Judith in Transit

2007-11-28T22:12:00.000+01:00

Playing Hardball

A while ago in nice conversations on Sytske and Jan's couch, I was diagnosed an INFP. And suddenly all became clear: It is quite normal that I hate conflicts, prefer one-on-one conversations and avoid parties. It is all in my personality. My personality does not like harsh voices nor slamming doors. It likes cosy daydreaming while drinking hot cocoa.

Still even sweet benevolent personalities like mine need to earn a living. With my PhD contract ending soon, and my dissertation dangling somewhere in the void, I had to shatter my dreams of doing a three month yoga course at Yasodhara ashram in Canada, and play the grown-up. Fortunately I am quite tall already, so I quickly found a new job as a teacher at my psychology department. Though I love to teach, and I love staying in Groningen, there was only one problem: negotiating my wages.

Different people gave me all sorts of advice:
'They will try to rip you off, be ware!'
'If they want you that bad, make them pay...'
'Set a shamelessly high goal yourself, you deserve more.'
'If their offer sucks, just get up and leave.'
'They will act as if there is no space to negotiate, they lie.'

My head filled with muscletalk, but my muscles filled with jelly, I went to the appointment. I remained friendly and calm, inspired yet firm. I simply explained why I was worth more than they offered. I did not yell, I did not cry, I did not flinch. Because I was worth it.

Today I learned I am worth it. The university will pay me what I aimed for. It turns out even soft-hearted INFPs can negotiate. No need to bitch up my personality.

I like that.
I like being me.

2007-10-16T23:39:00.000+02:00

Happy chunks

It wasn't the confession over uncooked beans,
The wonderful parcel on my doorstep,
The phone conversations with friends.
The tea with my sister,
The beach with the dog,
The parc in the sun.
It was all of these in the past in the now.
Walking to the supermarket today,
I had a smile on my face and a breeze in my mind.
And I knew: All is well.
All
Is
Well.

2007-09-25T23:13:00.000+02:00

The End of Me

Oh my, I think I am cursed. Today at least I am under a spell. The day starts normally: waking up, checking the alarmclock, seeing the stack of books next to my bed. One book especially grabs my attention. I decide to read one more chapter, as I still have plenty of time before work.

I read and read, one chapter, two chapter, three chapters...
- I can start later, I will work longer -
...Words, letters, paragraphs...
- I am ill, I need to stay in bed, I will work over the weekend -
...Plots, subplots, twists...
- I might develop a fever, I have a fever-
...I must read, must read, must read, read, read...

So I stay in bed the whole day, only getting up to get a bowl of cereal and later a bag of raisins. Lying in bed, at four in the afternoon I fall asleep again. It is hard to seperate dream from reality. When the phone rings I expect the main character to be calling.

At six I finish the book, and instantly regret it. I am so bad at postponing gratification. I just have to eat the whole chocolate bar at once instead of just one square at a time.

So I envy you.
You can still read this cursed book square by square.
But it will have you aching for more.

See you in the Troposphere.

2007-09-24T17:40:00.000+02:00

Autumn Sugar Acorns

When I walk out of the psychology building, it hits me.
That smell.
The smell of childhood fantasy sugarcoated candy.
I inhale deeply, only to realise my mistake:
Too much candy causes nausea.
Sugarfactory sickness.
On my way to the library there are more signs.
While my rainpuddledrenched skirtbottom bruches cold against my bare legs,
acorns crash under my tires
and I smell wooden fires.
Autumn!
And I have the best way to celebrate:
The end of Mr. Y (Scarlett Thomas)
No better book than a cursed book.

2007-09-04T22:14:00.000+02:00

It is happening again

It starts with some little jitters. Less sleep, brainwaves in the middle of the night, little bursts of energy. Not annoying, but something to keep in mind. Still, while at it, ride the wave when it is high, write your dissertation on it. I reach my peak after a talk to Diederik. Shouldn’t you write a book? he suggests. A book? Nah, I don’t think so. Let’s focus on this dissertation first. But back in Groningen, in my bed, my wheels start turning. A book? A book! What a splendid idea! A book on emotion regulation! With topics concerning writing! thought regulation! how versus why! facial expressions! rumination! exercise! personality differences! meditation! on and on and on and on. Who could finance me? Who wouldn’t finance a book the field has been waiting for?

I try. I really try to stop my mind. But it is hard. It moves on and on. I decide to write my thoughts down. Slow down, slow down. I start writing: “Maybe I am a bit (hypo)manic now. Do I want it to stop?” After a long writing session, I fall asleep. A bit guilty I look at my notebook the morning after. The waters are calm now. But experience tells me that what goes up, usually comes crashing down. Like, at a wedding party.

