Song Of The Day: Tool – Aenema

I had hoped to have a few really awesome picture-overdose posts for you guys, but unfortunately the camera and I couldn’t really get along and I had to return it. There’s a replacement coming in soon, but until then I’m just gonna stick to “the usual” ;) So today it’s time for another Song Of The Day;

I only “discovered” Tool 3 or 4 years ago, but it’s been love at first… Ear, I guess. Hypnotizing music, wonderful voice, amazing lyrics… I guess there’s hardly anything not to love, although honestly, the videos tend to freak me out a little.

It’s been pretty hard to pick a song for today, but I decided on Aenema because of this small part of the lyrics in particular:

Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car

It’s a
Three ring
Circus sideshow of

We (as in, people in general) really tend to fret about bullshit. It’s ridiculous, don’t you think? I spent half of my day today being annoyed over a few freakin’ split ends! I mean… What the hell.

This song (and again, those lyrics in particular) has actually inspired me to write one of my first posts ever. Reading it back I find that it’s pretty silly how my self-consciousness has changed compared to when I wrote it. I guess it’s all those stick figures I’m working with these days! Damn.

Anyway… This isn’t supposed to turn into a rant about how fat I feel and what condition my hair is in, so let’s just get back to the subject. Right… Awesome song, awesome lyrics.

What do you think of the song and/or lyrics? And what are the silly things you fret about?

Thanks so much for reading and listening, I hope you’ve enjoyed!




Hey guys,

I know it’s been over a month since I’ve been around, and I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bear being here any more. I’ve lost my flow; I can’t seem to write anything proper down any more, so I decided to isolate myself a little, hoping it will come back in time. No luck so far.

The main reason I’m feeling so off is the job. I hate it. It’s so boring that it’s been killing me from the inside, turning me into some kind of zombie. Haven’t eaten any brains so far though, but who knows what lies ahead! Obviously, feeling like this isn’t helping anything in my personal life either. And if you can’t come home to something good after another awful day… Well, you can probably fill that in all by yourselves.

So here I am, stuck in a place I don’t want to be, both literally and figuratively.

I’ve been on the lookout for another job for a while now, but there isn’t all that much available that matches my qualifications. It’s all IT and marketing, and that’s really not my cup of tea. I guess I’ll just have to be patient, and hope my brain cells won’t die off by the time I find something else. But until then… Well, let me illustrate what’s happening to my brains currently:

Apoptosis & Necrosis

Yep, they are both being killed and killing themselves. Source: Stahl’s Essential Psychopharmacology. Neuroscientific Basis and Practical Applications – Third Edition – Written by Stephen M. Stahl.

This page is from a textbook I used during my final year of Biological and Cognitive Psychology, and it’s by far my favourite textbook of all time. Can you guess why?

Anyway… That’s all for now. I don’t know if I’ll be back any time soon, so let me finish this one by saying… I miss you guys.

Until… Whenever, if ever.



Annoyances: Part V – Can You Spare Some Change?

I don’t like beggars, I really don’t.  In a large city like the one I live in it’s not entirely unusal that they’re there, and if you spend a lot of time in the city centre you pretty much “know” all of them. But lately, it seems like there’s an invasion new ones, a kind of gypsies I think, and they’re freakin’ everywhere! Out on the street, on public transportation, in supermarkets, you name it and they’re there. And not all of them are actually “active” beggars. There’s one young woman, one of the new ones, who just sits there holding up a paper cup. All day.

Those people piss me off beyond belief. Feel free to think I’m a bad person for feeling that way, but I just want to go up to them and tell them to get a fucking job like normal people do. In fact, I think that might happen some time soon. Either that, or I’m going to have a career switch, because those people make *a lot* of money. My brother told me the other day that one of them, a creepy old lady, comes into the store he works at to exchange approximately €200,- worth of coins into bills. Can you believe that shit?

