I'm a pretty verbal person.
(In case you hadn't noticed)
I basically write for a living. Sure, there's strategy development and people management and negotiations and kicking suppliers' asses and giving feedback to people who don't want it - but in the end, it's about the words. How do I tell this? How do I validate our actions? How do I explain the past, the future, the present? What's the right tone of voice, the right phrasing, the right timing? How can I use what's been said to our advantage?
And you're right, it's boring. I should have become a YA novel writer.
Girl meets boy through intergalactic wormhole, girl turns out to be in a coma dreaming of boy wonder who came out of a wormhole, boy struggles with the side effects of being a celebrity in his own world, turns out boy made up girl in order to cope. Which reality is 'real'? And who is behind the control panel?
That kind of crap.
Or just any dystopia as a backdrop to blossoming teenage love. Ka-ching.
But I digress. Like I said - verbal.
I like people. I use words with people to get to know them. To find out what makes them tick. To find out how I feel about them. To see if I can catch them off guard. It gets awesome when they catch me off guard. Challenge me. When they are smarter than I am. Or when they present a perspective that I haven't seen yet.
I talk all day. To friends, because my friends are my salvation. To family, because I can't shake them. To co-workers, because I have to. To my son, because he is the most important person on the planet. And sometimes, I even listen. Give feedback. Use words to comfort them, put them at ease, give them new ideas, picture a mirror for them when they need it.
I like talking. In Dutch, I don't even suck at it. I am surrounded with people who are very willing and capable of talking with me. In conclusion, I am a blessed person.
Yet, I miss something. I miss crawling up to that person I can be absolutely non-verbal with. Not say anything. Be held. Hold in return. Shutting the hell up. Really, truly and thoroughly relax with. Breathing out without having to get enough oxygen back in for another sentence. Another story. Another explanation.
Be content. Be at peace. Just be.
I guess I don't miss that something, but I miss that someone. Never did before, but now I do.
In that absence, I'm choosing to talk about it.
Isn't that ironic?
Thursday, February 18, 2016
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Americana - part one.
Apparently, I only blog once a year. It's a pattern. Oh, and it's naturally another one in which I contemplate all things American, so feel free to close this window now.
I recently (end of June) made the annual trip to the U.S. A big part of this trip was a road trip I took, all by my lonesome. I didn't stop to make a lot of pictures, so I want to put my experiences and thoughts into words. That way I won't forget.
Often enough, my trips to the States mark sort of an epiphany or turning point for me. My first trip (to Miami), was sort of a test. I'd been fascinated with the country ever since I saw a couple of fifties oriented commercials when I was twelve. I had the chance to work for Domino's Pizza in America for a couple of months in my early twenties, but messed that up because one day my temper got the best of me and I literally threw my apron in my bosses face and quit.
Fortunately, the boss I had in my late twenties basically forced me to book a last minute trip after my mentioning the US for the umpteenth time. I got on the plane and that was it. Would it be everything I thought it would be (Answer: no)? Would it all be plastic and fake, bad food and Christian fat people carrying guns (Answer: snort)? Would I still love it, like I had been doing from afar (We all know the answer to that)?
In California I realized for the first time that I could actually live in the United States and be perfectly happy. It was also the place that taught me that every single U.S. stereotype I had subconsciously been taught, had far less to do with strength in numbers than with location and deviation from European norm. All humans are xenophobe.
Georgia and Tennessee taught me that the South holds such beauty, such grace. I was met with lot of courtesy and respect for history and manners. The Southerners I came to know were friendly, funny and mostly: calm and paced. I guess living somewhere with that kind of weather will make it like that.
New York City was a personal turning point. Nearly two years after I left the Ex, in a bathroom in a sports bar two blocks from Madison Square Garden, I found that I was happy again. That I could still be my own self. That life made the promise to have so much more in store for me. NYC itself was yet another city where I fit. The real me. As was Chicago.
It is fantastic that I know so many people in the States, who welcome me to their cities and into their homes. It makes my travels possible, even - hotel costs could easily be twice the airfare. I'm still weary of 'inviting myself' - that stereotype the Dutch have that Americans never really mean it when they invite you over still tends to stick with me. Even after Sarah, Robert, Jen & Matias, Don, Shayna, Gina Marie and her aunt, Marika, John and his grandmother and his aunt and Nikki offered me a place to sleep and made good on it. I think I have finally learned, though. 'Bout time.
