When the roaring of what haunts you
becomes a bit too loud
and whether it will catch you
becomes your greatest doubt
When nothing seems to go right
all efforts no avail
caught in your own twilight
where all else seems to fail
Remember a guardian angel
looking from up above
says: all that's really needed
is spread a little love......
Have a love-stuffed 2011!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Long live automation
I love machines, really do...you could easily say I adore them. Especially the newer machines and household appliances. They are so polite, so cordial, it is refreshing. For instance, a couple of days ago we had to park in a totally automated parking garage. At first we were greeted by a red and white pole that immediately went up without even having to ask. Next up, a shiny metallic cylinder wished us a very good day and politely asked us to take our parking ticket, after which an almost erotic “have a nice day” sent us on our way. Of course, we returned the courtesy with a “thank you very much”... after all, I did raise my children well (and you never know if there actually is a midget in there pushing your parking ticket through the slot!!). Upon our departure, we found that some human vandalist had ruined the payment machine that, as I recollect, was once just as friendly. We had to go to a human window to pay where my card was torn out of my hands and change was almost thrown at me. No “thank yous,” no “have a nice days,” just a rude mumbling that no living person could understand due to an enormous moustache with sandwich left-overs dangling in it. Thanks man, that 'll get up my appetite.
Another example is my four month old washing machine. It is of a beautiful white and silver shiny metal alloy. The surface as smooth as silk to touch. Once you turn my machine on it begins with a very comforting and cheerful opening melody, a cross between Mozart and Satie. Then, all kinds of little lights start twinkling, green and orange, like a tastefully decorated Christmas tree. Ah, you can imagine doing my laundry has become a joy. Once my washing is done, my machine beckons me back into the bathroom with another beautiful melody, many times I have actually thanked her for the joy she brings while she silently closed her lights. So, that got me thinking.
If we can make our appliances this polite and friendly, then lets make a couple more! How about a coffee machine that greets you with good morning, what will it be today: capuccino, espresso or an old fashioned filter?” And when your coffee is done, says something like “have a nice day at work'.” Wouldn't that be just great? Or a frying pan that calls you into the kitchen with “Baby, your fries are hot hot hot!” Or a dishwasher that blurts out an enthusiastic “Give it to me now, come on, give me those dirty plates,” or an airconditioner that, when temperatures go out of control, whispers “Dear one, time to cool off.”
Now that would be the life, wouldn’t it? I am secretly hoping all young inventors now have some new ideas to dedicate their lives to. In the meantime, since we will have to do without this kind of politeness for the next few years, we humans could try to be a bit more polite to each other...well anyway, that's what I think.
Another example is my four month old washing machine. It is of a beautiful white and silver shiny metal alloy. The surface as smooth as silk to touch. Once you turn my machine on it begins with a very comforting and cheerful opening melody, a cross between Mozart and Satie. Then, all kinds of little lights start twinkling, green and orange, like a tastefully decorated Christmas tree. Ah, you can imagine doing my laundry has become a joy. Once my washing is done, my machine beckons me back into the bathroom with another beautiful melody, many times I have actually thanked her for the joy she brings while she silently closed her lights. So, that got me thinking.
If we can make our appliances this polite and friendly, then lets make a couple more! How about a coffee machine that greets you with good morning, what will it be today: capuccino, espresso or an old fashioned filter?” And when your coffee is done, says something like “have a nice day at work'.” Wouldn't that be just great? Or a frying pan that calls you into the kitchen with “Baby, your fries are hot hot hot!” Or a dishwasher that blurts out an enthusiastic “Give it to me now, come on, give me those dirty plates,” or an airconditioner that, when temperatures go out of control, whispers “Dear one, time to cool off.”
Now that would be the life, wouldn’t it? I am secretly hoping all young inventors now have some new ideas to dedicate their lives to. In the meantime, since we will have to do without this kind of politeness for the next few years, we humans could try to be a bit more polite to each other...well anyway, that's what I think.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Water Savers
Water, it is supposed to be a common good. Either we have plenty, that is, for those of us that live in first world countries, or we ALL don't have any. The latter obviously for those in the so called third world countries. Basic idea is to share whatever water we have. Right? Nope, wrong. Totally wrong. Agreed, first world countries have all the water they need, and again agreed third world countries have no water at all. But what about those second world countries, the countries no one talks about, the countries that, in our case, give water to those that have it all the time and keep it from their own citizens?
Obviously I'm talking about our own area. At this time the main switches of the watersupply are turned on every 3 to 4 days. Now, you can go to the town council and ask for a program that 'll state exactly when water will be available at your home. Of course this leaflet shouldn't be taken too seriously, most of the time it is incorrect, some homes haven't seen water for 10 days in a row, but at least it is a piece of paper that you can hold on too, a form of fictional support. Don't get your hopes up too high, complaining when the program is off hasn't helped anyone I know yet.
Ok, so there is no water. And I guess it is understandable that water goes to the tourist industry first, they are after all our daily bread. So, yes, they need to take showers and they need to swim in a clean pool. And yes they need to be able to flush down their daily waste. But can anyone explain to me why they need their tennis courts watered 3 times a day? Anyone with half a brain realizes that in this heat one does not play tennis. Or can anyone explain to me why tourists need to walk on bright green, daily watered grass? They have that in their own countries because of the rain they can't stand and try to avoid by coming to Crete. Why in the name of sanity do we want to remind them of home AND waste our precious water on it...... it puzzles me deeply. But then again, I am not one to linger on the why's for very long, I'ld rather find solutions. So except for the normal water saving routines and tips we all know by heart, I've tried to come up with a few creative tips to help you, my fellow citizen, save some water. Some are a bit yucky but hey, desperate times ask for desperate measures.
1.Turn on your airco and put a bucket underneath. Invite lots of people over to sit and sweat with you. Guaranteed you have enough after a couple of hours to do your laundry with.
2.'Borrow' the buckets outside of neighbouring hotels, those airco's go 24/7, you can use the water to wash your car, your windows and mop your floor. (Please do return buckets, only borrow the water)
3.Take your own showers at the beach or neighbouring hotels. There are showers available everywhere outside and they always seem to have plenty of water. Do not be embarrassed about shampoos and conditioners, believe me, you are not the only one!
