Caffeine commemorations

Oh, sweet caffeine. Right as I’m writing this, my cup of coffee is standing next to me. Almost empty, unfortunately. Though I always like a good cappuccino in the afternoon, I must say that today I needed it. Let me tell you one thing: waking up at 3:45 am every weekday is quite a thing to do.

Quite exhausting, to be precise. I remember that once I wrote a friend about what hell was for me. I wrote that it meant waking up at 4 am every day, eating cat food and doing useless things all day. Except for the cat food, I’m living that hell. I wake up so early to go cleaning, that’s my job for a month, but in fact dust always returns. But of this is hell, well, it could be worse. I didn’t know it would pay so well here…!

Luckily, we take coffee breaks while cleaning, which are the moments I look forward to just a little too much. They have good coffee there, I have to say. Twice every morning, I have my cup of caffeine, and that makes me happy. I’m not even sure whether it wakes me up or not, but at least it gives me a break and liquid. It doesn’t matter whether the caffeine wakes me up, or the action of drinking something, as long as it does something. Needless to ay I’ve come to appreciate a good cup of coffee. I’m no longer stating that it tastes like plants (which I did when I was about 6 years old).

I’ve only recently discovered that I do have some coffee moments that I will never forget. Not only all these coffees at work will be whirling around in my memory forever. Coffee moments can be very intertwined with a wide range of emotions. Who knew!? The coffees at work remind me of the fact that I’m actually able to get up and work at 3:45 am every day, which is a very comforting thought.

Equally as comforting was the coffee moment on my last travel in Poland. It was a part-time solo trip, which I enjoyed more than I could have foreseen. Unfortunately I shared a hostel with very young and very loud people (I would have gladly thrown them into a well). So on the second day, I was very tired and I decided to go have a coffee. I ended up in a brown sofa in a cosy cafe, with barely any people, very good coffee, and my Polish book. It felt good. I was walking around all alone, sat there on my own, and I liked it. This trip made me realize that I’m okay with going to a cafe on my own. That feeling is worth a lot.
Also: very good coffee for not that much money!

Somewhat more sad was the coffee moment the day before leaving Poland. I had high hopes that I could go for a long walk past all the most important places that day, but unfortunately it was drizzling and raining all day. After having packed almost everything, the apartment felt too sad and empty to stay, so I went to our nearby coffee bar and had a very good and big cappuccino. Sadness was inevitable, as the weather was gruesome and the apartment too empty, but having that big, good coffee there was surely a good decision. A decent goodbye where all others failed because of the rain.

Last week I finally finished my bachelor paper and turned it in on the hottest day of the week. I wore my very much adored long black dress, put the thing where it belonged (far, far away from me!) and went for a coffee. By accident I was served by someone I vaguely know, who started speaking Russian with me (how painfully hard that was for me…!) and paid my coffee. It baffled me in the best possible way. Some people are so kind, I love it. While I was drinking this coffee and reading a bad book, someone I adore quite much showed up and we spent a good (warm) afternoon together. The free coffee and pleasant talk in Russian was a good start for this all.

On a related coffee moment, when my parents visited me in Poland, we had a coffee in a place where you had to order at the bar. So I stood there translating from Dutch to Polish. Apparently this caught the attention of the barista, who started asking me how I knew Polish, what and where I was studying and so on. It was hard to understand him, because he was making our coffee with loud machines, but we talked nevertheless. When the coffee was ready and paid, he shook my hand and said: “It was nice meeting you.”
I think I needed more than an hour to grab myself together. How often do baristas tell you “it was nice meeting you?”. How often do they shake your hand? I was genuinely overwhelmed. My parents started planning our wedding immediately. I honestly don’t even remember whether the cappuccino was good or not, but I think it was. At least it was the most memorable barista ever.

Very subtly coffee fought its way into my life and managed to be a part of some memorable moments. Who knew that the drink that tastes like plants would become a source of inspiration for a blog post? (This goes both for the coffee and the blog, actually.) Above all these moments remind me of the fact that actually, I can do a lot more than I thought. I can travel alone, live abroad, get up at 3:45 am, it’s all possible. All you need is good quality coffee. Isn’t that wonderful?