Parties aren’t really my thing. Especially parties with a lot of strangers. So though I have spent a lot of time making Barteld and Stefanie a special “Magic the Wedding” game, I am quite reluctant to go. Arriving, the party is in full swing. Fortunately, Wouter and Lotte are there as well, and I even speak to some other people. After a while the crowd gets to me and I flee outside, catching my breath overlooking the lake. Crying. Again. Tears dried, I go back inside to grab my coat, but am persuaded to stay. Strange how you can cry one moment and dance like mad the next. It is a good party. But I feel my party face is painted on veneer.

Lotte is in a happy, slightly tipsy, my child is taken care off and we take a cab back home-mood. She points out cute guys and luscious bums, asking me about my preferences. I haven’t been paying that much attention. Quirky alone though I am, I wouldn’t mind some magic spark, someone to make it all okay. Live happily ever after, like Barteld and his radiant bride. But I know being with someone doesn’t make it better. Doesn’t make Me better. I know all this, but still feel weird, and jealous of other people’s happiness, the ease with which they seem to lead their lives.

Then it is time for the bridal bouquet. Lotte is all excited, and drags me to the other single women. “Judith will catch, Judith will catch!” She yells. I glue my hands against my legs. Lotte almost catches the bouquet in my name, but the second time it is caught by a ten year old girl. Some of the other singles moan: “Oh great, now I have to wait at least ten years to get married!” I feel so stupid and horrible. Why didn’t I just play along with the silly tradition?! I start crying again, and Lotte takes me outside. We talk and she is very sweet and I feel less stupid, but still something keeps on nagging me. Is it happening again?! Sobbing my way home, I remember what a friend said to me this week. Healing is three steps forward, two steps back. I know I should celebrate that one step, but somehow I am not in a party-mood.

2007-08-28T21:54:00.000+02:00

Left-handed

My handwriting is a disaster. In elementary school I was always awarded a "good" or "very good" in each subject but handwriting, which earned me a mere "pass". My mother used to scold me for my sloppy handwriting, which is funny, for the older I get, the more my handwriting is turning into hers. Inspecting my handwriting, specialists would probably predict a short and miserable life. To prevent me from knowing the horrible truth, it might have been fate itself that removed the wonderful book that Margie and I once owned from our home. It was filled with interesting knowledge including the art of handwriting analysis. We still wonder what happened to that book. It went missing about 20 years ago.

At the start of the last three months of my dissertation, I find myself waking up at the strangest hours to scribble away in my notebook. My mornings are turning into puzzles. Why didn't I pay more attention when I was six?! I guess I have chosen the wrong career. While students give me quizzical looks when inspecting my comments in their margins, I would have made an excellent doctor. But maybe it is not too late yet. I can always become left-handed.

2007-08-26T19:13:00.000+02:00

Inky Fuel

While I wasn’t updating my blog, I wasn’t just feeling sorry for myself. In fact I wrote a really nice article, which is currently on the brink of being rejected (just keeping my expectations low, so the reviews don’t shatter me). I came to the conclusion that writing a dissertation cannot coexist with writing a blog. Words in my dissertation leave fewer words for my blog and vice versa. But do they? Of course not… As long as I refuel, I will be fine. Words galore in library and bookstore! So let’s just list the latest quality brainfood I fed myself with:

The City of Dreaming Books – Walter Moers. When you like books and fantastic stories (and puzzles: the names of all writers are anagrams of real writers) then join your host Hildegunst von Mythenmetz on his quest into the beautiful but dangerous city of Buchheim. An epic tale.
People I know who have known my Mother – Arjen Lubach. I am afraid this book hasn’t been translated yet, but it should be. Arjen writes with wit and ease. Funny and sometimes sad. A debut to make you jealous.
The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini. Amazon kept on recommending this book to me. Now I know why: A beautiful, heart shattering tale of a boy and his friend, in Afghanistan. Not for the faint hearted!
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – J.K. Rowling. Jaap once introduced me to the wonderful world of Hogwarts and muggles, and I have been a fan ever since. This final book is the best one of all, and once you have finished, you just have to start all over again.
Just in case – Meg Rosoff. Can you change your name to avoid destiny? Or do you need to invent a dog for that? A strange pleasure to read. Eagerly awaiting the next one.
The Memory Keeper’s Daughter – Kim Edwards. A doctor gives away his daughter, who has the syndrome of Down, while telling his wife the child died at birth. Atmospheric tale of secrets and love.
The Schopenhauer Cure – Irvin D. Yalom. Carina lent me this great book on a psychiatrist at the end of his life, who runs a weekly therapy group. Entertaining and engaging. Filled with details about Schopenhauer without getting annoying. Well done.

There is only one problem with reading. When I read, I cannot write… Maybe I should clone myself.

2007-08-01T17:41:00.000+02:00

Fly with the Butterflies

After months of hibernation, I feel a tickle under my toes, in my belly, on my ears. I finally remember again: The things I like, the things I love. Hidden away for so long, some of them have gone a bit rusty or pale, but I believe in second chances. Rise and shine.