4.If times get real rough, gather your own pee to flush bigger waste, a bottle of chlorine straight after will take care of the smell!
With a bit of luck it 'll rain this month, till then I wish you courage and patience.
Obviously I'm talking about our own area. At this time the main switches of the watersupply are turned on every 3 to 4 days. Now, you can go to the town council and ask for a program that 'll state exactly when water will be available at your home. Of course this leaflet shouldn't be taken too seriously, most of the time it is incorrect, some homes haven't seen water for 10 days in a row, but at least it is a piece of paper that you can hold on too, a form of fictional support. Don't get your hopes up too high, complaining when the program is off hasn't helped anyone I know yet.
Ok, so there is no water. And I guess it is understandable that water goes to the tourist industry first, they are after all our daily bread. So, yes, they need to take showers and they need to swim in a clean pool. And yes they need to be able to flush down their daily waste. But can anyone explain to me why they need their tennis courts watered 3 times a day? Anyone with half a brain realizes that in this heat one does not play tennis. Or can anyone explain to me why tourists need to walk on bright green, daily watered grass? They have that in their own countries because of the rain they can't stand and try to avoid by coming to Crete. Why in the name of sanity do we want to remind them of home AND waste our precious water on it...... it puzzles me deeply. But then again, I am not one to linger on the why's for very long, I'ld rather find solutions. So except for the normal water saving routines and tips we all know by heart, I've tried to come up with a few creative tips to help you, my fellow citizen, save some water. Some are a bit yucky but hey, desperate times ask for desperate measures.
1.Turn on your airco and put a bucket underneath. Invite lots of people over to sit and sweat with you. Guaranteed you have enough after a couple of hours to do your laundry with.
2.'Borrow' the buckets outside of neighbouring hotels, those airco's go 24/7, you can use the water to wash your car, your windows and mop your floor. (Please do return buckets, only borrow the water)
3.Take your own showers at the beach or neighbouring hotels. There are showers available everywhere outside and they always seem to have plenty of water. Do not be embarrassed about shampoos and conditioners, believe me, you are not the only one!
4.If times get real rough, gather your own pee to flush bigger waste, a bottle of chlorine straight after will take care of the smell!
With a bit of luck it 'll rain this month, till then I wish you courage and patience.
God loves me!
So, we went camping in Matala a couple of weeks ago. This may not be something world shocking to you but it was to me since it was my first time ever! Before that memorable weekend I had never ever really camped out before. I can faintly remember spending a weekend with one of my schoolfriends back in the seventies on a camp site but I don't really think it counts since their 'tent' had 3 bedrooms, a bathroom, fully operating shower, kitchen, dining room including table. They were connected to the sewer system and, it being in Holland may I remind you, I could even throw my toiletpaper in the toilet. Looking back its basically all been downhill since then, but that's a whole different subject.
I was really excited, you know. Imagine a 4 day break in high season with my favorite bikes (all Harley's) my favorite music (all rock) and camping out! I had decided that someone up there must really like me.
Now, as you all know, I have a partner that helps me out in the house a lot (again this shows someone up there likes me). The only times we argue about that is when he does some washing since he throws all colours together. The night before our Matala departure I got fantastic pay-back, I am convinced, from The Lord himself.
My sweetheart showed me his 4 shirts he had decided to bring to this rough, rugged 1st Cretan Biker Run Hells Angels supported event with a sad little boy look on his face. They were all pink. Just let that one sink in for a second...... Armed with a bottle of chlorine I whitened his shirts trying to save hime from the embarrassment of being the only pink dude amidst hundreds of skull and bone wearing bikers, all the while tears streaming down my face with laughter. Reds just don't go with whites baby!! By now you gotta agree someone up there seriously fancies me.
We didn't really have a tent, so there was not a lot to set up when we got there, but I busied myself with making our beds in the minibus, our home away from home. As soon as I was done I checked out the camping grounds and had to go back to our bus with a devastating anouncement. 'Guys' I yelled 'I dont know bout this camping thing, I haven't found any showers and I just peed in a hole' Honestly I wasn't happy at that particular moment, not at all. But, tada, next morning my knight in shining armour took me to some real clean bathrooms and showers WITH hot water, from then on I became a camping buff. Pro at sleeping on a tiny backseat and pro at changing clothes on 50 square centimeters. I am now so confident that I will even bring a little gasburner next time, to make some coffee or fry an egg or whatever it is they do.
The whole weekend was a smash and we thank all the guys from The Cretan Harley Davidson Club for their hospitality, we'll be there again next year.
And now back home, while I'm writing this column a voice from the bathroom shouts 'Babe, can purple go in with denim?' and I know, for sure, God loves me!
I was really excited, you know. Imagine a 4 day break in high season with my favorite bikes (all Harley's) my favorite music (all rock) and camping out! I had decided that someone up there must really like me.
Now, as you all know, I have a partner that helps me out in the house a lot (again this shows someone up there likes me). The only times we argue about that is when he does some washing since he throws all colours together. The night before our Matala departure I got fantastic pay-back, I am convinced, from The Lord himself.
My sweetheart showed me his 4 shirts he had decided to bring to this rough, rugged 1st Cretan Biker Run Hells Angels supported event with a sad little boy look on his face. They were all pink. Just let that one sink in for a second...... Armed with a bottle of chlorine I whitened his shirts trying to save hime from the embarrassment of being the only pink dude amidst hundreds of skull and bone wearing bikers, all the while tears streaming down my face with laughter. Reds just don't go with whites baby!! By now you gotta agree someone up there seriously fancies me.