However, although a lot of the cities I have visited I'll want to revisit over and over, I also want to cover those fifty states I have on my bucket list. I really can't imagine right now how I will ever end up in, say, Alaska, the Dakotas or Hawaii, but I felt it was time to cover at least a bit of unchartered territory.
And I wanted to experience some Americana.
Cities feel safe and at least somewhat familiar in structure and pace. I wanted to see the open road, the dull of small rural towns, the stereotype that movies, narrow-minded European news coverage and TV feed us. So I decided to drive from Washington D.C. through Virginia, Maryland, West Virginia and Ohio to Indiana. On interstates people warned me would bore me to tears. I myself envisioned fifties-styled diners with waitresses called Flo and rodent infested motels like we see in the TV show Supernatural.
It took me surprisingly little time to get used to driving a car with an automatic transmission on the American roads. I'll admit that I didn't relax for one second when I was still making my way through downtown D.C., struggling with the turning signal of my rental car and wondering what 'YIELD' meant. But as soon as I was on the interstate 66, I found myself settling into the back of my seat. Americans know how to relax while driving. Which makes the whole affair a breeze. Let's just keep it at that.
My first stop was Jen & Matias' house in VA, where I had left my luggage. After picking that up (and half a bottle of Long Island Iced Tea which Jen had graciously left for me on the top of my duffel bag), I just entered Cincinnati in the GPS as my next destination, and would see along the way where I would stop for the night.
(Disclaimer: I'm probably going to fuck up locations and states. Feel free to correct me if you do happen to read this and know better)
Maryland and West Virginia. So beautiful. Mud slidings, waterfalls, broad stone bridges, grand accumulations of rock, wide rivers (I got tears in my eyes when I crossed the Potomac), forests as far as my eyes could see. It's hard to explain the beauty of various sites in America to people who have never been there, but there's a pretty common denominator: The Dutch are tall and live in a tiny country, with tiny cars, tiny houses - basically tiny everything except for us, the giants. We're not often confronted with how insignificant and ant-like we are, set to the backdrop of the ever expanding universe.
America is the other way around. And that makes it impossible to photograph. The entire set of the widest horizon, endless sky and forever stretching land make you so aware of the pinpoint you are. You have to be in the middle of it, to really grasp it. I felt tiny. And trust me, with my 1.85 meters I don't experience that a lot.
After the grand, wild, spacious, broad etc. landscape turned into a softer, more modest green view, I stopped to stretch my legs. When I got back on the road, I tuned the radio to a classic rock station. The London Bach Choir version of You Can't Always Get What You Want by the Rolling Stones came on. Which was my dad's favorite RS song. The version with the choir was played at his funeral.
Excuse while I get some tissues. And this is going to sound immensely sentimental, but at that moment, I was sure my dad was reaching out to me. Sitting next to me in the car. Singing and screaming along with me. I felt so happy. Filled up with a sense of belonging on that road and destination in life. Tied strongly to both my past and my future. I wonder if the people in the other cars on the road have seen me, screaming and yelling and laughing. That must have been entertaining.
At one point I had to refuel the car and myself, and I looked for an exit with a gas station. And how can you not choose the one called 'Billy's Gas 'n' Grub'? Enter my slice of Americana. Flo and the Supernatural boys are now fictional characters. What I encountered was mostly... unremarkable, at first sight. Modest. Non-descript stores, gas stations and motels with giant cars parked next to it. People dressed in shorts and brand less t-shirts, wearing baseball hats. I'm not sure what I expected, but except for scale and landscape and hats, they could have been the inhabitants of the provincial Netherlands.
Except for one slight but important distinction: they weren't gloomy. It's not like all Americans aspire to go from paperboy to millionaire. Yet, there is a satisfaction and possibility in their eyes. Even when they complain about their favorite topics (the government, the price of gas and sports), they're not bitter about it. They don't expect other people to fix their problems for them. And they're not necessarily looking for change, but they believe change is still a possibility. 'This is my life. Even when I'm born into shit, I'm taking that fucker by the horns and make the best of it'. Americans are probably the least cynical people I have met.
