Imaginary worlds

Poems

2011-03-08T21:33:00.005+01:00

The one question that is always on my mind is: why on earth did I chose to study English literature? There is no future in there (for me anyway). But then I remember: this is the reason:

"Ione, Dead the Long Year"

Empty are the ways
Empty are the ways of this land
And the flowers
Bend over with heavy heads
They bend in fain
Empty are the ways of this land
Where Ione
Walked once, and now does not walk
But seems like a person just gone

Ezra Pound

"Charge of the Light Brigade"

1.

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Wuthering Heights, chapter 9:

Catherine: "What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.—My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being."

Emily Brontë

The Hunting of the Snark, The Vanishing

"They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.

They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,
And the Beaver, excited at last,
Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,
For the daylight was nearly past.

"There is Thingumbob shouting!" the Bellman said,
"He is shouting like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
He has certainly found a Snark!"

They gazed in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed
"He was always a desperate wag!"
They beheld him--their Baker--their hero unnamed--
On the top of a neighboring crag.

Erect and sublime, for one moment of time.
In the next, that wild figure they saw
(As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,
While they waited and listened in awe.

"It's a Snark!" was the sound that first came to their ears,
And seemed almost too good to be true.
Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words "It's a Boo-"

Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air
A weary and wandering sigh
Then sounded like "-jum!" but the others declare
It was only a breeze that went by.

They hunted till darkness came on, but they found
Not a button, or feather, or mark,
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
Where the Baker had met with the Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away---
For the Snark *was* a Boojum, you see"

Lewis Carroll

There are many, many, many more novels and poems that I love.

I needed news books to read, for I can't think of any to read anymore. But most of all, they show me the long way I have to go before I can consider myself a writer. Everything I wrote until now was childlike and immature. I don't know if I'll ever write anything as good as these authors, it is my belief I will never, but I can enjoy these novels/poems nonetheless.

All Consuming Music

2010-07-24T20:59:00.006+02:00

I never thought I'd be listening to Muse (British rock band) or Scorpions (German rock band), but as it turns out, I do. At first I didn't like the loudness (Muse) or the strange voice (Muse and Scorpions), but now I find the music, especially Muse, very compelling. The music draws you in and consumes you wholly. I like to think in terms of 'round' or 'flat' music. 'Round' music is music that just overpowers you, it is all around you in every way. The voice of the leadsinger is thrilling, the instruments are 'full'. In English I can barely explain it, but to visualise it: if you listen to the music of Muse with earpluggs in your ears and you close your eyes, you are just on your own surrounded by music, which wrapps like you like a warm blanket.

Though 'flat' music is not really my kind of music, since it sometimes lacks the comfort feeling that 'round' music gives you, it can also be really good. Sting, for instance, is such an artist. In his case it his voice that gives the song the beauty, not necessarily the band behind the song.

Personally, this is my distinction between bands and solo singers. However, not all solo singers make 'flat' music. Some songs of Robbie Williams (especially his latest one, 'Morning Sun') are 'round' or 'medium-round' songs. Likewise, some band I catogorise as 'flat' music bands (Paramore happens to have been one of my favourite), because their music is good but not as compelling or all consuming as Muse.

And to return to the subject of Muse, here are some of my favourite songs:
1) Neutron Star Collision
2) Sing for Absolution
3) Starlight
4) Supermassive Black Hole
5) Muscle Museum
6) Uprising
And all are fully consuming songs! Enjoy!

Bright Idea

2010-04-07T16:54:00.002+02:00

What if... the kings of old Europe were portayed as children?

Colourful

2010-04-04T16:55:00.002+02:00

A howling wolf on an amathyst.
From Canada.

Getting Cross over a Cross

2010-04-01T17:58:00.015+02:00

At a rather interesting lecture this afternoon, hold by dr. M. Spiering at the University of Amsterdam, we were provided with a hilarious pun. As is often the case with the English language.

Let me give a short background story:
It was a short lecture on the 2000 years of British history. Dr. Spiering gave us the highligts of the British past, dividing it into a Celtic period (before 50 BC), a Roman period (50 BC - 500 AD), an Anglo-Saxon period (500-700), an Anglo-Saxon and Nordic period (700-1066) and the Anglo-Norman period.

He tried to give us a clear explanation of how the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland came into being. Next to that he explained how the nation's flag, the Union Jack, came into being.

And exactly this last part I would like to repeat.

For a long time, England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland were seperate entities. England has always been the most dominant kingdom in Britain, and this was once again proven in 1563 when King Edward I annexed Wales and forged a Union between the two. The last prince of Wales was murdered and King Edward I gave this title to his eldest son. Ever since then the monarch's eldest son would wear the title of Prince of Wales. The flag of Wales, which contains a dragon, has never been shown on the flag of England.

The Flag of Wales - the red dragon was the emblem of Owen Glendower

The case was different in 1603. Queen Elizabeth I had died without issue and the next in line for the throne was King James VI of Scotland. This forged a natural Union between the two kingdoms and the merger lead to the new title of King of Great Britian, since all of the island Britain was in the hands of one monarach.

It also lead to a merger of the flags of Scotland and of England. The first Union flag appeared in 1606.

The Flag of England - the Cross of St. George

The Flag of Scotland - The Cross of St. Andrews

These two flags resulted in the first Union Jack, as shown below.

It is starting to become fairly similar to the Union Jack that is used today. It needs only one more element and that is the flag of the Irish.