That woman is one of many beggars on my way home, so I guess I should be used to ignoring them, but I’m not. Yesterday, I had two encounters. The first one was with a familiar guy who’s a druggie, and I think he’s been around forever. He asked me and le man for some change, and I said “no, I’m sorry”. When the beggar left, my boyfriend asked me why in hell I said “sorry” in the first place (he just said “no”). To be honest, I don’t know. I guess it’s an automated response, because I say it every damn time, although I truly am not sorry.

The second encounter was a bit worse. It was on the parking lot of a supermarket, and we were on our way home when a woman on an electric scooter asked us for an euro. The way I see it, anyone on an electric scooter who isn’t an elderly, is a lazy piece of shit. Now I do have to nuance this a little, before y’all think I’ve completely lost my mind; there’s a specific kind of people who own these scooters. I think the best way to describe that type so that everybody understands what I mean is inbred white trash. They don’t work, live off welfare and reproduce like rabbits but don’t take the trouble to actually raise their children. And guess who pays for all those scooters they ride? Exactly…

Anyway, this particular specimen was on a scooter and wearing Nikes. Nikes, for fuck’s sake! I wanted to yell at her that she should get off her lazy ass and sell her freaking scooter so badly, but of course the only reply I had was “no, sorry”. After that I got into a rather funny discussion on the subject with le man, contemplating if it was a good idea to ask for a specific amount as opposed to leaving it open. I guess that’s the analyst in me, and it pairs very well with him being a marketing guy. We’d make the perfect beggar, haha!

The last few days have really left me wondering… Am I wrong in wondering why I should give out my hard earned cash to people who don’t even try to earn a living and/or buy drugs with it anyway? Am I a bad person for refusing to sponsor that shit? And, even more important, are the crazy gypsies going to curse my ass for refusing to spare some change?

What do you think?

Thanks for reading, I hope I haven’t bored you with this rant today!



The Wonders Of Nature

I will keep it short today, because I firmly believe that a picture says more than a thousand words. There is not a moral to this post, I only wanted to share with you what I thought was a beautiful wonder of nature:

A rose is a rose is a rose… Wait, what?!

For those of you who aren’t familiar with this sight; this is what you get when you chop the root off of a crop of paksoi/bok choy. Not only is this veggie delicious and healthy, but it’s a bit of a feast for the eye as well :)

Don’t you just love it when nature plays small jokes like this? I know I do! And this particular one always makes me smile somehow.

Thanks for stopping by!




What Goes Up…

…Must come down. And it did. Not too long after my previous post, everything simply collapsed. I went over to my folks’ to help out with the painting, and le man came over to lend a hand too. Everything was perfectly fine, up until the part when he got horrendously ill out of the blue. It was awful. I saw the strong man that I’ve known for so long now turn into… A mess of nothingness. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

My parents figured it might have something to do with the fumes of the paint or the cleaning solution we’d used the day before (it had gotten me sick the last time as well) so I made him some chamomile tea, and just sat with him. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and I couldn’t handle it. I hated myself for not being able to make him better, and I was scared. So scared that when he finally managed to fall asleep, I checked up on him every five minutes to see if he was still breathing. Just in case.

The time I didn’t spend with him, I didn’t spend helping out my parents either, making me feel even more useless than I already did. Especially when my mom decided to help out instead of me; she’s got some health issues of her own, but she’s insanely stubborn and simply refused to get off the ladder and give me my paintbrush back.

After le man woke up I tried to feed him a little but he threw up the bit of cucumber he managed to shove down his throat almost immediately. So we “hung out” in the bathroom, and seeing him hugging the toilet with one hand and holding mine with his other just broke my heart. For fuck’s sake, why couldn’t I fix this?! I know, I might be a little irrational but I just wanted to make everything OK again. But I couldn’t, so I just had to wait until it fixed itself. And it did, a little at least. An hour or so after our “toilet date”, he finally started to feel somewhat better, and I silently thanked “the powers that be”.

During the day that followed he was getting better little by little, and yesterday he was feeling good enough to go back home. The paint job at my parents’ turned out great, it’s a light, minty green now and I kinda wish I’d thought of it when I was moving in here, because the sensitivity of my white walls is driving me insane! But I’ll manage; cleaning a wall isn’t nearly as awful as the  last two days have been.

