Two separate pieces, one in English and one in Dutch, both about and dedicated to Alexander. I can't help myself.
Not quite yet.
I’m still counting the months, like I always do. I’m still dreaming away, as usual. My head’s still full with thoughts and my mind is still reeling. I can be distracted. I will be distracted. It’s not work. Work is from 9.30 am to 12.00 pm. Then I empty my mind again. The next block of work is from 1.00 pm to 6.00 pm. Usually I start pouring my thoughts earlier. I get distracted. Gladly.
He’s still in my head. I feel sorry for those who attempt to break into my head and heart. They’re only occasionally in my head and even less in my heart. He’s still in my heart.
He’s a fairy tale, a bad story, a prince. He’s still pulling at my heart strings. He’s even playing me. An impressive deed for a dead guy. My prince on the white horse? I don’t think so. Rather my white prince who used to talk to horses.
Business like, I direct my thoughts onto other paths. I think up mission statements and I try to define our views and our ambitions. Nothing personal, nothing private, nothing to do with him. Work is from 9.30 am till 6.00 pm. When I walk away I poor my head and my heart. He’s still there waiting for me.
Empty hands. A still heart. Haunted eyes. A long time ago.
Empty hands. A pounding heart. Dreaming eyes. Every evening.
I’m still counting the months. I’m not done yet.
Not quite yet.
Het is een vuur dat in alle hevigheid doorwoedt. Ongecontrolleerd raast het door het landschap van mijn hart en snijdt het alle strategieen de pas af. Ik heb geen uitleg voor wat ik voel, noch voor de redenen, het waarom. Ik heb geen woorden voor het stomme toeval dat hem in mijn zichtveld plaatste, of voor de tekenen aan de wand die wij nu zo hardnekkig negeren. Het alles dat wij nooit zullen hebben. Er is niets dat wij ooit zullen delen.
Vooral de eerste week was heftig. Zo heftig zelfs dat ik me zorgen ging maken. Ik die sowieso in slaap valt met denkbeeldige vrienden en dan, na langzaam wakker te zijn geworden, diezelfde vrienden weer naar voren haalt. Zelfs ik was niet voorbereid op de overweldigendheid waarmee Alexander zich op mijn netvlies vestigde en zich voortdurend aan me opdrong.
Showing posts with label fantasies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasies. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
If Eels Could Fly
Attempts to order my thoughts have not been successful. I’ve been juggling my thoughts, dreams and ideas for several months now.
I made a promise to think and blog about ‘Happiness’. I started a new obsession for ‘Alan Rickman’. I started a new little personal project concerning commercializing ‘Forums’. I’ve been modelling my dreams combining all above mentioned. Even my dreams are not structured at this point. It feels like throwing balls in choice directions and seeing where they’ll land without avoiding breaking windows. I might have broken a few, but the neighbours stayed inside. Maybe later there is hell to pay.
I have not been successful in structuring my thoughts, ideas and dreams, but I have been trying to live my life according.
I will approach everything in a positive way refusing to let anything make me unhappy. If I want to be happy I’m the one having to do the job or accepting the situation.
Every day I read forums and check their layout and readability. Ideas come up automatically and if I don’t forget I will write them down in my business proposal.
I am trying to structure my dreams, but like always I let them flow. Sometimes I’m close and I know what I’m longing for. Sometimes it’s completely ridiculous and going nowhere. Then again, dreaming about being in love with a man my mom’s age is a weird and awkward thing to do. I’m strung up nonetheless.
It all has to do with getting there. All three corner stones. Getting where I am comfortable for the next step, the next stage of fight. Like always. New ideals, new insights, adjusted opinion. There we go again.
Here’s the thing about Happiness:
Happiness is for a part a choice. I made a promise to myself to be happy, no matter what. There are always things in life worth experiencing, meeting, doing, living. Instead of dwell upon the bad things, I choose to seek the light; the things that make me feel good about me, about my surroundings and about the situations I’m finding myself in. It’s not time consuming, it’s only a fraction of a second to remind me. It’s my surviving mechanism; without I will dwell upon all that’s bad and I won’t move, I won’t leave my bed and I will die easy. It’s not worth it, it really isn’t. So I seek for the light and I move from light to light. Whenever it’s dark I will look forward and see what I can do to get there. If the money is not there, your loved ones are. If your loved ones are leaving you for heaven, your memories are there. If your memories are bad, there is always hope for a better life in the future. But you’re going to have to let it. If only you really want to, you can be happy no matter what and it won’t take you a second.
I can’t think of a better way to explain why I think it’s not true Happiness is a luxury. Though it does require a certain of understanding, or an epiphany.
I made a promise to think and blog about ‘Happiness’. I started a new obsession for ‘Alan Rickman’. I started a new little personal project concerning commercializing ‘Forums’. I’ve been modelling my dreams combining all above mentioned. Even my dreams are not structured at this point. It feels like throwing balls in choice directions and seeing where they’ll land without avoiding breaking windows. I might have broken a few, but the neighbours stayed inside. Maybe later there is hell to pay.
