 'it' is, is me.