The Fourth Musketeer, is a woman.

Today I read an article that turned my world upside down, again. Making me pissed, to be shoved into that tiny little space again that 'they' invented for women. To take care, make your man happy, be beautiful and dumb, and especially to 'stay put'.

It stated "play, hunt and fight, manual that comes with the man". And "let the man (grunt) go on his mountainbike, run, fish, make love, show off his gadgets, cheer during a football-game, laugh out loud with his friends."
And it gives us, wives, the advice to "'secretly' terminate some subscriptions or 'loose' the remote" and "invest in my own attractiveness" with 'dress beautifully' "
WTF!?!?

My gosh, is it starting again?
Generalization until we drop dead?
From playing someone we are not?

When do we FINALLY realize that people are unique human beings? Every individual is what the word says: an individual.
No generalizations there.
There are no rules to which a man should keep himself, in order to be 'a man'.
There are no rules either to which a woman should keep herself, in order to be 'a woman'.
It's just nature. Physics. Biology, so you will.

Not? Cool, let's make some 'rules for being a good mom', 'regulations on how to be the best lawnmower', 'facts to incorporate for being the one and only grandpa', '10 selfhelp rules for becoming the churchmember you've always wanted to be'.
Oh. I'm sorry. Those rules do exist already.

Of course I did read what people said who were attending those particular events I referred to. I couldn't finish that whole article, bad for my heart... But of course I got the scope of it: They grew in personality. They discovered that they never grew up. Great! Saves lots of shrink costs, and this is WAY more fun, duh! I'm happy for them. That's not the point.

It's getting thrown on yet another pile of generalization. The things mentioned in that article (or some) are the things my hubby loves, those are the things I love, and things my dearest friends (yes, girls) love, and our daughters love, and our son. But not the husband of one of my friends. No freakin' way! No shower in the morning? Sweating while crossing a wet stream? Not for him! Never!
So who is the real man here? He is definitely a real man too!


Nobody asked my husband if he wanted something like that: new rules to 'find himself'. He invented things he loves all by himself! Gosh! Is thát a man, or what! He did grow up.
Walking through Scotland, with friends, or by himself. For some weeks, yes, seeing only nature, yes, meeting himself, yes, going to the core of life, yes.
It's also 'nature' that life got in the way, job, wife, kids, house, time travel still doesn't exist.

Nobody asked me if I wanted something with pink flowers, red hearts, taking care of other's kids, sitting around, drinking tea, chatting about nothing, shopping, purple dots, doing laundry, cleaning the house, playing manager to the house, playing taxidriver for the kids... gosh, I can make this as long as my hubby can make his...! And still time travel doesn't exist and no, we don't have Hermione's timetravelthingy to do all the stuff within the appropriate 24 hours.


Maybe that is the reason that LARP exists... giving us the chance to run around in crazy suits, hunt for eachother, fight eachother, drink with eachother and laugh a lot!

How do I long for a good bootcamp, some hands on work like cutting little trees down to make a shelter, invent some traps to catch food, cross a stream to get to those healthy berries and roots overthere. I would love to do some sweating while trying to run up a hill with my little family, just to conquer it. Or take it from our friends in a fierce battle. And make a big bonfire to celebrate friendship afterwards. With meat and mead. :-)
Oh. Isn't that a feminine thing to do?

Shouldn't I like what I like? Shouldn't my lifelong partner like what he likes? Shouldn't we like the same stuff? Just because others don't?

Who is the crazy one here!!?!

Statistics in my own environment tell me that the Fourth Musketeer, is a woman!
And the world better accept that.
Otherwise we'll have a fight about it... :-p

Airbrushing, I started again... very cautious

One of the artforms I encountered in my life that caught me right the first time I tried, is airbrushing.
Although I got it sort of 'in my fingers', I am very perfectionist. So, stuff I'm setting up takes a lot of time before it is finished... in my opinion. I just want it to be very nice. I want to have it done in such a way that even I would love to buy it to hang on a prominent place on a wall of our livingroom.

