Tag: ramble

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101 things I dislike

Throwback to 2016 when I wrote this list. It’s been a long time, and I updated it somewhat — not a lot.

Can you relate?

Without fear of being judged (read: with near panic like fear of being judged) I will try to come up with 101 things I don’t like.

1. The colour orange

2. Flying

3. The cold weather

4. Snow

5. Chocolate

6. Ketchup

7. Christmas songs and decorations in November

8. Waiting

9. Being ordered around

10. People who don’t say thank you

11. Rude people

12. Unanswered questions

13. Lemon

14. birds

15. Feathers

16. The sound of my alarm clock

17. Being tickled

18. Being taken for granted

19. Negative people

20. Emotional vampires

21. Instruments that are out of tune

22. Cocky people

23. Jealousy

24. Drivers not setting the turn signal

25. Wondering if my English is good enough and if others understand what I am trying to say

26. Doubting myself

27. People who make lots of noise when they are eating (!! Important one)

28. Fruit

29. Killing animals – even flies

30. Not being taken seriously

31. People who aren’t getting the job done right

32. Belching

33. The smell of vomit

34. Touching door handles in public spaces

35. Not seeing anything at a concert

36. Payment declined – for no reason

37. Forgetting my pin code

38. Water touching my ears (anything touching my ears)

39. Swimming

40. Crowds

41. Ignorance

42. The smell of cold smoke

43. Sprite or any sweet beverage

44. Anything bitter

45. Having a stuffed nose

46. Being surprised

47. Offering presents

48. Shopping for clothes

49. Animals

50. Meat

51. Saying goodbye

52. Deadlines

53. Gory horror movies

54. Going to church

55. Thinking about negative things

56. Mess left by the kids after eating nuts or grains

57. Jazz

58. Musicals

59. Long fingernails

60. Not having enough sleep

61. Chanel no 5

62. Visiting a home for disabled people

63. The sound of chalk on a blackboard

64. Expensive rents or mortgages

65. Working in a garden

66. Sketching, drawing, painting

67. Pens that aren’t working

68. Coffee with sugar

69. My double chin

70. Milk

71. Hairy feet

72. Star wars

73. Harry Potter

74. Lord of the rings

75. The way eyes itch from allergies

76. Almonds and nuts

77. Bread (with the exception of French baguette)

78. No toilet paper when I am on the loo

79. Autocorrect

80. Forgetting to save my work when I just wrote 500+ words

81. 0 likes on stories or poems I thought turned out great; 21 likes on mediocre poems or stories

82. Questions with obvious answers

83. Gossip

84. Talking bad behind someone’s back

85. Losing track of people who once were an important part of my life

86. Wasting time (mine and the time of others too)

87. Forgetting things

88. Broken promises

89. Being unable to speak straight sentences lately (stuttering, not finding the right words)

90. Dentists

91. Being late (me or people being late)

92. Being intense

93. Migraines

94. Fishing for more things I dislike

95. No network or wifi

96. Social media knows everything about us (bye bye Facebook)

97. Being watched while crying

98. Being stared at

99. Not knowing how other people are seeing me

100. Oranges

101. That I found 100 things I dislike…

Are you surprised? Why? Now, what do you think?

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I am made of…

…music.

Tonight I am.

Ups and downs. All the time. I had one very good week. I am not used to it and mentioned it many times. Then came the fall. It always does. Strangely, when it happens, and I try to reach out, no one is there – everyone is busy. Maybe that’s just a subjective feeling; I don’t know.

What I do know is that music is the most soothing thing for me when my mind is acting up.

I went on a date tonight. A movie date to see Bohemian Rhapsody. I grew up with music from Queen, and I know many songs. I read books about Freddie Mercury. Most notably the one by Jim Hutton. I like the band. I do. But I am not a superfan.

Hearing all those amazing songs in a movie theatre tonight was like balm for my soul. Music should always be playing this loud.

Of course, Who Wants to Live Forever made me cry, it always does.

