This morning, cycling home after taking the kids to school, I was thinking about how they "paved paradise and put up a parking lot" as the song goes. In other words, how far we have drifted away from nature. I have often said I would be perfectly happy in a cabin in the woods, with just the basic needs for survival, the people I love around me, and a fast Internet connection :). And I wasn't joking. Most of what "modern society" has to offer, I can easily live without.
I have been called a savage by various family members for as long as I can remember. My earliest childhood memories are from the time dad and me lived with my grandparents in Zandvoort, one of the Netherlands busiest seaside resorts. I was around 4 years old, then. In between our garden and the sea was nothing but dunes and for some reason the trees, the sand, the wild life (well not all that wild, just rabbits and birds and hedgehogs and the like) and of course the sea attracted me like a magnet. No matter how often they told me I wasn't allowed outside the garden, punished me, told me it was dangerous etc... I always managed to sneak away unnoticed and spend hours and hours in the dunes or at the beach, playing, or just sitting and watching nature around me.
Later on in life I was quite active in Scouting for 10 years in a row, all the way from brownie to girl scout leader. I learned how to use a compass, tie knots (boy did I learn how to tie knots, and yes, it comes in handy during.. other activities now ;)), navigate using the stars, first aid, build stuff from logs and rope, cook on fire, and many more things. And I have never lost this love for the outdoors, and grabbed every chance I got to sleep outside, in a tent, a teepee even.. provided it is the real outdoors, not this weird way of spending their vacation lots of people seem to enjoy. What's the fun in being on a huge camping, tents and caravans side by side for as far as you can see, with water and electricity and cable TV and all right next to your camping spot? I have never understood that. You pay a fortune to spend your holiday in a linen/aluminum version of a suburb. It's just like home, only everything is less comfortable, smaller, and looks like the cheap plastic it is actually made of. Oh and the neighbors can hear everything you say or do without using a glass to press against the walls. Bleh.
I guess the worst thing about it all is we don't even miss this feeling of being in touch with nature any longer. Well, most of the time anyhow. I'm off to spend time with my garden. I hope it still recognizes me.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Story of the little finger
I had a pretty rough nite last nite. Mike woke me up at 4, he had diarrhea so I spent the next hour and a half changing his bed, going back to sleep, being woken again coz he was crying and feeling miserable etc. Finally around 5:30 I went back to sleep and had an utterly weird dream. Maybe it makes sense to you, if not: have a good laugh. So this is the story of the little finger, Stephen King eat your heart out.
I was sitting in my chair at my desk when I felt a stinging sensation in the little finger on my left hand. A sharp superficial pain, like a paper cut. I examined it and found that indeed there was a cut there. First thought was: hmmz, must have cut myself without realizing it, prolly while doing my paperwork. When I examined the finger more closely I found that the cut was all around the finger, I careflly pulled a little to see how deep it was and the whole top half of the finger came off. I sat there for an instant,
staring at my detached body part. It did not hurt at all, just this slight paper cut type sensation. It was a very clean cut, as if it had been done with a laser or so. No blood, and apparently the nerve endings had been killed so it did not hurt. The two halves of the pinkie were somewhat wet and sticky so I could put them back together and the top half of the finger would stay on, but slide off again as soon as I moved my hand.
Then I panicked. I ran to Ron and showed him. He looked and was not shocked at all. " Oh, just the little finger, you don't need that". I was startled. " But is has been completely cut off! I need to go to the hospital now!". He gave me a "stop nagging" look but I insisted and finally he said "Oh well, if you think you should.. go to the hospital then". I wanted to call a taxi but he said the hospital was only 15 mins by bike so I did not need a taxi. And so I set off on my bike, holding the steer with the injured hand and
holding my finger with the other hand so it would not fall off.
I reached the hospital and entered the ER. It was packed with people. I proceeded towards the lady that was doing the intakes and yelled "please help me! My finger has been cut off!". She looked, shook her head and said "Oh just the little finger? You can easily do without that". She pointed at an empty seat in between the crowd and told me to sit and wait there.