Of course I don't accept from myself the flaws of the beginner, the rooky, the student.

So, once in a while I want to let my lute dangle in the trees and run of screaming. But usually, in fact, all the time, I come back the next week, to the workplace of my beloved teacher, to struggle again... getting things done the way I want it. A well. I will grow up one day. I think.

It caught my mind that I never, ever, finish something to the complete end of the tunnel. Figuratively speaking.
Somewhere during the second year of highschool, during my relaxed journey through the Gymnasium, (whistling, two fingers in the nose, you get the picture), something snapped. I crashed. In plain sight. Since then I never managed to get things finished. It started of course with just failing some exams, got on with failing too many exams, barely getting the papers I needed to graduate.
University got the best of me: I didn't get the exams done for the propaedeuse, but I shined in second year courses... Figure that. All the same with maths and physics and those kind of 'easy' subjects. Of course that wasn't enough to get any graduation, since one needs to finish that dreaded first year, the prop. Figures.

Job? Yeah right. Couldn't get my mind wrapped around doing/working on the same darn thing for more than 3 or 4 months every day.
Okay, I'm High Sensitive, now I know, but so what?! I guess doing something for a longer period of time just for some income, is not enough to survive.

Study again. I LOVE learning new stuff. It keeps me alive. But it would be nice to have something in my hands that sort of proves that I did it. And that I can do it. Once in a while that would be nice. But nooo. Every time I did hit some test or exam, I just blocked. Failed. Or just got the minimum. Not that I didn't know more, or could barely do whatever was needed. It just didn't come out when needed.
I still have the samen when people ask me things I do really know. I just block. Don't know how to say it, is the least problem. Usually I just don't know it anymore. After some hours, I exactly know it again. Even where it can be found, in what book, almost on what page.
Darn.

I don't know anymore where it started to come back a little. Some exams I did during a study theology, were downright brilliant (duh). The exams for the first course Kynology (yeah, about dogs) were also very good. (I skipped the exams for the second course: that was an oral exam. No chance I would find the words)

Now I'm working on some other exams, but this time there is no time-pressure. I am allowed to finish what I have to do (sewing, drawing fashion designs, embroidering) in peace. Of course when the exam is there, I have to finish some drawing, miniature making and sewing on the spot, but the assignments I have been working on, need just be displayed.

Of course, these days, since December, to be honest, I am fighting a burnout. So. No pressure allowed. At all. And I do fall into the habbit of drawing pressure to myself: I just have to do all different kinds of things, all at the same time, and all have to be perfect. I can't say 'no'.
It is so darn hard to crash and just keep on lying down.
Crashed.

Friesians, by Cally Matherly, 2005

I just need to come back on my feet myself!
I don't need help.
I don't want help.
I am ashamed that I can't do it myself.
It's SO hard to ask for help.
Especially when everybody else had the habbit to ask ME for help, the whole 30-many years of my life I helped others. Yeah, I am one of those pastor-helper-incarnate. I run alongside the ones who need me. Since birth.

This is going to take a little longer than the 6 months to a year they predicted as the 'usual' term to recover...

My 'shrink' and all the others who know, told my I am only allowed to do the things I like... So I told them that they don't want to know how many things I like, no even love to do... Then they told me I should only do the things that give me energy. So now I'm trying to figure that out.

I skipped work. I skipped meetings. I skipped volunteering for whatever. I skipped sundayservices in our church. I skipped art. I skipped music.
Now I feel dead.
At least I feel. That's new...

So I started music again: playing saxophone! (our youngest daughter just started to play the trumpet, so I play along ;) )
And I started art again: airbrushing! (today!)
And I will start singing again: lessons start in 3 weeks!

Maybe I will start living again...
in some time...
a long time...
patience...

It's been some time...