But, the strangest thing happened too. There was something like magic in the air. The film ended, and the credits were rolling. The lights were on, and the exit doors were wide open, but the audience didn’t move. It was as if most people were just enjoying a couple more minutes of great music played loudly. And most people had that smile on their face, the blissful smile that only music or a live show can bring. It was quite extraordinary. And I loved it.

So… Shit mind and mood aside, music made me smile again tonight. It made me light. I know that tomorrow will be different again. I cried a lot these last two days, for no reason. Or seemingly so. I wish I were normal. I wish I didn’t burden people with this; with me. But I do. Because I am made of music. But I am also made of emotions. I am made of all the small pieces that make me whole. (Everyone is, I am not special)

Thank you.

https://youtu.be/MOhuK7aZayw

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stream of unedited consciousness

Today is tomorrow, agree?

I was wondering, most of my friends these days are real but online. The ones who are most important are the ones I have never pulled into my arms. What if I passed away? What if they did?

I am not suicidal, but I am thinking about accidents or things like that.

Those who follow this blog more closely might have read the name Jamie before.

Jamie was the most fantastic man. His birthday was two days ago, he would have turned 36. He passed away in 2015 from Leukemia. Jamie was my best friend. I only knew him virtually, but he was my best friend indeed. We shared everything. I trusted him, and I believe that he trusted me too. He made me a better person. I like that he keeps popping up in my thoughts almost daily. Music reminds me of him, but also other random things we talked about. When he passed away, it was a mutual friend who told me. That friend was informed by his husband. (No typo. Jamie was gay.) Although I consider Jamie my best friend, I did not know his husband. I remember when Marcus told me about Jamie’s passing. I cried for hours that day. And I felt jealous that Jamie’s husband had not gotten in touch with me personally.

Thinking back at all of this, and thinking about my current situation, I wonder how my friends would be informed. If they would be informed at all. After all, I am not on Facebook anymore. Not having Facebook feels like being alien or invisible. But at least in case of emergency or something similar, everyone would know.

I don’t want to vanish. And one of the worst thoughts for me is to be forgotten. I try to touch people… with my writing, but also with my entire daily behaviour. If I succeed, that is not for me to judge.

I just know that I am as real as I can be. Which can be intense and overwhelming for the people who are close to me.

Compared to other blogs, this one is not frequented at all. A handful of people keep checking in daily. (I see you, and I know who you are. Thank you!!) Also, ever since I have the ‘buy’-button on the blog, I haven’t sold one copy of my book. That’s okay though… I am just curious to know how it works, lol.

One thought after the other. One foot in front of the other.

Mood is still calm and serene. I should be devasted, but I am free instead. And I miss Jamie so so much.

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Names…

I have three kids.

My son’s name was found because there were only 3 left on the list:

Olivier

Nicolas

Christopher.

My daughter’s name came to me in a dream. And I woke up and I knew it. There was not one doubt and no arguing.

Giulia

Julie

Julia.

My second daughter’s name was difficult to find. We had a handful of names left. And finally I wrote them on slips of paper and we drew her name out of a hat.

Amalia

Amelia

Emily.

Are names important? My kids wouldn’t be different with different names.

A rose by any other name would still smell like a rose. (Sorry, I don’t know Shakespeare in English, I can’t quote it properly)

My name is Catherine Annette. I don’t know what people think when they read or hear that name. I go by Cathy, haven’t ever known it any other way.

When we read or hear a name, we have an image in our heads. Parents know how that exact thing makes it hard to name the kids.

I am serene and at a good place right now. Yet I often wonder how others perceive me. 💜

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Affirmation 2018

I am who I am because I fought to become this version of myself. My opinions are often not very popular, and my way of viewing people and life is a bit peculiar. But I – like you and everyone reading this and not – I am made of every choice, every thought, every emotion I ever experienced. I am who I am because no one is like me. I am unique. I am awesome. To some I am beautiful. I have flaws, and that’s okay. I am talented in my own style. I am not perfect, and sometimes, I am selfish, but… I am me and I deserve to be loved. I deserve to be seen. I deserve to be here. I am who I am. I am Cathy.