I have not been successful in structuring my thoughts, ideas and dreams, but I have been trying to live my life according.
I will approach everything in a positive way refusing to let anything make me unhappy. If I want to be happy I’m the one having to do the job or accepting the situation.
Every day I read forums and check their layout and readability. Ideas come up automatically and if I don’t forget I will write them down in my business proposal.
I am trying to structure my dreams, but like always I let them flow. Sometimes I’m close and I know what I’m longing for. Sometimes it’s completely ridiculous and going nowhere. Then again, dreaming about being in love with a man my mom’s age is a weird and awkward thing to do. I’m strung up nonetheless.
It all has to do with getting there. All three corner stones. Getting where I am comfortable for the next step, the next stage of fight. Like always. New ideals, new insights, adjusted opinion. There we go again.
Here’s the thing about Happiness:
Happiness is for a part a choice. I made a promise to myself to be happy, no matter what. There are always things in life worth experiencing, meeting, doing, living. Instead of dwell upon the bad things, I choose to seek the light; the things that make me feel good about me, about my surroundings and about the situations I’m finding myself in. It’s not time consuming, it’s only a fraction of a second to remind me. It’s my surviving mechanism; without I will dwell upon all that’s bad and I won’t move, I won’t leave my bed and I will die easy. It’s not worth it, it really isn’t. So I seek for the light and I move from light to light. Whenever it’s dark I will look forward and see what I can do to get there. If the money is not there, your loved ones are. If your loved ones are leaving you for heaven, your memories are there. If your memories are bad, there is always hope for a better life in the future. But you’re going to have to let it. If only you really want to, you can be happy no matter what and it won’t take you a second.
I can’t think of a better way to explain why I think it’s not true Happiness is a luxury. Though it does require a certain of understanding, or an epiphany.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Reply to Hannah
I have in common to that girl that the characters in my dreamworld are dearer to me than most in my real life. That's hardly weird; why would you make up friends you don't even like? And I have in common that I sometimes prefer to stay in my dreamworld, but I wouldn't ever retreat completely into my dreamworld, cause the truth is that I am alive in a real world where I have to live. I also have some storylines happening parellel to my actual life, but it's never the same and I am careful in keeping the two apart. My fantasies and dreams are based on reality, but will always stay fictional.
You remember that blog I wrote about my fantasies?
As of now, I am actually pretty much being me, as you can tell from the previous blog. Pretty much baring my soul there. Nothing pretended, not fiction. But my shadow-me is there as well. She is just as much struggling as I am. She is just as bored as I am. She however will go out tonight and celebrate while playing out all her excesses while I will be going home, play Farmville and Cafe World on Facebook and watch two episodes of Frasier. She might get fired while I'm trying to wriggle myself into a possible new project. Things will look up for me, while she might end up knocked up and in the gutter.
Anyway, all I'm really saying is, I'm using my dreamworld to remain a little sane and to explore the problems I am having in the real world.
You remember that blog I wrote about my fantasies?
As of now, I am actually pretty much being me, as you can tell from the previous blog. Pretty much baring my soul there. Nothing pretended, not fiction. But my shadow-me is there as well. She is just as much struggling as I am. She is just as bored as I am. She however will go out tonight and celebrate while playing out all her excesses while I will be going home, play Farmville and Cafe World on Facebook and watch two episodes of Frasier. She might get fired while I'm trying to wriggle myself into a possible new project. Things will look up for me, while she might end up knocked up and in the gutter.
Anyway, all I'm really saying is, I'm using my dreamworld to remain a little sane and to explore the problems I am having in the real world.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Storytellers
My life has always been supported by my rich fantasy. When I was a little kid I had a fantasy friend called ‘Anders’ (‘Different’ in English). Since it’s been such a long time, I’m not sure why I called him Anders, maybe because he was different from the kids in my real life with whom I couldn’t get along very well. I think, though, the name sounded nice and beautiful to me when I named him.
I recall vaguely his (fantasized) presence, but not the things we did together, or the stories I made up to be his history. I do recall my mom being worried about it, and the doctor saying it was pretty normal for a girl my age. Both my mom and the doctor were convinced I would grow over it; I never did.
The memories of my childhood are pretty foggy. I remember mainly my moods or the way I felt in a certain situation. I do not recall all the characters I made up in my youth, but there are many. After Anders I didn’t constrain myself to only one character, but I started to make up complete communities. Some I was, some I wanted to be, and others were just cool friends or passerby’s. The only thing they got in common is the reason of their birth; my dreams for other situations than the one I was living in.
When I got into my teens, the birth of some of my characters changed. Their becoming, not the reason. The characters I made up from that point on where often based on existing persons, like the members of Take That or my first teenage crush. The stories I made up became more lively and exciting. But I was still wishing for and dreaming about. I still pictured the girl I wanted to be, not the girl I was.