... a long time...

without writing
without living almost
just running around, organizing, do meetings, do stuff, do too much
attending schools, talking myself back into my old school to finish it, planning workshops, doing courses
racing the kids around their school, sports, music, friends

leaving the kitchen and lots of housholding to my husband...

that should have been a sign

but no.

So. Now I need to recover. And some friends who've been there and got the t-shirt, my coaches and my shrink tell me I need to write. Anything.
That rang a bell. I was always dreaming about writing. Books. Poems. Songs. Maybe this is a good way to start that dream up again. But like the old engine, I need lubrication first...

They tell me, it will pass, I will recover, but it will cost me, time...
... a long time...

They told me I will change...
for the good I pray

But give it some time...
... a long time...

How I would love to do some more photographing...

I have dreams....

About all kinds of stuff...
people...
situations...
flying...

Occasionally there are dreams about me, hunting for pictures.
In the city. In nature. In homes. In public buildings.
Urban Exploring.

From objects. From animals. From people. From situations.
On the move.

All on my own.
Maybe with someone I love.

I would love to.


Once in a while I enter some sweepstakes to win a camera, with or without lenses or flashlights or whatever gear... (like this one: http://bit.ly/Yy93VY ), and in this last one, I would choose for the Nikon, of course, I can use a new body ... ... ...

Sounds 'funny', that last sentence...


Maybe I feel that way non the less. I can use a new body... a new spirit... a new me.
?
This old one is burned out.

But then again, the new needs to fit the gear that surrounds me. Like the Nikon-body needs to fit my lenses and other photo-stuff. Otherwise there's a misfit and I will get the constant pop-up: 'are you sure?', 'rebooting system', 'searching for new driver'...

and ultimately: 'fatal error occurred', with a 'need to restart'... Darn! Again?!

Is there a way to sort of restore the old?
Not to restart, but to freshly go on where I stranded?
Take off where I landed?

I don't fly that well without silver wings. So I stranded. Somewhere in some old cornfield or so. Lost.

Can I grow those silver wings?
Or can I believe again in flying... without those...
just on willpower...
on faith...
on love...

trusting in nature
in God
in people
in me

is that possible?
?

Friends are friends for ever...

Once upon a time...

... there were friends that sang a song and recorded it with the whole band.

Some time later, I got a CD from some dear friends.

Now there are words resonating in my mind. "Where we are in a year from now."

Once in a while it's driving tears to my eyes. I miss those dear friends. And with that, I think of all the dear friends I had and that moved away, or just live on the other side of the world.

They are still in my heart and mind and prayers.

And I always think of what it would be if we speak or see each other again, one day. And one day, maybe we can "shake each other's hands" and "share each other's land", again.

"Maybe I'll be there".

Because friends will be friends, right 'till the end.

facebook badge...

Isn't it cool: I just added a facebook badge for my profile and it says: "status: none".

Well, there. I'm back on Earth. And I'm not even an 'asylum seeker without a status' (as we have some of, in The Netherlands), I just don't have any status. Or maybe I see it blurred... I have the status 'none'. YEY!

What's 'none'? Something to choose, or something to be given, or something to earn?? Who decides? Who knows...

I know I do have a status at home, and according to my dogs. But maybe facebook doesn't follow the consensus. What status does facebook have? According to me, that is. Or is a status something that is to be formed by the community? Facebook can have the status 'addiction'. Some should go cold turkey with it. Some should go cold turkey with the whole typing thing... or anything with screens...

Facebook connects people. Status 'connector'. And so non-selfish it is! It knows everything from everybody, although it is not sharing all the information. Status 'secret service'.

There's a add that tells you how old you look on your profile picture... who decides?! I'll get me another profile pic, my 2 dogs or so, from behind.

The profile picture isn't 'an profil' at all, by theway. Giving away no profile. Fits to the 'none' status.

I have a brainwave!

"Status: none" is only applicable when not having anybody around. So when you are just you. Where you can FINALLY be yourself. Alone. No status because there is nobody to compare with. No community. Facebook is no community. It's just you. A lone statue on an own pedestal. I know some people who think they are. And I know some people who are sure they should be. And some people who think they are not, but are wrong.