The case of Ireland is more complex. In 1169 the Anglo-colonists invaded Ireland, in 1175 King Henry II declared himself Lord of Ireland and in 1541 King Henry VIII declared himself King of Ireland. Next to that a parliament was started in 1297 (in both England as in Ireland, but in Ireland only the Anglo-Irish were represented, the natives were kept out). In the end of the eighteenth century the Irish patriots sought military support of revolutionary France. In a reaction the British government forced the merger of the Irish and British parliaments, creating the United Kingdom of Great Britian and Ireland.

Once again the flag was changed and the Irish cross of St. Patrick was added to the Union Jack.

Saint Patrick's Cross, the patron saint of Ireland.

Resulting in 1801 in

The Union Jack!

However, the Scots were not pleased. They were far from pleased, actually. Just like the last merger of flags, the English flag was put on top of the Scottish flag and now the Irish emblem was put (below the English flag, but over) the Scottish flag.

In other words: The Scots were cross over the obscurity of their cross!

Eventually they decided to countercharge the crosses of St. Andrew and St. Patrick, as you can see, the flag is not symmetric.

Too Much Data

2010-03-22T13:20:00.003+01:00

Studying for Exams.

Splash, Splash, Splash!

2010-03-21T21:06:00.003+01:00

The Terrace in our Garden

If it had been colder that day it would have been snow on the ground and not water. The rain was pouring out of the sky for hours, making it impossible for the natural draining system to absorb everyting, hence the enormous amount of water on the ground. Splash, splash, splash!

A Tribute to a Long Winter

2010-03-19T20:38:00.006+01:00

Winterberg, Germany.

Yes, yes, I've been complaining like everyone about the cold and snow, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a beautiful snowy picture. It was taken when I went skiing in Germany, only a few weeks ago.

The Loss of a Lifetime

2010-03-19T20:00:00.010+01:00

It was beyond anything I had ever read. It was not the story that was based on the biggest tragedy of the twenty-first century or the characters whom were all very convincing, no it was the style of this book, this story of a lifetime.

Literally the story of a lifetime.

The whole concept of a book is the endless pages filled with letters, words, sentences carrying the story off the page into the real world, bringing it alive before our very eyes. This book was different. It was alive, it was like a journal. Emotion poured into every corner of every page, colours blinding your sight, pages with nothing on it but single sentences, 'I'm sorry' and 'Do you know what time it is?', or even an entirely empty page. Some page were covered by one single picture, though most pages did contain the actual story. But even some of those pages had a different lay-out that the average John or Jane is used to.

Some of those pages
were written
like this.
And sometimes the letters were
so close together
that it was almost impossible to understand.
Some pages consisted of nothing but
scribbles of people testing their pen before buying it.

Does this ring any bells yet?

I'm talking about Jonathan Safran Foer's 'Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close'

Oskar Schell lost his father when the Twin Towers fell and he is still trying to come to terms with his death. The story actually revolves around Oskar's father and the impact he had on several lifes, though he is never named as the cause of the changes the people around him made.

The odd lay-out of this book doesn't come in the way of the story, it makes the story (which is to be honest not that extraordinary in concept) better, more interesting, and you are amazed every time you turn the page.

The writing style in itself is fluent, obviously American (Oskar is a nine-year-old New Yorker) and funny.

I intend to read more books written by Safran Foer and now? It is your turn by starting to read this one. Enjoy!

Heartace Remedy

2009-09-05T16:32:00.006+02:00

How to ease the pain of a break-up? With women, it's quite simple: go shopping! There's nothing that makes you feel better than to come home with a new pair of jeans, two pairs of shoes, a couple of earrings and a necklace. To spent money lavishly. To bury yourself in the excitement of entering a store, putting something on that's new and diferent and to feel satisfied when you pay your new items at the cash register. And it helps.

Not.

Heartace can't be solved by shopping or any of the stereo-typical things that are always portrayed in movies and books. It does take your mind off of your pain, but when you come home, you won't feel different. Maybe a bit ashamed about the money you spent, but other than that you're in the same hell as you had been before. Crying your eyes out reliefs you of some stress, but it is truly horrible to be walking around with watery eyes.

The only way to cure you from the pain is through time. It is the simple truth and a very painful one. Who doesn't wish, when you're lying in your bed, having very vivid images of your lover in your head and feeling your heart yearn with desire and love, to have those feelings be ripped out of you? To have the pain stopped. To make the hole in your chest whole again, not broken, preferbably not even bruised, but one piece again. The one and only way to fulfill that wish is through time. Accept the heartace you've got, work with it, break down occasionally if you must, but don't force your way out of the pain. It is okay to drown in your feelings sometimes, talk to some one who can comfort you, make them listen to you for once.

I'm not expert at these kind of subjects. I'm just getting started, really. But there's one thing I do know. If you don't give your heart time to heal, if you lock it in a box. It will break free and come back for you in the end. And then you're in real trouble.

Graduation Day!

2009-07-03T14:31:00.010+02:00

I don't want to make a habbit of sharing too much about my personal life, but for graduation day, I'm willing to make an exception.

The day started in blistering heat. I peeked out of my window and deceided that today would be a beach day, no matter who was going to go with me, I would find a way to the refreshment of water.

And it was only eleven o'clock in the morning.

Little less than an hour later, one of my best friends and I set out for the beach, with a pitstop at his brother's (immediatly persuading him and his girlfriend to come with us, which they happily did) to get the key to their windsurfing gear.