We didn't really have a tent, so there was not a lot to set up when we got there, but I busied myself with making our beds in the minibus, our home away from home. As soon as I was done I checked out the camping grounds and had to go back to our bus with a devastating anouncement. 'Guys' I yelled 'I dont know bout this camping thing, I haven't found any showers and I just peed in a hole' Honestly I wasn't happy at that particular moment, not at all. But, tada, next morning my knight in shining armour took me to some real clean bathrooms and showers WITH hot water, from then on I became a camping buff. Pro at sleeping on a tiny backseat and pro at changing clothes on 50 square centimeters. I am now so confident that I will even bring a little gasburner next time, to make some coffee or fry an egg or whatever it is they do.
The whole weekend was a smash and we thank all the guys from The Cretan Harley Davidson Club for their hospitality, we'll be there again next year.
And now back home, while I'm writing this column a voice from the bathroom shouts 'Babe, can purple go in with denim?' and I know, for sure, God loves me!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Jackpot!!
Some of my favorite nights are the nights I spend out drinking with the girls. It is usually an interesting mix of characters. They come from all over. Greece, Holland, Germany, Austria, England, Canada, you name it. Age doesnt matter either, the youngest that ever came out with us was 18, the oldest way in her 60's. The only thing we all demand is a positive attitude and a big time party mood.
Most of us have got kids, some have husbands or boyfriends, so we can not start early, dinner has to be taken care of beforehand. 10 o clock is our time though. We drink, we dance, we drink some more and we talk. About everything. Economics, religion, politics, friends in trouble and men. If I am excruciatingly honest, which I intend to be, we mostly talk about men. Sorry guys.
One of these fairly recent nights started me looking at the subject from a different point of view. First of all I thought it was amazing how the coupled friends supported their spouses. Mind you, I used to do the same. Unbelievable loyalty and love dripped off their words: Í don't mind getting him his coffee (5 times a day I was guessing) he works so hard. Or 'He needs to be able to unwind with his friends after work' Yeah like every day. 'It's my fault he's getting fat, I don't cook healthy enough' Of course he's shoving it down his face with a gun held against his head. It got me thinking. Cause, you see, most of these friends of mine have a full-time job that pays for a hell of a lot of bills and has the family insured. And most of these friends have a couple of kids to tend too. All of them cook everyday and a good 75% of them takes care of the household on their own. And when they are not doing that they are playing taxi driver getting the kids to school or to karate or to music lessons or to english class 3 bloody times a week. If there are no kids involved I am assuring you they are taking care of other important couple business like the tax returns or the rent subsidies or the shit tank emptied or the washing machine fixed. While they bring him his coffee.
Let's also mention finances. How many times have I heard: Well, we can't really afford it but he really needs a new computer, a new television, a new play station. To do what girls, to be on Facebook, watch high definition world cup football and play Mario Karts simultaneously?? NOT!
Wake up and get a grip. They can't find clean socks and get dressed at the same time, how could they possibly manage all of the above! You work for it ladies, you deserve more. A nice haircut now and then, a day at the Spa, those gorgeous new shoes, more nights out with the girls. 'Cause you know what, while you're running around like an idiot taking care of things, he's eyeing that cute, carefree, well polished and well dressed girl that has her life in order. Forgetting totally that you once were that girl, the one he fell in love with and whom he has now transformed into his mother!
So girls, get your lives back, or, for the lucky ones, the girls I know that have a great spouse, that do have a rock they can lean on, the girls that do feel loved and supported: Get your toe nails painted hot red, loose those extra pounds, spray on his favorite perfume and put on a sexy dress now and then, for you have hit the jackpot and he deserves it.
Most of us have got kids, some have husbands or boyfriends, so we can not start early, dinner has to be taken care of beforehand. 10 o clock is our time though. We drink, we dance, we drink some more and we talk. About everything. Economics, religion, politics, friends in trouble and men. If I am excruciatingly honest, which I intend to be, we mostly talk about men. Sorry guys.
One of these fairly recent nights started me looking at the subject from a different point of view. First of all I thought it was amazing how the coupled friends supported their spouses. Mind you, I used to do the same. Unbelievable loyalty and love dripped off their words: Í don't mind getting him his coffee (5 times a day I was guessing) he works so hard. Or 'He needs to be able to unwind with his friends after work' Yeah like every day. 'It's my fault he's getting fat, I don't cook healthy enough' Of course he's shoving it down his face with a gun held against his head. It got me thinking. Cause, you see, most of these friends of mine have a full-time job that pays for a hell of a lot of bills and has the family insured. And most of these friends have a couple of kids to tend too. All of them cook everyday and a good 75% of them takes care of the household on their own. And when they are not doing that they are playing taxi driver getting the kids to school or to karate or to music lessons or to english class 3 bloody times a week. If there are no kids involved I am assuring you they are taking care of other important couple business like the tax returns or the rent subsidies or the shit tank emptied or the washing machine fixed. While they bring him his coffee.
Let's also mention finances. How many times have I heard: Well, we can't really afford it but he really needs a new computer, a new television, a new play station. To do what girls, to be on Facebook, watch high definition world cup football and play Mario Karts simultaneously?? NOT!
Wake up and get a grip. They can't find clean socks and get dressed at the same time, how could they possibly manage all of the above! You work for it ladies, you deserve more. A nice haircut now and then, a day at the Spa, those gorgeous new shoes, more nights out with the girls. 'Cause you know what, while you're running around like an idiot taking care of things, he's eyeing that cute, carefree, well polished and well dressed girl that has her life in order. Forgetting totally that you once were that girl, the one he fell in love with and whom he has now transformed into his mother!
So girls, get your lives back, or, for the lucky ones, the girls I know that have a great spouse, that do have a rock they can lean on, the girls that do feel loved and supported: Get your toe nails painted hot red, loose those extra pounds, spray on his favorite perfume and put on a sexy dress now and then, for you have hit the jackpot and he deserves it.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Better beware!
Hey, let's strike again. Why not! Now that we've got a bit of tourism coming in let's make a mess of it all again and leave them waiting at their hometown airports. Let's show everyone how angry we are while depriving ourselves of the one thing we thought we could count on. Tourism.
Let's cut some electricity or water, yeahaw, that 'll teach 'm.