Or isstatussomething you are, not in comparison to others? Then the world of statuses would be easy, and everybody would agree. Because it's a status quo. No status none.

So what's all the fuss with hierarchy then?! No change of status possible, so no change of status allowed.

I'll always stay status none. According to Facebook.

I love me.

Finally...

;)

freakin' thoughts?

Well, it's been a while again... I can't seem to get into the groove, why did I ever think of writing books and stories...
Maybe it's indeed because I've been told that my thoughts are way too freaky for others, so I better not share. I'm dangerous.

Ow come on! Everybody has freakin' thoughts, right? I just CAN'T be the only alien around all normal sane human beings.
What is normal, by the way? and what's being 'sane' anyway? what's a human being? Why aren't we called elves? or halflings? or dwarfs? or navi? or avatars?
Wouldn't it be cool to not be the tallest two-legged creature on earth, or not to have round ears, or not have hairless feet, or to be blue or purple, or to bend the world around us by dancing? Wouldn't that be cool. Just because there's then more difference between races and people than we have now?

Did our creator maybe created us sort of looking the same, with just a little centimeters difference, and just a little difference in colour, to tell us we are family? Or because we just can't handle being more different than we are now?

If I could know what you have been thinking lately. Or what you do think now. Would you be alarmed? Or would you go on thinking and we start a thought-conversation? Welcoming all passing thoughts of others? About freakin' things. Of course. Who's thoughts are perfectly structured and not scary, like a mathematical system, who's road is always traceable and reproducible?

In churches are lots of guys who studied theology, and especially the older ones have fairly different (freaky) ideas than the younger ones. Then there's the lots of female minds, who probably studied the same area, that think also very different (more freaky?), but from a very different perspective.
Let me share an example of the freaky thoughts of one of our older professors in theology. After seeing the world develop as it does, world meaning the Dutch Reformed liberated tradition, okay maybe a little more of the Netherlands; this professor just wrote down his thoughts about it. His statement comes down to this: there's no leadership anymore, we need leaders as we had in the past, we need people (that is: men) again who tell the people (that is: church people) what to believe and what to think.
Now THAT's freaky thoughts. The few men the ignorant flock should listen to, are of course elected by this theologian himself or his fellow thinking thinkers. As I guess he won't ask me to be in that election board. I'm just one of those ignorant sheep who happens to be theologian too, oh and, darn, I'm a woman even, and that's the more freaky.

Who is to tell me I have freaky freakin' thoughts?! Isn't it more freaky to dream about a time when everybody is to be told what to think? Or even what to believe? By whom?

Lots of people have freaky thoughts, most of them don't turn it into something obligatory for others too, they just share. I had the feeling that this theologian is not just sharing. What if he would be the boss of thinking? Big Brother?

That's not just freaky. It's dangerous. It's an attempt to brainwashing.
Why did God give us a brain anyway? To throw it away because we don't use it, because we're not allowed to use it, by someone who insists on using his brain-thoughts, also for the rest of the world?

beep - beep - fatal error - virus detected - shut down
/\_/\_/\__/\___/\________/\______________________________________

Starting a new year

Although there's the new start of another new year, of course I did take some legacy with me, especially from the last month.

Erysipelas, one definition I found says: "Erysipelas (Greek erusipelas - red skin) (also known as Ignis sacer, Holy fire and St. Anthony's fire) is an acute streptococcus bacterial infection of the dermis, resulting in inflammation." (wiki) The translation program I use says: it's "an acute, spreading, febrile disease characterized by inflammation of the skin, subcutaneous tissues and mucous membranes, due to infection of the lymph spaces of the corium and underlying parts by Streptococcus erysipelatis."

Now I know what that is, looks and feels like in real life. Death creeping up your foot. Thank God for penicillin, otherwise the disease would have a new name by now: St. Diana's fire.

