Broken

You know how bad something is when you think “I cannot possibly put anything about it on either Facebook or my blog”. And believe me, for someone who’s quite “in the open” with everything, that’s a pretty scary parameter.
There are 2 or 3 people I can talk to (no parents included). And that’s it. The rest of all this crap has to stay trapped in my head – which is now ready to explode.
Oh sure – I want to write about it. There’s nothing more I’d love to do right now. It’s just not possible without causing even more damage than there already is.

Ubi fumus, ibi ignis

The missing piece of the puzzle fell into place tonight. And I don't like what I see.

You know how it’s nice when you propose something, and people react enthusiastically?
Well, some people seem unable to do just that.

You want to go out for breakfast?!?...No, let’s just have cornflakes.
You want to go for a walk?? …No, don’t feel like it.
You want to do *anything* today? Let’s just see later….
You want to - insert whatever -? Maybe tomorrow / another time / …

Tired, don’t feel well, other stuff to do, ….: the list of excuses is endless.
Luckily, some friends still seem to think I have fun ideas (or that I’m a fun person to do things with), or I would seriously start to think of myself as the most unwanted girl to go out with. Maybe that’s why I spend so much time with those friends lately. At least, they react “yeah, sure, great idea! Just tell me where” when I ask them to go out for drinks. I don’t have to beg.
Of course, if you keep on getting “no” for an answer, you stop asking after a while. Or better: first you stop begging and pleading, then you stop asking altogether. Because you know that whatever you propose, whatever you ask, you’ll never ever get an affirmative (let alone enthusiastic) answer.

Also, the person who says "no" all the time, is very unlikely to propose things to you. (that would be counterproductive, wouldn't it?). So, in the end, you not only stop asking, begging and pleading, but you stop doing things together.
Fine, then I'll go alone. Or fine, then I'll ask someone else.

Seems easy, if only that little bastard called "rejection" would stop kickin' your behind whenever you turn around and walk away.

Let's talk about...

I don’t know if it’s summer, the ongoing sunny and hot weather, the holiday-spirit, or whatever. The fact is that I never had to hear so much sex talk in my life as in the past couple of weeks. Whatever reason they came up with, my students always managed to find a good excuse to start talking about xxx-topics! Take a simple, innocent lesson: the alphabet. Try to make the alphabet with all the words you already know in Dutch. Bingo: it was enough to trigger first giggles, then fits of laughter, and finally every imaginable word that has never been on my white board ever before. “Wait, I know a t-word….Wait, wait, what was “nipple” again in Dutch?”
Take another (boring) lesson: household appliances. For instance: a vacuum cleaner. In Dutch : a stofzuiger. “Oh my god! That means dust SUCKER! Sucker!” Bingo, 5 minutes of crazy laughter, and not able to teach one more word.
And then I’m not even talking about the stories I heard about role plays, about how sex is seriously the single best thing to beat stress, or about the fact that Latino’s are the horniest people in the world (oh, really?).

Sure, they had their reasons.
“I have a Dutch speaking husband! I have to know these words in Dutch!”
“I’m going to university in the Netherlands! I need that kind of vocabulary!”
They even wondered why “sex” was not a standard chapter in every single language course book.

All craziness aside, I had a great time with this very international group (Estonia, Romania, Singapore). I’m sure I made a few new friends. And they did learn a lot, in between all our hysterical fits of laughter. So when yesterday, after our last class, they confidently ordered our goodbye-drinks in Dutch, I was the proudest teacher ever!

Hello / goodbye life

I think I’ve finally succeeded. In letting go. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for it to happen, and being miserable just because it’s not happening. I did everything I could do. Voilà.

I even managed to invite a pregnant friend, and be okay with looking at her big belly and caring husband all evening. I didn’t have an emotional breakdown when the second birth announcement in one week’s time arrived in the mail today. But I did read an article about the fact that you should freeze your eggs before you’re 35, “because then they’re still fine”. So, one year left to surrender my future to sub-zero temperatures. Start preparing for your polar expedition guys (or girls?).

In the meantime, instead of waiting for a miracle, I’ve decided to just enjoy life. (Rocket science, isn’t it?). In the last month, I’ve spent more quality time with friends than in the past year, and I’m still trying to burn some calories in the girly gym. I realize I have the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want. There’s no (cute) life-long responsibility holding me back. I can be deliciously selfish, without feeling guilty about it. I guess that’s just what happens when your patience is way over its expiration-date. I’m on a “me-trip”, and enjoying every minute of it.

Brussels is (still) boiling

So, what does one do when it’s 35°C for days on end?
- escape to parents’ garden, and hang in the hammock
- drag friend from behind her new Mac to have drinks outside
- have a water spray on the bedside table to sprinkle oneself before going to sleep
- organize a BBQ, which includes dragging up five heavy grocery bags to the second floor.
- convince godchild that his parents should install a pool in their suburbian garden
- live on a diet of water and ice cream
- be a walking drinking fountain for all sorts of insects, and thus be covered in nasty bites
- fuck the cellulite, and put on shorts
- put a ventilator in the class room which blows away everyone’s papers
- take the hamster out on the terrace after a midnight thunderstorm for a bit of very needed fresh air
- have the great idea to buy new underwear in the summer sales, when it’s almost 40°C in the fitting rooms
- drive around in car, ‘cause it’s the only place with airconditioning
- still use the hairdryer to look good, even if more hot air is the last thing you need
- close the curtains during day time, and open them at night time
- and now: go to the park with book and water bottle!

Summer in the city

Isn’t it amazing what a haircut and a bit of sunny weather can do? Throw in some new Tommy Hilfiger shorts* (size 26, whoopee!), and a new bottle of the best smelling Rituals body lotion at a ridiculous discount, and N has all the ingredients to feel happy.
Also helping: great students in my morning group at school ( one of them an INSEAD partner of J ’05!), mom out of hospital, and the sweetest cleaning lady on earth who has ironed all of P’s shirts.
Yep, summer’s in the city – and in my head. Let’s see how long it will last (both of them).

* : no! That's not me! Just a random pic I took in the park - and right at the moment I pressed the button, the girl took off her shorts!