Great opportunity to show the world we don't want to work more then 30 years. Fantastic way to let everyone know we deserve 14 months pay a year. I mean we are talking about 30% of the greek population. 1 in 3 greeks is in government services, so hell yeah we are talking about a majority of Greece's inhabitants, not a minority stinking up the place.
With the world press looking over our shoulders, strikes will show the EU where their money is going. The Germans, the Dutch, the French, all of our european friends will definitely understand that the greek blue collars have such a tiring life they should be allowed to stop working at 53 where the rest of Europe keeps going for another 12 years. Of course they are happy to pay for that. Now would this same problem occur in p.e. The Netherlands we would be talking about a mere 10% of the population since only 1 in 10 is government employed. I.e. A minority. They wouldn't be able to lame a whole country. They wouldn't be able to let hardworking people in tourism suffer every day by taking their bread straight from the mouth. What unlucky people they are. How sad, these dutch, they can't get anything done. How about those poor Germans that voluntarily took pay-cuts to save a fellow worker, or was it the French....... anyway, guess they couldn't paralize their country either.... pathetic. Better here, better strike. But......
One day our fellow greeks, who work extremely hard in farming or retail or tourism, who put in a sad 10 to 12 hours a day 7 days a week for 2/3ds of the money, who have to beg for their Christmas bonus, who are the real majority, one day they shall rise too. One day they will say: enough of this. And on this day you better be out of their way, 'cause their wrath will be humongous and their revenge will be bittersweet.
You better beware!
Ps: Excused are nurses, teachers, garbagemen and police officers since they are underpaid and underestimated world wide!
Let's cut some electricity or water, yeahaw, that 'll teach 'm.
Great opportunity to show the world we don't want to work more then 30 years. Fantastic way to let everyone know we deserve 14 months pay a year. I mean we are talking about 30% of the greek population. 1 in 3 greeks is in government services, so hell yeah we are talking about a majority of Greece's inhabitants, not a minority stinking up the place.
With the world press looking over our shoulders, strikes will show the EU where their money is going. The Germans, the Dutch, the French, all of our european friends will definitely understand that the greek blue collars have such a tiring life they should be allowed to stop working at 53 where the rest of Europe keeps going for another 12 years. Of course they are happy to pay for that. Now would this same problem occur in p.e. The Netherlands we would be talking about a mere 10% of the population since only 1 in 10 is government employed. I.e. A minority. They wouldn't be able to lame a whole country. They wouldn't be able to let hardworking people in tourism suffer every day by taking their bread straight from the mouth. What unlucky people they are. How sad, these dutch, they can't get anything done. How about those poor Germans that voluntarily took pay-cuts to save a fellow worker, or was it the French....... anyway, guess they couldn't paralize their country either.... pathetic. Better here, better strike. But......
One day our fellow greeks, who work extremely hard in farming or retail or tourism, who put in a sad 10 to 12 hours a day 7 days a week for 2/3ds of the money, who have to beg for their Christmas bonus, who are the real majority, one day they shall rise too. One day they will say: enough of this. And on this day you better be out of their way, 'cause their wrath will be humongous and their revenge will be bittersweet.
You better beware!
Ps: Excused are nurses, teachers, garbagemen and police officers since they are underpaid and underestimated world wide!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Happiness
What is happiness anyway? Anyone out there who really knows the answer? Is it a deeply rooted feeling in your gut somewhere between chakra number 5 and 6, or 6 and 7, or is it a sense of real belonging. Is it maybe to have nothing to wish for or seeing dreams come true. Is it family and children or total freedom with no responsibilities. Would you put up your hand when asked if you're happy.
Basic question, totally valid, yet difficult to answer.
As far as I am concerned happiness is an image forced upon us by society. Happiness is not real, not the way we were told anyway. Like being swept off your feet by Prince Charming and live happily ever after. Or being able to afford all kinds of luxuries and looking a million bucks. That's what they told us, isn't it. Married with the love of your life, 1.3 kids, dreamjob, a townhouse, 2 cars and an exotic holiday at least once a year. Illusion, total nonsense, superficial bull, that's what that is. Boy did they sell us lemons for apples on that one.
It took me quite some time to figure it all out, I mean, I am at heart a hopeless romantic, I have this incurable faith in real love and am a sucker for a good fairytale. So, you can imagine I was way in my adulthood before I realized the whole thing was a sham. It took a couple of husbands and hard blowes but boy, did it dawn on me then.
You may wonder why I am bringing this up. Well, see, I have noticed there are a lot of unhappy and dissatisfied people around lately. Mind you, all with good reason, health problems, money problems, people problems, it's all out there and, by the looks of it, more then ever before. It got me wondering why and realized they haven't seen the light yet. They are still in Hans Andersen Land. They are all still waiting for their lives to start...
Well, wake up and smell the coffee, this is it, this is your chance, not gonna get another one! Want to know what happiness is? It's moments, a couple of moments every single day. They can last a second, a minute and sometimes even an hour, if you're lucky. It's the sun peeping out through heavy clouds for just a minute, it's the loud laughter of your child, it's the flower your partner stole from the neighbours garden for you, it's the feeling you have right after you've helped someone. But most of all it's the knowledge that your life is yours and you control your own fate. You don't like it here, get out, leave, no-one stopping you. Feel fat, go on a diet. Don't like your job, get another one or take up a course so you can get a better job later. Don't like your friends or family, just don't call 'm anymore, they'll get the point. Don't like your face, smile a bit more often, that usually does the trick. All in all, happiness is right in front of you, there for the grabbing, you just need to make an effort and stop whining. Have trouble getting started at being happy? Here are some small exercises, ,personally tested:
Smile in the mirror, the person you're looking at will appreciate it
Read a joke on-line or watch a funny video every single day
Hit the snooze button one extra time, just to enjoy the coziness of your bed
Tickle your kids or partner for a couple of minutes, guaranteed you'll laugh
Remember you were not in Haiti buried under rubble, that should make you happy
and for the die-hards of miserability:
Hold your pee till you feel you'll explode, then go to the bathroom. That kind of release is utter happiness and can be created by you any time of day.
Good luck!!
Basic question, totally valid, yet difficult to answer.