The legacy is still some skin peeling off my foot, and something not quite right with the blood going back up.

(nope, won't put in some horror pics)

Anatomy. The lessons to get us sports masseuses to know what we are moulding, are finally leading up to the climax: exams. In some two weeks.

Next thing to study: physiology. Cells and molecules, what food and movement is doing to those structures. The smaller the more fun.

Organisations. Some organisation we almost started to trust, just got back to us and we feel like the sign - watch out: hidden agenda! - is burning red like hell. Is that what you get when you just search for a tribe? Hidden agenda's and distrust. Feels like the CIA or so.

Another one is trying to get down to the basics, by talking the same talk year after year. They want to build bridges between us and them, that is, we need to build bridges. But different ones we did build ourselves for years. Apparently our way is not theirs. Maybe we still drive on the right side and they drive on the left side... or upside down. That same talk year after year looks like copy-paste, with the desire to get things over with, heal the problems, come closer to each other.

Isn't the definition of madness, doing the same thing over and over again, expecting to help and get results this time?

Small living place. Now it's getting me. Hunting me down, it feels like. I just NEED space. To watch. To run through. To think. To live. Not so much order, or whatever stuff sorted out, everything and everybody is overwhelming me right now. Seeing and feeling everything does. My mind looks like a racetrack without an end, and without a direction. My physical and mental ears thunder like big freight trucks running by or like an earthquake. The physical and spiritual eyes God gave me just hurt like watching too long television in a room full of smoke.

God. Yeah, He's there. Still.

High Sensitivity

- I posted this on a Dutch community site this week in the morning, maybe it's interesting to try to translate -


I've always known it, I feel and see and notice lots more details than many others around me. That's the life of an art lover, I used to think. 'Maybe I should become an artist or something', but no, that was at my study age not done: a smart girl prepares for her future (and chooses something technology)! Well then, I was going to do technology, because I was smart too. Music, drawing and dancing and such, that was fun for hobby, addition to life, but you're not that crazy that you expect to let that determine your income. Heck no, imagine you should fill you entire day with something as shabby as that.

Wouldn't it be just WONDERFUL! Being blessed with the ability to do your art... and doing it for whole days too! and weekends, and evenings, and holidays ...
Imagine you doing what you don't even want to do as a hobby, but then for all the freakin' working days you have... then you're pretty sour. And in case you are a High Sensitive Person, you slowly but surely seem to sink in the swamp of burn-out.

In case you're highly sensitive to moods and atmospheres, then you get the idea ... I am somewhat irritated, cynical and such, and especially pleased that I seem to be stuck in the burning swamp, and that the escape lies primarily in yet a number of years to finish what I started, because loose ends are also dead ends...

Should I drop some intellectual stuff, and just dig with my hands in the mud, in the paint, hands full of brushes, or ready to plaster, or at my instruments, or massage the muscles of others?? Just a year or so to recover mentally and emotionally, crafts, friends, nature, doesn't that look like heaven?
And after that start again, with renewed energy but with reflection time built in, for example?

Finally, wouldn't it be wonderful to do something with the gifts that I have hidden somewhere in being highly sensitive... to help others, because I can sense virtually everything: hidden agendas, feelings, emotions, blockages, solutions... and because I can see things that others apparently do not see, but still should consider using: emotional, mental, spiritual ...


Well, you out there, accept it: I'm a freak for real.

Now I have to still accept it, or be locked away, safely away.

H'm

Well... it's almost a year now since I've blogged anything... about anything...

maybe I just don't have enough thoughts...

I really do think that I just have this blog in the vain believe that someone outthere is willing to read it. To really have the desire to know what I think. Too bad I don't think that much, hey.

So, from now on (here's another promise) (again) I will just write down what I think (yeah, little secret: I DO think once in a while!) because I'm the only one who is interested, and sometimes it's just fun to look back and discover the sheer fact that I really DO think. Therefore I am. Proof.