A while ago, directly after the mess I had made trying to combine 2 jobs, being so stressed out I turned ill, I made a weird decision. I decided to take a break soon, to stay at a convent for a few days.
I have always been curious about life in a convent. It seems mysterious, devoting your life to the divine in a world that is so...worldly. And it seems peaceful also. Trying to stay away from all the fuzz, living a simple life of constant rythm.
So I'm going there tomorrow. But, as always when I got a crazy idea in my head and I'm about to embark on it, I getting nervous. What was I thinking? What will happen? Will I get extremely lonely and bored? Will I get lots of inspiration? Will I meet new people? Have interesting conversations? I don't know, it's exciting and scary at the same time. I guess this is how you feel when you move out of your comfort zone. Let's hope it will be beautiful.
With love,
Angela
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Roses
Yessss, I was able to produce a little creativity today. I made a sort of postcard with the roses I told you about. I could fill the lines out with text and send it to a friend. Nice.
Recurring dream theme
Aaah, don't you just love hot showers..? I know I'm supposed to work on my assignment now, but I remembered my dream from last night, and I want to tell you about it.
When I was about 13 years old I fell in love with this boy from my class. This wasn't a rare thing. I was in in and out of love very quickly and very, very often. But this crush, unlike other ones, lasted for a long time and it was very painful. His name was Emile. He had dark eyes, a dark complexion en long brown curls. He was a quiet guy, smart and rather brutal. I think this last trait kept him from being bullied. And of course the fact that he was utterly beautiful. People were kind of scared of him. Whenever something happened that he didn't like, he could snap easily. I saw him grab a guy's throat once for touching his lunchbox. But he could also be very charming and attentive, if he wanted to.
I believed there had to be something inside of him that was soft and profound. I knew he was the kind of boy that could love passionately. And I longed to be the object of that love. I longed for it so hard, it is impossible for me to believe that he never knew about it. I could stare at him for hours, contemplating his beauty. He must have known. How can you be in the same room with a person, feeling so much inside, without the other person noticing? I never told him anything about it. I feared his brutality also. He didn't refrain from using it on girls he didn't like. Not physically, just mentally. Sometimes, when I would try to get his attention, he would say something harsh and I would just...suffer in silence.
I did see his tender loving side come out eventually. There was this girl from another class. She was a tiny girl, beautiful, wearing the coolest clothes, listening to alternative songs. I had been right about him. He was tender and protective and loving. They lasted very long as a couple, until long after we finished school. I remember feeling so relieved when after a few years I heard they had broken up. So stupid and selfish to feel that way.
I also remember seeing him one day, long after we had finished school, in the supermarket where I lived. It was surreal and it went really fast. I was on my bike, cycling past the supermarket as he walked out. I was looking to see if it was really him and he recognized me first. "Hi!" he said enthousiastically. It stirred me to my very core. "Ehm...hi", I replied. When I came home, I threw around stuff in my room because I was so mad at myself for still feeling so overwhelmed by him.
It still is one of my biggest regrets, not telling him how I felt. After that experience I forced myself to be more open about my feelings whenever I fell in love. I had to, it was too painful not to, as I had experienced. A few years ago there was a reunion at my old school. I was determined to finally confront him. But he never showed.
So now, ever since, I've been having these recurring dreams. I dream that I see him and try to tell him how I felt about him all these years. The course of the dream is always different. Sometimes there's a happy ending. He tells me he always felt the same and we fall in love. And sometimes he is harsh, keeping me at a distance, and I am left feeling powerless. He is there, but I can't seem to reach him or draw his attention to tell him. Another happy ending is when I see him and we like each other and we fall in love and therefore it erases the past, I don't have to tell him anymore, he sort of already knows. The feeling I get when the ending is good is just so...freeing. It's such a relieve, it's a feeling like everything in my life falls into place.
So that's it. Last night I had another one of those dreams. But I don't remember exactly what happened. That's kind of a let-down, I know, but I wanted to tell you anyway. Next time I will give you more details. I could make a collection of Emile dreams.
I think it ended well though, last night. I woke up with a good feeling.
