Say yes to the dress

When I was little I had this blue and white dress that my mother absolutely loved. Sadly for her, I wasn't a girly girl, and I didn't wear it often. She sometimes tried to convince me to put it on, until one day on a vacation in Sweden, she offered me an ice cream if I wore it for one hour. No child could refuse such an offer, so I donned the dress and we went to get me my cornetto. Then I went into our caravan and played patiently with my K'Nex until the hour had passed. That was when my mother decided she was not going to push me to wear dresses or skirts anymore. 

Fast forward half a decade to my high school's Christmas gala (ball/dance). I had actually been asked by a guy, so I felt I couldn't show up in jeans and a tshirt. My mother lovingly gave me a beautful red and black dress of hers and we even had it altered by a friend. I spent the night of the dance feeling incredbly awkward, only comforted by the fretting of the boys in their grown-up suits and ties (although many cheated and wore jeans and sneakers under their jacket).  

By now I have worn dresses on several occasions. Two Christmas dinners with friends, two scouting end-of-year parties, and Christmas at my grandmother's (I'm sensing a theme here..) and a wedding have proven that I am capable of spending a considerable amount of time around people without wearing trousers. And yet, when I took out the tartan skirt I was planning to wear to a ceilidh yesterday, I was nervous. The girl staring back at me from the mirror looked smart enough, but she didn't look at all like me. Friends spoke encouraging words and I even asked my mom whether the colours I picked went together well. And yet, it was that one guy who simply told me I wasn't brave enough to wear a skirt in public who caused a moment of stubborness that lasted just long enough to put on my jacket and get out the door. On my way to meet my friends I considered several times to turn back, grab some trousers. At the ceilidh what I struggled most with was sitting in a ladylike manner so as to not reveal that I'd accidentally put my panthyhose on backwards. But as soon as the band started playing, I completely forgot everything. And because I am not enough of a girl to shrink away from being pragmatic at the cost of looking pretty, I was nice and warm in my rainproof trousers on the way back while the real dames chattered their teeth :)



(Sadly, due to the photographers' curse, the night I danced a ceilidh in a skirt will go down in history undocumented..)

The city weighs heavily on me. I miss the safe enclosure of the forest, I miss the open freedom of the uiterwaarden (river forelands). But the towering buildings suffocate me, and the sea lacks willows on the horizon. It always smells of holiday and the gulls sing a constant cacofony and shit on everything. 100 houses under my roof, but no homes. No wood, no stove, no pets. The butcher doesn't know my name. The thermostat goes all the way up to 30, yet I find no warmth. The radiator startes back at me defiantly. HP and Samsung are my closest friends, but various Sony's stay untouched. Everything must have a purpose, and the kitchen is cleaned by ladies who speak none of my 4 languages. 
But there is no way back.

Kill Your Darlings

They then argued  that with an increase in population density, the likeliness of AHM-NT interbreeding decreases (Currata,  Excoffierb, 2011). Non-human animals are biologically inclined to breed ‘outside’ of their direct family because of the evolutionary advantage the mix of gene pools will give their offspring. Humans, on the other hand, tend to be ‘endogamous’: they prefer marrying within a specific ethnic, religious, culture, etc group. With higher population density come more opportunities for individuals to marry within their own ‘species’.

This is a paragraph I cut out of the essay for archaeology I'm currently writing. I was really excited to use the information I read in a paper but after reading over it a couple of times i realised this argument doesn't work in my favour, so I had to take it out :(

All writers and people who write know how hard it can be to have to cut a sentence, line, phrase or even word you were particularly happy with because it just doesn't fit with the story, the meter, or for one of a thousand other reasons. This is called Killing your Darlings. 

I've always wanted to have an old shoebox with a little cardboard gravestone that says 'My Darlings', that I could put little slips of paper with the Darlings I've had to kill off, but I never got round to making one. I think this will do just as well. To be continued.

Because of the inherently male nature of western colonialism, nearly all colonies struggled with gross discrepancy between the amount of white men and the number of white women.

 

Volwassen

Volwassen worden is snappen dat de oude-vrouwenwijsheid die je oma je meegeeft dat je een naald kunt slijpen door hem door je haar te halen onzin is, begrijpen dat het waarschijnlijk wél helpt omdat je haar van nature olie bevat waar de naald makkelijker van gaat glijden, maar dan de tact hebben dat niet tegen haar te zeggen.

No more facebook

So yesterday I finally got fed up enough with facebook to make the drastical decision of quitting for a month. So I wrote this message, posted it and at 00:00, and ran a programma that will block websites (I blocked 9gag too, it's poison..)