As far as that price of gas goes: I laugh. Cheapest tank of gas I ever got.
(let's make this two installments, shall we? The kid demands some attention)
I recently (end of June) made the annual trip to the U.S. A big part of this trip was a road trip I took, all by my lonesome. I didn't stop to make a lot of pictures, so I want to put my experiences and thoughts into words. That way I won't forget.
Often enough, my trips to the States mark sort of an epiphany or turning point for me. My first trip (to Miami), was sort of a test. I'd been fascinated with the country ever since I saw a couple of fifties oriented commercials when I was twelve. I had the chance to work for Domino's Pizza in America for a couple of months in my early twenties, but messed that up because one day my temper got the best of me and I literally threw my apron in my bosses face and quit.
Fortunately, the boss I had in my late twenties basically forced me to book a last minute trip after my mentioning the US for the umpteenth time. I got on the plane and that was it. Would it be everything I thought it would be (Answer: no)? Would it all be plastic and fake, bad food and Christian fat people carrying guns (Answer: snort)? Would I still love it, like I had been doing from afar (We all know the answer to that)?
In California I realized for the first time that I could actually live in the United States and be perfectly happy. It was also the place that taught me that every single U.S. stereotype I had subconsciously been taught, had far less to do with strength in numbers than with location and deviation from European norm. All humans are xenophobe.
Georgia and Tennessee taught me that the South holds such beauty, such grace. I was met with lot of courtesy and respect for history and manners. The Southerners I came to know were friendly, funny and mostly: calm and paced. I guess living somewhere with that kind of weather will make it like that.
New York City was a personal turning point. Nearly two years after I left the Ex, in a bathroom in a sports bar two blocks from Madison Square Garden, I found that I was happy again. That I could still be my own self. That life made the promise to have so much more in store for me. NYC itself was yet another city where I fit. The real me. As was Chicago.
It is fantastic that I know so many people in the States, who welcome me to their cities and into their homes. It makes my travels possible, even - hotel costs could easily be twice the airfare. I'm still weary of 'inviting myself' - that stereotype the Dutch have that Americans never really mean it when they invite you over still tends to stick with me. Even after Sarah, Robert, Jen & Matias, Don, Shayna, Gina Marie and her aunt, Marika, John and his grandmother and his aunt and Nikki offered me a place to sleep and made good on it. I think I have finally learned, though. 'Bout time.
However, although a lot of the cities I have visited I'll want to revisit over and over, I also want to cover those fifty states I have on my bucket list. I really can't imagine right now how I will ever end up in, say, Alaska, the Dakotas or Hawaii, but I felt it was time to cover at least a bit of unchartered territory.
And I wanted to experience some Americana.
Cities feel safe and at least somewhat familiar in structure and pace. I wanted to see the open road, the dull of small rural towns, the stereotype that movies, narrow-minded European news coverage and TV feed us. So I decided to drive from Washington D.C. through Virginia, Maryland, West Virginia and Ohio to Indiana. On interstates people warned me would bore me to tears. I myself envisioned fifties-styled diners with waitresses called Flo and rodent infested motels like we see in the TV show Supernatural.
It took me surprisingly little time to get used to driving a car with an automatic transmission on the American roads. I'll admit that I didn't relax for one second when I was still making my way through downtown D.C., struggling with the turning signal of my rental car and wondering what 'YIELD' meant. But as soon as I was on the interstate 66, I found myself settling into the back of my seat. Americans know how to relax while driving. Which makes the whole affair a breeze. Let's just keep it at that.
My first stop was Jen & Matias' house in VA, where I had left my luggage. After picking that up (and half a bottle of Long Island Iced Tea which Jen had graciously left for me on the top of my duffel bag), I just entered Cincinnati in the GPS as my next destination, and would see along the way where I would stop for the night.