Inspired by Top 5 Coffee Moments (with some tm thing that I cannot reproduce) by Nicholas Conley.

One line is my sins, the other forgiveness for these sins – part 2

~ Arvo Pärt

Read part 1

If there is a line of my sins, then there should also be a line of forgiveness. A few days ago, I felt its roots. Suddenly a part of me decided that the guilt I spoke of was exaggerated. I admit that I’m to blame as well, but this was one single event, one single time, and I’m convinced it’s not all my fault. So this strong-willed part of me was fed up with the guilt and decided to let it go.

I’m still doing my best to accept, to believe that there are no other consequences than me feeling somewhat bad about it. The only damage is a hurt ego. Whatever the damage was though, there is no point in reminding yourself of your guilt over and over. I did something stupid. I did something stupid.

But I only did it once, and at least I know it was wrong.

Normally, it doesn’t take long for me to find my crown again. When you wear a crown, you have a straight back. When you have a straight back, you are strong. I’ve always felt a certain pride, a certain self-respect when someone hurt me. The fact that this time, I stupidly took part in something that hurt me, made it difficult to feel this. It is, though, always the way out. If I have my crown, all will be well. If I wear my crown, it means I have forgiven myself.

It doesn’t happen just like that, but I felt the line that’s forgiveness, and that is good. Something will eventually distract me and classify this under ‘things I did when I was young’. I’m not the only one doing stupid things. And it could have been worse. I will never think of it as ‘good’, or even as a ‘good lesson’, but it shouldn’t haunt me anymore. It should be what it is: history. And only that.

Do you want to hear what it sounds like, sin and forgiveness? I think I can hear it here:

One line is my sins, the other forgiveness for these sins

~ Arvo Pärt in an interview with Björk

However you approach the situation, you will always come to the conclusion that I bear some kind of guilt. If I would take this to court – which I would never do because it’s not so bad at all, but if – they too would come to the conclusion that they couldn’t charge him with anything. Not because of a lack of evidence or something along these lines, but because of something way worse.

I let this happen. I even participated. There isn’t a single sign of the fact that I might not have wanted this to happen.

There are two things in my defence, though it sounds pretty weak: I wasn’t really myself at the moment, and I thought I was doing what I was supposed to do. Something in me was apparently afraid of disappointing people. Unfortunately, this occupied my brains more than being afraid of what this meant to me. Somehow, I gave up thinking what I wanted and only did what I thought I was expected to do for the other.

Which, of course, I shouldn’t have done.

This might not be an excuse, but at least it’s an explanation. Also, even if the hypothetical court couldn’t charge him with anything, let’s not oversee the fact that there’s something like morals. Rationally speaking I’m guilty, but looking at it from a ‘moral’ point of view, I think we would all judge him too. Taking advantage of someone is wrong. Always. Even if the other person doesn’t realise he’s being taken advantage of.

If I would be able to turn back time, I know I would return to this very specific moment to make sure I wouldn’t let it happen. It took away a piece of my trust, my self-respect, my dignity, and I want all that back. Unfortunately I don’t have this possibility, but the least I can do is learn from my mistakes and never let it happen again. Not because of the fact that I could be judged, but for myself. So I will never feel used again.

Once upon a time in a coffee bar

Once upon a time, when I still lived in Poland, I was working in a very atmospheric little coffee bar close to my home. The coffee was very good and very cheap as well, in comparison to my country and other cities. Of course I didn’t live in Warsaw. There were bikes hanging at the wall, even better, bikes cut in half. The menu was taped on vinyl plates. It was a great and quiet place, perfect for work.

So I sat there, trying to do something useful though I couldn’t focus – nothing new. Then I noticed that the music was getting quite 80s. There is some special beat about this music, which makes it easy for me to put songs into categories. It’s such a “danceable” beat, you know. Take any 80s song and you’ll know what I mean.

So they put on this cd with the unmistakable 80s beat, and modern as I am, I shazamed it. (For those who are like I once was: shazam is an application that recognises music. Sometimes. Anything but classical in my experience.) It turned out to be SoKo.

