O, my Wild Flower!

O, my Wild Flower
How I love you, I love you, I love you
And it is torturing to let you go

You know I love you, I love you, I love you
That's why I have to let you go

And I'll leave you with I love you, I love you, I love you
They'll be with you everywhere you go

Groningen, 13 September '06, 22:55

A bulk of pain

My stomach is full of pain.

Pains, to be exact. They are running around, wild, like little children....little animals...

The pain is like a group of negative energies pushing each other to get out through a very small hole in my stomach...a very tiny hole..

It is very hurting to have such an experience...very hurting indeed.

That's what you have by repressing your angers and hatred for decades. Yes, that's it!

And I have decided to give them a space. A space to breathe, to live, and to express themselves freely, without constraint...

And that's why it happens. That's the reason, indeed...

A bulk of pain....
Damn! It is so hurting....

Groningen, 13 September '06, 22:50

Singing with the 'kapper'

I had a nice experience yesterday. I was at the hairdresser trying to freshen up my look a bit.

(Before I looked like a 10-ager, and now I looked 7-ager...huehehe.... )
Yes, I am a child-like adult who sometimes display an elegant lady-look for some certain potential markets...huehehe....

The hairdresser was funny and very cheerful. She didn't mind to speak English, but I asked her to speak Dutch to test my almost-thirty years old memory...huehehehe...

Her name was Glorianne. She was a man-made-curled brunette, and she looked attractive. She gave me two hair magazines to find out how I would like my hair to be cut.
After I told her that I wanted to look 7-ager, then she started to cut my hair here and there.

And then the radio started singing Lenny Kravits':

So many tears i've cried
So much pain iside
But baby it ain't over 'til it's over
So many years we've tried
To keep our love alive
But baby it ain't over 'till it's over

Of course, my music senses couldn't stay quiet.
I started humming,"....Hmhmhmhmmm...Dadadadada....."

Then she smiled, and said that if she also started singing, all the clients would disappear, and her boss would kick her ass...huehehehe...

I asked her to try...

And then, there we started a duet:

So many tears i've cried
So much pain iside
But baby it ain't over 'til it's over

And we laughed, huahahahaha....

On the contrary of what she thought, she had a reasonably nice voice. She hit the notes correctly. But I think we created inequality among us and other clients and hairdressers because they were quiet, but we were far from that....huehhehehehe..

After she finsihed, she told me "to sing my way out...". Then I paid the cost, although I didn't sing my way out as she told me at the end...But indeed she had made me smile and laugh.

That was my first experience singing together with a 'kapper' (hairdresser), and you know what , it was jolly good!!

Groningen, 8 September 2006, 4:44 PM

I love my work, it's just the fuss around it....

It is quite unusual that you don't have problem with your work, but you have problem with the fuss around it. I met many people who complained about their work. Apparently, I don't. I like what I'm doing, and I am enjoying myself by doing it. If I was doing research, I forgot my surroundings, I was usually kind of drowned in it...

Yes, it is the fuss around it that troubles me. I wish, I wish, I wish, I did not have this illness. Clinical depression: anxiety, lacking of energy, feeling not worthed, insomnia, eating disorder, you name it! Your body worked beyond your control, and sometimes you have no slightest clue on what caused it...Is it the bad weather that makes you feel exhausted, or is it the repressed anger that you kept for years? Then I got confused! Which one? Can you tell me?

And to make it more exciting, I was born with highly empathic ability. Is it my receptiveness of negative energy of the people around me that makes me completely exhausted, or simply, am I phobia of something?

I read something about an disorder called social phobia, but I don't think I belong to that category. I like people, I like to be with people, and as far as I can recall my past, I always did...

Yes, it's the fuss around it. I wish I could only have the time to work, and work, and work, without anybody around me, without any social talks, without any pressure to show my happy face and smile, when I feel tremble and shaking inside because of my illness and my empathic ability....Then I might be able to finish on time, or even earlier....

Well, that's life isn't it...it comes in a full package deal: you can't get what you want without having to face the risk of having it...

Don't get me wrong, by the way, because I like my life...I love my life...I'm happy to feel that I'm living in a life full of dynamic energy...because 'life is either a challenge or nothing'! (Thanks to my bestfriend who sent me this quotation from Hellen Keller!)
But sometimes, like this moment: I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish...I was not ill at all!

Calling you

Oh, enjoy the pain!
The torture of the irreversible past and the voices of your nightmares!
Oh, drink the tears!
The cut of the undescribable pain and the darkness of your miseries!
Oh, eat the screams!
The unbearable wound and the scar of your bitterness...

And then wake up! Wake up!
Cry no more and end your mourn
Wake up....'cause someone is calling you
Calling you
Calling you

Just listen...
And listen...
And listen...
He's calling you
Begging you to wake up
With the voice of a neverending song

Groningen, 4 September 2006, 23:37

For me you are a beauty

I wrote this poem long ago for someone that I love so much. I still love him, and will always love him. He knows that...I'm sure.
With this, I describe the true feeling I have about him. He was part of a dream world, and probably it is better off for him to stay in that world...

I wish him happiness and the best in everything...



















For me you are a beauty
Created in your own world
Like a flower growing on the ground
Beautiful as it is

I’ll let you there, live
Breathe your own air
And dance in your own way

I can not take you home
No, I can’t
Because I want you to stay alive

Groningen, 10 May 2003, 00:51