One of the worst side effects from this episode is the fact that it got me thinking… I couldn’t handle not being able to help, so what if I have children later on in life and they get sick? And I’m not talking about heavy stuff like this, it’s just that I’m pretty sure I couldn’t handle my child(ren) having a freakin’ cold and me being unable to help them. It’s gotten me to doubt my abilities as a mother, and that’s hard for me. But maybe I just wasn’t meant to be one.

I apologize for the long rant, I just really needed to get it out of my system for a while. Thank you for reading, and until next time.



For The Love Of… Shoes!

I have a thing for shoes. I guess you could call it an obsession, or an addiction even. Currently, I own so many shoes that I could wear a different pair every day for at least two months! But it seems that there’s never enough. A little while ago I came across something that I didn’t have in my collection: Sneaker wedges. I don’t think there’s an actual name for them yet, but I guess you could call them weakers, maybe even snedges. Hmm… That actually doesn’t sound right!

Anyway, let’s forget about the name. I fell in love and decided to order them online and they finally came in the other day, so I wanted to share them with you:

Sneaker Wedges

Is it a sneaker? Is it a wedge? No... It's a Snedge!

Apparently, this sneaker/wedge hybrids are going to be a trend, and despite the fact that I’m not a trend following person (better yet, I usually hate trends and run the other way), I really love them. They’re perfect for me; I’m quite short so I’ve been wearing heels almost constantly, and now I have a hard time wearing flats because I get back problems from them. Stomping around on stiletto’s all the time isn’t an option, but wedges on the other hand are pretty damn comfortable! And they’re tough-looking enough to wear when I’m in a casual mood.

These particular ones are from a brand called Blink, and I got them from Hypebazaar, where they have them in quite a few different colours! I do have to admit that I’m not entirely sure if they’re pretty; maybe I just fell in love with them because they’re so fugly (although there’s worse things out there, UGGS anyone?).

So what do you think of this oncoming trend? Love it or lose it?

Thanks for reading!



I Wear My Sunglasses At Night!

Last Tuesday was the day; Surgery Day to be exact. And oh boy, I was not looking forward to it at all. Better yet, I spent the last few days before the surgery being scared shitless. There wasn’t any real reason for it, it’s just that I’m a total wuss when it comes to doctors and everything that’s related. It’s quite sad, actually.

After finishing my ususal morning routine, it was time to go. The clinic’s in Rotterdam, so mom and dad picked me up early to avoid the morning traffic jam. Once in the car, my best friend (who had laser surgery done three years ago) called to tell me everything was going to be okay. Not that it helped; the closer we got, the more I started to tremble. I was even hoping they’d decide that my eyes weren’t suitable for the surgery after all. But of course, I wouldn’t be that lucky. After taking a “wrong” exit I had some hope again though; we were lost! Unfortunately, daddy’s a living navigation device, so we still made it in time. By the time we arrived at the clinic, I was shaking so hard, one would think I was a heroin addict going cold turkey. First, a checkup was to be done by the opthalmologist, who told me I could bring one of my parents along to the surgery rooms. I picked my dad, because mom was freaking out almost as much as I was. Although I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea; dad tends to get mad and yell at me when I fuck up (tough love ;)), and I had the feeling I would do just that!

In the pre-surgery waiting room, where three other patients were waiting, we had to put on paper scrubs, shoe covers and surgery hats. I’d already taken off my glasses, but I could still see that I was the only one who brought somebody in there with me. Then again, I was the youngest there, so I had a good excuse to do so. Then one of the surgeons came in, to tell us that it’s really important to be really quiet and still during the first part (she actually called it the “hard part”) of the surgery. She explained what was going to happen; first, they had to make the corneal flap. In my case, the surgery style was IntraLASIK, meaning that there weren’t any knives involved. Instead, we’d get a plastic thingy of some sorts in our eye, which was supposed to vacuum seal itself to the eyeball. After that, the femtosecond laser microkeratome would create the right flap. If any movement would occur, the vacuum would disappear, which meant they would have to start over again. And if you messed up multiple times, they would have to do something else, but she wouldn’t tell us the details.