(Disclaimer: I'm probably going to fuck up locations and states. Feel free to correct me if you do happen to read this and know better)
Maryland and West Virginia. So beautiful. Mud slidings, waterfalls, broad stone bridges, grand accumulations of rock, wide rivers (I got tears in my eyes when I crossed the Potomac), forests as far as my eyes could see. It's hard to explain the beauty of various sites in America to people who have never been there, but there's a pretty common denominator: The Dutch are tall and live in a tiny country, with tiny cars, tiny houses - basically tiny everything except for us, the giants. We're not often confronted with how insignificant and ant-like we are, set to the backdrop of the ever expanding universe.
America is the other way around. And that makes it impossible to photograph. The entire set of the widest horizon, endless sky and forever stretching land make you so aware of the pinpoint you are. You have to be in the middle of it, to really grasp it. I felt tiny. And trust me, with my 1.85 meters I don't experience that a lot.
After the grand, wild, spacious, broad etc. landscape turned into a softer, more modest green view, I stopped to stretch my legs. When I got back on the road, I tuned the radio to a classic rock station. The London Bach Choir version of You Can't Always Get What You Want by the Rolling Stones came on. Which was my dad's favorite RS song. The version with the choir was played at his funeral.
Excuse while I get some tissues. And this is going to sound immensely sentimental, but at that moment, I was sure my dad was reaching out to me. Sitting next to me in the car. Singing and screaming along with me. I felt so happy. Filled up with a sense of belonging on that road and destination in life. Tied strongly to both my past and my future. I wonder if the people in the other cars on the road have seen me, screaming and yelling and laughing. That must have been entertaining.
At one point I had to refuel the car and myself, and I looked for an exit with a gas station. And how can you not choose the one called 'Billy's Gas 'n' Grub'? Enter my slice of Americana. Flo and the Supernatural boys are now fictional characters. What I encountered was mostly... unremarkable, at first sight. Modest. Non-descript stores, gas stations and motels with giant cars parked next to it. People dressed in shorts and brand less t-shirts, wearing baseball hats. I'm not sure what I expected, but except for scale and landscape and hats, they could have been the inhabitants of the provincial Netherlands.
Except for one slight but important distinction: they weren't gloomy. It's not like all Americans aspire to go from paperboy to millionaire. Yet, there is a satisfaction and possibility in their eyes. Even when they complain about their favorite topics (the government, the price of gas and sports), they're not bitter about it. They don't expect other people to fix their problems for them. And they're not necessarily looking for change, but they believe change is still a possibility. 'This is my life. Even when I'm born into shit, I'm taking that fucker by the horns and make the best of it'. Americans are probably the least cynical people I have met.
As far as that price of gas goes: I laugh. Cheapest tank of gas I ever got.
(let's make this two installments, shall we? The kid demands some attention)
Friday, July 11, 2014
I found something I never got around to posting.
Was 2009 good for you?
First reaction to this question: HAHAHAHAHAHA. Dude.
On second thought: yes, it was. Christmas 2008, I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know myself anymore. I was at the end of the world and didn't know which way to go for the life of me. Now? I've done everything with my life I was afraid of and swore I never would, but I'm still here and it's me again. I'm a sleep deprived single mom who has developed an unhealthy taste for trashy novels, but I'm laughing again. I'm typing this in a new home, looking at my completely content son who is playing with his alphabet puzzle and I don't have to worry about the moment being ruined in the wake of alcohol. In short, 2009 has been a complete bitch to me, but it also kicked my ass into gear. And god knows it needed that.
What was your favorite moment of the year?
When the kid said "I love you, mommy", for the first time.
What was your worst moment of the year?
February 7 I drove away from a dream that got drowned in liquor. It was the only choice left, but it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Ever.
Where were you when 2009 began?
In The Hague, with my friend Ellis.
Who were you with?
Like I said - my rock, Ellis.
Where were you when 2009 ended?
I'm going to be in The Hague again... with Ellis... and a couple of the best neighbors anyone could ever wish for.
Did you keep your new years resolution of 2009?
I
Do you have a new years resolution for 2010?
Did you fall in love in 2008?
I fell out of it.
Did you breakup with anyone in 2008?
Yeah, you could say that.
Did you make any new friends in 2008?
Yes, yet again! Friends rule all. I guess I'm not a complete failure after all.
What was your favorite month of 2008?
July
Why this month?
The Band.
Did you travel outside of the US (or your home country) in 2009?