When I was about 13 years old I fell in love with this boy from my class. This wasn't a rare thing. I was in in and out of love very quickly and very, very often. But this crush, unlike other ones, lasted for a long time and it was very painful. His name was Emile. He had dark eyes, a dark complexion en long brown curls. He was a quiet guy, smart and rather brutal. I think this last trait kept him from being bullied. And of course the fact that he was utterly beautiful. People were kind of scared of him. Whenever something happened that he didn't like, he could snap easily. I saw him grab a guy's throat once for touching his lunchbox. But he could also be very charming and attentive, if he wanted to.
I believed there had to be something inside of him that was soft and profound. I knew he was the kind of boy that could love passionately. And I longed to be the object of that love. I longed for it so hard, it is impossible for me to believe that he never knew about it. I could stare at him for hours, contemplating his beauty. He must have known. How can you be in the same room with a person, feeling so much inside, without the other person noticing? I never told him anything about it. I feared his brutality also. He didn't refrain from using it on girls he didn't like. Not physically, just mentally. Sometimes, when I would try to get his attention, he would say something harsh and I would just...suffer in silence.
I did see his tender loving side come out eventually. There was this girl from another class. She was a tiny girl, beautiful, wearing the coolest clothes, listening to alternative songs. I had been right about him. He was tender and protective and loving. They lasted very long as a couple, until long after we finished school. I remember feeling so relieved when after a few years I heard they had broken up. So stupid and selfish to feel that way.
I also remember seeing him one day, long after we had finished school, in the supermarket where I lived. It was surreal and it went really fast. I was on my bike, cycling past the supermarket as he walked out. I was looking to see if it was really him and he recognized me first. "Hi!" he said enthousiastically. It stirred me to my very core. "Ehm...hi", I replied. When I came home, I threw around stuff in my room because I was so mad at myself for still feeling so overwhelmed by him.
It still is one of my biggest regrets, not telling him how I felt. After that experience I forced myself to be more open about my feelings whenever I fell in love. I had to, it was too painful not to, as I had experienced. A few years ago there was a reunion at my old school. I was determined to finally confront him. But he never showed.
So now, ever since, I've been having these recurring dreams. I dream that I see him and try to tell him how I felt about him all these years. The course of the dream is always different. Sometimes there's a happy ending. He tells me he always felt the same and we fall in love. And sometimes he is harsh, keeping me at a distance, and I am left feeling powerless. He is there, but I can't seem to reach him or draw his attention to tell him. Another happy ending is when I see him and we like each other and we fall in love and therefore it erases the past, I don't have to tell him anymore, he sort of already knows. The feeling I get when the ending is good is just so...freeing. It's such a relieve, it's a feeling like everything in my life falls into place.
So that's it. Last night I had another one of those dreams. But I don't remember exactly what happened. That's kind of a let-down, I know, but I wanted to tell you anyway. Next time I will give you more details. I could make a collection of Emile dreams.
I think it ended well though, last night. I woke up with a good feeling.
What's new?
- The snow has melted, finally. I can't believe I was getting used to having the world being covered in snow and ice.
- I took a class of Bikram Yoga, with my friend who aspires to become a graphic designer. We were sweating, almost fainted a couple of times and I'm still in pain now, but it also gave me a nice cleansing feeling. Afterwards she invited me for lunch at her place, we had delicious Turkish bread with all kinds of cheese and humous and salmon and we drank fresh mint tea. We talked about following our dreams and the fears we face in life.
- I have been very responsible, filling out all sorts of tax forms, paying bills and stuff.
- The flowers my sister bought me (see picture) came out really beautiful.
- I'm starting to have more fun at my work, I silently hoping it's becoming the job I hoped for when I started out.
- Prelude to a kiss was on TV last night. I used to love this film and I fell in love all over with it again.
- I just "customized" my blog into the beautiful lay-out it has right now.
- I know I have to work on my assignment! But there are these beautiful dried-out roses lying on the table, from the bouquet I got from my previous work. I think I'll get to that first, as soon as I finally take a shower and brush my teeth.
- This song is making me so cheerful! Just look at them, they're having so much fun dancing and singing! I love her voice and that extremely cute guy next to her. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwH0BxtbeEA
Sunday, February 14, 2010
First assignment
I'm giving myself an assignment for this week. Just something fun to do and to work on. I have to make a drawing/collage/comic about my morning rituals. I'll show you the result by the end of this week.
I'm having so much fun with this blog already! This was a very good idea. It feels very different from writing in my journal. It feels like I'm sharing, writing for an audience. I know there's not really an audience, which is good, because I would feel the pressure and worry about how I come across. But it's an easier way to pretend that there's an audience. Good.
