Cotton nappies; fashionable-things my mom used to sow; old-things my aunt didn't fit; everything black; black-things I sowed myself with the addition of some purples and reds; and now mostly browns, beiges and greens, half it by my own hand but all practical and comfy. Growing up, one can see lot's of small changes, which actually mean more than one can guess at first glance. But I still don't wear orange.
Several hours I've spend on my ass, on the floor with a couple of yards of chequered cotton, reorganizing and carefully replacing every inch so every check would correspond with another check. Not that it makes any difference, I'm making a wrinkled skirt... so no-one, not even me, will see the difference between a well corresponding check and a slightly misplaced check. Knowing this, I nevertheless spent the whole evening on my ass. Happily. It's calming, meditating and just what I needed. Not surprizingly, I didn't finish the skirt...
A chequered woollen fabric (in a previous life used as a kind of tapestry in my inlaws tent (a 'gronddeken')) has been transformed into a medieval style pair of pants. Made in a couple of hours...easy. And made him very happy.
Just one question: why did medieval people work with little squares? A square for the loins, a square for the armpits ('D')... squares everywhere. It isn't particular strong, it isn't particular easy sowing and it isn't particular cute. So why?
He's old, not yet antique, but functional and relient: my grey volvo 340 GL variomatic. Always passed his regular check-ups without problems. Until last week. He was screaming in agony and protesting with every move. It didn't take long to figure out my exost (?) pipe was broken in two... woops. Luckily nothing a little welding can't fix. Today my rearview mirrow broke off (and some splinters of glass)... so I used some ducktape to put it back on.
I'm wondering what will brake down next week. Any guesses?
Update: he drove off with the handbrake still on... that's 337.
Although I've never
pictured it as a kid... I would really want to be an
integral psychiatrist (and a sexuologist, a manager, a teacher, a herbalist, a nutritionist, a pilot, a dancer, a writer and a researcher. And I would like to design (& build) my own house.)
Somethings have changed, others are ruined. Some people think I've matured, I just think I've become cynical. But undependendly of the name given, I'm different... and with me, my future has changed.
The past five years of my life I've been studying to obtain a MD status. I've studied forty hours a week and during internships I've worked up to eighty hours a week. But now, with graduation-day coming, I'm doing research for (just) forty hours a week and studing management and work psychology in my spare time. Making seventy hours a week just to make sure I've got some choice when I graduate... so I won't have to work in a hospital... so I don't have to work with MDs. Speaking about job statisfaction...
"Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire" -
my biological father. At the age of seven, I didn't understand what he was talking about. In puberty I lived by his words. As an adult, I disagree.
Although they both feed the same need, they're not the same fruit... but I like to take a bite of both of them.
This morning I woke up, heavily breading and wanting to scream... just seconds before I was laying in one of those gynaecology-chairs, while someone (presumable a gynaceologist) was... ehm... having fun on me. And I don't mean with a specula.
I've recently started a new study assigned by a private urogynaecology clinic... and it has been a rough start. Data I need aren't available, no computer or even just a desk is vacant and they have ruined a perfectly validated questionnaire by adding some answers... But I never imagined I feel so f*cked by them...
I keep dreaming about brilliant things to write about. Unfortunately, by the time i wake, they're gone again...
Do you think it possible to dissect a human being,
render it down into its constituent parts,
feed them into a machine which measures such things,
and determine from that
its ability to paint or create great music?
No?
Then why do you think
that once you have done this with my body
you know anything about me?
~Angelica archangelica