In my drawings, butterflies keep on showing up. And not just in my imagination. All of a sudden, the world is populated with butterflies: in shop windows, painted on a child's face, on flowers, in advertisements, lined up with dildo's in the red light district. Each one of them reminds me of the power of transformation. How it is time for a change. How it lies within my powers to change.

So I take my lithium.
And take it easy.
And take my time
To change.

2007-03-28T10:49:00.001+02:00

Bloggers Anthem

2007-03-25T17:19:00.000+02:00

Week 9: Symptom Check

I hate conflicts. I am hardly ever irritated and when there is tension in the air I want to run and hide or find a peaceful solution. But this week starts me off annoyed and upset. I clash with a student, a colleague and a roommate. They might not have noticed, but man was I irritated. I don't know myself like this, brooding over silly revenge. I don't like myself like this. I don't like myself like this at all.

I send off an application for a Postdoc position at Louvain-La-Neuve University. I haven't finished a single chapter of my dissertation, and am waiting to be prescribed proper medication. Still, as soon as I am at my work, I go into work-overdrive, as if nothing is the matter. The application I write turns out quite nice, reminding me that I can actually write. Still I am so relieved to learn a few days later that I am not invited for an interview. It is then that I decide to draw the line. No more what-to-do-after-my-PhD plans from now on. Me first, dissertation later, and whatever comes next, time will tell. Breathe in, breathe out.

When I go see the dietician, I am in a pretty good mood. I tell her about my research and she seems impressed. Thinking out loud she wonders whether I have been correctly diagnosed. I am flattered, but actually, I haven't been properly diagnosed yet. And I do prefer to wait for the verdict of a real doctor. After all, emotion regulation is my middle name. Still she seems good at her job. We decide for me to start keeping a diary of my eating habits, and meet a few times until I can join a small group she runs.

In the weekend I am at Durk's again. On Saturday I hardly have any energy for no particular reason, and lie dizzily on the couch. In the evening the fog clears and we go for dinner at a nice Greek restaurant. Afterwards we go and see 'Blind', a Dutch film about an ugly girl who falls in love with a blind boy. It is a powerful fairytale with beautiful images and music, and I get all wrapped up in the story.

On Sunday I go to Den Haag, for Margies birthday party. I don't know why, but just like last Christmas, I start feeling miserable. I try hard not to cry and after one and a half hour of pretending to listen to people I do not want to hear, I decide to leave again. One person is so kind to question my early departure. Thank you very much for the guilt. Fortunately the people I love don't mind me leaving. My mom is sweet and walks me to the tram stop. On the way home I cry. There ought to be a discount card for crying people in public transport. I could save a lot of money.

2007-03-15T14:39:00.000+01:00

Week 8: Finally Loving Myself?

At work I am not really working. I do try, but everything is slow. Fortunately there are Carina and Debra to have lunch with, a paint session that covers my hands in black paint, and a nice talk to Linda over a good cup of tea. On Wednesday evening I am off to Amsterdam again. I meet up with Margie at Wagamama, and after dinner we go see the Decemberists at Paradiso. We sit down at the balcony, and have a nice view over the stage. They sing almost all my favourites, play odd games with the audience and are generally quite weird. Bravo! Afterwards I head over to Durk for the night. It is nice to have a boyfriend in Amsterdam.

Back in Groningen I meet up with Tineke and Fenne to go see a play of the amateur theater school. It is strange being back at the theater, as we used to be students of the school too. Though I have fond memories of those three years, for some reason only bad memories pop up. I recall the bad feeling I had in class, in my last half year. I now know that when I am in a gloomy mood already, acting is not a good cure. Nevertheless it is great fun seeing our former classmates perform really well. The play: 'the ladies Macbeth', is very funny and we have a great night out.

When I talk to Rebecca on the phone, she convinces me to become a Flybaby. Flylady is a funny, slightly overweight lady, wearing purple clothes and little wings. She knows that a clean house makes for a happier you. Still you shouldn't overdo it, but take baby steps instead. Your CHAOS (can't have anyone over syndrome), didn't appear overnight and won't disappear that quickly either. New habits take time. By signing up on her website, you become a Flybaby, and are on your way to Finally Loving Yourself.

Loving myself sounds like a plan, even if it means cleaning my house. For assignment number one I soak my sink in bleach (sorry environment) for two hours and it does look pretty pretty afterwards. My roommates are impressed. Unfortunately, becoming a Flybaby does not mean instant bliss. My mood is dropping and dropping again. In my shiny kitchen I bake muffins. They turn out quite nice, but something inside of me is turning sour.

2007-03-15T13:05:00.000+01:00

Week 7: Happy Melting Pot

I head over to Amsterdam for work & play. I feel happy and very grown-up, getting up in the morning with Durk, kissing him goodbye as we both leave for our respective jobs. At the Free University I first pay a surprise visit to Karin who recently started working there. It is nice catching up again. Just when she goes off to a meeting, my phone rings, as Ljubica has arrived. Crazy sweet Ljubica has gotten up at four in the morning to make it to this symposium. Over tea we chat and chat, and if it weren't for the symposium, we would never stop.

