On holiday.

Me and my girl finally went for some camping in the south. Nature, lands and woods. Well, as far as there are much of those in so small a country as Holland. To make sure I didn't forgot anything I made a list.

Tent, sleeping bags, stuff to cook and eat with, clothes, some toys, it was all on the list. With too many bags I had to walk three times from house to elevator, to car and back. But we made it, and were off to spent three glorious days in Berkel Enschot with beautiful sunny weather.

Once there I found out I forgot: chairs to sit on, towels, something to drink for me, and: suncream.

Thank god I remembered to put toilet paper on the list...

Picked him up.

That tiny red light on my dashboard, shaped like an oilcan, that's supposed to tell me when I'm low on oil doesn't it? Just like the fuel indexlight does that?

I haven't looked under the seats of my van for ages. So I stood there, along the highway, barely ten miles from home, running dry. Who needs weekly checkups...

Hope is fading.

Myrana is missing for more than a week now. I haven't found out what she did to dissapear, or where she is. I called the local vet's and emailed her name to the missing animals foundation. I Searched the flat at least every two days. But I didn't miss her taht much. It was like she was out to sleep over, she was bound to sit and miouw in front of my backdoor anytime now.

But since a day or two I feel different. The note is still there on the board downstairs, but it feels like hope is missing. I notice Suzy, my other cat, being much more 'there' since Myrana's gone. Don't pour food for two cats anymore. Think about what it will be like when Thyrin, my soon to get newborn cat, will get here and how Suus will interact with him. I almost feel like she's dead, like her brother.

It makes me feel I'm a bad 'mum' for my cats. Though I miss her like hell, obviously...

Lonelyness.

As a bit of a fan of Tim Burton movies, and as a teenage fan of Johnny Depp, I had to see Edward Scissorhands, which was on tv this evening. For the sixth time or so.

Never, in the first five times, have I wondered myself how lonely he must be. How I could relate to that. To be weird, alone, to not have a connection, to have something that is not right, what makes you different from the others. Would he be happy, alone in that big house? And could I learn to be too?

Nice to have her.

It's miraculous how my house has changed since my daughter has grown past two years of age. My girlfriend has twins, one and a half year old. They came to visit me this afternoon. My house seems a battlefield right now... :-)

The Pretender on TV.

Q: How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?
A1: Only one, but the bulb has to really *want* to be changed.
A2: None; the bulb will change itself when it is ready.


Suit yourself and pick one of the answers.
(personally I think that 1 suits me :-))

Desperate

How does she do it? She has to be able to disaperate. There was no window open, no door ajar.

She's gone again. For two days now. And she's nowhere to be seen around the flat, not even on the 14th floor. But I hope. I have to hope. She'll come back. She just has too.

She likes me too.

It's the story of my life. I like a girl, eventually tell the girl and she's always heterosexual. Or has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. They like me though. I'm sweet, nice, cute, a good friend. I'm the 'just friends' girl. It's a naturnal law. Or one of Murphy's, as you please. I don't have girlfriends. Ever.

So how come I seem to have got myself one last last friday?

Unfamiliar.

This morning: photo upload. To try and make some money out of selling my old clothes. Since I only wear dresses since I fell in love with S., I don't need my old jeans, and I better do something usefull with it.
And so I wonder, does it suit me at all, me in jeans?

Subconsciousness.

I wanted something totally different. I wanted to be me, a new me, a different, potentially better me. I thought for some time as to how I'd achieve that.

No more memories about ex. kjeld, I was going to be someone totally new. Like I never was that red-haired girl who was so unfortunally abused by her ex.

I dyed my hair black.

And sat behind my pc, too wait for my hair too dry, and found this.

Pharmacy.

Should I be happy about living for two weeks without sleepmedicine or joyfull that I am finally rid of my sleepless nights?

And then I was home..

..and the sun shines!

Grrr...

No coat needed.