France & Italy. I drove through Belgium. That all sounds boring as hell, but it really was not.
How many different places did you travel to in 2009?
Paris, Lucca, Florence, the airport in Pisa. I was supposed to go to Naples - but let's not dwell on that disaster.
Did you miss anybody in the past year?
My dad. My dad. My dad. Dad, I miss you so much. My foreign friends. Yannick whenever he's not here.
What was your favorite song from 2009?
Lost - Coldplay. Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost. Thank you for that life saver, Chris.
How many concerts or plays did you see in 2009?
Uh... Lemme think. There were a couple of DMB shows, and Beth Hart, and Blof, and Coldplay, and Kings of Leon, and Milow. No plays.
Did you have a favorite concert in 2009?
It's a tie between Lucca and Amsterdam (DMB - as if you didn't know). I think Amsterdam might win. Especially in the category: Comfortable.
What was your favorite book in 2009?
I refuse to answer that.
Did you do anything you are ashamed of this year?
Yes.
What was the biggest lie you told in 2009?
"I'm fine".
Did you treat somebody badly in 2009?
Did somebody treat you badly in 2009?
let’s not go there.
What was your proudest moment of 2009?
Standing up for me. Like, really standing up for me. For once.
First reaction to this question: HAHAHAHAHAHA. Dude.
On second thought: yes, it was. Christmas 2008, I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know myself anymore. I was at the end of the world and didn't know which way to go for the life of me. Now? I've done everything with my life I was afraid of and swore I never would, but I'm still here and it's me again. I'm a sleep deprived single mom who has developed an unhealthy taste for trashy novels, but I'm laughing again. I'm typing this in a new home, looking at my completely content son who is playing with his alphabet puzzle and I don't have to worry about the moment being ruined in the wake of alcohol. In short, 2009 has been a complete bitch to me, but it also kicked my ass into gear. And god knows it needed that.
What was your favorite moment of the year?
When the kid said "I love you, mommy", for the first time.
What was your worst moment of the year?
February 7 I drove away from a dream that got drowned in liquor. It was the only choice left, but it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Ever.
Where were you when 2009 began?
In The Hague, with my friend Ellis.
Who were you with?
Like I said - my rock, Ellis.
Where were you when 2009 ended?
I'm going to be in The Hague again... with Ellis... and a couple of the best neighbors anyone could ever wish for.
Did you keep your new years resolution of 2009?
I
Do you have a new years resolution for 2010?
Did you fall in love in 2008?
I fell out of it.
Did you breakup with anyone in 2008?
Yeah, you could say that.
Did you make any new friends in 2008?
Yes, yet again! Friends rule all. I guess I'm not a complete failure after all.
What was your favorite month of 2008?
July
Why this month?
The Band.
Did you travel outside of the US (or your home country) in 2009?
France & Italy. I drove through Belgium. That all sounds boring as hell, but it really was not.
How many different places did you travel to in 2009?
Paris, Lucca, Florence, the airport in Pisa. I was supposed to go to Naples - but let's not dwell on that disaster.
Did you miss anybody in the past year?
My dad. My dad. My dad. Dad, I miss you so much. My foreign friends. Yannick whenever he's not here.
What was your favorite song from 2009?
Lost - Coldplay. Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost. Thank you for that life saver, Chris.
How many concerts or plays did you see in 2009?
Uh... Lemme think. There were a couple of DMB shows, and Beth Hart, and Blof, and Coldplay, and Kings of Leon, and Milow. No plays.
Did you have a favorite concert in 2009?
It's a tie between Lucca and Amsterdam (DMB - as if you didn't know). I think Amsterdam might win. Especially in the category: Comfortable.
What was your favorite book in 2009?
I refuse to answer that.
Did you do anything you are ashamed of this year?
Yes.
What was the biggest lie you told in 2009?
"I'm fine".
Did you treat somebody badly in 2009?
Did somebody treat you badly in 2009?
let’s not go there.
What was your proudest moment of 2009?
Standing up for me. Like, really standing up for me. For once.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Keeping the Faith - a summer party in America
Oh, look at me, blogging for one and a half horse's head*. Blogging is out, blogging is so 1.0, blogging is for people too illiterate and emotional to express their feelers in 140 characters.