As far as I am concerned happiness is an image forced upon us by society. Happiness is not real, not the way we were told anyway. Like being swept off your feet by Prince Charming and live happily ever after. Or being able to afford all kinds of luxuries and looking a million bucks. That's what they told us, isn't it. Married with the love of your life, 1.3 kids, dreamjob, a townhouse, 2 cars and an exotic holiday at least once a year. Illusion, total nonsense, superficial bull, that's what that is. Boy did they sell us lemons for apples on that one.
It took me quite some time to figure it all out, I mean, I am at heart a hopeless romantic, I have this incurable faith in real love and am a sucker for a good fairytale. So, you can imagine I was way in my adulthood before I realized the whole thing was a sham. It took a couple of husbands and hard blowes but boy, did it dawn on me then.
You may wonder why I am bringing this up. Well, see, I have noticed there are a lot of unhappy and dissatisfied people around lately. Mind you, all with good reason, health problems, money problems, people problems, it's all out there and, by the looks of it, more then ever before. It got me wondering why and realized they haven't seen the light yet. They are still in Hans Andersen Land. They are all still waiting for their lives to start...
Well, wake up and smell the coffee, this is it, this is your chance, not gonna get another one! Want to know what happiness is? It's moments, a couple of moments every single day. They can last a second, a minute and sometimes even an hour, if you're lucky. It's the sun peeping out through heavy clouds for just a minute, it's the loud laughter of your child, it's the flower your partner stole from the neighbours garden for you, it's the feeling you have right after you've helped someone. But most of all it's the knowledge that your life is yours and you control your own fate. You don't like it here, get out, leave, no-one stopping you. Feel fat, go on a diet. Don't like your job, get another one or take up a course so you can get a better job later. Don't like your friends or family, just don't call 'm anymore, they'll get the point. Don't like your face, smile a bit more often, that usually does the trick. All in all, happiness is right in front of you, there for the grabbing, you just need to make an effort and stop whining. Have trouble getting started at being happy? Here are some small exercises, ,personally tested:
Smile in the mirror, the person you're looking at will appreciate it
Read a joke on-line or watch a funny video every single day
Hit the snooze button one extra time, just to enjoy the coziness of your bed
Tickle your kids or partner for a couple of minutes, guaranteed you'll laugh
Remember you were not in Haiti buried under rubble, that should make you happy
and for the die-hards of miserability:
Hold your pee till you feel you'll explode, then go to the bathroom. That kind of release is utter happiness and can be created by you any time of day.
Good luck!!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Introspection
Another month, no, another year has passed when you read this. We all went through the Christmas-stress of getting the right present for the right person within our budget, struggling through heavily lit streets crammed with high-spirited but short-fused holiday shoppers. We all traditionally put up our Christmas trees with high hopes of family reunions to come, all the while arguing with spouse and children over the once again tangled Christmas lights and last years' turkey stuffing. Expectations ran high yet again because we wanted this years Christmas to be the best, the most memorable ever. So I sincerely hope your holidays have lived up to it...............do I?
Nope, I don't, not really. See, to me it totally depends on what you wished for over the past couple of months, it depends on what you prayed for...
So, what did you honestly ask for, what were your deepest wishes and thoughts. Were they materialistic, did you wish for expensive new things, was the only thing that occupied your mind a new computer or beautiful jewelry? I couldn't care less whether you got it or not 'cause you see, you loose either way. Or did you maybe pray for personal financial gain like a winning ticket in the lottery or the jackpot at the casino, again, I don't give a hoot, all it means is that the spirit of Christmas has passed you by, didn't even bother to knock on your door. And that makes you a sad sad individual. So, no, in that case, I do not sincerely hope you had a good time. If stuffing yourself with expensive food while opening your presents is all you wanted for Christmas then my sincere wish for you is a week in bed with a nasty case of gastro-enteritis due to a faulty lobster and a new computer game with instructions in Chinese only.
I mean honestly now, isn't that what Christmas has become, an over commercialized celebration of selfishness? And doesn't that bother the crap out of you? Well, it should. You see, cause a long long time ago a child was born that as he grew up preached to us about love and kindness and forgiving and stuff and then he dangled on a cross to prove a point and I am just guessing that maybe this is not exactly what he meant!!
Now, where Christmas has gone to waste let's see if we can't save the New Year! Herewith, although probably in bed with severe cramps and some serious internal plumbing problems due to said lobster or something else definitely fishy, my wishes for 2010 to all of us are:
sympathy, empathy and introspection.
Happy New Year.
Nope, I don't, not really. See, to me it totally depends on what you wished for over the past couple of months, it depends on what you prayed for...
So, what did you honestly ask for, what were your deepest wishes and thoughts. Were they materialistic, did you wish for expensive new things, was the only thing that occupied your mind a new computer or beautiful jewelry? I couldn't care less whether you got it or not 'cause you see, you loose either way. Or did you maybe pray for personal financial gain like a winning ticket in the lottery or the jackpot at the casino, again, I don't give a hoot, all it means is that the spirit of Christmas has passed you by, didn't even bother to knock on your door. And that makes you a sad sad individual. So, no, in that case, I do not sincerely hope you had a good time. If stuffing yourself with expensive food while opening your presents is all you wanted for Christmas then my sincere wish for you is a week in bed with a nasty case of gastro-enteritis due to a faulty lobster and a new computer game with instructions in Chinese only.
I mean honestly now, isn't that what Christmas has become, an over commercialized celebration of selfishness? And doesn't that bother the crap out of you? Well, it should. You see, cause a long long time ago a child was born that as he grew up preached to us about love and kindness and forgiving and stuff and then he dangled on a cross to prove a point and I am just guessing that maybe this is not exactly what he meant!!
Now, where Christmas has gone to waste let's see if we can't save the New Year! Herewith, although probably in bed with severe cramps and some serious internal plumbing problems due to said lobster or something else definitely fishy, my wishes for 2010 to all of us are:
sympathy, empathy and introspection.
Happy New Year.
Monday, November 2, 2009
I'm back!!