And then there was thunder, far away and rumbling. And then there was lightning, closer and louder. And then there was rain, big drops like hail, above me and very wet...

Just some lines.

Passion.
It lies in all of us.
Sleeping, waiting and though unwanted,
unbidden, it will stir.
Open its jaws and howl.
It speaks to us, guides us.
Passion rules us all,
and we obey.
What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments.
The joy of love,
the clarity of hatred,
and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
If we could live without passion,
maybe we'd know some kind of peace.
But we would be hollow.
Empty rooms,
shuttered and dank.
Without passion, we'd be truly dead.

-Angelus, on BtVS

Spare time.

I have a LOTR calender. They make calenders about all sorts of things, so for me to have a Lord of the Rings calender is not so strange a thing. Last week I tore of a page about Elvish, the language of the Elfs and some of the 'higher' humans in Middle Earth. As writer J.R.R. Tolkien thought of every detail in Middle Earth, it must also be possible to learn this language. I was gonna surf the net, look it op, study, learn to read, write, speak maybe. It would be fun, and besides that, there wouldn't be that many people who could do it.

Me, girl who bought her Swedish course about one and a half years ago and still sits at lesson two, wants to learn Elvish.
And Swedish is quite easy...

Figured it out.

The answer to my obsession must be: more Buffy's.

Next day.

Tomorrow is the second to last day of my group training. Every week for some fifteen weeks now I and some others with BPD symptoms gather and talk about emotions and how to handle them. Quit a thrill. When I first started I didn't think I would get much out of it, now that we're almost at the end me and my groupmates see more and more links to eachother and the past. And our emotions and the behavoir coming from them.

We study relations since a week. How we make contact, friends, deal with relatives. I used to think that I was kinda ok on that subject, but last week I found out that I don't always do so great. Some things that were said I didn't want to hear. They were downright painfull one might say.

So why is it that I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow?

Lost and found.

My cat was missing. Again. When I just moved here she dissapeared and I found her again on the 14th floor. But now she seemed to have vanished without a trace. There was no door open, no window too. I could not explain it and it even took me some time to realize she was gone. Friday my daughter Lyka and I went to the Efteling with friend P. and saturday I was busy with, well, Lyka so I didn't miss her that much.

Saturday eveniging I noticed something was wrong though. With Lyka gone there should have been two cats fighting for attention on my lap, Myrana and Suzy. But all there was was Suus, no Myrana. She must be in the kitchen, I thought. Maybe slipped onto the balkony through my bedroom window, nothing to worry about.

Sunday afternoon. No Myrana. I rumble with food and call her name. Nothing. I search the flat, from the 14th floor downwards, but no cat. I did see a dead pigeon though. I got scared. A month or three ago Myrana's brother Draco died. Just out of the blue, only three and a half years old. I wasn't ready to lose them both, they were with me since they were very little. I hung up posters, called the lokal vet's, nothing came up. Ok, she wasn't dead, but that was about all the good there was.

About an hour ago one of the regular cleaners of the flat rings the bell. There's a small cat at 14th. I hurry upstairs and there is, in the middle of pigeon feathers, my Myrana.

The pigeon was totally gone, but I got Myrana back!

Wake up.

Ring. Ring. More Ring. RING. RRRIIINGG!!!

My alarmclock told me to get up way before I wanted to get up. In my head pictures of flying a broomstick and playing Quidditch, and strangely, more Angel.

Late Early

1.00 AM
2.00 AM
3.00 AM
...

It should not be allowed to be awake at this hour.

Relate to.

Do you know that feeling? That thing inside you what wantes to cry, to scream, to let out all the horrors inside? To let the whole world know how miserable you feel? I'm not very good at that. I tend to use movies and series for that. Watch titanic when I feel the need to cry and so on.

My last obsession seems to be Buffy, or well, Willow. Or Angel, or... whatever. I have dvd's on season one till three and have watched four dvd's so far today.

I'm weird.