What the F ever. Blogging after my US trips is also cathartic. I always need some of that because of the post trip blues.
So please, move along further into the 21st century, while I lament about how much I want to live in the States and how awesome the awesomeness awesometh from all the awesomies around my own awesome self. Cause this here is my party and I'll cry if I want to.
But if you want to read along anyway, rest assured; I'm not going to list a blow by blow of this trip. Just some thoughts. On undutchables. And me, me, me of course. Because a pity party calls for some narcism.
Chicago
Thursday I was out for drinks with a friend whom just had returned from Chicago herself. We were trying to come up with a good way for us Dutch folk to describe the city and from an outsiders perspective, I think she nailed it. She said: "Chicago is a smaller, prettier, friendlier and most of all a lot more subdued version of New York".
NYC is still my favorite American city. How could it not be? However, whereas New York would surely attempt to swallow me whole, I could see myself actually living in Chicago. Easily. I'd get a bike and ride up and down the shoreline on weekends. Go to Cubs games. Have a job. Bask in Midwestern friendliness. Sit on the 'beach'. Go on hikes outside the city with Yannick. Make enemies with my Dutch cynism. Make friends in spite of that. So, on The List of Esther, Chicago is tied in second place with San Francisco.
Also, good job, Chicago, on the architecture. Blew me the fuck away, specifically because of the combination of modern, ecologically responsible construction with those typical midwestern feel brick buildings.
DMB
BEF opened [stay up your fucking tree]. I got my #41. There was a Captain. Spoon with Brandi Carlisle was mind blowing. There was a What Would You Say. Two Step was awesome. We managed to end up with a bigger group in a row both nights. No regrets here.
Creek
It wasn't until I got back home after a delayed flight, which meant I had to immediately go into a meeting that I thought: "Maybe I'm too old for this". And then immediately dismissed it.
My mom** accuses my travels to the US of being "just very expensive escapism". She's wrong - except for maybe Creek. It is in fact three days of drinking waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much, smoking (which I don't do anymore - but apparently I do at Creek), whining about my arthritis (at one point my ankles were wider than my feet), popping pills to fight off said arthritis and other hangovers, eating crap (although it wasn't that bad this year) and laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing. So much laughing. An escape? Yes. Do I care? No.
Friends
I completely dropped the ball on catching up with Sarah. I'm glad I got to hang out with her and we had fun, but because there were no car rides together to or from the campsite, or a couple of days of 'normalcy' in Nashville, we only managed to cram in just a couple of inquisitive questions. Unacceptable. Personally, I'm rooting for an MSG weekend with an extra Sarah & Esther day in NYC this fall, to make up for it :).
Once again I met some awesome new people this trip. And was so glad to hang out with the ones I'd already met. No matter what these relationships are to be called exactly - friendships, 'buddyships', it's wonderful to be able to just be yourself. Whether it's something Dutch or the limiting ties of everyday friendships, it's not that easy to just 'let loose' back home. I did some crazy stuff this trip (like kissing random - as in, I don't know their name - strangers), but I didn't feel judged for a second. I'll admit that I did feel embarassed on a couple occassions... Who knocks themself out on a slip 'n' slide? Not to mention kiss random, nameless strangers?
The group at Creek was the smallest I've been a part of thus far. In my opinion that didn't diminish the fun at all. If anything, we all camped and hung out together, in the shade of four easy-ups. Instead of the usual East and West situation going on there ;). And no matter how much fun was being made of me (Jennifer), I felt taken care of. Safe.
Special mention should be riding cars with boys from Chicago to Noblesville. I felt like I was in the back seat of an episode of An American Bromance. Oh, wait... All kidding aside, I felt blessed being a part of 120 hours of on going banter, music and hilarity, with room to spare for the occasional heartfelt talk. And beer. So. Much. Beer.
Conluding
- Chicago rules
- My American friends rule even more
- Maybe a little less beer, a bit more talk. And subsequently a little less kissing random strangers
- Don't drunk slip 'n slide
- Get back as soon as fucking possible
* Dutch expression, meaning: very few people
** Yes, I do still have mommy issues at 40
What the F ever. Blogging after my US trips is also cathartic. I always need some of that because of the post trip blues.