In the village on Crete that me and my family live in, we are not always blessed with the utmost technical services our island has to offer. For instance our cell phones don't always work, landlines are usually ok but the internet can go off and on like a young bull in heat. No kidding, there are days where we are online only with 5 second intervals. Not a real big deal you could say, but uploading pictures and chatting do become somewhat of a marathon that you never signed up for those moments!
Worst of all though, is the electricity supply. We do not seem to get 220 volt on a constant bases but, more often then not we are treated with jolts of over 300. Consequences are lamps that go belly-up every week, strange sounds coming from our vacuum cleaner and colors on the tv-screen that eerily remind me of the early seventies. With all of this one learns to live. We simply have stacks and stacks of lightbulbs as back-ups, don't notice the strange humming while hoovering and even enjoy the wonderful tan and bright clothing actors in whatever show seem to wear. No prob. Matter of adjustment.
Less easy to overcome are the just as frequent power cuts we have to deal with. Mind you, good for your sex-life, but murder to all electrical appliances. Like computers. They drop like flies. At least in my house.
Of course I could take this into consideration. I could make back-ups on usb-sticks. I could save pictures on dvd-s, I could have a little note book with all my log-ins and passwords. But I don't. It's even worse, I let my computer remember each and every username I have so I do not have to force my little blonde brain to remember them all. After the death of my last pc, I was a bit on the down and out. I actually became quite the cyber-junkie, begging for some on-line time wherever I went. My better half could not handle my pain, got me a laptop and I fell in love. With the laptop. It's of a gorgeous jet-black with a pattern of delicate silver circles. It's surface is silky-smooth and a delight to touch. The sound of the key board is like a russle of autumn leafs, ah yes, one could become quite poetic... Back to reality, it doesn't know any of my passwords, not even one username, so I am up shits creek with no paddles in sight. I thought.
After numerous attempts of trying to log-in to my blog, using every variation of passwords I think I've ever used to no avail, I decided to start a new blog, just to be done with it.
After filling out all personal and contact details I was asked to put in my e-mail address and a password. Here I took a bit more time, cause, you know, didn't want to have to make a third blog in a month or so. After careful consideration I typed in the characters I thought I would always remember and hit 'save'. Next page was..... 'processing' .......... following screen I was greeted: Welcome back Renie, you have 27 unread comments. !!!!!
Unexplainable, out of this world experience, I had successfully logged in to me ol' blog AND had created a new one. All in one day. Now, you may call it coincidence or plain stupidness on my part and publicly I would agree whole-heartedly, but secretely, when on my own, I believe that my little laptop just gave me a break. See, my laptop loves me too!
Worst of all though, is the electricity supply. We do not seem to get 220 volt on a constant bases but, more often then not we are treated with jolts of over 300. Consequences are lamps that go belly-up every week, strange sounds coming from our vacuum cleaner and colors on the tv-screen that eerily remind me of the early seventies. With all of this one learns to live. We simply have stacks and stacks of lightbulbs as back-ups, don't notice the strange humming while hoovering and even enjoy the wonderful tan and bright clothing actors in whatever show seem to wear. No prob. Matter of adjustment.
Less easy to overcome are the just as frequent power cuts we have to deal with. Mind you, good for your sex-life, but murder to all electrical appliances. Like computers. They drop like flies. At least in my house.
Of course I could take this into consideration. I could make back-ups on usb-sticks. I could save pictures on dvd-s, I could have a little note book with all my log-ins and passwords. But I don't. It's even worse, I let my computer remember each and every username I have so I do not have to force my little blonde brain to remember them all. After the death of my last pc, I was a bit on the down and out. I actually became quite the cyber-junkie, begging for some on-line time wherever I went. My better half could not handle my pain, got me a laptop and I fell in love. With the laptop. It's of a gorgeous jet-black with a pattern of delicate silver circles. It's surface is silky-smooth and a delight to touch. The sound of the key board is like a russle of autumn leafs, ah yes, one could become quite poetic... Back to reality, it doesn't know any of my passwords, not even one username, so I am up shits creek with no paddles in sight. I thought.
After numerous attempts of trying to log-in to my blog, using every variation of passwords I think I've ever used to no avail, I decided to start a new blog, just to be done with it.
After filling out all personal and contact details I was asked to put in my e-mail address and a password. Here I took a bit more time, cause, you know, didn't want to have to make a third blog in a month or so. After careful consideration I typed in the characters I thought I would always remember and hit 'save'. Next page was..... 'processing' .......... following screen I was greeted: Welcome back Renie, you have 27 unread comments. !!!!!
Unexplainable, out of this world experience, I had successfully logged in to me ol' blog AND had created a new one. All in one day. Now, you may call it coincidence or plain stupidness on my part and publicly I would agree whole-heartedly, but secretely, when on my own, I believe that my little laptop just gave me a break. See, my laptop loves me too!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Alpha Male
I just love men. I think they are an amazing species. Mind you, I am only talking about the strong, silent, “I’m-your-rock” alpha-male type, the ‘I’m-in-touch-with-my-feminine-side / weekly-mani-and-pedicure type can take the first train outtahere as far as I’m concerned, I’ll even spring for half the fare! No honestly, I just love real men, they are so wonderfully different. Their build all square and rough, hair growing in the most peculiar spots, heavy dark sounds from their vocal chords that, when uttered, seem to fill a room. The way they break out in a sweat when doing hard labour in the back yard, oh boy, that ignites a spark or two. Many-a-times I’ve been known to pour myself another coffee, pull up a chair just to watch, praying for the shirt to come off….
A good night out is watching them drink, mates together, pouring jugs of beer down their throats, loud roars of laughter and friendly pats on shoulders, while testosterone just oozes out of their every pore.
But what I love and admire most of all, is their in-bread knowledge of fixing things.
Seriously, it must be strongly embedded in their DNA, I am sure if any scientist could extract the correct cell out of that particular string, the rest of us anti-technos could be vaccinated in early adulthood and have an IKEA-proof life ever after.