We spent two amazing hours in the (cold) water and on the hot beach, burning our feets in the hot sand, watching the boys doing their thing on the surfboard and getting a tan. I hadn't forgotten that graduation was only three hours away, but I never imagined that the sun could make me look like a lobster in such short time. I had only thought of the time on the beach, forgetting the fact that biking there and being in the water would also have effect on my skin.

No worries though, apart from the faint white bikini print on my skin and the burning red shoulders, I'm fine.

After eating ice creaming in Almere Haven (Mariola's is one of the finest ice cream salons in Almere) I went home, showered and drove together with my parents, little brother, grandparents and best friend to my school.

I wore a pretty, red-pink dress at knee length, just some simple blueish-grey eye shadow with a little black eyeliner around my eyes and simple earrings.

Just as the two previous times I've been present at some one's graduation, the principal and the dean held a speech, telling us how much we have learnt, the things we should remember, how proud they were of us and that we would be the new leaders of the Netherlands (No, we haven't been trained as countryleaders, but we studied economiscs and history and geography, so this departement of my school will most often produce the future economiscs and managers, that's why they mention it) and two students also held a speech, including one of my other best friends.

Our mentor had managed to arrange the ceremony to take place outside. We didn't have to sit in a sticky and sweaty and warm classroom! A male classmate of mine and I were asked to hold a speech as well. Our mentor had prepared a little, too, about every one who received their diploma. I don't mean to brag, but to my surprise, I had the best grades in the end. I was stunned to hear this, as was the rest of my family, even though when I told some of my friends they weren't surprised at all! Which is even more surprising!

At the after party I spoke with some of my favorite teachers, thanking them and whishing them good luck, which they all returned cordially.

Some pictures:

So yeah.. don't we all love to do what Americans do?

I had a great day and high school really is over now.

xoxo Marit

Summers day

2009-06-30T17:50:00.007+02:00

On a warm summers day, at the end of June, a woman stepped onto the green grass of the park near her home. In her right hand, she held the miniature version of it, namely her three-year-old daughter's hand. The daughter was wearing a pink-with-white dress. The little girl was making soft sounds of laughter and delight everytime a pigeon came near and she tried to run after it. In the mother's left hand, she held a basket. A basket full of delicious food and drinks. The woman held up the basket, seemingly trying to estimate how much it weighted and sighed deeply. Looking at her face showed every random stranger that she was tired. Very tired.

For no particular reason she stopped walking after they had arrived in the middle of the field. She put down the basket, released her daughter from her grip and kicked off her sandals. They flew with amazing grace through the air and landed only a couple of feet away from a huge tree, that provided the sun-overflown public with a little bit of shadow and coolness.

The little girl had taken the unsuspected opportunity of freedom to escape her mother's authority and she had ran off to the nearest fountain. She was staring in amazement at the peculiar statue of a man and a woman hugging each other very tightly, spewing water from their mouths and hands. Sometimes the water also came from the floor and the first time when that happened the little girl had ran away in time to avoid wetting her lovely dress. She laughed a high, short laugh of happyness and clapped her small hands. And so she started to game of the fountain.

The mother called for the child, which didn't show to have heard her, she was too entertained by the water. The mother called again, this time luring her with promises of a sweet, delicious red apple and a slice of pineapple. At the sound of pineapple, the girl turned around with big eyes of excitement and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her to her mother. The mother held out her arms and the girl ran straight into them.

The little daughter told her mother proudly how she had tricked the water into believe it could touch her, but it never could, she was too clever! But mother wasn't really listening, she was staring at one of the little benches near the fountain, padding her little girl's head once, while her face turned sickly pale.

A short story with all of Dutch writer Zwagerman rules: a part of a life, unknown in who's perspective it's written, the reader can add all sorts of information into the story, abrupt ending, etc.

Ringing phones

2009-06-29T21:58:00.005+02:00

The phone rang at the last minute. The entire hour had passed before my eyes, I had stared at the clock the entire time. The frustration and the fear I had not allowed into my head forced its way in and I was on the edge of tears.

The phone rang.

Unable to believe my ears, it took me some time to react. But then, as if I had been hit by lightening, I grabbed the receiver and said in a small voice, almost breaking due to the tears

"Hello?"

"Marit, how are you? How are you holding up in there, girl?" My mentor, the man with all the power of the world in his hands, the man who could make or break my day, the man that could send me into euphoria or devastation, was making small talk. I could barly hold myself together and answered a short reply.

"Good, thanks."

"Well, let me see. Just Math, a six*, but other than that you've done an amazing job." He was my saviour after all. I passed my exams, I would graduate, I would go to university next year. My time in high school was over.

Finally.

Six years is a hell of a long time. Six bloody years I worked my behind off for good grades, I made friends, due to some unfortuned circumstances I also lost some, I laughed, talked, ran, walked through that hallway for years and now that time finally came to an end.

Nostalgia. So far (it's been almost two weeks since the previous happened) it hasn't happened to me yet. I've been too happy, too busy to notice any kind of sadness. It did hit me with the force of a bullet that I will go to university next year. I will be a grown up next year, or at least, I have to pretend that I am. I don't think that I'll be sad when I get my diploma upcoming Thursday, I will be happy.

I GRADUATED high school!

* In the Netherlands we work with a grading scale that goes from a one to a ten. A one can be compared to the American F, and a ten can be compared to the American A. And eight or a seven is a B, if you receive a C and you still pass you exams then you can compare that grade to a six. And since I suck at Math, I was pretty happy with my C.