I'm having so much fun with this blog already! This was a very good idea. It feels very different from writing in my journal. It feels like I'm sharing, writing for an audience. I know there's not really an audience, which is good, because I would feel the pressure and worry about how I come across. But it's an easier way to pretend that there's an audience. Good.
Damsel in distress
Yesterday a friend of mine had a birthday party. Some time before it started, I got in the right mood. I am not the kind of women that spends a lot of time on her looks. But yesterday I felt like looking beautiful, in my own way. I braided my hear, put on a black dress, added some colour to my outfit, put on some make-up. I was singing to the music, dancing through the livingroom. I used to do this very often when I was younger. It felt good doing it again, going to all this trouble just to look beautiful. Spending time to look beautiful, like I was my own work of art.
And it worked, I did look beautiful according to my own standards. So now I have this really bad habit: Flirting. It's a bad habit in the first place because I have a boyfriend, so basically it's really not done. And it feels like a an addiction, like a craving. Is it just vanity? I crave the attention of men, the fantasy of what could happen between two people when they fall in love. Or just being looked at, being seen by a stranger. Maybe because strangers tend to pass each other by on the street without looking. When they look up at each other, something special happens between them, the start of a connection. You become aware of an other person who is totally new to you, ready to be explored. And if for one thing, I just love people. I love what they are made of, every single fiber of their character is interesting to me. I often get told that I tend to idealize. This is true, I guess. I always think the best of people, I fill out the blanks with my own wishes and dreams about what this person could be. This can also be in a negative way. Whenever someone has ruined it for me, I tend to characterize them as a bad person, interpreting every move they make in their evil nature. It's just fantasizing, but I do know how to read people. I fantasize about them, like they were characters in my fantasy-stories, but when it comes to knowing what they are like, I do get that right most of the time.
So anyway. We went out dancing. I love to do that. But this was an uninspired dancing evening. The music was too abstract for me. I don't like that thumping DJ-music. I like to dance and sing to the songs I know and hear on the radio. And there were no connections being made. Every group of friends was dancing on their own little island without really looking around them. I had fun on our island, but it wasn't what I had hoped for. I did get some remarks from my female friends that I looked like a princess, or a maiden from the middle-ages. I was flattered. But as I was looking around, I figured that's not something men like anymore. They like hot babes showing a lot of skin, ready to lie down on their beds. I was in the wrong place (and time for that matter). So I decided to leave early.
I walked outside, trying to remember where I left by bike. When I found it, I noticed that someone had attached their bike to mine using a chain-lock. Shit! I stood their figuring it out. This meant I had to try to go back inside and stay until very late, hoping the other person would have left by the time I left again. I really didn't want to go back to that uninspired party, I wanted to go home and sleep! And then the question was of course if they would let me in at all, because they don't tend to do that very easily. That meant I would have to walk home and pick up my bike tomorrow, or something. As I was standing there thinking all this, someone cycled past me and hit the brakes. I heard a voice asking: "Can't find your bike?" I looked up. There was a guy in a grey long coat, a grey bonnet on his head and light-green eyes. He was looking seriously concerned. "It's right here, but someone attached their bike to mine, so now I can't leave." "Oh, that's even worse," he said with sympathy in his voice. "Look", I said, and I showed him the chain. And as I showed him the chain, I realized something. The chain of the other bike was only attached to my chain. So if I would unlock my own chain, the other bike would no longer be attached to mine. "Wait!", I said, "If I unlock my own chain I can leave, I wasn't thinking logically! Thank you!" I cried out. "I didn't do anything." This wasn't really a charming type of guy with a sense of humour. He actually sounded confused saying it, like he thought something was wrong with me or if I was drunk. But I was really grateful. Because I knew that if he hadn't stopped, I would have looked twice at my lock to realize that I could just leave. I would have stayed stuck in my own thoughts about how to go home without my bike. "No, I am grateful," I said. "It's nice when someone asks you if you're okay when you're looking confused." He was still looking at me like I wasn't going to be okay on my own. "Do you have to go far?" he asked. I paused for a moment, asking myself if it was safe for me to tell him where I was going. I told him approximately which street I was going to. "So it depends on where you live exactly, because it's a pretty long street." This was very true and I realized my answer was a bit stupid, so I started rambling. "Yeah, it's not that far really, I used to live very far on the same street, but since a year or so...blabla." "Okay," he said. "So, goodnight." I was actually surprised and a little disappointed. I thought he wanted to offer me to go together. "Yeah, you too," I answered, and then he went away, in the same direction I had to go. I followed behind him, asking myself if I should try to catch up with him and ask him if he would join me. But he was fast. I saw the backlight of his bike shining before me and it made me feel safe. The fact that he was there made me feel safe and not alone. I lost him along the road. But whenever I saw a little red light pop up before me, I imagined it was him again, making sure I arrived home safely. I was so grateful. I realized I had been a damsel in distress that night after all. Not in the sense of princesses and princes though. It was just one person looking after another in a world of strangers.