SoKo? I’ll kill her SoKo?

Exactly. Apparently she has this 80s inspired cd now, which was just perfect to put on when I was packing all my things on the rainy last day in Poland. The catchiest (apparently this is not a word, but I’m keeping it anyway) songs are Who wears the pants? , My Precious and Temporary Mood Swings. Then I stumbled upon the white raven, as we say here. One of the songs on the cd wasn’t like the others. It was a quiet, sad break up song. I played it almost on repeat.

From then on, I have been stumbling on more songs of her, which without exception were played almost on repeat. I don’t know what it is, but something about those songs catches my eye, or rather, my ear, and makes me addicted. After Keaton’s song, as described above, there was Don’t you touch me, which has this beautiful sad anger about it. It beautifully builds up to a climax. Great song when you are struggling with liking someone who doesn’t like you back.

On a quiet, not peaceful evening before the exam I still had to take here, I put on I’ve been alone too long, and immediately had a new target to play on repeat. It fitted the situation a bit. I was almost all alone in the city of my university, where I dramatically didn’t want to be. As soon as I arrived in that city, I felt everything overwhelming me. Everything I had been through there flushed over me and fucked my mind up. I was happy to stay over at my brother’s place there, so I wouldn’t be confronted with more memories. While revising, I put the song on repeat. It has this calmness that I need when I revise.

The exam went well, and I spent a great day there, with friends, beer and sun. I crawled out of the wave of memories, luckily.

I’m still not free, because I have to finish my bachelorpaper. Since I write on a computer, modern as I am, I play music all the time. It’s extremely boring when you work without music, isn’t it? So I clicked on yet another SoKo song, Why do you treat me like you do? , which is a cover. It has a sort of country thing to it, although it’s not country. Lovely to sing along, I can tell you that. Catchy, but in a very different way than the 80s style songs. But catchy still!

Right now, my latest crush is Treat your woman right, which is an equally sad song about loving someone who doesn’t like you back. (Okay, I may have issues, what about it?) Above all the haunting humming makes this so very touching for me. It’s hard to explain what it is, but it has this feeling to it, this atmospheric sad feeling. I try not to kill it by playing it too much, but that’s hard. I could hear it all day. And I am hearing it all day. I can’t stop it.

This is a serious music crush, as you can see. I like the way this music is intertwined with my life though. It’s not important whether I relate to the lyrics or not, although I do for a part of course, because the music in itself is enough to make its way into my head and heart. Next to that it reminds me of the time spent in the coffee bar, of the rainy day I spent packing, the strange evening spent in the city of my university, and everything that came after. Life is unexplainable and unpredictable. And life needs a soundtrack. For the moment, mine is SoKo.

Muscle memory

Time is one of the strangest things. It’s completely rational – 60 seconds, 60 minutes, 24 hours, 365 days. But it never feels like this. It always feels shorter or longer, painfully stretched or non-existing. Time is one of those rational things we never perceive in the same way.

That’s why sometimes, it feels as if I haven’t spent five months abroad. When seeing some people again, it feels as if nothing is different. Except some tiny little thing inside me, that has grown and developed in Poland. I’m sitting outside a cafe with friends again, and we don’t even talk about what we’ve been doing. Things are the same. What’s different is something in you, but it’s not visible.

It seems that muscle memory is the strongest kind of memory. You walk around in places you haven’t been in ages and it goes so smooth. (Until you walk into a door handle of a door you haven’t used – clumsiness still outweighs muscle memory I’m afraid.) It surprises me how familiar things still can feel after the first few seconds of shock. Shock because however well you remember something, it always seems a bit different when you face it again. After those few seconds, everything feels as familiar as it always was before.

Even with people.

Your body sometimes remembers more than your brains. Your body works its way back into the old-but-somehow-new houses and cities. And before you know it, you fit in all those places again. You fit next to people again. However strange it may be, it often feels good. It means that you don’t necessarily leave things behind, because apparently, you can come back and everything can feel as if nothing’s changed.

Except that little thing inside you, which will make you silently happy.

Home is where the heart is, they say

Life just keeps going.