Into The Wild

2009-05-28T17:34:00.005+02:00

In the middle of my studying for my exames, I still found the time to finish reading Jon Krakauer's based-on-a-reallife-story 'Into the wild'. Since the author is a journalist, his writing style is very analytic and there's barely a hint of imagination, even if he does start to speculate he always mentions it. The story is quite gripping and makes you think about the brainwaves some people seem to have. The story tells us about the last years of Chris McCandless (I think many have heard of Sean Penn's latest movie, which is based on and has the same title as this novel) and facts about his time before he became this 'strider' (going into 'Lord of the Rings'), this wanderer.

It reads like an interesting report you can read in the newspaper. Like any good journalist, Krakauer gives us the facts, and nothing but the facts. Every now and then he gives his own opinion of what happened to Chris, he even goes as far as to compare himself to McCandless. This is different from the movie. In the movie only the story of Chris is told, but in the book Krakauer gives many more examples of men (yes, funnily enough only men seemed to have felt the need to escape society and seek out the danger in nature) having done the same thing, of whom many have never returned.

The story is also filled with quotations of famous writers like Jack London, Thoreau and other novelties. Mostly because McCandless highlighted those passages. Even though most people would say McCandless was out of him mind to try to survive in the wilderness, I don't think he was mad. He had a sensible mind (I think that's safe to say, cause he reads books like Tolstoy, Thoreau and has strong opinions of government, etc. Though somewhere I think he was just very dissapointed with life and people. I think you'll see why if you read the book).

I'd suggest you'd try it. It's not much (just 200 pages), and has beautiful parts and they sometimes just nail it. All right, that made very thing just incomprehensible, but just read it.

I enjoyed it very much.

I Present: Our Garden

2009-05-01T18:21:00.005+02:00

Months after my parents decided to 'restyle' the garden, it finally looks like something. Our garden is probably seven by eleven (meters, mind you) and almost made entirly out of stone. That used to be different, before the 'wish for room' we had more a backyard than a garden. Lots of plants, grass and little room to walk. Just two places that could barely hold a round table and six chairs, which was always difficult with the celebration of, for instance, birthdays, we had barely room to sit and the people who came over were always devided into two (sometimes even three) groups.

Since the weather is starting to be nice again - lots of sunshine - I've been outside more and I must say that I'm really starting to like our garden! So much room! And the plants in pots make it really cozy. Of course, not everything is stone, at the sides we've got some dirt with still developing flowers and other sorts of plants.

I can't wait for the summer!

Wine, Colleagues and a Fire

2009-04-26T01:44:00.004+02:00

Work is a big part of our social lifes. Many social studies have told us that people without a job feel left out, some sort of loser, or at least acknowledge that some part of their life is missing. In the one year I've been working at a restaurant, I've never felt the need to socialize with my colleagues. They were all nice people to work with. All very kind and that opinion of them hasn't really changed.

However, tonight was one of those nights I didn't really feel the need to go home right away after work. There was no one waiting for me there and no one would be 'online' to talk to. So when one of my co-workers asked whether I'd go for a drink with the other colleagues I thought, 'what the heck, why not?!' And it turned out to be the best decision for tonight. Bottles of rosé and white wine were opened and some of the girls I work with were already quite tipsy (negative effect of alcohol on an empty stomach and a tired body). Which reasulted into giving the local McDonalds a run for their money. Everyone was simply attacking the horrid food - complaining every minute how gross the food was, but admitting that it tasted delicious cause they were so hungry.
Because we were no longer on duty, the questions asked were a lot more personal and everyone was laughing a hell of a lot harder when someone said something stupid (again, alcohol on an empty stomach) or if someone just felt the need to share a dream they'd had a couple of day ago (green hands, rings and a tiny small office with loads of paperwork). Because it was my first time to have a drink after work, with the rest of them, they all noticed it and I was, of course, a small target for interrogation. But happily for me, they started off with the wrong question and everyone else had stories to share, too, about their love life.

Tonight I've seen my co-workers in a different light, much more relaxed and that might lead to friendships. If not, I could most definitly say I had a lot of fun talking, laughing and enjoying the fire and beautiful sunset into the Noorderplassen with them. Socializing, we do it all the time and we cannot live without the companionship of others, telling us we are wanted and loved. Work is one big part of that.

Birdy bird

2009-04-18T13:25:00.003+02:00

A magpie in a tree, probably overlooking her nest.

Sweet Little Flowers

2009-04-16T15:50:00.002+02:00

The parks in Almere Haven are smaller and more chaotic, but very beautiful. The blossom in the trees mark the change in the weather. Finally some sunshine!

A Love Story

2009-04-15T16:02:00.006+02:00

The sun was shining bright. Vincent brushed his hand over his forehead to wipe off the sweat, but his hand stopped halfway through. His eyes had caught the blistering glance of long blonde hair. He knew that blonde hair, like it was his own. Once it had been his to call 'mine', but no longer could he do that. Vincent couldn't believe what he was seeing.

She hadn't changed her mind, had she?

Last time he'd seen her, she had been flirting with a prick from town. She had made it obvious to Vincent that he was in the past and that he was no longer on her mind and she was telling him with her action that he had to move on, too. Not that he could do that, he loved her too much for moving on.

His eyes didn't betray him, though that was definitely what Vincent thought had happened to him. She was really walking on the sandy path that let to his small little vineyard.

Vincent straightened up, unsure what do to. Should he call out to her? Or just let her walk towards the house and not answer her at all, in other words, ignore her?