As the happy partner of an Alpha-Male original, I get to witness this technical instinct on an almost daily basis and we ain’t talking just changing light bulbs, oh no. Car don’t start? He opens the hood, pokes a screwdriver between a few cables and presto, I’m of to work. Plumbing shot? Armed with his tool belt, ankle deep in yesterday’s bathwater, probably from our upstairs neighbours, he attacks. 2 Hours and some heavy cursing later, voila, I can do my dishes again. Truly amazing.
Now, all women partnered with such an original specimen should be happy and grateful, as I am. However, sometimes, probably stress induced, this fixing instinct works too fast. A few months ago we had to have some electrical rewiring done in our bedroom. My dearest jumped up, immediately ready to tackle this problem. As some drilling was involved and the only working electrical socket was under our bed, he needed an extra extension cord. Frantically I went through every possible cupboard trying to find one, but no luck. It wasn’t a big problem he assured me, he would just quickly make one. I was in awe. He worked with bits of wire, screwdrivers and
what –ya-ma-call-its for a few minutes and with a quick wink to me dove under the bed to plug his new cord in. Two seconds and a big bang later the house was powerless. While rambling on in my well known smartypants-way that something must be wrong cause the tv and the washing machine went off simultaneously, he slowly emerged from under the bed. Face flushed, hair straight up, he showed me with trembling hands his extension cord. A 2 meter piece of white wire with no sockets, just pretty white plugs… on either side. I had to strain my ears a bit as he whispered: “Good thing I tested this, honey, it could have killed you!”
The alpha-male, serves and protects.
A good night out is watching them drink, mates together, pouring jugs of beer down their throats, loud roars of laughter and friendly pats on shoulders, while testosterone just oozes out of their every pore.
But what I love and admire most of all, is their in-bread knowledge of fixing things.
Seriously, it must be strongly embedded in their DNA, I am sure if any scientist could extract the correct cell out of that particular string, the rest of us anti-technos could be vaccinated in early adulthood and have an IKEA-proof life ever after.
As the happy partner of an Alpha-Male original, I get to witness this technical instinct on an almost daily basis and we ain’t talking just changing light bulbs, oh no. Car don’t start? He opens the hood, pokes a screwdriver between a few cables and presto, I’m of to work. Plumbing shot? Armed with his tool belt, ankle deep in yesterday’s bathwater, probably from our upstairs neighbours, he attacks. 2 Hours and some heavy cursing later, voila, I can do my dishes again. Truly amazing.
Now, all women partnered with such an original specimen should be happy and grateful, as I am. However, sometimes, probably stress induced, this fixing instinct works too fast. A few months ago we had to have some electrical rewiring done in our bedroom. My dearest jumped up, immediately ready to tackle this problem. As some drilling was involved and the only working electrical socket was under our bed, he needed an extra extension cord. Frantically I went through every possible cupboard trying to find one, but no luck. It wasn’t a big problem he assured me, he would just quickly make one. I was in awe. He worked with bits of wire, screwdrivers and
what –ya-ma-call-its for a few minutes and with a quick wink to me dove under the bed to plug his new cord in. Two seconds and a big bang later the house was powerless. While rambling on in my well known smartypants-way that something must be wrong cause the tv and the washing machine went off simultaneously, he slowly emerged from under the bed. Face flushed, hair straight up, he showed me with trembling hands his extension cord. A 2 meter piece of white wire with no sockets, just pretty white plugs… on either side. I had to strain my ears a bit as he whispered: “Good thing I tested this, honey, it could have killed you!”
The alpha-male, serves and protects.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Days like these
Usually things seem to work out fine. We get up in the morning, wash and feed the kids, even get them to school on time with a packed lunch. Most of us then get on with our daily chores, whether work or household, whether dead-tired or bright eyed and bushy tailed.
Some days though nothing seems to go right. I'm sure you've all had them. It starts off with the alarm. Desperately, I try to turn off the nasty ringer by hitting the “snooze” button for another five minutes of much-needed sleep. Of course the wrong button is hit and half an hour later I wake up totally stressed. A quick coffee fix would help but I seem to have miss-fitted the filter in the machine, and now have a cup of tasteless dirt that could have come straight out of the sewer. Total disaster. A quick shower should do the trick; the water is cold, of course. Still shivering I put on my clothes. Strange, my armpits feel quite sticky. I realize the deodorant I used was really my extra strong hold hairspray. To top it all off, that time of the month decided to show up. Back to the bathroom, out of OB's, have to use a serviette. No problem till I pull up my knickers. 'Always' or 'Every-Day' is in there, sticky side up. Not a good day.
We are running late so I decide to first bring my youngest to school, and her older sister can walk her into her class while I turn the car. Five minutes saved.
The girls both get out. While I am driving towards school number two it seems very quiet in the car. Oops, forgot to pick up daughter number two after turning the car. A quick U-turn back and there she is, standing at the school gate, laughing. Five minutes lost.
We make it just in time.
Driving back home I stop to get some gas. When it’s pay time I see I've left the house without any money, thank God they know me here, I can pay later. As soon as I walk in the house, the decision is made. The world needs to be saved from me today; I will spend whatever’s' left of it in bed.
When the girls come home I feel well rested and capable of fighting Murphy's Law again. My oldest is in a bad mood; she had made the wrong home work and got a bit of a bullocking from her teacher. My youngest seems happy and cheerful but she's wearing her sweater inside out and socks that don't match. It must be a female thing today, I think to myself – a family hormone problem that make us so clumsy. Until my hubby comes home from work and hits the shower. He steps out of a steamy bathroom with a strange odour around him. The girls and I can't place it at all, and we ask him to show us the shampoo he used. With red cheeks, and a bit irritated, he snorts: Can anyone here explain to me right now, what the hell the dog-shampoo is doing in the shower?
Just one of those days...