In about two weeks I moved my life back from Poland to Belgium, and I’ve done my last exam here. For this year, at least. As soon as I settled down a little here, I had to start studying again. Let’s just say I jump from one thing into the other without catching a break. Right now, I’m working on my bachelor thesis as well – because that thing has to be finished as soon as possible, before I start working.

I’m one busy creature. Maybe it’s for the better, so I don’t get all too nostalgic to Poland. During the last weeks, I felt as if my life there had finally become the life I wanted to have there. Leaving that country was not something I was looking forward to. Things were going well, my Polish was improving, life looked good, but then I had to return home.

Which of course isn’t so bad either. I’m happy to see my family again, that’s for sure! And when I was at a cafe with friends, I had to admit that life in Belgium has its very, very good sides. The biggest downside is that everyone speaks Dutch. What am I doing here if I can’t improve my other languages? I’ve never felt so sure that I want to go to Russia. Despite all the effort and stress and waiting, I have to go to Russia. I want my Russian to become even more fluent than my Polish, and I know that it’s possible. Also, I know that after two months here, I will be longing to something different again.

I can notice that I have changed these past months. (Luckily – what is the point of doing something like this if you don’t notice any difference?) In short, I think it is independency. I don’t need people to feel at ease, I don’t need people to cook for me. It’s very much appreciated if I have them around, and having my parents helping me out is great, it’s awesome! But my point is, if they wouldn’t cook and wash and do stuff for me, I would be able to do it for myself. That is a great feeling. Also, try to impress me – I speak Polish and Russian and traveled on my own with two heavy suitcases to Poland. You won’t knock me off my feet all that easily!

If home is where your heart is, then I will have many homes. I think my heart will be shattered all over the world. I went to Poland and made it mine. A little piece of my heart is still there.

And that’s how I like it. These five months have made me more independent and more fluent in Polish, and at the same time they made Poland like a second home for me. It’s not always been easy and fun, but in the end it was worth the effort. This is an experience I will always carry with me.

Now who wants some pierogi!

Going solo

Loneliness is a scary thing. As much as I like being on my own sometimes, I need people around me. They don’t even necessarily need to talk to me. Just being surrounded by people is sometimes sufficient. So when my flatmate/friend said she was leaving way earlier than I thought, I was a little scared at first. So I will have to live here for two weeks on my own? Completely alone? Also, I wanted to travel still, and I thought we can do that together. But it seemed that those plans were no longer in the running.

It took me a few days to get used to the idea, and to even look forward to it a little. When my flatmate left, I felt at ease. Not because I don’t like her company, because I do, but suddenly I could do whatever I wanted. The flat is mine now. Each and every sound each and every piece of rubbish is mine. There’s no one to blame but myself. I can play music as loud as I want, I can dance around the house if I want to, I can sing out loud and so on. There are no limits.

It’s not like much has changed. I just barely use headphones anymore, and you can regularly hear me sing ‘we built the pyramids!’. (If you don’t get this: Big Bang Theory…) Maybe it’s mainly the idea of freedom that makes me happy. However nice it was to have her as a flatmate, you always have certain limits when you are not alone.

I took it a step further when I decided to travel on my own. Which sounds very spectacular, though it’s not. I didn’t want to spend an entire week just at home, so I traveled to a city in Poland where some of my friends were still studying. I did spend eight hours on a train on my own, slept in my hostel alone, and walked around alone half of the time. In the evenings I still had my friends to hang out with. It was a partial solo trip, which I enjoyed a lot. I even felt good, walking around with my map and figuring everything out. Who knew I wasn’t that bad at reading maps? I even noticed that I knew way better what I was looking at. And never, not a single second, not even while eating on my own, I felt uncomfortable.

Now this is something I really like. I’ve never really liked doing things on my own, because often I thought people would think I don’t have friends, they might mock me, and so on. Doing this trip on my own showed me that I no longer think that. Now I even subconsciously realise that it’s no one’s business, and that most people don’t really think about why you are alone somewhere. Why would they? Rationally I’ve known this for years, but now I even felt it, in a way.