He couldn't do that. He already felt that peculiar feeling he always felt when he was near her. He had no words for them, but in his head he loosly discriped them as strong cables pulling him to her.

Once they had pulled her to him, too.

That was in the past. He shouldn't be thinking of that, it would only cause distraction and pain. Vincent looked at his one true love again. She hadn't changed much. She was a little older, there were some lines in her face, though they could've been caused by her desire to laugh and to talk. Vincent heard the sound of laugher in his head again, he hadn't forgotten it. She was holding an umbrella, to keep her face out of the sun, and her white-with-blue summer dress was the real incarnation of freedom, joy and love. It fitted her perfectly. Vincent knew that the deep blue eyes would match perfectly with the dress. His eyes darted to her feet and he saw that she was wearing the most impractical shoes for a farmer country.

The shoes also explained why she was walking so slowly and carefully. The tall heels were thin. She had her face bent to the ground, to watch where she was going.

Suddenly she looked up and stared right into his eyes. It felt like he was hit by lightening. His entire frame was on fire. He didn't care that she had told him goodbye, he didn't think about his dirty hands that had been working on the field all day, all he knew and all he saw was her.

I think this is a nice beginning for a short story, don't you agree? No, it isn't perfect yet, but it will get better in time.

Welcome into the light

2009-04-06T17:04:00.003+02:00

Somewhere in Germany there is this forest that allows us, simple not-dead-yet human beings to see the light.

Short Poem

2009-03-28T16:36:00.000+01:00

Living the life
Being taught to fight
Flowing through the motions
Let the others hide!

The protector is here
Victory is near
The feast of the enemy
Thrown over by fear!

Let our voices be heard
Let our feelings be stirred
We are free!
Let’s pass on the word!

Vanished into the air

2009-03-25T18:44:00.006+01:00

Computer technology is supposed to improve our lifes. At most points it does. We can be at the other side of the world in only a matter of seconds, we know the latest news, can share thoughts, stories and other personal things without meeting anyone face to face (though I'm not so sure if that's a positve thing) and many, many people rely on the modern day technology, because it is such a big part of our lifes. We don't know how to life without it. Multinationals, other companies and bussinesses excist and survive only because of this technology.

But in the personal zone it is causing annoying troubles - though world wide we've also shared a fair number of technological dissasters, think of all viruses that come along with Internet and everyone's worst fear coming true by hackers getting into high security systems (I've read that 10 milion medical files in the States are 'stolen').
However, these problems can be closer to home. For instance, PC's that don't work like you want them to, notebooks that loose power after only have an hour, photo's that can't be retrieved anymore because the notebook's system is incomprehenisble to the average John or Jane Doe.

This last part is exactly what happened to me today, I figured 'hey! lets watch some photo's from the summervacation of 2006!' We were in Italy at the time and my father had just bought his Nikon D70 Digital single-lens reflex camera, and was using it, of course. The qualitly of those pictures was enormous. They had so much colour (color? O *sigh* the annoying difference between American English and British English!), they were so much brighter and so sharp, every detail was beautifully visible.
Anyway, I wanted to see those photo's, because I remembered there were a couple of nice pictures of me in a nice dress. Yes, yes, I know, I sound a little vain. So you can imagine how utterly annoyed I was when I discovered that those pictues were nowhere to be found! I checked every possible space, but that file was missing.
Usually, my father keeps a copy of all of his photo's on his notebook, and guess what he did not two weeks ago? Precisely, thinking that everything was on the shared drive, he erased all of the photo's on his Notebook. And now, the photo's of me in my pretty dress are gone and since neither of us knows how to get them back, we have no way of seeing them, ever again.

The memories aren't gone, but the specific sight of a certain place are not always correct in our memory, that's why we have pictures.

It's a shame, really.

Tales

2009-03-23T21:44:00.000+01:00

For ever and ever bound in love

Once upon a time, in a far, far away country, there was a beautiful princess and a handsome prince. Both lived happily, but felt that something was missing. On a beautiful summers day, where our story begins, they met. When they looked in each other’s eyes, they fell in love. From that moment on they were inseparable. Everywhere she went, he went and the other way around. They felt their heart was whole, they didn’t ask for anything anymore as long as they were together. Everyone could see how happy they were together. The happiness of the pair was only interrupted by his family, who didn’t like the princess very much. At first, he didn’t take notice, but after a while he couldn’t ignore the things they said. Frightened of the torn of this father, the prince broke off his relationship with the princess.
The princess felt like she was dead on the inside. She missed her prince so much; she couldn’t eat, sleep or drink. She was crying all day. After a month of mourning she started to eat and drink again, it took her two months before she slept trough the night. She understood he would never return and she tried to move on.
The prince seemed to have moved on, a long time before the princess could even sleep. The first time the prince and princess met in society, after their separation, he had another princess at his side. The princess pretended she didn’t care and pretended she had the best time of her life. She felt sore and she wished she hadn’t seen him, because she loved him so much.
Months passed by and the princess started to live again. The prince, however, realised how much he missed her and how much he loved her. He thought of many way of getting her back. He even talked to his father and persuaded him to throw a ball and to invite every princess in the country. His father, the king, agreed with his son, without knowing the real reason for this sudden desire for a ball, and in a fortnight one thrown. The ball was beyond our mortal imagination.
The princess had received an invitation to the ball and was glad to hear it was a masked ball. She still loved her prince and hoped she could see a glimpse of him. All her friends and her family told her she shouldn’t go, they were frightened she’d come home, broken.
The princess didn’t listen to her relatives and went. Her gown was made of golden silk and her face was hidden beyond a beautiful golden veil. As she approached the castle in her white carriage, the prince was getting ready for the ball. He wore a black suit, with a golden crown in his hair; his mask was made of black substance that isn’t known to mankind.