The symposium is on positive emotions. I sit next to Skyler, a funny American PhD student, who keeps on muttering: 'if this is the state of the art of positive emotion research in the Netherlands, what a sad country this is'. I actually do enjoy the talks. The first speaker is a cognitive psychologist who delivers a funny and understandable talk on emotion and attention. I am slightly puzzled by the woman from the philosophy department. Reading her entire talk from paper, as she is used to in her own field, she has a hard time keeping me awake. We finish with the Dutch professor of happiness. He is a sociologist and shows a huge amount of data on happiness in different countries. Though I don't believe that he has shown any causal links, I do like his talk.

After the symposium, Ljubica and I do some more catching up, and I have to show her Puccini. This wonderful chocolate store is filled with chocolates with strange flavours like pepper and nutmeg. They are so delicious and rich, that a single piece is more like a meal then a treat. Fortunately there is no Puccini in Groningen. After I have dropped off Ljubica at the train station, I head over to Latei. This is a cute little tearoom, grandmother style, filled with knick knacks for sale and the scent of fresh pies wafting through the air. Drinking my Rooibos tea, I read 'Holes', the book Ljubica gave me as a present. This is a wonderful story, about a boy who is sent to camp, to dig holes in the desert. Very funny, and very well done.

When Durk arrives, we wander 'de Zeedijk', which is filled with Asian stores and restaurants and even has a temple. We have dinner at a small Indonesian restaurant, with a sweet motherly lady serving us insanely cheap and delicious food. The next day we go back into town, to buy Debra a 'Ploesiepoesie'. Electric Luna, who makes the cats from scratch, lives in a nice artsy house and has her own very cool and colourful craft cellar. I first planned on buying a Retro Ploesiepoes, with the letters 'S' and 'O' on it (for Social & Organisational), but Debra's Ploesiepoes prefers to stay naked. So instead I buy an additional catnip toy. Catnip is some cat-drug that most cats loooove. Luna shows us the effect with one of her own cats, which, as soon as she has tasted the catnip, starts to roll on the floor in a happy daze.

Afterwards we walk to an organic market, and buy nice bread and insanely good organic brownies. Because it is Chinese New Year, there is Chinese music and festivities, and we just have to buy a special Chinese cake as well. The sun is shining and we are happy. We wander on, and take a quick peek in some art gallery, after which we settle for tea and rolls with hummus at the esoteric bookstore and tearoom Himalaya. On Sunday we set sail for Lieneke and Adams marriage. The entire South East of Amsterdam seems to be one big building site, and the longer we walk from dirt pile to sand ditch, the more I am scared that we will be too late. Only until we meet some other wedding guests who have a hard time finding the place too, I start to relax again. This will be a traditional African wedding: surely it won't start punctually...

The wedding turns out to be in a weird building that is glued to a parking lot. Lieneke is dressed in pretty pink and Adam looks the part too. Of course we are not too late, and during the ceremony people keep walking in and out. While prayers are being said, Adam even leaves to answer a call on his mobile phone. This is not a problem, as we learn that the bride and groom don't even have to be present: the wedding is a deal between the parents. Afterwards there is music and drinks and food. African stew and Friesian cake. Lieneke is beaming with joy. This is her first wedding ceremony. Two more will follow; one Dutch ceremony, and one in Ghana. On the way home I finish my book in the train. I am a bit exhausted, but in a happy way.

2007-03-13T15:28:00.000+01:00

My visual DNA

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

2007-02-11T09:00:00.000+01:00

Week 6: The L-Word

I finally have an intake interview. The therapist is good at her job, and a lot of what she says is spot on. Then she asks out of the blue: have you ever been on medication before? Like lithium? I take a deep mental breath and think of Dr. Phelps, whose book assures me that lithium really isn't that bad:

"You might think 'whoa, I'm being offered medications they use for people with serious mental illnesses -- look, there's lithium!' But you didn't know that lithium is commonly used as a booster for antidepressants in plain old depression. It even works by itself as an antidepressant. So taking lithium is not a marker for 'serious' mental illnesses."

Though I believe him, to me, lithium still has this lobotomy, electroshock, straight-jacket ring to it. Lithium. My sister says she only knows the Nirvana song. Well, we all know what happened to Kurt Cobain. Fortunately I am far from dead and happy that the therapist takes my mood swings seriously, the highs as well as the lows. Lithium is a mood stabilizer, not an antidepressant. We make a new appointment to talk again soon.

Out of curiosity I go to a deeksha evening. Deeksha givers tap into a universal source of energy and pass it on through their hands. The elderly lady I thought came for help with her arthritis, turns out to be one of the deeksha givers. When she puts her hands on my forehead I feel waves of heat through my body, and tears run down my face. Still I feel safe and protected. Thank you. For more comfort I bake bread to share over a nice lunch with Debra and Carina. I have good phone conversations. With my social worker, we up my work schedule to 75%.