And it worked, I did look beautiful according to my own standards. So now I have this really bad habit: Flirting. It's a bad habit in the first place because I have a boyfriend, so basically it's really not done. And it feels like a an addiction, like a craving. Is it just vanity? I crave the attention of men, the fantasy of what could happen between two people when they fall in love. Or just being looked at, being seen by a stranger. Maybe because strangers tend to pass each other by on the street without looking. When they look up at each other, something special happens between them, the start of a connection. You become aware of an other person who is totally new to you, ready to be explored. And if for one thing, I just love people. I love what they are made of, every single fiber of their character is interesting to me. I often get told that I tend to idealize. This is true, I guess. I always think the best of people, I fill out the blanks with my own wishes and dreams about what this person could be. This can also be in a negative way. Whenever someone has ruined it for me, I tend to characterize them as a bad person, interpreting every move they make in their evil nature. It's just fantasizing, but I do know how to read people. I fantasize about them, like they were characters in my fantasy-stories, but when it comes to knowing what they are like, I do get that right most of the time.
So anyway. We went out dancing. I love to do that. But this was an uninspired dancing evening. The music was too abstract for me. I don't like that thumping DJ-music. I like to dance and sing to the songs I know and hear on the radio. And there were no connections being made. Every group of friends was dancing on their own little island without really looking around them. I had fun on our island, but it wasn't what I had hoped for. I did get some remarks from my female friends that I looked like a princess, or a maiden from the middle-ages. I was flattered. But as I was looking around, I figured that's not something men like anymore. They like hot babes showing a lot of skin, ready to lie down on their beds. I was in the wrong place (and time for that matter). So I decided to leave early.
I walked outside, trying to remember where I left by bike. When I found it, I noticed that someone had attached their bike to mine using a chain-lock. Shit! I stood their figuring it out. This meant I had to try to go back inside and stay until very late, hoping the other person would have left by the time I left again. I really didn't want to go back to that uninspired party, I wanted to go home and sleep! And then the question was of course if they would let me in at all, because they don't tend to do that very easily. That meant I would have to walk home and pick up my bike tomorrow, or something. As I was standing there thinking all this, someone cycled past me and hit the brakes. I heard a voice asking: "Can't find your bike?" I looked up. There was a guy in a grey long coat, a grey bonnet on his head and light-green eyes. He was looking seriously concerned. "It's right here, but someone attached their bike to mine, so now I can't leave." "Oh, that's even worse," he said with sympathy in his voice. "Look", I said, and I showed him the chain. And as I showed him the chain, I realized something. The chain of the other bike was only attached to my chain. So if I would unlock my own chain, the other bike would no longer be attached to mine. "Wait!", I said, "If I unlock my own chain I can leave, I wasn't thinking logically! Thank you!" I cried out. "I didn't do anything." This wasn't really a charming type of guy with a sense of humour. He actually sounded confused saying it, like he thought something was wrong with me or if I was drunk. But I was really grateful. Because I knew that if he hadn't stopped, I would have looked twice at my lock to realize that I could just leave. I would have stayed stuck in my own thoughts about how to go home without my bike. "No, I am grateful," I said. "It's nice when someone asks you if you're okay when you're looking confused." He was still looking at me like I wasn't going to be okay on my own. "Do you have to go far?" he asked. I paused for a moment, asking myself if it was safe for me to tell him where I was going. I told him approximately which street I was going to. "So it depends on where you live exactly, because it's a pretty long street." This was very true and I realized my answer was a bit stupid, so I started rambling. "Yeah, it's not that far really, I used to live very far on the same street, but since a year or so...blabla." "Okay," he said. "So, goodnight." I was actually surprised and a little disappointed. I thought he wanted to offer me to go together. "Yeah, you too," I answered, and then he went away, in the same direction I had to go. I followed behind him, asking myself if I should try to catch up with him and ask him if he would join me. But he was fast. I saw the backlight of his bike shining before me and it made me feel safe. The fact that he was there made me feel safe and not alone. I lost him along the road. But whenever I saw a little red light pop up before me, I imagined it was him again, making sure I arrived home safely. I was so grateful. I realized I had been a damsel in distress that night after all. Not in the sense of princesses and princes though. It was just one person looking after another in a world of strangers.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Keri Smith
Keri Smith is always there to help me with inspiration. This simple drawing is so to the point for me. It's obvious I'm spending way too much time on the left side of the drawing. I'll try to move toward the right part...