The prince searched for the princess in the crowd, but whenever he thought he found her, he was wrong. The princes, however, had seen him and she saw that he spoke to almost every young woman in the room. Her heart broke every time he spoke to one of the pretty princesses and she felt the desire to leave.
As she turned, the prince looked up and saw his beloved princess. He ran after her, calling out to her and, finally, made her stopped walking.
She had walked in to the garden. The sound of the music had dimmed to a background.
The handsome prince walked towards her and the beautiful princess felt her knees shake.
‘I love you, I’ve been a fool and I hope you can forgive me. I don’t ever want to be parted from you ever again.’ Spoke the prince.
‘I love you too. Yes, you’ve been a fool, but so have I, I didn’t fight for you. I forgive you and I don’t ever want to be parted from you ever again.’ Replied the princess.

Happily ever after, you may think. This, however, isn’t the end of the tale. Soon after their reconciling, they made plans to wed one another. His family didn’t approve and the prince was taken away from his princess, again.
The prince was forced to marry someone else and the princess died on the spot; she died of a broken heart.

To those who intent to break their lovers heart, think twice and remember the princess who died of a broken heart.

In The End

2009-03-19T17:23:00.003+01:00

In the end, we’re survivors
In the end, it all comes clean
You may not know,
Or you just haven’t seen

In the end, the child laughs
In the end, we’ll all smile
You may not know,
Or you haven’t been here a while

Hope grows and fear will pass
Dreaming and true love will forever last

In the end, we’ve lived like gods
In the end, we’ll say we did
You may not know,
But true it certainly is!

Must Read This One

2009-03-12T18:36:00.005+01:00

The Shadow of the Wind by Spanish author Carlos Ruiz Zafon, is another must-read book on my list. I've read it about a half a year ago and I consider it quite good. If you like to solve mysteries, this is the book for you. Mind you, the beginning is a bit slow, but after that it is a pageturner (it was for me, anyway).

The Shadow of the Wind isn't easy to explain, actually, it sound a bit boring when you try. Nevertheless, the story about the adolensence years of Daniel in post second World War Barcelona are wonderfully written. You can really see him run through the streets, hoping to find his girlfriend and the author of his favorite and most priced possesion, a book called 'the shadow of the wind'. Even though, none of the above sounds convincing I really thing you should give it a shot! It will be worth your time, and if not, well, you can't have it all.

"If you thought the true gothic novel died with the nineteenth century, this will change your mind...This is one gorgeous read."--Stephen King.

"Anyone who enjoys novels that are scary, erotic, touching, tragic, and thrilling should pick up "The Shadow of the Wind.""--The Washington Post.

Warning: Horror ahead!

2009-03-11T10:12:00.008+01:00

Warning: The following is not meant for anyone with a weak stomach, who gets nightmare easily or is scared quickly in general. Be warned!

I screamed. Blood was pouring out of the skies like tears flowing over a cheek, the sewars boiled up blood red eyes, the tree leafs were replaced with recently cut off ears, blood dripping from the earlobes, beheaded zombies raised their bloodied arms and started to creep forward. I backed away as quickly as I could. I ran into a alley with no way out..
The walls were like gushing rivers of human insides. I surpressed the urge to vomit and I swallowed the fear that had gotten a hold of my body, that had climbed up my throat, that was paralyzing my tongue.
The zombies closed in on me. They were only five foot away from me, hauling rickling iron shackles, making growling noises. They stopped four foot away from me. Just one zombie continued to creep forward, crouched to the ground, progressing slowly. His clothes were ripped apart and I saw red stains on his skin. His skin was not only red, but also brownish, grenish and purplish. Like it had been thrown of a tall building.
Completly bruised and broken.
The dicapitated corpse was limping closer, holding a bloody chainsaw, which snarled furiously.
He heaved the dripping thing over the place where his head was suppose to be and I shrank back. I tripped over a dead body lying behind me. I did not take the time to look at the face, did not bother to think of who it might be. I crawled back to my feet and tried to search for an opening in the wall. The zombie stepped forward and held the chainsaw further above the empty spot that once had held a face. I saw him coming. I couldn't make a sound. I was too terrified. The chainsaw flashed forward as I raised my hands to protect my face. How useless.

"Honey! Honey! Wake up!" My lover's face was only inches away from mine, looking anxious. Thank god, it was only a nightmare. Still shaking from the intensity, I snuggled closer into his arms.

The end.

No, this wasn't a real dream of mine. I just wrote this down during a boring class. I've edited the original a bit (so this is the edited part).

Images of Budapest, Hungary

2009-03-10T13:15:00.009+01:00

in the Matthias Church

at the Fisherman's Bastion

at Heroes' Square

Budapest, Hungary is a city full of history and photo moments. I went in the fall of 2007 and the pictures above are some just a couple of the *be warned, shocking numbers ahead* estimated 1100 photo's I've made. In one week time.

Paramore rocks!

2009-03-08T18:03:00.009+01:00

I've discovered a new band: Paramore! I totally love their music. I especially like their songs 'We are broken', 'Misery Bussiness', 'Conspiracy' and 'CrushCrushCrush'. I first heard of them last November, cause they play the soundtrack for Twilight 'Decode'. After that a close friend introduced me to 'CrushCrushCrush' and I was sold. Hayley is the leadsinger and she's pretty good! The lyrics don't always make sense (as a good friend of mine pointed out a couple of days ago), but I don't think that matters. The sentence individually are nice one's.