So please, move along further into the 21st century, while I lament about how much I want to live in the States and how awesome the awesomeness awesometh from all the awesomies around my own awesome self. Cause this here is my party and I'll cry if I want to.
But if you want to read along anyway, rest assured; I'm not going to list a blow by blow of this trip. Just some thoughts. On undutchables. And me, me, me of course. Because a pity party calls for some narcism.
Chicago
Thursday I was out for drinks with a friend whom just had returned from Chicago herself. We were trying to come up with a good way for us Dutch folk to describe the city and from an outsiders perspective, I think she nailed it. She said: "Chicago is a smaller, prettier, friendlier and most of all a lot more subdued version of New York".
NYC is still my favorite American city. How could it not be? However, whereas New York would surely attempt to swallow me whole, I could see myself actually living in Chicago. Easily. I'd get a bike and ride up and down the shoreline on weekends. Go to Cubs games. Have a job. Bask in Midwestern friendliness. Sit on the 'beach'. Go on hikes outside the city with Yannick. Make enemies with my Dutch cynism. Make friends in spite of that. So, on The List of Esther, Chicago is tied in second place with San Francisco.
Also, good job, Chicago, on the architecture. Blew me the fuck away, specifically because of the combination of modern, ecologically responsible construction with those typical midwestern feel brick buildings.
DMB
BEF opened [stay up your fucking tree]. I got my #41. There was a Captain. Spoon with Brandi Carlisle was mind blowing. There was a What Would You Say. Two Step was awesome. We managed to end up with a bigger group in a row both nights. No regrets here.
Creek
It wasn't until I got back home after a delayed flight, which meant I had to immediately go into a meeting that I thought: "Maybe I'm too old for this". And then immediately dismissed it.
My mom** accuses my travels to the US of being "just very expensive escapism". She's wrong - except for maybe Creek. It is in fact three days of drinking waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much, smoking (which I don't do anymore - but apparently I do at Creek), whining about my arthritis (at one point my ankles were wider than my feet), popping pills to fight off said arthritis and other hangovers, eating crap (although it wasn't that bad this year) and laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing. So much laughing. An escape? Yes. Do I care? No.
Friends
I completely dropped the ball on catching up with Sarah. I'm glad I got to hang out with her and we had fun, but because there were no car rides together to or from the campsite, or a couple of days of 'normalcy' in Nashville, we only managed to cram in just a couple of inquisitive questions. Unacceptable. Personally, I'm rooting for an MSG weekend with an extra Sarah & Esther day in NYC this fall, to make up for it :).
Once again I met some awesome new people this trip. And was so glad to hang out with the ones I'd already met. No matter what these relationships are to be called exactly - friendships, 'buddyships', it's wonderful to be able to just be yourself. Whether it's something Dutch or the limiting ties of everyday friendships, it's not that easy to just 'let loose' back home. I did some crazy stuff this trip (like kissing random - as in, I don't know their name - strangers), but I didn't feel judged for a second. I'll admit that I did feel embarassed on a couple occassions... Who knocks themself out on a slip 'n' slide? Not to mention kiss random, nameless strangers?
The group at Creek was the smallest I've been a part of thus far. In my opinion that didn't diminish the fun at all. If anything, we all camped and hung out together, in the shade of four easy-ups. Instead of the usual East and West situation going on there ;). And no matter how much fun was being made of me (Jennifer), I felt taken care of. Safe.
Special mention should be riding cars with boys from Chicago to Noblesville. I felt like I was in the back seat of an episode of An American Bromance. Oh, wait... All kidding aside, I felt blessed being a part of 120 hours of on going banter, music and hilarity, with room to spare for the occasional heartfelt talk. And beer. So. Much. Beer.
Conluding
- Chicago rules
- My American friends rule even more
- Maybe a little less beer, a bit more talk. And subsequently a little less kissing random strangers
- Don't drunk slip 'n slide
- Get back as soon as fucking possible
* Dutch expression, meaning: very few people
** Yes, I do still have mommy issues at 40
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Beer Week
Texts I sent Becker in the past week:
- I'm here!!! F it's hot! Yes, beer!!!
