Dreams

I wonder: if cars have navigational parts to let them know what to do next, why cant we have it as well? Wont it be so much more convinient, to have a bar telling us what move is best now, what optimalizes us next?

Sometimes I feel lost. Like my GPS decided to mess around with my mind and left me clueless.

When do we know when to dream, when do we know when to let go and live life as it is?

I am a dreamer, I love dreaming up to the point that it may be harmful to my wellbeing. I dreamt big, parches of adolescence when we think we can do anything we want, anything we set our minds unto.

I dreamt big.

As time goes by, slowly but surely I started to reshift my gears. I learnt to dream small and live large, trying to be content and to squeeze my life until the last possible drop. To appreciate the power of small things we take for granted, and most of all to find happiness.

But when do we know that we are instead compromising?

Last month I decided it's time for change. To try something new. And now I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. Precarious, afraid that I will step on the wrong one and hurt myself.

When do we know when to stop dreaming?

When do we know that we're falling on the same trap all over again?

More importantly, how do we stop when we realize that the dream has started to eat us alive?

Hours to 19

So here it is. The big day in 1 hour. 19. Wow.

Hello, I am Denica. I am 19. Yes, nineteen years old. No, you didnt hear me wrong. I am nineteen.

What happened to being 16, 17, 18? They all went passed their use by date, I suppose.

When I was a little girl, I would do everything in my power to keep my eyes open until 12 midnight before my birthday. As if wanting to start the day a little bit earlier, cheating time I guess. I have this belief that if I dont sleep the day would magically be longer, thus my birthday is prolonged even if just for a little bit.

Why? Maybe because I know that there'll be a cake with a pony icing on that day. Or the mere fact that I am able to wear my best outfit and take pictures in it. Or because I think my birthday is this magical day when flying ponies would come visit with fairies and take away evil potential-killing-Barbies from the world. Only on my birthday, and as weird as it may sounds, it makes me feel like I did something to make the world a better place. A Barbie-less world.

(Dont blame me. Blame my siblings for making me watch those Chuckie movies with them).

Or maybe it's the idea that I'm getting older. That I am no longer 8, or 9. I am now 10. And I had this idea that being 10 is going to be mind blowing with all the new things I am now allowed to do.

Well I am no longer 10 now. I am 19, and a moment of reflection makes me feel lost. 19. A step, a year to 20. Do I deserve it?

I act like I'm bloody 12. I fool around, laughing until my abs hurt watching Spongebob and trying to live everyday like it's my last. But now I'm 19. Call me old fashioned, but something about it makes me feel like I should act more mature. More appropriate. More like I'm 19.

But do I want to?

I know that I should. Or not. Depends.

So in the face of all the uncertainties in the world, I opened a bag of marshmallows, stick some on a stick and move it around above the fire from the gas stove. I then decided to write this while blowing the half burnt marshmallows (for those of you considering what to get me for my birthday, I suggest "Roasting Marshmallows for Dummies").

I have decided to wait until 12 tonight. While savoring my burnt, crispy, tender and sweet marshmallows. Maybe tomorrow will last a little bit longer. Maybe 19 wont be so bad after all. Maybe this year I will change the world. Maybe flying ponies will come visit. Maybe I will act mature. Maybe I will cut back on Spongebob. Or maybe, just maybe, everything will be fine.

Hereby I raise my cup of milk. Cheers, to all the uncertainties in the world.

Chins up. Shoulders back. Ass tight.

I'll see you when I am officially 19.

Countdown to Spring!

I cannot believe I'm flying home in 17 days! :) :) :)

Things have been hectic, and last weekend I was notified that a big ass paper was to be done in the time period that I'm skipping school. The image of me lounging around in Bali sipping my cocktails/coconut while watching the sunset and getting massages is brutally shattered.

My well deserved break, down the sink now.

I just have to find the time to sit down and figure out a research topic one of these days. With exams in 2 weeks.

I cant wait to come home.

Decided to come home again for Summer. Just booked my tickets. Well postponed break is better than nothing no?

Things I will do for a massage now.

The weirdest thing happened on my way to the conference last Monday. I was walking to the Centraal Station when this guy approached me, asking where the CS is. Being nice, I told him I'm going there now too and he can just walk with me. On the way, he told me about his job that he buys clothes to ship to underdeveloped countries. Then he asked if he can sell me something so that he'll be done with his job for the day.

I paused. Not really understanding his English nor his point. I told him I am on my way to a conference and I'm already running late. The he started begging me to sell him something, my coat, my broek (pants), my underwear.

No I had the same reaction you're having now. Jaws dropped, eyes widened and head spinning in disbelief.

I told him no, hell no. He started raising his bid, up to 250 euros. Oh my lord. Who needs coffee when you live in Rotterdam eh.

P.S. I did not sell my underwear. Not at the current rate anyway :p