The Beginning
Starting a blog. It feels as though I should have a purpose or a goal. Like that women in Julie/Julia cooking a recipe from a book every day. I guess the whole reason for me to start a blog anyway is the fact that my life totally lacks of a purpose or a goal. I wish I had a purpose or a goal, but I don't.
Okay, maybe that's not entirely true, maybe I'm not being entirely honest. And being honest in this blog is actually kind of a goal. Brutally, fiercefully, nakedly, vulnerably honest. Maybe I should tell you a little bit about myself in that same honest fashion.
I am a girl/women aged 27 living in The Netherlands. There's really nothing special about me. Which I guess is part of the problem. When I was growing up, like everyone in Western civilisation, I was taught that it was important to stand out, to leave a legacy to the world, to show your unique qualities and develop and celebrate them.
And I tried, I really did. I went to acting schools, singing classes, auditioned for plays, hell I was even part of a completely flopped television show, a sort of Idols for actors. And the funny thing is, I got pretty far all those times. So why did I give it up? There are so many reasons for that I guess. I didn't like the people I encoutered doing this, mostly. They were self-absorbed, egotistic, manipulative, unkind. I didn't like the feeling of failure and the shame of being rejected. I didn't like being monitored, being on a schedule, being judged. I didn't feel like I was really expressing myself, I was busy pleasing others (which is something I'm good at, that's probably why I got far in the first place).
So now here I am, 27 years old, feeling guilty about my ordinaryness. I find it often hard to live in this world. To be so responsable for living a life of fulfillment and happiness. Because it's not working so hot for me and I know it's all my fault. I love those fantasy/fairytale movies where the main hero receives a message about some problem that he or she needs solve. Destroying a ring, kissing a princess awake, things like that. The quest they have to take is a burden to bear but to me it looks like a blessing. I'm still waiting for my message to arrive. What would Frodo be doing if it wasn't for that stupid ring? He longs to go back to his ordinary life all the time, but I think that's only because of the fact that he is away. It seems hardly possible to enjoy the ordinary when you're not moving forward.
Enjoying the ordinary, being happy with the things you have in life, is something I feel I should be doing. Which is part of my feeling guilty. Off course I am aware of the fact that I have the basic stuff figured out. I have a big love in my life, which is a great source of happiness and which is already more than most people can say. I'm healty, my family and friends are healthy, I have a house and I earn a little money, just enough to be able to live a normal life. Why then, do I feel this restlessness?
My boyfriend is the kind of person that knows how to enjoy the ordinary. He is such a happy person by nature, which is off course part of why I love him so much. But it makes it hard for us to understand each other also. Sometimes when we fight, which is mostly due to my restlessness, he blames me for being ungrateful, for being so hard to please, for being jealous of his easiness. And I blame him for his lazyness, lack of responsibility and depth. It doesn't matter. We always make up. But the words do get stuck in my head. They hit me at my weak spot. I do feel ungrateful, hard to please and jealous of his easiness. But is this my nature? I don't believe it is...
The last couple of years I have behaved very responsible. After finishing my thesis for University, I started working immediately, earning money, paying my debts (which are pretty heavy considering the great amount of time I took educating myself, which was really a happy time, a time I had a quest: graduating). 5 days a week. Working is really not the same as going to school. Going to school is learning new, interesting stuff, being together with your friends in a classroom, being inpired by teachers. Working is doing the same stuff routinely every day, for a boss who is out to earn as much money as he can. Or at least, that's my experience. I am sometimes suprised by the complete lack of energy I experienced the last years. But then again, when I read this, I can't even imagine that I was able to do it for 2,5 years.