Going solo isn’t that big of a deal. It gives a certain amount of freedom. Sometimes it’s easier when you are the only one who has to decide something. All you need is company every now and then. When you have the right balance, you can enjoy both to the max.

Isn’t that quite the life lesson I just got here?

The devil’s arms

You want to hear a story?

I will tell you a story – just don’t expect a happy end. That’s not how it goes. Because as always it started with a bottle, finished faster than it should be. Which is a sign that something will happen – either you remember, or you don’t, but something will happen. And the need for adventure starts running through your veins. Whatever common sense you were holding on to, you are suddenly willing to let go, and see what happens.

That’s when the danger starts. I put on black eyeliner and greeted the devil. He gently laid his hand upon my shoulder. I smiled at my reflection.

And into the darkness we went. Darkness dances best, and we only drank more – of course. I like that atmosphere of disappearing into yourself with the excitement in your veins and muscles. It crawls upon you and holds you tight. It points at the world around you and tells you you can do everything. Do it. Do it.

Then he came along.

I held the devil’s hand as he slowly started leading me further and further away from where I used to be. My vision got worse and worse, to the point where everything was blurry. Away from the lights at the other side. Wave goodbye to what is good and reasonable.

He kissed me, clawed his hand in my hair and kissed me. I closed my eyes and let it happen.

Don’t let go of me now, you were leading me somewhere. Beyond many points of no return – but with my eyes closed, I couldn’t see them anymore. They were humming, I could feel them, but I kept my eyes closed. Touched them goodbye. Didn’t let go of the devil’s hand, leading me away from all of that. He led me to somewhere deep, a place where I could curl up and fall asleep peacefully. He covered me with a blanket and kissed me goodnight.

I lost everyone, and I started feeling not well. I pushed myself up on the sofa, where we were sitting, almost alone, and tried to inhale deeply. For a moment, it was overwhelming. He took my hand and said: “We should go outside, maybe that will help.” So we went outside. There was a bench right in front of the door, which made me so happy at that moment. There was nothing more delightful than sitting and waiting for it all to pass by. I did start to feel better, slowly. Somehow, we decided it was time to go home though. And home we went. My home, to be specific. With one eye open.

I wished I could sleep. I shouldn’t, because it would make me hung over, but I wished I could sleep. Forever.

He said I should go lie down. He said nothing would happen. For some reason, I let him in. Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. How did I even manage to open all three doors? He sat down, I moved around the table and sat down next to him. It was getting lighter outside already. I had lost all track of time. I had passed too many points of no return, and I would only come to regret that.

With my hands bound, my head down, my eyes closed, my throat wide open… The song got stuck in my head.

I lay there naked and cold, too tired to move. He stood next to me and covered me slightly with the blanket I was lying on. To my satisfaction he lay down next to me.

I slept in the devil’s arms that night, and no one ever held me tighter than he did then. With a soft breathing in my hair, his strong arms enfolding me and letting me fall asleep peacefully. Deep inside, I curled up and fell asleep forever. Just a soft, sweet silence.

I don’t remember much more than his voice, “I have to go home”, and the sound of the front door closing. It woke me up and made me run to the window. There he went, walking away. That was all.

Tear my rib cage open. Drag my heart out. Hold it for a second, and then let it fall.

His strong arms dragged me back to sleep. I curled up, in anticipation of the parting. I stood at the other side, held the devil’s hand and watched the lights. Silently I sighed and asked him if there was a way back. He shook his head and kissed me softly. There was a time I was on the other side, I told him, and you can still see the good one standing there. But he’s too far away now, the devil answered. You’ve followed me here. You followed me to the darkness, out of free will. Now you will always be the bad one. But I will hold you, and I will kiss you.

I know I have made too many bad decisions to return to the good side.

He let my heart fall.

The devil and I stood there and watched it happen. His hands were heavy on my face, and my ribs were broken. I crawled my way inside, lay down and watched the blind darkness. There was nothing but me. And there, isolated, with stones on my chest, I dropped on my knees and for the first time,

 

I begged.

*The song is Prison Sex by Tool. Yep, that’s the actual title!*

Tindering

Everything for the sake of speaking Polish fluently.