I can't wait until they finally come to Europe!

This is the lyrics of 'We are broken'. You should really listen to the songs of the mentioned above on youtube and buy the album, of course, don't download them online for free.

We are broken

I am outside
And I've been waiting for the sun
With my wide eyes
I've seen worlds that don't belong
My mouth is dry with words I cannot verbalize
Tell me why we live like this

*refrain*
Keep me safe inside
Your arms like towers
Tower over me

Yeah
'Cause we are broken
What must we do to restore
Our innocence
And oh, the promise we adored
Give us life again
'Cause we just wanna be whole

Lock the doors
Cause I'd like to capture this voice
It came to me tonight
So everyone will have a choice
And under red lights
I'll show myself it wasn't forged
We're at war
We live like this

*refrain*

Tower over me
Tower over me

And I'll take the truth at any cost

'Cause we are broken
What must we do to restore
Our innocence
And oh, the promise we adored
Give us life again
'Cause we just wanna be whole

Just for the record, I don't own the lyrics.

Enjoy the music!

The Sun is Shining

2009-03-08T15:58:00.013+01:00

Right now, I'm in our garden. Enjoying the sun. I'm glad winter is almost over and spring is showing her beautiful face from under the ground. Within a couple of weeks the leafs will be on the trees again, flowers will be blossoming and the sun will be nice and warm. Because, yes, it is still freezing cold outside. My fingerstips are frozen, as I am defying the cold and enjoying the first real strokes of sunshine on my face. It's healthy to be outside, that's what my parents have told me many times over.

Sunlight is good for us. Did you know that children who do not play outside (in the sun, mind you) enough will get O-legs? Apparently this has something to do with the fact that sunligh contains vitamine D and that is neccesary for our growth. Of course, too much sunlight will kill us (skincancer, ring a bell anyone?), so we just need to find a middle ground.

Why am I sitting outsite? Well, I'm kind of horribly white. Seriously, it starts to get creepy. It is almost vampire-white. Honestly, the only thing I'm missing are the teeth (or if you've read Stephenie Meyers version of vampires, the glowing like diamonds) and the unhumanly craving for blood. Oh yes, most significant, I'm not dead. Yet, anyway. If the coughing keeps going on and on like this, I'll cough myself to death. Nice, look out. *Being very sarcastic*
So, to get on with things, I figured, let's enjoy the sun! And, now, my parents will stop complaining about the times I spent in my room. Plus I hoped that the fresh air would give me some inspiration to continue my lovestory (which is called 'Angels' by the way), but sadly, no. I've only added another 400 words to it.

And as the sun is lowering down to the horizon and the minutes are ticking by, I am and always will be a sun person. Give me spring and Italian-summers at anytime!

Curious little thing

2009-03-05T19:26:00.007+01:00

There's this curious little thing called time.

Time, apparently, can heal all wounds, will make us forget things and indicates that life has moved on.
In the last month I've experienced the differences in time. Time moving very slowly and time moving akwardly fast. So fast, you start to fear you'll never live.
For instance, I have my finals coming up in May and that's only two months away! Yet, a month ago, I was totally relaxed, 'Oooh! I've got enough time!' NOT! Welcome to the harsh reality of time!

But I also experienced slow time. And no, I wasn't bored. For two wonderful weeks I had done so many things, seen so many people, talked so much in one day that it seemed to last forever. True, I went to bed late and up, somewhat, early, so I probably had five more hours in a day than I usually had, but those week in my memory seem to stretch over a lifetime, rather than just two week. A long sentence, I know, but it is just so strange to live a life that usually has weeks flying by and now, having had two whole weeks which seemed to be months! In a good way, mind you.

Now, life is back to the way it was, a new friend is the only difference, but seriously, I had the time of my life!

A little poem

2009-03-02T22:53:00.007+01:00

For one time goes fast
For the other time is pure cruelty

The absence of you
Is like a fire in my heart

Burning and scratching the images of my soul

I don’t know where it went wrong
Or what truly happen to us

But I know I will never surrender

I will be here forever, waiting for you
To come around and meet me again

One day we will be back
To what we once were

Have been before

Stephenie, Phillipa and Ian

2009-02-27T14:47:00.013+01:00

Reading is another huge hobby of mine. Last summer I discovered the books of Stephenie Meyer. The Twilight-saga. I loved it! I've never been so absorbed in a book! I got my hands on it at ten at night and never stopped reading until I had finished it the following morning. It was page turning, and I seriously recommend it to anyone who needs to withdraw from their own world. It is thrilling and easy to read. Even for those whose motherlanguage is not the English language. Like it is for me.

It is a fantasy novel, though I don't think I need to explain anything to those who live in the States. The hype about the movie which came to theatres last November can hardly have gone unnoticed by anyone.
Here in Europe the craziness hasn't really gone that far, but the girls all love Edward Cullen, and my gosh, can you blame them? I do sound like such a girl, don't I? I, however, don't understand all this drama about the guy who plays Edward Cullen, Rob Pattinson. Sure, he's good looking, but he's just another human being like we all are and I think we ought to respect his privacy. This is one of the topics I can be very fierce about, but this is not the blog to expand my thoughts on paparazzi, fame and celebrities. I was talking about books.