I was able, in the midst of being a responsible robot, to become aware of the fact that I needed to escape. I felt that many times actually. Whenever I went on vacation and cried my eyes out because I never wanted to go back. Or whenever I spent my time being entirely absorbed by a film or book or series and then crying my eyes out at the ending because I never wanted to go back to my normal life. It's so sad, I feel so sad admitting this, writing this. But it's the truth. And the thing that also makes it sad, is that there are many names for the thing I have, because a lot of people have it. I get shivers down my spine of horror whenever I fit the perfect profile for a person with a 30-ers dilemma. It really doesn't make me feel any better knowing that. It makes me feel even more ordinary, even more of a loser.
So now, a couple of weeks ago, I made my real escape, carefully. Nothing big, like packing my bags and running to Brazil on my own. I just gave up my job and traded it for a new one for only 3 days a week. That means that for the biggest part of the week, I don't have to work. Which is weird. The object was to "do the things I like" for that part of the week. To not feel like such a robot anymore. But I'm procrastinating. I'm doing the things I have to do first, like washing dishes, laundry, just like I was taught, first work and then play.
But the playing part isn't arriving, I'm waiting for it to begin, but its like I've forgotten how. I feel like my soul is a dried-out plant. I can't grow by myself anymore. I desperately need some water, somebody water my soul, please. Next to the chores I have to do, I'm watching TV, eating chocolate, sleeping. That's not playing. You could say I need this watching TV etc. to reboot. But no, deep down I know that's not what I need. I need a wake-up call. I need, I desperately need and long for something profoundly inspiring. Do you know that feeling of being profoundly inspired? When you watch that movie that says everything there is to say about your life, when you hear that song that makes your blood pump faster, when you read the words that your soul recognizes? It's a feeling of being whole, of feeling one with the universe, of being close to God. And feeling that I need it is a start, it really is. Because when I'm a robot, I don't even long for it. My soul forgets all about it.
And now for the honest truth about my goal or purpose or lack thereoff. If I am completely honest, I want to be a person who makes that kind of inspiring stuff. I want it, because I want to give people that feeling, that inspired feeling of being one with the universe. I want to be an artist. This is all I ever wanted and it's my big struggle, it has always been, my entire life. Some people just are artists. They just do it. I am just struggling, fighting with myself all the time. I don't do anything artistic, I just find ways to get in the way of doing what I love.
So here I am. Writing a blog about it. Hoping for a change. I hope this blog will document that change. I will collect and write about things that inspire me. And then I will write how I'm doing. If I'm getting better at doing the things I like, if I'm finding ways to express myself in a better way, if I'm ready to inspire others by doing that.
Thank you for reading.
Okay, maybe that's not entirely true, maybe I'm not being entirely honest. And being honest in this blog is actually kind of a goal. Brutally, fiercefully, nakedly, vulnerably honest. Maybe I should tell you a little bit about myself in that same honest fashion.
I am a girl/women aged 27 living in The Netherlands. There's really nothing special about me. Which I guess is part of the problem. When I was growing up, like everyone in Western civilisation, I was taught that it was important to stand out, to leave a legacy to the world, to show your unique qualities and develop and celebrate them.
And I tried, I really did. I went to acting schools, singing classes, auditioned for plays, hell I was even part of a completely flopped television show, a sort of Idols for actors. And the funny thing is, I got pretty far all those times. So why did I give it up? There are so many reasons for that I guess. I didn't like the people I encoutered doing this, mostly. They were self-absorbed, egotistic, manipulative, unkind. I didn't like the feeling of failure and the shame of being rejected. I didn't like being monitored, being on a schedule, being judged. I didn't feel like I was really expressing myself, I was busy pleasing others (which is something I'm good at, that's probably why I got far in the first place).
So now here I am, 27 years old, feeling guilty about my ordinaryness. I find it often hard to live in this world. To be so responsable for living a life of fulfillment and happiness. Because it's not working so hot for me and I know it's all my fault. I love those fantasy/fairytale movies where the main hero receives a message about some problem that he or she needs solve. Destroying a ring, kissing a princess awake, things like that. The quest they have to take is a burden to bear but to me it looks like a blessing. I'm still waiting for my message to arrive. What would Frodo be doing if it wasn't for that stupid ring? He longs to go back to his ordinary life all the time, but I think that's only because of the fact that he is away. It seems hardly possible to enjoy the ordinary when you're not moving forward.