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Tbt

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This was me in 2015… (Pic above) I am not sure if it is true or not, but I think I changed a lot since then. Not only that I aged and that I am wearing my hair shorter and in its natural colour (with the greys on display…), I also lost some weight. Subjectively seen, I think that I also look younger. Though that too might be just my own impression and I leave it to you to judge that.

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Those are just shallow things describing my appearance, though. I changed on the inside too. And that change can be seen in my eyes. Maybe that’s just my imagination, but I am pretty sure it is not. Also, the way I carry myself has changed.

I don’t want to be condescending towards people who don’t work, but work changed me. Personally, I think it changed me because I needed something to change. Work made me become a grown-up. (I was a mom, married, homeowner… But I was not an adult; I didn’t feel like one) Mind you; I was a stay at home mom for eight years, I understand staying home and taking care of the kids. And it is work that is often underrated. I love my kids to bits, but the truth is, I didn’t take care of myself. I neglected housework too. I was not well staying home, and I didn’t know it until it had to change. I was okay with it. In October 2015, I had a huge Telefon bill that I couldn’t explain to my husband (how do you explain that you called (and were called by) an international rockstar and built a deep life-changing connection with him), and I understood that I had to become active to take responsibilities for my actions. I was on the hunt for a job for a year. I didn’t find a job for various reasons (stayed too long at home, wasn’t experienced enough…) Until finally, in October 2016 I got an opportunity to take a job at a nursery. (I am an educator, specialised in toddlers and small children’s education and development.). Suffice to say; it didn’t work out. I am sure it was partly me, but it was partly them too. I didn’t have a chance to prove myself. After only three months I gave up, but I already had a new job by then. The one I am still holding today. This time, I clicked with the team, and although not everything is always easy, I still love to work there. I have one colleague who really brings out the best in me. Sometimes it is as if we are playing tennis, juggling ideas back and forth until they make sense. And that is why I love my job. As I said, she brings out the best in me at work.

It is no secret that these last months have been a real struggle. Last November was like the last nail in my coffin, and I fought until I was not strong enough to fight anymore. I was ready to give up. I am glad that I found some more strength in me.

These days, I am more positive again. Nothing particular happened. Just, one day I looked at myself and discovered that I am actually happy. I have great people in my life. Some are close; others aren’t. Some have been distant satellites for a long while and are a daily fixture in my life now, some just vanished. I have amazing kids (two daughters and a son). And I am a remarkable woman. Simple as that. A year ago, I wouldn’t have said that about myself and meant it. But again, I changed. A lot.

When I look at both pictures above, I think that maybe the Cathy with the purple hair was more innocent. She was less kinky. Fewer ambitions, less complicated, easier to please. The Cathy from the present is a very different woman. More mature. More adventurous. Opinionated. Easier to love. And more confident too.

I would ask you to judge me. But can I take it? What if you prefer young Cathy? I prefer the present version.

💜

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I treated myself…

I treated myself to something beautiful and useful. Beautiful too. I like mala beads. Did I mention that they are beautiful? And I admit, I often wonder if they work. When I put the new mala on my left wrist, there was a strange sensation. At first I thought it was because they were cold, coming from the mailbox. But that sensation didn’t go away. Like a vibration. Soothing too. Hard to describe. But not negative.

The stones I am wearing on my wrist now are Smoky Quartz, Larvikite, and (of course) black Onyx.

I order my bracelets online from Tibetan Mala Shop. I found that one shop that I can honestly recommend (and I am usually rather reluctant to recommend anything at all). It’s easy and uncomplicated to order and I have never been disappointed, so far.

Purple background – purple is my favourite colour.

Isn’t it sad that I want to share this with my friends but they wouldn’t care or understand?

It was a tough tough day at work. Holy moly. It would be easier if everyone did their job right. But… I am not here to rant. I am happy to have that job and that I am able to work.

Cathy

Same bracelet on both pictures. Funny how different it looks.

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Sunday morning musings

Is life more comfortable for people who believe in a deity? I wonder about it once in a while. A have a very close friend who shares all these sayings about Jesus and God, and I just can’t relate.