- I'll wave at you[r office] with the beer I'm about to have in 45 minutes
- I feel like this train is about to take a nose dive
- You're already the best host ever
- I'm near Fullerton. Biertje?
- Train kaput. Yay!
Texts I sent Sarah in the past week:
- MISS YOUR FACE
- I caved and bought an American blow drier. I'm officially pathetic
- Are you bringing any beer?
- Chicago is prettier than New York. Omg did I just say that?
- Bier! Bier! Bier! Bier!
- I'm sitting here with four guys who just talk beer
- Are you almost here?
- [After she went to sit in her car during a thunder storm] Bring the fireball whiskey when you get back
- [Back in the NL] I took a nap at work today. It was glorious and necessary. This week has worn me out!
- Could you bring 24 Kraft singles?
- Zoning out
Texts Popejoy sent me in the past week:
- Where r u
- Come back where y were
- Hurry up
Saturday, January 26, 2013
The diagnosis
When there's a lot going on around him, the kid gets excited. He'll flap his arms. He'll make guttural noises.
We had just moved to our new place, he was still adjusting to living down town. A very busy neighborhood with lots of activity going on 24/7. One day we were walking down the shopping strip when a woman came walking towards us. The kid was flapping and grunting and the woman just... stared at him. Not very subtle, either. Her mouth was hanging open. Her eyes were popping.
I could just see it in them: "Retard".
As she was coming nearer, she just kept on staring. I was shooting daggers at her, but she was too busy gaping at my kid to notice.
But he certainly notice her. Looked right at her. Stopped in his tracks. Stopped flapping. Found his voice. And exclaimed: "You don't get to look at me".
My kid has classical autism.
And in case you didn't know yet: he's awesome.
The diagnosis wasn't a surprise. The surprise was the way the outside world dealt with it.
I don't get it. He's very sociable for someone with autism. His IQ is way above average. That's not me talking - that's the report drawn up by a bunch of psychologists who studied this shit. My own diagnosis? He's Y. He's funny. And adorkable. And cute. And stubborn. And everything.
Sure - sometimes I want to strangle him. When he wants to watch the same movie for the 1000th time. On the other hand - how many moms can say that their six year old cleans up after himself?
Some nights, I can't sleep. I don't know how all this will end. How he'll end up. If he'll make it in 'the real world'. There's no use though. All I have is now. And right now, he's doing great.
And I know I can't make the world stop judging him. I can only make him feel good about himself.
We had just moved to our new place, he was still adjusting to living down town. A very busy neighborhood with lots of activity going on 24/7. One day we were walking down the shopping strip when a woman came walking towards us. The kid was flapping and grunting and the woman just... stared at him. Not very subtle, either. Her mouth was hanging open. Her eyes were popping.
I could just see it in them: "Retard".
As she was coming nearer, she just kept on staring. I was shooting daggers at her, but she was too busy gaping at my kid to notice.
But he certainly notice her. Looked right at her. Stopped in his tracks. Stopped flapping. Found his voice. And exclaimed: "You don't get to look at me".
My kid has classical autism.
And in case you didn't know yet: he's awesome.
The diagnosis wasn't a surprise. The surprise was the way the outside world dealt with it.
I don't get it. He's very sociable for someone with autism. His IQ is way above average. That's not me talking - that's the report drawn up by a bunch of psychologists who studied this shit. My own diagnosis? He's Y. He's funny. And adorkable. And cute. And stubborn. And everything.
Sure - sometimes I want to strangle him. When he wants to watch the same movie for the 1000th time. On the other hand - how many moms can say that their six year old cleans up after himself?
Some nights, I can't sleep. I don't know how all this will end. How he'll end up. If he'll make it in 'the real world'. There's no use though. All I have is now. And right now, he's doing great.
And I know I can't make the world stop judging him. I can only make him feel good about himself.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy
Miss you.
Miss you.
Miss you so fucking much.
(I'll write something not so attention whorish soon. Like a blog about the Label. Will do. Just hungering right now.)
(And how are you?)
Miss you.
Miss you so fucking much.
(I'll write something not so attention whorish soon. Like a blog about the Label. Will do. Just hungering right now.)
(And how are you?)
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