I continue painting with Donna by joining her weekly course. With only two fellow-students, it's almost like therapy, but this time I do have to clean up after myself. We start by visualising a wave. I see the others use shades of blue and green. My wave is more like fire. Yellows and reds, twirling and swirling. When I start a new picture on how it all got this far, I start to cry. The cave is dark and deep. In my future there is calm though. Only after I have finished, I realise, I have drawn a picture of myself in lotus position. Lotus or lithium, the 'L' is for healing.

2007-02-04T20:23:00.001+01:00

Week 5: Victory

I hand in the revised version of my article a day before it is due. Miraculously there have been no tears, no tossing and turning, no 'I am quitting this job right now's. I am back into yoga, and manage to practice every day. When I give a homeless guy some money, and he asks for some chocolate as well, I hand him the whole container. At home, Marleen has problems taking out her contact lenses, so I take them out for her, without poking out her eyeballs. In the weekend I have tea with Wouter & Lotte and go climbing with Barteld. Riding our bikes home, singing silly songs, there is no doubt about it: things are looking up again.

2007-01-28T17:24:00.000+01:00

Week 4: Planning

I am judged 50% fit for work again. Together with my social worker, we set about planning my time. When I take out my pocket planner, I get a puzzled look: "what IS that?!!" So now I have a proper one, with actual space for planning. While half of me slowly gets back on track, the other half sits at home watching Sugar Rush: a weird, highly addictive television show about a queer girl in Brighton.

I finally get inspiration for the cover of Debra's dissertation. While cutting and pasting, I try to shut up the little voices in my head (I don't think she'll like that. This was such a bad idea. Okay, you've truly ruined it now) and successfully so, because I end up with something I am pretty proud of. It's not a cover yet, but it's a start and it's very Debra. When I show it to her she beams with joy. Take that you stupid voices!

At the end of the week I go visit my parents, as well as the dentist and optician for my yearly check-up. Both of them are slightly disappointed with the way I have taken care of myself. 'Is anything the matter?', my dentist asks me. What to say? Teethwise 'no' I guess. But still. For some reason, flossing and brushing my teeth are the last things on my mind after a hard day of feeling low. So I just smile. No cavities at least.

It is nice to be back home again. It was Margies idea tot get our parents tickets to a Melanie concert in April as their birthday gift, and they are truly delighted. Too bad Veldhoven is so far from Groningen, or I would join them. Cooking and baking in the kitchen with my mum, we sing along to "Ruby Tuesday" and "Beautiful People". I leave just before all my aunts and uncles arrive. They are a sweet bunch, but I have left my social half in Groningen. Fortunately Durk doesn't mind. Planning is all about priorities.

2007-01-21T20:17:00.000+01:00

Week 3: the Good, the Bad & the Guilty

For Wouter's promotion, I decide to go all the way. After a tiresome scavenger hunt, I finally settle for the pair of black high heeled shoes I already spotted in the first store. The girl behind the counter remarks: don't you just love those Dr. Martens? Ahaaaa! So that's why I didn't instantly fall while trying them on. Sturdy shoes for a sturdy girl. Elegant high heels nonetheless. My mother can be proud. Now I just need to learn to walk properly on them... And it's not just my shoes that are upgraded. It is time for some new work skills as well. The social worker that is on my case, turns out to be my personal planning guru: "You talk a lot. But now it is time for action. Let's not focus on the negative, but on the positive side of things." Amen.

After some last minute promotion hassle, on Thursday the stage is all set. While people are staying indoors because of storm alarm and pouring rain, Leendert (the other paranymph), Wouter and I, cab our way to the Academy building. During the ceremony, we can hear the gale roar outside. Inside, Wouter is doing a magnificent job defending his thesis. Though I hardly understand a word he says, I am damn proud. Standing next to him when he is given praise for his work, I beam with joy. Afterwards, people tell me I looked so solemn, leading the way through the aisle. No wonder. All I could think of was: please don't fall, please don't fall...

Afterwards, there are drinks and gifts for the young Doctor. We then head back to Leendert's house, to get some well deserved rest. But no rest for the wicked, so all too soon we walk back into town for dinner, staring at a huge fallen tree along the route. I love the Wagamama, but being surrounded by professors in logic and mathematics I am not quite at ease. The day has been too long already and my social self is quickly fading. At the lavatories, I am about to cry, when I realise I cannot, as it would ruin my mascara. So I don't. Maybe I should wear mascara more often.

We have organised a party at the Coffee Break. Here are more people I know, and I can breathe again. As hardly anyone seems to be into dancing, we start dancing ourselves. Lotte leads the way with a great toddler dance: We dig a hole and plant a seed, and with rain and sun, a flower grows. But then we are already too busy drumming and playing guitar to really notice. I laugh my head off and am totally exhausted. I know I should really go home, but as Wouter loses his 's' only once, I join the rest to 'de Kar' for some more partying. Exhausted I fall asleep at half past four.