Mind you; my upbringing was very religious. I went to church from an early age on; was an altar boy (girl). I sang in a choir. I went to an all-girls private Catholic school.

At one moment, I grew out of religion, I believed. I prayed. But my miracles didn’t come. Not even in disguise. I tried to find God the way I was told to in church and in school. Maybe I was blind? I couldn’t find anything or anyone that guided me or made me feel safer. And so I moved on and went on a quest.

I read Anton Szandor LaVey to rebel. And I found some thoughts that appealed to me in his writings and essays. For a while, the books were like a shield I help up in front of me. “Don’t mess with me; I know satanism.” It kept many people away from me. Add the constant earphones plugged in, and you get why I was an outsider. I didn’t feel the need to fit in. I was superior to them, and more educated too. Because I chose to read whatever I could get my hands on. I didn’t talk unless I had a valid argument to make (or a teacher asked something). I was polite and kind, like I am today, but very distant.

I moved on from the satanism because I didn’t like the angry attitude. I listened to angry music too at that time. Until I discovered how stupid and closed-minded most of those bands were and they kept spewing their ignorance and hate. I am not an angry person. It’s an emotion I am not all too familiar with. I am not a stupid person either. New music found me. Inspiring and beautiful. Positive. For the first time in my life that something positive crossed my path. Astounding that it was music. Then again, it’s not really a surprise. (Not for those who read this blog more often)

On my journey, I discovered Buddhism. And studied it for a while. From everything I tried, this is what is closest to me. But I am not a Buddhist. I learned a lot about how to treat people with kindness, about being grateful, and about taking care of the environment. I don’t meditate anymore. I am too nervous inside to sit still.

Did I ever mention that I cannot sit still? I am told that I exude calm, but I can never sit still. Something is always moving (my legs, my fingers, my mind)

So here I am. Today. Living across from a church without any drive to ever go inside. And I am a bit lost on my way. (Again)

I am wearing onyx beads, for calm. I am wearing my pentagram around my neck to keep evil spirits away. And I am not even that spiritual. Okay, I read my horoscope, and I believe in the power of dreams, as well as in the power of positivity. But I don’t consider myself to be spiritual.

And I wonder… If I believed in God, would it be easier to cope with whatever life throws my way? But I can’t. I can’t believe. My son has a hoodie from the boy scouts. In the logo is a cross. And it doesn’t soothe me at all. It makes me angry… For no real reason. I can acknowledge that being informed about religions is general knowledge, but I can’t have it shoved down our throats. Maybe I am too critical? Maybe my thoughts have never occurred to other people? Maybe I am too complicated and overthinking? Then again, it was the same twenty years ago…

I don’t know where this post leads and I am not expecting answers… It’s just something that comes up in my mind all the time.

Cathy

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Ten years ago…

  • Ten years ago, I was pregnant with my second child; my first daughter
  • Ten years ago, I was on maternity leave
  • Ten years ago, I lived in a completely different house
  • Ten years ago, I was twenty-five years old
  • Ten years ago, my son was three years old and had just started Précoce (after nursery but before preschool)
  • Ten years ago, I had never written a story nor a poem (if it wasn’t for school)
  • Ten years ago, I drove a small blue car
  • Ten years who, my best friend thought it was best to break up our friendship. We reconciled in 2011, and she broke our friendship up again this year
  • Ten years ago, my music collection was only a third of what it is today
  • Ten years ago, I didn’t chat with random people
  • Ten years ago, I didn’t cuss
  • Ten years ago, my English was way worse than it is today
  • Ten years ago, my grandma was still alive
  • Ten years ago, I was happy
  • Ten years ago, I had no idea that one of my biggest wishes would come true… But beware what you wish for…
  • Ten years ago, I had no friends
  • Ten years ago, I lived in a messy house and watched TV all day long
  • Ten years ago, I was still a child
  • If I had known then what I know now… But I didn’t. No regrets.