Enjoying the ordinary, being happy with the things you have in life, is something I feel I should be doing. Which is part of my feeling guilty. Off course I am aware of the fact that I have the basic stuff figured out. I have a big love in my life, which is a great source of happiness and which is already more than most people can say. I'm healty, my family and friends are healthy, I have a house and I earn a little money, just enough to be able to live a normal life. Why then, do I feel this restlessness?
My boyfriend is the kind of person that knows how to enjoy the ordinary. He is such a happy person by nature, which is off course part of why I love him so much. But it makes it hard for us to understand each other also. Sometimes when we fight, which is mostly due to my restlessness, he blames me for being ungrateful, for being so hard to please, for being jealous of his easiness. And I blame him for his lazyness, lack of responsibility and depth. It doesn't matter. We always make up. But the words do get stuck in my head. They hit me at my weak spot. I do feel ungrateful, hard to please and jealous of his easiness. But is this my nature? I don't believe it is...
The last couple of years I have behaved very responsible. After finishing my thesis for University, I started working immediately, earning money, paying my debts (which are pretty heavy considering the great amount of time I took educating myself, which was really a happy time, a time I had a quest: graduating). 5 days a week. Working is really not the same as going to school. Going to school is learning new, interesting stuff, being together with your friends in a classroom, being inpired by teachers. Working is doing the same stuff routinely every day, for a boss who is out to earn as much money as he can. Or at least, that's my experience. I am sometimes suprised by the complete lack of energy I experienced the last years. But then again, when I read this, I can't even imagine that I was able to do it for 2,5 years.
I was able, in the midst of being a responsible robot, to become aware of the fact that I needed to escape. I felt that many times actually. Whenever I went on vacation and cried my eyes out because I never wanted to go back. Or whenever I spent my time being entirely absorbed by a film or book or series and then crying my eyes out at the ending because I never wanted to go back to my normal life. It's so sad, I feel so sad admitting this, writing this. But it's the truth. And the thing that also makes it sad, is that there are many names for the thing I have, because a lot of people have it. I get shivers down my spine of horror whenever I fit the perfect profile for a person with a 30-ers dilemma. It really doesn't make me feel any better knowing that. It makes me feel even more ordinary, even more of a loser.
So now, a couple of weeks ago, I made my real escape, carefully. Nothing big, like packing my bags and running to Brazil on my own. I just gave up my job and traded it for a new one for only 3 days a week. That means that for the biggest part of the week, I don't have to work. Which is weird. The object was to "do the things I like" for that part of the week. To not feel like such a robot anymore. But I'm procrastinating. I'm doing the things I have to do first, like washing dishes, laundry, just like I was taught, first work and then play.
But the playing part isn't arriving, I'm waiting for it to begin, but its like I've forgotten how. I feel like my soul is a dried-out plant. I can't grow by myself anymore. I desperately need some water, somebody water my soul, please. Next to the chores I have to do, I'm watching TV, eating chocolate, sleeping. That's not playing. You could say I need this watching TV etc. to reboot. But no, deep down I know that's not what I need. I need a wake-up call. I need, I desperately need and long for something profoundly inspiring. Do you know that feeling of being profoundly inspired? When you watch that movie that says everything there is to say about your life, when you hear that song that makes your blood pump faster, when you read the words that your soul recognizes? It's a feeling of being whole, of feeling one with the universe, of being close to God. And feeling that I need it is a start, it really is. Because when I'm a robot, I don't even long for it. My soul forgets all about it.
And now for the honest truth about my goal or purpose or lack thereoff. If I am completely honest, I want to be a person who makes that kind of inspiring stuff. I want it, because I want to give people that feeling, that inspired feeling of being one with the universe. I want to be an artist. This is all I ever wanted and it's my big struggle, it has always been, my entire life. Some people just are artists. They just do it. I am just struggling, fighting with myself all the time. I don't do anything artistic, I just find ways to get in the way of doing what I love.
So here I am. Writing a blog about it. Hoping for a change. I hope this blog will document that change. I will collect and write about things that inspire me. And then I will write how I'm doing. If I'm getting better at doing the things I like, if I'm finding ways to express myself in a better way, if I'm ready to inspire others by doing that.
Thank you for reading.
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