As I still need to work, I only sleep for four hours. During the day I can hardly focus, and in the evening I realise there is no way I will finish grading the work of my students today. Sitting behind my laptop I collapse. I feel horrible. I feel a horrible paranymph and a horrible teacher. I feel horrible for feeling so horrible. I cry, I cry, I cry. When Durk arrives I am still sobbing, talking on the phone to my sister. I am a horrible host, a horrible girlfriend. While Durk squeezes my hand, Margie tells me not to judge myself too hard: I haven't been myself lately.

On Saturday Wouter serves Leendert and me a delicious thank-you-brunch. Afterwards, Durk and I meet and we walk into the Martini church and have fun watching people discuss over the new 'Forum' that will be built in the city centre. We eat pizza and watch silly art films. Over the weekend, my mind slowly settles down again. Enough storms for me.

2007-01-14T14:33:00.000+01:00

Week 2: Social Support

I wake up with thoughts running through my veins. I open my mouth and out they spill: visionary dreams, figures of speech, matters of fact. Out out out. After a while Debra politely asks me to turn it down. Oh no! Selfish me. I am so not going to spoil her day. I pop an extra pill to quiet myself down. We escape the vegetarian full English breakfast (who on earth invented baked beans?) and settle for the Tin Drum. Much more tranquil, we occupy the comfy sofas and watch the world go by. We could do this for hours, but Debra still has a mission to accomplish.

We arrive on campus early, so Joh shows us around the very impressive new creativity lab in the making. A big playroom full of colourful lights, moving walls, projection screens and cameras. The lab boss keeps talking about creating a challenging learning environment, while Debra and I just think: what learning? This room is ideal for social psychology experiments! Evil scientists.

Then at last we get to the real purpose of our trip: Debra's invited talk at the psychology department. To the point and at ease, knowledgeable and fun: I bask in reflected glory. Afterwards, we go for dinner at a great Indian restaurant. Having fun intelligent conversations that go beyond work and shopping, I look around our table of six bright women in academia, and realise a career in science doesn't always have to be about competition and stress. It might also be rewarding and fun. Life IS what you make it.

After some minor packing issues, we spend our last day in London. London has that big city buzz that Brighton lacks. It's nice to feel the difference, but I think I prefer more seabreeze and less buzz. We aren't in a touristy mood, and go to the cinema instead. 'Miss Potter' is enchanting and sweet. Just what two tired girls need. Topped off with a great hotelroom picknick on Marks & Spencer goodies, London is a worthy end of a great stay. At Gatwick the next day we spend our last pounds on carrot cake. One can never eat too much carrot cake.

At home I learn that Rebecca couldn't get hold of a Eurosonic ticket anymore. This is fine, as we have a tendency to get so wrapped up in catching up, that we miss heaps of bands anyway. Better to miss bands with no money spent. I sell my ticket and spend the money on food at Wool instead. It's always nice to see Rebecca and we have a good time. On Sunday I make lunch for Wouter and we chat and discuss his impending promotion. It is good to have friends.

2007-01-07T16:16:00.000+01:00

Week 1: Addict Alert
I start my week wrapped up in cotton wool. Somewhere in the distance, life goes about its normal business, but I am at home, watching episodes of Prison Break on my laptop. After a PeekVid hint by Margie, I have randomly started watching it. Cute smart weirdo, evil prison, sweet nurse, brother bonding, nasty inmates, government cover-ups: I am hooked. TV addict, moi? But where is crucial episode 15 of season one?!! Does his brother die?!! Fortunately there is Ghost Whisperer to take my mind off things.

At the doctor's we decide to lower my dosage, so I can establish contact with planet earth once more. Also my ear gets flushed, as it has been clogged up because of an infection. Turns out my partial deafness wasn't imaginary and feeling spacey was just part of the deal. With this new insight, I am able to face the world again. Good timing indeed, for off I go to see Durk, who is sweet enough to take me to Schiphol in the morning.

With still an hour for Debra to arrive, I am about to start my book, when I notice a sign. SALE. Dresses, shirts, skirts, pants. Crammed with my too large suitcase in my too small changing room, I try them all on. 'Hi Debra, could you meet me here instead? I am sort of...err...shopping.' The long purple skirt is a definite do, the fluffy brown wrap-around is very me and a short black dress is essential wardrobe item number one. Who needs travel when you can shop at Schiphol?

Arriving at Brighton railway station a couple of hours later, I realise why. I LOVE BRIGHTON. One year of mad studies here was all it took to steal my heart. The sea, the accent, the atmosphere, the funky shops, the organic restaurants, the seagulls & squirrels, the tacky pier, the wrecked pier: you name it. We board at Colson House, a great film-themed B&B owned by gay couple Mark and Eamon, in the heart of Kemptown. As Mark agrees the John Wayne room would have been 'a tad bit too masculine', to our delight we have been put up in the Judy Garland room. After a stroll through town and eating a great meal at all-vegetarian restaurant Food for Friends, Debra can already see why I like Brighton very very much.