That is my motto. And I’m working really hard to live by it. So hard even that I did what I shouldn’t have done…

… I went on Tinder.

I sacrificed my reputation and privacy, but it’s all for the sake of talking Polish more often. Nevertheless this turned out to be a good social experiment as well. Find a place where people can show themselves, and you find the true nature of human kind. I promise you. This Tinder thing has been an adventure, but at least a funny one, so I decided to share it with you.

First of all, if you’re not familiar with Tinder, let me explain. It’s an app, connected to your facebook, where you can display yourself by pictures and if wanted a few words about yourself (with a limit, of course). The app will show other people your first picture, your name and your age, and they can swipe. Left means ‘no’, right means ‘yes’. You get to swipe pictures as well, within a chosen age category and distance. If you both swipe right, you have a match and you can talk.

In short, smartphone speed dating.

I put on three pictures, one of which not even showing my face (but with some lovely mountains in the background, that’s why I love the picture) and a caption stating I have to speak Polish fluently by the end of June. And there we went. Swipe swipe swipe. You have no idea how addicting it is to judge people by their pictures! Also, at first I had a lot of guys of course. So I kept on swiping and swiping and had a good laugh.

My experiment led to this model of the Average Polish Guy. His name is Michal, Mateusz, Kuba or something along those lines. He loves fitness and he likes to show off his six pack. If he doesn’t have a six pack, he will show off his car/motor bike. Those are loved immensely as well. Selfies are not a problem here, not even for guys. It’s okay if you take a picture in the mirror, with your phone clearly visible and you staring at your screen. He takes himself very seriously.

You can imagine what I’m talking about. This app is not only for speed dating, it’s also to brag with how strong you are or how fancy your car is, and that’s a very serious matter for some. This also shows in the “moments” – you can take a picture with a caption, and all of your matches will be able to see it for 24 hours. Again, you can swipe left or right. There’s a lot of attnetion whoring going on with those moments. Sometimes just a plain selfie, sometimes withh a caption that barely hides how it’s all about showing off.
Sometimes it goes even further. Then you have a match, so you think he’s somewhat interested (even if it’s just trying to get laid!), so you say something (for the sake of talking Polish) and then… he doesn’t answer. Oh well, it’s okay, I understand that you needed the match to boost up your self-esteem! It’s better not to start talking to anyone. Yesterday I couldn’t sleep, so I said to my latest match ‘Hey :)’. He actually answered (‘Hallo’), which shocked me.

Although, if they start talking, you’re in for a nice conversation for a while. Mostly it will end soon, but hey, at least you’ve talked Polish for a while! Not telling where I am from seemed to be a good idea, because I’ve had a few people asking me that. They all guessed wrong, one by one. And I had a good time not telling them of course. Who would ever guess you’re from Belgium? My name isn’t very Belgian either, which made it hard for them. I’m merciless, you know. Some managed me to flatter though, by saying I have a beautiful name. I’ve also had people ask me why I had to speak Polish fluently at the end of June. But the majority didn’t seem to notice that it’s somewhat strange how a foreigner can talk Polish quite well. (Quite well because of dictionaries.) That’s something that keeps surprising me: some people don’t seem to be wondering at all why someone, clearly not Polish, speaks some Polish.

o-TINDER-APP-facebook

I’ve met one interesting guy, who was also into languages. We had a good, long conversation and we even met. In my beloved park. It was nice talking to him, because I could understand him, and that’s always a pleasure. Also, talking to people who learn languages themselves is often better, because they understand how difficult it can be sometimes. Unfortunately we never managed to meet again, which also seems to be a sign that he might not be so eager to. It’s a pity, but I’m not the one to beg for attention.

I also had another ‘date’ (I call everything a date) with another foreign student. As it turned out, it’s easier to talk Polish with a native speaker than to speak English with a foreign student. Pity. He was a nice guy, but I don’t want to feel like I have to keep the conversation going all the time. He did remember my birthday though, which was very kind.