I sat there for many hours. People came and went, but no one came to get me. Several times I walked over to the lady at the counter and was sent back to my seat every time, in a very irritated tone of voice. " We handle the emergencies first". I felt devastated, knowing that the detached part of my finger by now probably had deteriorated so much there was no way they could still sew it on again and make it functional.
Finally I was directed to a separate room and was told to sit on a table behind a white curtain. After a while a lady came in, wearing a white doctor's coat that you could easily see through, nothing underneath. She had a medium brown mulatte skin, very short black hair, twinkling blue eyes and her body was shaped to perfection. She just stood there, looking at me. I stared back and asked "Who are you?". She grinned, then said " I am you, only better". She examined my finger and said " Oh well, just the little
finger, you can easily live without it." I stressed that I really, really wanted it back on and she shook her head. " That's aestetics only surgery, insurance does not cover that and we already checked your financial background.. there is no way you can afford it". I now knew for sure I had somehow ended up in a totally mad dimension and asked her: " so... what do I do?". She was already leaving the room but stopped and turned around. She then gave me a fantastic smile and said: " Just remember who I am." Then she was gone.
Then I woke up sweating and found that the little finger of my left hand was trapped under my body and hurt a little bit because of the lack of blood flow.
I think the feeling of me being the only one worrying about my lost finger is a direct result of me feeling like I am the only one worrying about this one way path I am on and the closed doors behind me.I guess this feeling and the finger getting stuck under my body caused that part of the dream. I just don't get
where the female doctor (but was she?) fits in, who she is.
What I gathered from what she told me is that I am to accept my present condition and be happy with it, because the cost of going back to who I was before is too high and unacceptable. And apparently, I was the only one seeing my present condition as a problem. Maybe no longer being able to be a workaholic hotshot manager type isn't a bad thing. Maybe the other qualities I have since developed can be put to use somehow.
This afternoon a job agency called me about a temp job, doing acquisition by phone and I said no, that's not what I am good at, I hate being a "jehovah's witness by phone" trying to sell people stuff they really don't want. She said okay, then later on phoned me back and said she thought I really was the right person for the job. It's parttime, 3 days a week, the company is not selling a product but sells its creativity to help companies create the best possible advertisement campaign on radio or TV (they did the last Amnesty Internationl campaign amongst others), in magazines, the best possible stand and presentation on congresses etc. and my job would be to phone companies, explain what the company does and make appointments for the
sales people to sell those concepts. A creativity thinktank sort of thing. Its for 3 months and if all goes well there is a possibility to become an account manager after that. They were looking for a creative, out-of-the-box kind of person and so the lady at the job agency remembered me (I had been there once 2 months ago and we had not spoken since, apparently I left quite an impression as she could still describe what I looked like). Soooo my CV is at the employer's desk now and hopefully I will hear soon wether they
want to talk to me. And the funny thing is I really hope they want to talk to me, I so want this job, which is weird coz only yesterday I came to the conclusion that going back in the ratrace will never work for me. And then opportunity knocks and the cards are reshuffled.
Sigh. Life. Every time I think I understand the game, they change the rules.
This was today's madness report, now back to the studio.
I was sitting in my chair at my desk when I felt a stinging sensation in the little finger on my left hand. A sharp superficial pain, like a paper cut. I examined it and found that indeed there was a cut there. First thought was: hmmz, must have cut myself without realizing it, prolly while doing my paperwork. When I examined the finger more closely I found that the cut was all around the finger, I careflly pulled a little to see how deep it was and the whole top half of the finger came off. I sat there for an instant,
staring at my detached body part. It did not hurt at all, just this slight paper cut type sensation. It was a very clean cut, as if it had been done with a laser or so. No blood, and apparently the nerve endings had been killed so it did not hurt. The two halves of the pinkie were somewhat wet and sticky so I could put them back together and the top half of the finger would stay on, but slide off again as soon as I moved my hand.