In the morning I take a walk along the seafront to go for a drop-in class of yoga at the Evolution Centre. I haven't done yoga in ages and my body, though a bit stiff, purrs with delight. Debra and I are perfect travel companions. We split up from time to time, to later catch up again over large pieces of heavenly carrot cake and share our adventures and show off our treasures. I really didn't need any more books, so I avoided Borders & Waterstone's and only bought, say, eleven or so books... Got to support charity, right?

Because I promised Vegatopia to write them a piece on vegetarian Brighton, we are forced to try out several restaurants, boohoo. Terre a Terre is our all time favourite. I had never been to this vegetarian restaurant before because of too expensive on a student budget. For two working ladies though... We don't understand a word of the menu, so we just randomly order and enjoy. Almost every bite we sigh and after a while we decide it is only allowed to comment on food if it is NOT delicious. Only the red pepper stuffed with onions, is deemed 'just good', instead of 'heavenly delicious'. Sorry pepper.

Of a totally different level (and price), but still very yummy, is Bombay Aloo where we go on sunday evening. I love a good buffet. Especially if it is Indian and all vegetarian. When Debra goes home to prepare for her talk, I meet up with Joh at the Evening Star. Her boyfriend Ed pops round for a while as well. We haven't seen each other in ages and have one of these truly wonderful talks, in which almost all the blanks are magically filled in. Talking to her it finally dawns on me that medication isn't necessarily evil. It might actually just help.

2007-01-01T14:41:00.000+01:00

Intermezzo
A new year calls for a fresh start. I am inspired by an article I read in the January issue of Yoga Journal. Its message is very simple: Just Start Over. There is always a time to stop and think, and start anew. So when I feel guilty over some silly thing, eat way too many chocolates or cry myself mental, I take a deep breath and try to Just Start Over.

As a reminder to myself, I print out the words and paste them above my door, under my clock. It is never too late to start following your dream. It is not easy though, to start over whilst being trapped in old patterns again and again. But if life weren't about learning, what would be the point in coming here in the first place?

Just Starting Over also means a new title to my blog, as I am definitely on the move. As a nice coincidence, the week numbers finally coincide with the actual week numbers commonly used by the rest of the world. You would almost think I am getting organised! And for those of you who were worried: yes I am feeling much better again. Thank you so much for being there.

But I am getting ahead of myself, what did happen in those first weeks of the new year?

2006-12-31T16:05:00.000+01:00

Week 23: Sleepy Silent Frog

We celebrate Christmas in the Hague. Though I love seeing my family again, I don't feel too well. So I am excused and cry on Margie and Robert Reinders bed. 'Baby, did you forget to take you meds?' my mum inquires. My dad wonders whether it is something I ate. I am slightly annoyed, but know their questions come from a good heart. My mum is a star at forgetting her pills, and my dad just wants things to be okay. It must be hard to cope with a fruitcake for a daughter. Fortunately I know my parents love fruitcake.

This week is my last ever silence retreat with Eigenwijze, because of their age-limit. Instead of pondering the year past and wondering what lies ahead, I sleep the days away. When there is no yoga or meditation or chanting or garden work, I go straight back to bed. With my socks on. Mmmm. In the garden I am uncovering a gardenpath not even the new gardener knew existed. Happily I remove the sand and flatten the earth around the stones to make it look clean and neat.

Hitting the ground with my small spade again, I realise I didn't just hit the ground. I hit a frog, straight on the head. Instantly I feel miserable again. There I was, cleaning up, clearing my head, enjoying the outdoors, doing the right thing, while actually I killed a poor innocent frog... With tears streaming down my face, I mentally talk to the frog and try to revive it, removing the sand around its paws. Sorry frog. Sorry I exist.

But then it happens! The frog opens its eyes and a little dazed, it stretches one paw, and then another. Flip flop flop, there it disappears into the pond. Thank you frog. I will not forget you. Whenever I feel like I have been hit on the head again, I will remember I am strong. I can always jump. Back into the water. And just swim.

At the end of the week I am sad to leave the silence and the beautiful former monastery behind, but happy that Durk comes to pick me up. We spend nice times together and I end the year in Hilversum together with Jo-Ann and Maartje. We play the transformation game, with some added alcohol for the ladies. Though I am not quite transformed, I know things are changing.

There is no turning back, I am in transit.

2006-12-24T17:43:00.000+01:00

Week 22: 100% Mess

"Really", I try to convince the company doctor,
sniffing away another tissue.
"I can start feeling better any moment now...".

Yeah Right,
is written in big letters on her forehead.
But...but...

So that's it. I am officially ill. I am 100% unfit for the job.
All those times in all those years that I felt bad,
There was one thing I could rely on: my brain.
My capacity to study and work.
I guess it is time to reinvent myself.