Maybe life was easier ten years ago. I was healthier, physically and psychologically. I was more naive. More alone. Oblivious to the things around me. I was educated but uninterested. I lived in my bubble, and I was happy that I didn’t have to work. I liked being home and spent hours on end with my sister on the phone. I bought tons of movies to watch. I can’t imagine that life again, although it was a lot less complicated. I like being a mom of three. I love work; especially the job I have now. Writing became a life-breath for me. I am a lot more active and interested. I am opinionated, and if I can be totally honest, I think that my views are interesting too. I am still shy and an introvert. I am hiding in plain sight, making it look as if I am not hiding at all. The 2018/Cathy is a lot more fun than the younger version. Just ask around. What I miss is the carefree attitude I had back then (and my long hair). Every non-fiction post I share these days is accompanied by that nagging voice asking “who cares?!” It makes me wonder why I doubt myself so much? I have a right to claim my place, just like everyone else. Why am I this sensitive and emotional? Why can’t I accept compliments? Why do I feel the need to diminish my successes, my qualities, my oddities? I have an answer, and I don’t have one. The answer lies in my childhood trauma. But is there not a time when we can’t (or shouldn’t) blame our childhood for our damages? Then again, the childhood years are called formative years for a reason.

Would you like to go back to where you were ten years ago?

My own personal answer is: No. Everything I ever did, every choice and every decision, brought me here. And I wouldn’t want to change anything right now. (But a little financial security would be nice too… It’s not nice to worry about money)

Where were you ten years ago?

Cathy

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fear

Fear. I don’t know fear. I never have. I am not able to feel fear. Well, maybe I am, but I am not allowed to feel it. Fear lets one make mistakes and mistakes are deadly. Fear. I am afraid to feel it. To be paralyzed by it. To let it rule me. But here I am and I feel it creeping up my spine and spreading on my neck. Sweat is forming on my forehead, my view becomes blurry. I cannot afford to lose my senses, but here I am; blind, deaf, mute. I cannot see because sweat is continually dripping into my eyes and I can’t wipe it away or make it stop. I cannot hear because the pounding of my own pulse is the only noise in my head. My blood and my thoughts. White noise. The rest of the world is silent. I am silent too. I am silent. Deaf. Mute. Wordless. Barely existing. Nobody knows that I am alive. If I die, nobody knows that I ever existed. Fear. I was never able to feel fear. Now I do. I made mistakes. They paralyzed me. Fear. I don’t know fear. I am fear. I am ruled by it. Fuck fear. Fuck anxiety. I just want to hear, to breathe, to speak. I want to be me. Fuck fear…

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I don’t like myself this way

The older I get, the more eccentric I am becoming. Me on vacation at a Centre Parcs… I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about how many unclean people slept in the same bed. I can’t sit on the couch because of the people who sat there before me and what did they do? I have to wash all the dishes and glasses because… Ew! And the shower and toilet… Help!! I was never this bad with my OCD. And I am annoying myself. I cannot make it go away, and it makes everyone around me go crazy. Me too. Thinking about all the people who spent time in that house… It drives tears to my eyes. It makes me nervous. It makes me nauseous. And I cannot fight it. I have to wash my hands all the time. I am unwell, and I don’t know what is happening to me. I just know that it is not good. And I don’t want to take this erratic behaviour home with me.

2 more days… I hate this vacation. It is not relaxing at all…

C

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Question and answer

So… The question arose about how I write. Routines, outlining, creating a character, inspiration… All that.

And here comes my answer:

I write the way every sane person would tell you not to write. I don’t have routines. I don’t set goals. I don’t plan my characters or plots ahead. I am doing it the worst way you can: I sit down and write, making up the story as I go and shaping my characters while I am writing. I rarely review or edit before I post. It is all considered a first draft.

I was told that if I had more ambition and more direction I could write amazing things. But therein lies the issue. I don’t have enough ambition. I write for fun, not for financial profit. I love my day job.

All that said, I admit, I am not selfless. I am somewhat egocentric, bordering on narcissistic at times. I thrive on comments. They make me happy. They make me feel validated. It is a fake emotion, but it is the truth.

I believe that I am a good writer. Not the best, but there are much worse than me.