Then I panicked. I ran to Ron and showed him. He looked and was not shocked at all. " Oh, just the little finger, you don't need that". I was startled. " But is has been completely cut off! I need to go to the hospital now!". He gave me a "stop nagging" look but I insisted and finally he said "Oh well, if you think you should.. go to the hospital then". I wanted to call a taxi but he said the hospital was only 15 mins by bike so I did not need a taxi. And so I set off on my bike, holding the steer with the injured hand and
holding my finger with the other hand so it would not fall off.
I reached the hospital and entered the ER. It was packed with people. I proceeded towards the lady that was doing the intakes and yelled "please help me! My finger has been cut off!". She looked, shook her head and said "Oh just the little finger? You can easily do without that". She pointed at an empty seat in between the crowd and told me to sit and wait there.
I sat there for many hours. People came and went, but no one came to get me. Several times I walked over to the lady at the counter and was sent back to my seat every time, in a very irritated tone of voice. " We handle the emergencies first". I felt devastated, knowing that the detached part of my finger by now probably had deteriorated so much there was no way they could still sew it on again and make it functional.
Finally I was directed to a separate room and was told to sit on a table behind a white curtain. After a while a lady came in, wearing a white doctor's coat that you could easily see through, nothing underneath. She had a medium brown mulatte skin, very short black hair, twinkling blue eyes and her body was shaped to perfection. She just stood there, looking at me. I stared back and asked "Who are you?". She grinned, then said " I am you, only better". She examined my finger and said " Oh well, just the little
finger, you can easily live without it." I stressed that I really, really wanted it back on and she shook her head. " That's aestetics only surgery, insurance does not cover that and we already checked your financial background.. there is no way you can afford it". I now knew for sure I had somehow ended up in a totally mad dimension and asked her: " so... what do I do?". She was already leaving the room but stopped and turned around. She then gave me a fantastic smile and said: " Just remember who I am." Then she was gone.
Then I woke up sweating and found that the little finger of my left hand was trapped under my body and hurt a little bit because of the lack of blood flow.
I think the feeling of me being the only one worrying about my lost finger is a direct result of me feeling like I am the only one worrying about this one way path I am on and the closed doors behind me.I guess this feeling and the finger getting stuck under my body caused that part of the dream. I just don't get
where the female doctor (but was she?) fits in, who she is.
What I gathered from what she told me is that I am to accept my present condition and be happy with it, because the cost of going back to who I was before is too high and unacceptable. And apparently, I was the only one seeing my present condition as a problem. Maybe no longer being able to be a workaholic hotshot manager type isn't a bad thing. Maybe the other qualities I have since developed can be put to use somehow.
This afternoon a job agency called me about a temp job, doing acquisition by phone and I said no, that's not what I am good at, I hate being a "jehovah's witness by phone" trying to sell people stuff they really don't want. She said okay, then later on phoned me back and said she thought I really was the right person for the job. It's parttime, 3 days a week, the company is not selling a product but sells its creativity to help companies create the best possible advertisement campaign on radio or TV (they did the last Amnesty Internationl campaign amongst others), in magazines, the best possible stand and presentation on congresses etc. and my job would be to phone companies, explain what the company does and make appointments for the
sales people to sell those concepts. A creativity thinktank sort of thing. Its for 3 months and if all goes well there is a possibility to become an account manager after that. They were looking for a creative, out-of-the-box kind of person and so the lady at the job agency remembered me (I had been there once 2 months ago and we had not spoken since, apparently I left quite an impression as she could still describe what I looked like). Soooo my CV is at the employer's desk now and hopefully I will hear soon wether they
want to talk to me. And the funny thing is I really hope they want to talk to me, I so want this job, which is weird coz only yesterday I came to the conclusion that going back in the ratrace will never work for me. And then opportunity knocks and the cards are reshuffled.
Sigh. Life. Every time I think I understand the game, they change the rules.
This was today's madness report, now back to the studio.
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