With no more need to work, I should feel relief.
But all I feel is guilt.
I am a loser, I am a fraud, I am pathetic.

Ill people are in hospital. They cough, and smell a bit stale.
Ill people don't laugh the one moment and cry the next.
Or do they?!

So I start with sedatives.
Sedatives are fun.
They make me feel tipsy, like I shouldn't drink another glass.
Yet, I can't mix them with alcohol.

Don't mix and match to prevent a mess.
Prevent?...

2006-12-18T03:48:00.000+01:00

Week 21: Down the Drain

Carina and I decide to go see 'Babel' which was recommended to us by several people. Though it is great to catch up with Carina, going to see the film was a Bad Idea. Do Not Go And See It!!! (especially if you are prone to bad moods) Coming out all gloomy and frustrated, a local tramp starts harassing us, calling us names. Riding my bike home at the top of my nerves, a random car passes and the people in it enjoy yelling at me. Oh that's just great. Fortunately I know just what to do, so I cry myself to sleep.

In the morning I just continue where I left off. I really try to stop crying, but each time I stop, I start again. I feel like I am losing all control. My room is a mess, and the socks on the floor seem to have a mind of their own. I know they are not moving, so why do I still see them moving?! I am freaking myself out. Can someone please show me the camera, so we can all laugh about the bad joke? After four hours I seem to have finally run out of tears, and I feel drained.

I decide to still try and give my talk at the yearly national Social Psychology meeting. I jumble some powerpoint slides together and feeling miserable as hell I give a jolly good talk (years of drama class do pay off). If this is one big lesson of the universe to tell me it is okay to not always be well prepared, I want to switch classes.

Fortunately in the weekend I get to relax. It's nice to be with someone nice and just be. It definitely makes me happy again. Durk and I go to my favourite sauna and go out for dinner twice: at a nice Ethiopian restaurant: Addis Ababa, with nice Ethiopian pancakes on which everything is served. I love to eat with my hands... We also check out Casa Peru, a cute little restaurant with amazing food. Walking through nightly Amsterdam, watching the steep houses and lighted bridges I get all happy. Though it's been six years since I lived here, it is always nice to be back. Feeling all good again over the weekend, it is tempting to believe in random hormonal hysteria...

2006-12-10T14:45:00.000+01:00

Week 20: Childhood Playground

Having dinner on Monday with Lidewij and Michel, Michel tells me I am a typical Cancer: my inner child is very alive. I always thought Cancers were the mothers of the Zodiac, but I like this version much better. I love to play! And Sinterklaas is a great time for children.

At work "Zwarte Pieten" disturb our peace, and even kidnap one of our professors. We drink hot cocoa and eat too much chocolate and Sinterklaas candy. In my pigeon hole I find a nice Sinterklaas parcel, with orange blossom syrup and an orange blossom chocolate. My mysterious gift-giver tells me in rhyme, how the orange blossom suits me just fine. I definitely like to be likened to an orange blossom! Thank you Sinterklaas.

At home we play the greed game. I first cook for the whole lot, and the pumpkin pie is a great success. We then have loads more Sinterklaas candy (my poor stomach), which we mix with several types of alcohol. We laugh a lot over all the bad jokes we make, and even though I don't win the Pipi Langkous DVD, it was still a jolly good night.

But there is time for even more happy childhood memories, for together with my parents, Margie, Robert Reinder, and Ljubica, I go to the Efteling. I haven't been in this lovely fairy tale theme park for ages, and it is marvellous. We sleep in the Efteling hotel, where Ljubica and I catch up and watch Rod Stewart in classy pink. Over dinner, I hand out my Sinterklaas gifts to everyone, before going for an extra helping of pancake.

The day after it is time to roam the park. Best favourite is a roller coaster in the dark, with the ship being a good second. The weather is great and there is happy music everywhere. We leave when it is already dark. Though our feet are tired, and our stomachs upset, our eyes are still bright with delight.

2006-12-04T17:37:00.000+01:00

White hat

-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, December 3, 2006 8:22 AM

This Saturday evening I will be waiting for you too. This invitation does not mean that I want to do anything or talk during the movie. But when the darkness leaves the theatre, perhaps we will look into each other's eyes, smile, decide to get a cup of coffee and share a conversation over what we just saw.

-waiting with a white hat

-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, December 3, 2006 12:42 PM

i bought a white hat today.

-searching on saturdays

-----Email Message-----
Sent: Monday, December 04, 2006 3:42 AM
Subject: white hats in movie theaters

I will buy a white hat too, and I will tell my friends, and I will post it on the posting towers here in town, and maybe some of us who go to movies alone will not leave that way.

-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, December 03, 2006 10:52 PM
Subject: movies

i usually hide behind postcards and computer screens.
but i hope to see you at the movies on saturday.
with a white hat.

(from this week's Postsecret)