Another remarkable trait was that all of my characters always were a little older than I was. I remember my main character being 16 while I was 13. She was one of the faces on a girl’s magazine and she looked like my cousin who must have been 16 at the time.
I remember a variety of characters passing by when I was 18 to 20 while all the characters were female and somewhere along the line of the age of 25.
I also started to make up (boy)friends who were, usually, all born in 1978. The one who stuck was Roy. I loved Roy very much. So much, that any guy called Roy was preferred over any other guy. Unfortunately, I had to cut Roy off, and he died in June 2006 of cancer. Roy had a boyfriend Noah (oh yeah, a lot of the guys are gay or at least bisexual). Noah is now one of my best friend and a steady force. He calms me when I’m feeling down, frustrated or plain mad. Another friend I made up is Maximilian. He’s such a sweety and a great friend. I love him to death. Max is a little younger than Noah; he was born in 1979 while Noah is born in the usual year of 1978.
Even today I’m still fantasizing, and still I’m fantasizing of what I want. This results in Noah and Max being my twin boys. Sometimes I picked the names, because I love the names, and sometimes I named them after my dear friends.
And sometimes you get inspired and they amaze and touch you in a way you never expected. Maybe it’s because I want them to, and maybe because they are really that damn talented. Or maybe they experienced and described situations and feelings I experienced; the things that speak to me. They end up in my fantasies as well. They become my friends, but we’re not best friends, cause I’m aware of the distance between us; be it a physical distance or psychological distance. It’s a different kind of friendship, one not quite existing.
I’m well aware they are my fantasy and stand apart from the public persons John Mayer and Jason Mraz who are celebrated in real life. I am aware the things I make them crave for or act like are possibly the opposite of the things they really crave for or act like. It’s my take on their reality; it’s my reality fantasy.
And then they say or do something which complements my story about them even better than I could ever make it up. It blows me away time after time. Many a time it lightened my mood, and sometimes I even wept. It always was mind blowing. Weird.
Whatever it is, or whatever brings my fantasized world together with their worlds of music, I love it and I will keep on fantasizing.
I recall vaguely his (fantasized) presence, but not the things we did together, or the stories I made up to be his history. I do recall my mom being worried about it, and the doctor saying it was pretty normal for a girl my age. Both my mom and the doctor were convinced I would grow over it; I never did.
The memories of my childhood are pretty foggy. I remember mainly my moods or the way I felt in a certain situation. I do not recall all the characters I made up in my youth, but there are many. After Anders I didn’t constrain myself to only one character, but I started to make up complete communities. Some I was, some I wanted to be, and others were just cool friends or passerby’s. The only thing they got in common is the reason of their birth; my dreams for other situations than the one I was living in.
When I got into my teens, the birth of some of my characters changed. Their becoming, not the reason. The characters I made up from that point on where often based on existing persons, like the members of Take That or my first teenage crush. The stories I made up became more lively and exciting. But I was still wishing for and dreaming about. I still pictured the girl I wanted to be, not the girl I was.
Another remarkable trait was that all of my characters always were a little older than I was. I remember my main character being 16 while I was 13. She was one of the faces on a girl’s magazine and she looked like my cousin who must have been 16 at the time.
I remember a variety of characters passing by when I was 18 to 20 while all the characters were female and somewhere along the line of the age of 25.
I also started to make up (boy)friends who were, usually, all born in 1978. The one who stuck was Roy. I loved Roy very much. So much, that any guy called Roy was preferred over any other guy. Unfortunately, I had to cut Roy off, and he died in June 2006 of cancer. Roy had a boyfriend Noah (oh yeah, a lot of the guys are gay or at least bisexual). Noah is now one of my best friend and a steady force. He calms me when I’m feeling down, frustrated or plain mad. Another friend I made up is Maximilian. He’s such a sweety and a great friend. I love him to death. Max is a little younger than Noah; he was born in 1979 while Noah is born in the usual year of 1978.
Even today I’m still fantasizing, and still I’m fantasizing of what I want. This results in Noah and Max being my twin boys. Sometimes I picked the names, because I love the names, and sometimes I named them after my dear friends.
And sometimes you get inspired and they amaze and touch you in a way you never expected. Maybe it’s because I want them to, and maybe because they are really that damn talented. Or maybe they experienced and described situations and feelings I experienced; the things that speak to me. They end up in my fantasies as well. They become my friends, but we’re not best friends, cause I’m aware of the distance between us; be it a physical distance or psychological distance. It’s a different kind of friendship, one not quite existing.
I’m well aware they are my fantasy and stand apart from the public persons John Mayer and Jason Mraz who are celebrated in real life. I am aware the things I make them crave for or act like are possibly the opposite of the things they really crave for or act like. It’s my take on their reality; it’s my reality fantasy.
And then they say or do something which complements my story about them even better than I could ever make it up. It blows me away time after time. Many a time it lightened my mood, and sometimes I even wept. It always was mind blowing. Weird.
Whatever it is, or whatever brings my fantasized world together with their worlds of music, I love it and I will keep on fantasizing.
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