By far the most hilarious thing I had, was when my parents were visiting me and we went to Warsaw. A certain evening we were at a restaurant when suddenly a few Italian guys came in, sat down, and took their phones before even watching the menu. Get your priorities straight, people. You’re so close to food! They also managed to complain to the waiter that it took too long to prepare the food. In Italian. As if that would work. One of the guys was clearly on Tinder, swiping everyone right. Pathetic. At a certain moment he suddenly started staring at me, so I thought ‘oh dear, maybe he saw me there…’. I acted natural. (Haha. Sure.) That evening I went on Tinder and started swiping.

I found him.

We had a match. He then said ‘hey, we ate in the same restaurant yesterday!’, but in bad English. I said something along the lines of ‘haha, I already thought so!’. His next message was literally: ‘Tonight fuck?’ I almost laughed out loud, then said ‘Are you serious? Because no.’ He still tried, saying I was beautiful, that I could ditch my parents and go to a restaurant with him, that it was his last night there. I politely explained that I didn’t want to. Politely, because after all it’s Tinder.

He wasn’t even that good-looking, actually.

I’ve come to the point where there are barely new people to swipe, so it’s getting boring. There’s not interesting going on at the moment, no conversations (unless some of them will still answer), so we’re through it. If you were thinking of trying it, I can recommend it for being very funny and interesting form an antropologic point of view. But just yesterday I read an article about a women who tried dating via Tinder for a year, she went on a date fifty times, and yet no man found. I’m not looking for a boyfriend there, at all, but if you would think of using Tinder for that purpose, I will have to disappoint you. They’re just too busy admiring their six pack to actually talk to you…

What kind of man

Every once in a while, I stumble upon a song that instantly becomes my new music crush. As you may have noticed. (If you feel the need to be kind, you can now pretend to be surprised and say ‘No! Really?’) A few weeks ago, not to say a month, I accidentally ended up watching one of Florence & The Machine’s new clips, and it caught me straight away. Not only the song is really good, but the video just makes it better. It’s well composed and beautifully made. The combination struck me.

Which wasn’t really hard, because the song is about a difficult relationship. Seeing how things have been going with The Boys lately, I feel something inside scream dramatically ‘O MY GOD YES’ at the lyrics. The video includes a lot of touchiness, like when some guys takes Florence’s face in his hands – that kind of touchiness. Next to that there’s also more explicit touchiness, but all brought to you in such a way that it’s never really uncomfortable to watch.

In short, I’m just very fond of this song and video.

Now, inspired by this video and by my most recent adventure with A Boy, I came up with a few things you can do when things go wrong.

What To Do When A Guy Stops Talking To You Or When Things Go Wrong In General

1. Don’t even do the effort of thinking there is a logical explanation

People, unfortunately, are not logically thinking creatures. If only! I often think there’s some understandable reason behind things, because I like ratio, but let me tell you that that’s too much to ask sometimes.

2. Take a ballet class

Thank god for my ballet classes here. My muscles and stamina obviously need it… Also, ballet demands control of yourself. Of your muscles, of your thoughts, of everything. And you need to maintain a straight back all the time. Somehow it makes me feel very powerful, and that’s not bad, is it?

3. Put on your heels

Sometimes, those 5 extra centimetres added to my 180 cm can change how I feel. I’ve told you that before. Especially with my height I sometimes feel intimidating. Which I don’t mind! (If I don’t want to be too intimidating, I just smile kindly at people.)

4. Bother those who should be bothered

After a few bootycalls in the middle of the night, I decided to take a small revenge by bothering him a few times, reminding him of the fact that he’s got some explaining to do, as he promised. I knew he wouldn’t, but at least I reminded him of it. There’s no way I will just keep my mouth shut and give the impression I accept this. My sleep is important to me, so if you wake me up in the middle of the night twice, you just ask for revenge.

5. There are other things

That are certainly more important to be worrying about right now. Something along the lines of presentations, tests, trips, money, and so on. These are things that cannot be battled by wearing heels or going to a ballet class. So I’m doing my best to focus on making everything go right. Which isn’t always as easy as it seems… But hey, we’ll get there.

Now, go ahead and watch this video, listen to the song, and enjoy the drama!

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