Obviously, I was still pretty sure I would fuck this up, especially after dad told me that I was the only one who was startled every time the nurse gave us eye drops. Thanks, dad! I really needed to know that… A little after the doctor left, two other people came into the waiting room, and it turned out I wasn’t the only one being chaperoned! That made me feel a little bit better (or a little less of a loser), but I was still scared to death. And then… They called my name, and my heart stopped beating for a short while. Upon leaving the waiting room, they handed me this little sweetheart:

The Surgery Bear!

How can you still be scared after seeing this guy?

Crazy as it sounds, that little bear made me feel so much more relaxed! So I went into the surgery room, laid down really still and squeezed the lady doctor’s hand and the bear almost to death. The lady doc was telling me exactly what they were doing, and how much longer it would take. A little under two mintues later, the first part was done. And I didn’t mess up! Hell, I didn’t even feel a thing. The nurse took me back to the waiting room, where my chaperoned colleague was still waiting for his turn. He was even more scared than I was, so I told him it was a super piece of cake, and that he would be fine. Then it was time for the next step; the refraction surgery itself. I had to go into another room and lie down again, while the surgeon placed a sticky mask all over my face. He had to move it around a little, so I asked him if they were going to epilate my face as well. He laughed, and said I’d get a free facial peeling. After the mask was in place, I was supposed to lay still and look at the green light. This wasn’t quite as easy as it seemed, because the surgeon had to open up the corneal flap, and at that point the green light is pretty much dancing all over the place. Luckily, after opening the flap, the light stopped moving and I was able to focus again. The light then turned red and orange-y, I smelled something burning, and 30 seconds later the surgeon was putting the flap back in place. The same procedure was repeated on my other eye, I got some more eye drops, and then it was all done. And I have to say, the most awful part of the entire surgery was when the surgeon took the sticky mask off my face! I got up, blinked a few times, and it was insane how much I could already see.

After the surgery, we had to wait for another hour until the first checkup. Everything was fine, and the anesthesia was starting to wear off, which was a little bit uncomfortable but nothing big. The most awful thing after that was my light sensitivity; I was already wearing sunglasses but outside was still too bright, so I had to wrap my scarf around my head to make it stop hurting. When I got home, the curtains were drawn but the “light” still hurt my eyes, so I kept the sunglasses on. Gradually, it got better and better, and at the end of the evening I was watching soccer again. My best friend came by the same evening, and he was flabbergasted that I was walking around pretty much like nothing happened; he had spent three days in bed in utter darkness after his surgery! Then again, he didn’t have IntraLASIK but another form of refractive surgery, with a longer recovery time.

All in all, I can almost say that the surgery was an anticlimax. I spent almost a whole week freaking out, and in the end it turned out that it wasn’t necessary at all! I do have to say that there were a few factors that made it all the easier; of course there’s daddy’s company (and the bear), but I also felt very comfortable with the staff and surgeons. The entire medical staff was so nice and friendly, that it was hard to believe that they were going to do something that would hurt. So, if you’re considering getting refractive surgery, I had it done at VISUS Oogkliniek in Rotterdam, and I’m super happy that I did it there. I promise, they didn’t pay me to recommend them (although I did get some “€100 off” vouchers to hand out), but I know how scary refractive surgery seems, and now I also know you’re in really good hands at this clinic!

It’s been four days now since I had it done, and my vision has been almost perfect the same evening. I can still notice that it’s getting better by the day; yesterday I could finally read the microwave clock display! It’s truly amazing to be able to see again, all the time, without having to screw around with contacts/glasses. I couldn’t be happier.

I hope I haven’t tired you out with this ridiculously long post, and I hope this story has been of some amusement or help to you! Thanks for reading!



P.S.: If you’re interested in a voucher, let me know. I’d be happy to help!