As for the inspiration, that’s not different from other writers. The idea for “Find a Little Love in me” was sudden. I felt like writing fiction again, but since I hadn’t done it in so long, I didn’t really know how to do it. I needed a challenge, and the 100 chapters/100 words seemed intriguing enough. Shelly is a lot like me. I created a character drawing ideas, quirks and flaws from my own self. Maybe that is the only reason why I ended up completing the challenge. I do love to write about myself.

The idea for “Upside Down” came from an image I had in my head. It was of Milly running down that alley with the goons following her, weapons drawn. And the idea took form to write a story with a different approach. I wanted to have Milly as the strong character who ultimately will save Josh from his own one-way life.

With each passing chapters, new ideas on how to proceed pop up in my head. It is nice. And thank heavens I am not working right now. It will give me a couple more days to write.

“Find a Little Love in me” was finished when I uploaded it. “Upside Down” is written on the go. It is rough around the edges and raw.

My poetry is written in a similar yet different manner. A song, a word, a line I hear. A memory or an emotion I feel. That’s what makes me write poetry. Maybe that is why my poems are always that short? I like it short and concise.

I hope that was a satisfying answer. How do all of you write? Could you do it the way I do?

Cathy

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crippling self-doubt

Yesterday I posted a chapter (admittedly everything there is) of a thing I called Upside Down. I wrote those words late, and I was quite tired by then. I am sure there are a couple of mistakes and errors in there… But as a faithful reader, you are aware that every post has at least one typo. Be it as it may… I am not sure how to proceed and if anyone who follows this blog wants to read things like that. My overthinking and self-doubting self is a bother again. I am not expecting an answer because in the end I will do whatever seems right to me and comes naturally. If you say yes, I pressure myself too much. If you say no, I doubt myself and my capacities as a writer. You can’t win. I cannot either.

I am a tired woman wearing bright green pants (with huge white flowers – hideous pants) who is seriously considering giving Milly Baker and Josh Weller a backstory and making their characters come alive. The last names were a spur of the moment thing.

Thanks for letting me vomit my self-doubt on your screen. I could go on and on about it… But who wants to read that?! And I don’t want to write it.

Thank you for your time.

Cathy

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Friday 13th…

… and nothing happened. Well stuff did happen. Like colleagues at work ranting against me again for asking to use an hour of overtime. Or me just letting it slip. Or me buying an inflatable swimming pool for our garden. Or taking care of a little rabbit for a week. Or my sister being in hospital. Or my kids’ summer break starting today.

I still feel disconnected and sometimes when I take my phone, I don’t know what to do with it. There is no need to check statuses and posts… There is a lot less scrolling.

I did not work on the new book today, but I finally folded my son’s, my daughters’ and my own laundry. Took me several hours. I also cleaned the house. Things I just couldn’t do for weeks now.

I want to be a good mother to my children, but some days I wonder about it all. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t. I have a hard time talking about my self. We took pictures at work and I was taken aback with how much it shows that I am not well. My eyes, my mouth. I look sad.

There are moments when I don’t feel sad. There are moments when I feel like a million bucks. I am feeling all sorts of emotions washing over me, I am carefree and me. In that moment I am happy. And I live without regrets. But, what I am struggling with is giving most of what I have to offer and not having anything in return. Sometimes it only feels like nothing, but that feeling of nothing or rejection makes me doubt myself. I hate it when I am like this, because I know exactly how I am feeling, but I have no clue how to change it. I was looking into therapists. Truthfully? I can’t afford it. It is too expensive. Being healthy is one damn expensive thing.

Since I am not active on any other platform anymore, I am wondering if I should borrow Satursongday from Nate Maingard. I would post a song every Saturday. I am not sure if I will do that. Having the ideas and acting them out are two different things. And I often have ideas that will never see the light of day.

Light of day… It’s night and there is a chance of sleeping in tomorrow.

This post is uncoordinated. This is how I think. I think about one thing and somehow it is linked to another thing that I don’t mention and that thought that I am not expressing leads me to the one I am writing. It is hard to follow me to times. But to me, it makes perfect sense.

Either I am entering a manic phase or my onyx beads that I have been wearing on my wrist for two days straight are helping.

Goodnight

C