Some days though nothing seems to go right. I'm sure you've all had them. It starts off with the alarm. Desperately, I try to turn off the nasty ringer by hitting the “snooze” button for another five minutes of much-needed sleep. Of course the wrong button is hit and half an hour later I wake up totally stressed. A quick coffee fix would help but I seem to have miss-fitted the filter in the machine, and now have a cup of tasteless dirt that could have come straight out of the sewer. Total disaster. A quick shower should do the trick; the water is cold, of course. Still shivering I put on my clothes. Strange, my armpits feel quite sticky. I realize the deodorant I used was really my extra strong hold hairspray. To top it all off, that time of the month decided to show up. Back to the bathroom, out of OB's, have to use a serviette. No problem till I pull up my knickers. 'Always' or 'Every-Day' is in there, sticky side up. Not a good day.
We are running late so I decide to first bring my youngest to school, and her older sister can walk her into her class while I turn the car. Five minutes saved.
The girls both get out. While I am driving towards school number two it seems very quiet in the car. Oops, forgot to pick up daughter number two after turning the car. A quick U-turn back and there she is, standing at the school gate, laughing. Five minutes lost.
We make it just in time.
Driving back home I stop to get some gas. When it’s pay time I see I've left the house without any money, thank God they know me here, I can pay later. As soon as I walk in the house, the decision is made. The world needs to be saved from me today; I will spend whatever’s' left of it in bed.
When the girls come home I feel well rested and capable of fighting Murphy's Law again. My oldest is in a bad mood; she had made the wrong home work and got a bit of a bullocking from her teacher. My youngest seems happy and cheerful but she's wearing her sweater inside out and socks that don't match. It must be a female thing today, I think to myself – a family hormone problem that make us so clumsy. Until my hubby comes home from work and hits the shower. He steps out of a steamy bathroom with a strange odour around him. The girls and I can't place it at all, and we ask him to show us the shampoo he used. With red cheeks, and a bit irritated, he snorts: Can anyone here explain to me right now, what the hell the dog-shampoo is doing in the shower?
Just one of those days...
Monday, August 25, 2008
Letter to my Father
Dear dad,
How are things up there?
What is it like to float around whenever you please, as light as a breeze touching cheeks?
I always wonder. Once in a while my mind takes a short walk through my memories and you always pop up.
I remember when mom caught me smoking and called you in an outrage I never saw the likes of before. You wanted to speak to me, and asked me what brand of cigarettes I like, since based on the conversation with my mother you understood she wasn’t going to provide me with any. Nice one!
Or the second time we met. You took me to a jazz bar, and you had a stiff whisky (I think it was, mind you I was only 12) and I had a coke and a handful of change for the pin-ball machine.
Another memory is when the doctors told you to give up smoking, drinking, eating certain foods and carnal knowledge of women, since heart attack number three would be the last one.
Well we all know how you handled that . . .
You were always the black sheep of your family, a creative genius who lived life to the fullest without looking back. No picking up pieces, no responsibilities, none of that for you
Today, it is 25 years since we buried you, but you actually left us when we were still in diapers. It’s ok, you know. I never really missed not having you around; I had a great childhood, but as a parent seeing her children slowly leave the house I often wonder, dad, would you have done it differently looking back?
It must have been so painful not really knowing any of your kids and some of them not wanting to know you. I always wanted to know you better but we never got a chance, did we? Not enough time . . .
Well, I guess that’s life, but over the last few years, and you can call me silly if you want, I’ve got this feeling you’re around somewhere. Just this strange sense of not being alone. It sounds a bit floaty-outthere-loony tunes I know, but I think it’s you and my pragmatic side just wants to make sure it is; don’t want a case of mistaken identity here.
Now listen, lately every day at about three o’clock this strange brownish-white butterfly, flies through our shop, sits on the desk, has a look around and leaves again. It’s an ugly looking butterfly and, after all, you never really were a looker.
So I am wondering dad, is that you? I mean even my girls have started to say, “hi, grandpa,” as soon as the little bugger flies in. But, to be honest, it could just as well be their great-grandfather, cause he was never a real handsome man either.
But I like to think it is you, so could you do me just one last favour?
Today, when you fly in again, would you mind sitting on my shoulder for a bit, just a second, just so I know . . .
Thanks dad, see you soon
Love
How are things up there?
What is it like to float around whenever you please, as light as a breeze touching cheeks?
I always wonder. Once in a while my mind takes a short walk through my memories and you always pop up.
I remember when mom caught me smoking and called you in an outrage I never saw the likes of before. You wanted to speak to me, and asked me what brand of cigarettes I like, since based on the conversation with my mother you understood she wasn’t going to provide me with any. Nice one!
Or the second time we met. You took me to a jazz bar, and you had a stiff whisky (I think it was, mind you I was only 12) and I had a coke and a handful of change for the pin-ball machine.
Another memory is when the doctors told you to give up smoking, drinking, eating certain foods and carnal knowledge of women, since heart attack number three would be the last one.
Well we all know how you handled that . . .
You were always the black sheep of your family, a creative genius who lived life to the fullest without looking back. No picking up pieces, no responsibilities, none of that for you
Today, it is 25 years since we buried you, but you actually left us when we were still in diapers. It’s ok, you know. I never really missed not having you around; I had a great childhood, but as a parent seeing her children slowly leave the house I often wonder, dad, would you have done it differently looking back?
It must have been so painful not really knowing any of your kids and some of them not wanting to know you. I always wanted to know you better but we never got a chance, did we? Not enough time . . .
Well, I guess that’s life, but over the last few years, and you can call me silly if you want, I’ve got this feeling you’re around somewhere. Just this strange sense of not being alone. It sounds a bit floaty-outthere-loony tunes I know, but I think it’s you and my pragmatic side just wants to make sure it is; don’t want a case of mistaken identity here.
Now listen, lately every day at about three o’clock this strange brownish-white butterfly, flies through our shop, sits on the desk, has a look around and leaves again. It’s an ugly looking butterfly and, after all, you never really were a looker.
So I am wondering dad, is that you? I mean even my girls have started to say, “hi, grandpa,” as soon as the little bugger flies in. But, to be honest, it could just as well be their great-grandfather, cause he was never a real handsome man either.
But I like to think it is you, so could you do me just one last favour?
Today, when you fly in again, would you mind sitting on my shoulder for a bit, just a second, just so I know . . .
Thanks dad, see you soon
Love
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