Hi all

For the past couple of years, I have spent insanaeoulous mounts of time on facebook. I love that it gives me the opportunity to stay in touch with the friends I’ve made all across the globe and follow the lives of my friends back home now that I’m studying abroad. But facebook also has a dark side: it is hugely distracting and it causes a lot of negative feelings caused by all the photos and stories of the amazing adventures everyone else is having, and the articles and videos that are meant to be inspiring and touching, that somehow always make me feel like I’m not living enough. That I’m not getting out of life all that’s in it, and that I’m not doing enough for the people around me, and the rest of the world too, for that matter. The thing is, I can’t go out and have crazy adventures and add something to other people’s lives if I’m sitting behind my computer (and it’s not helping my revision for exams either..) 

So. I have decided to quite facebook for a month. Yes, with all the issues about privacy I might just as well delete it altogether, but I like my global network a little too much for that for now..  But with the Christmas break approaching, and me going home for a few weeks, I don’t want to waste a single precious second on facebook if I could spend it with my lovely friends and family.

From now until the 15^th of January, I will read books, listen to my records, do a 3000 piece puzzle, work in the darkroom, catch up with my friends, play with my dogs, longboard, write, go for walks, stare out the window, cook complicated dishes, and whatever else takes my fancy. But I will NOT be on facebook :)

That’s all folks.

Love and rockets,

Lise

PS: If you need to reach me, I have a Dutch and an English phone number (and an Icelandic one but I doubt that will be of much use to most of you), four email addresses, skype and a blog (and whatsapp for a couple more days), so you should be okay. If you don’t have any of these details but still really want something from me, stalk one of my friends (like ... or ...).

PPS: If you’re organising an event/party/etc you’d like me to attend, please let me know via one of these other means. The fear of missing out it still strong in this one…

The secod I closed the window of the programme that will block facebook for a month, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. I finished the epidsode I'd been watching, but not without pausing it several times to go check facebook.. Seven minutes in I was already feeling the effects of quitting. I managed to watch the next episode without pausing, so I guess I'm already getting better ;P

Day 1 - Waking up and grabbing my phone, I realised I had nothing to do but turn off my alarm and look at how much longer I could stay in bed. It was long enough to read for a while, so that's what I did. The rest of today has consisted of a lot 'calmer' use of my computer: less clicking back and forth between tabs constantly to check for new messages or notifications. I did really miss being able to bitch about or lecturer giving the practice exam as the final though... GAH!

What I would have posted:

 

I wish i had a boyfriend with a beard

The Land of the Scots

                                                                                                       29-8-2014

Dear Diary

It is my first day alone in this foreign land. I have built a shelter to protect me from the rain that falls listlessly on grey stone out of grey skies. I have not yet laid contact with the natives, Dear Diary, but I sense they are near and I expect to hear from them soon. I must go now, the smell of the bacon over my fire is making my head spin.

Love, Lise

                                                                                                         30-8-2014
Dear Diary

Today I spotted a native. He even whistled when he noticed me. I don't know whether I should feel encouraged to seek them out, or take this as a warning to keep my distance. Either way, Dear Diary, I won't be without a purpose the following days. I have discovered a magical forest where a stream murmurs through the thicket, green grass stretches under ancient trees, and where the bustle of the natives daily life is completely shut out. I must explore every corner of it. 

Love, Lise 

                                                                                                           31-8-2014
Dear Diary

I haven't much to report today but the discovery of a beautiful inlet, sheltered away from the relentless winds of the sea. It is a great place to sit and read or simply lay back with my feet in the sand and my face in the sun. Ah, to be away from granite walls and the roar of traffic..

Love Lise 

                                                                                                              2-9-2014

Dear Diary

I met a native today, and a real gingerbeard at that! He was welcoming and funny and he even had an accent! This first encounter gives me hope for the future. I also learned that I consequently grossly underestimate the time it takes me to cycle to places. The rugged terrain, the small hills that seem monstrous in my Lage Landen eyes, but most of all my lack of courage when it comes to steering my bike into a six-laned street while in the chaos of motorised vehicles, zig-zagging cyclists and people crossing the street even though the pedestrian traffic light beeps loudly in protest it is hard to keep a cool head. Also, the drive on the left!

Love, Lise


                                                                                                               3-9-2014
Dear Diary

I had a horrible day. Being alone here sucks. I have nothing to mention but the bag of cheese puffs I downed in ten minutes.
Good day

Lise

                                                                                                                 4-9-2014
Dear Diary

As you know, I've always loved libraries. I love most them for the smell of old books, the quiet, the art on the walls, rows and rows and rows of volumes just waiting to share their knowledge. The thing I like most about the library here is the elevator. The rest of it is mainly black and white and lifeless, and although the light has enough space to play in, there's no surfaces it can warm up. Nevertheless I enjoyed my visit today, because it was still quiet, and there were books. 

Love, Lise







 

The Oranges

Their heels are thin as needles and high as the Big Ben, and their boobs bulge over the front of their dresses like a fat mans belly over the edge of his sweatpants. They clutch their purses and giggle while they frantically try to hide their booze from the bouncers. All night they systematically scan the club for male booty, the guys willingly objectified.
They are the queens (in the non-homosexual sens of the word) of the British night. They are the Oranges.