Twilight is the best of the four novels in the saga, without a doubt. And this work of Stephenie Meyer has influenced my own writing style a lot, to my dissapointment. I don't think the author's work is bad, not at all! I love her writing and stories, it's just that I would like to have a certain style of my own. However, I'm young, and don't they say that practise makes perfect? So that's what I've got to do!

Other books I've read in 2008 were Phillipa Gregory's novels about the Tudors. The other Boleyn Girl, The Queen's Fool and The Virgin's Lover (in that order, which is the way to read, by the way) are the ones I liked. She's a maginificant writer, she conjures the world of the Tudors with quite some realism. The grandeur of the livestyle, but also the misery and worries of her characters. I'm not sure which one is my favorite. I really like Mary Boleyn, oppose to Anne Boleyn. And Hannah Green is also wonderful, I think she is one of the strongest women Gregory has written about in these three novels. Princess/Queen Elizabeth the First was all right, too, but the love story was quite sad. I think I like The Other Boleyn Girl and The Queen's Fool best because the love story is satisfying.

It is already obvious I need romance in the stories that I read.

Atonement by Ian McEwan was the saddest and most beautiful thing I've ever read. Sure, it wasn't easy, it was very hard at some points, especially when half of the book contains only several hours of a hot summers day. The Briony-parts were sometimes hell to get through, but McEwan captured the thoughts of a preteen quite good! The movie was also fantastic, Keira Knightley and James McAvoy were brilliant! And did you know the green silk dress Keira wore in that film was voted as one of the most beautiful costumes? It truly is gorgeous.
I've also read Enduring love, which was also quite tough to get through, though I managed. Yes, Enduring love is also a movie, the actors in it are 007 Daniel Craig and Four Weddings and a Funeral star Rhys Ifans. The movie is based on this novel. I've never seen it, though.

Call me crazy (many have done so), but I'm trying to read War & Peace by Tolstoi. How's that going you might ask. Well, truth to be told, I've put it aside for the moment. The names are very, very long! And it's really difficult to keep track of who knows whom and the other way around. No, I'm not going to read the cliffnotes, I want to read the story, not a summary of it.

I love historic novels, but I'm looking for new idea's. New books to read, does any one have any suggestions? Oh, don't bother mentioning Tolkien, I've tried, but I'll just stick to the movie. That's easier.

Take Charge rewritings

2009-02-26T10:48:00.007+01:00

One of my best friends and I came across the funniest piece of writing ever, Margaret Atwood's 'Take Charge'. She had written five different situation and used for all of them the same phrasing. We decided to rewrite those situations. This was the outcome!

The ice age
- Sir, the spear tooth is coming! He hasn’t eaten in days! And we are a fat tribe, you know that!
- Don’t just shiver there, you fat-ass. Go and sacrifice yourself!
- Sir, I can’t walk.
- May all the holy spirits curse your soul! No help for it, I’ll have to do it myself. Role me over to the beast then.
- Sir, my ass is frozen to the ground.
- Well do the best you can.

The ancient times
- Sir, your crown of leafs is burning!
- Don’t you just bow there, you slave! Get me some water to extinguish it!
- Sir, I can’t, there is no water here in this area! Only sand!
- By Jupiter, I’m not an ostrich. No help for it, I’ll do it myself. Take me to the sand!
- Sir, you can’t, there is a fight between gladiators and lions going on!
- Well do the best you can.

Year zero
- Sir, my water broke! Dear God, what to do?
- Don’t you stand there you fake virgin! Take off your pants and jacket[1]!
- Sir, I can’t move, the baby is coming, and I’m in such pain!
- Oh, Jesus Christ! No help for it, I’ll do it myself. Spread you legs please.
- Sir, this is called harassment! You are not going to help me!
- Well do the best you can!

Middle ages
- Sir, the sodomites have broken our door and burned Maria Magdalena!
- Don’t just kneel there, you God-fearing peasant! Pray to God to help us, for we will be lost without him.
- Sir, I’m just a simple man from the country.
- For the love of all that is holy, why has He sent me you? No help for it, I’ll just have to do it myself. Bring me the light of our Holiness.
- Sir, my legs are gone.
- Well, do the best you can!

Romantics
- Sir, Miss Edwards has eloped with Mr. Woodberry. They’ve been seen last in the city, I’ve been told by our friendly neighbour, Mrs. Walter.
- Don’t just sit there, you ill-tempered woman! Fetch me a pencil and a piece of paper. Then call for the servant.
- Sir, my poor nerves are in no condition to do anything!
- Good gracious, what am I suppose to do with you, you life taking, gossiping little queen of Satan’s paradise. No help for it, I’ll have to do it myself, get me my wheelchair.
- Sir, we are in the nineteenth century, there is no such a thing!
- Well, do the best you can!

[1] Fourth album of Blink-182

What do the pictures tell you?

2009-02-25T15:45:00.013+01:00

These photo's are signs of love and yes, I know, this is a feminine subject, I know men shy away from the talks about love, feelings and other 'girly-girl' things, but it is still true. Both of these pictures are signs of love and that is why I like them so much.

This is my first blog and we'll see how it goes. I certainly hope I have the inspiration to post something at least every week. The things you'll probably see on here are the strange workings of my mind. Short stories and poems, stuff like that.

I aspire to be a writer. At this point I'm writing a story, a love story, actually. Many of my friends call it a 'book' already, though I do not consider it one yet, it isn't even finished. I hope that in the future a publisher will like it enough to print it, but until then, I'll post small stories on here, so at least, some people can enjoy themselves!