Blue Monday

According to the news, it's Blue Monday today. You see, after years of pretending that this doesn't concern me in some way, I have started watching the news on a regular basis. Every morning I sit behind my laptop with my yogurt, Cruesli and coffee and watch the latest bulletin online. And apparently, the third Monday of January is the most depressing day of the year. Reasons: bad weather, being broke due to consumerism December and unsuccessful New Year's resolutions. I can add to that:

* Bad weather. The beautiful white landscape of snow, ice and sunny blue skies is gone and has been replaced with a landcape all too familiar to us Dutch people: grey skies, rain, wind, and the kind of temperature that is freezing when you sit still for five seconds together, but incredibly humid once you move. For example when biking to work where you end up arriving covered in sweat and, consequently, freezing the rest of the afternoon.
* School. You think you've got it all under control when you finish a 20+-page teaching project in less than a week. You think you've got more than enough time to finish you 3,000-word research essay on ethnicity in one week, which will result in a two-week break instead of a one-week break (both weeks will be spend on researching your linguistic master thesis, but okay). Then an out-of-control portfolio forces you to come up with a reading list (even though you teach language, not literature) with 36 books that must fit into some crazy guy's matrix of literary competence levels and you end up wasting an entire week on finishing it.
* Work. Your (male) superiors decide to replace a perfectly fine computer system with a new, flashy one. Except they don't do it over the Christmas break, but during work hours, and while it's not even working properly yet. Result: you spent hours trying to figure out a system that is just crap. The students' e-files can't be updated, appointments are suddenly lost, and here comes the best part: unregistered appointments means no salary.
* Health. My shoulder has been killing me and I feel flu-like. I feel nauseous and feverish and I can't get the scary image of a man staring at a woman through her window out of my head. I was just flipping through the channels when I saw this terrifying scene, which is basically my worst nightmare, on tv and this is why I don't watch scary movies! I have to be more careful of that damn tv.

But there are some great things going on here as well:

* Jochem and I are saving up a lot of money! It means being thrifty every second of every day to the point of annoyance and bailing out on exotic summer holidays, but a great world trip is definitely in the making (I REALLY want to go to Tasmania, the Galápagos Islands and Easter Island!).
* Yesterday Jochem and I went to the Vakantiebeurs with my parents and had such a wonderful time. We found great information for our world trip and my dad gave us both these great Indiana Jones hats. I also got a woolen hat from some unpronouncable country between Mongolia and China and I look damn good in it! We had Corona, Cava, Caipirinha, and amazing Thai food. We finished the day at our favorite sushi restaurant. What a great day! :)
* My fundraising is going really well. I planned to raise 37.50 euros for the WSPA, but I already have 75.77 euros. Thanks everyone!
* In one week and one day Jochem is picking up the newest member of our little family: Manchego.
* I got an 8 for my participation, an 8.3 for my presentation, and a 9 (!!!) for my essay for my American Studies class. I am in absolute awe. At least I kick ass at the things that drive me crazy.
* I discovered this weekend that the two other holes that I have in each ear are in fact not closed up, which means that I now have three earrings in each ear again. It came with some pain and a lot of skin irritation, but beauty is pain.
* My little brother and his girlfriend bought a house. An actual house. I am thrilled for them but suddenly feel very immature.

So, it's a tossup really. Only 13 hours, 38 minutes, and 20 twenty seconds till Tuesday.

Contest

Mar won! I gave my little brother a black and white G-STAR RAW beanie for Christmas. She guessed right and first and can expect a poem about her as soon as I can get my butt away from my computer and my literature teaching project.

2009

Happy New Year! Here is an impression of my New Year's Eve:

About My Little Brother

On December 26, 2008 ('Tweede Kerstdag' as we Dutch people call it ;)) my family came to Utrecht to celebrate Christmas with Jochem and me. Jochem and I hosted an extravagant, Italian (of course) six-course dinner and we opened Christmas presents under our Christmas tree. We had drawn names and I bought my little brother Jordi a present. I also wrote him the poem that I included below. Now, totally stealing Anna's idea from her website, I would like you to guess which present I ended up giving him (I just thought of this since the poem doesn't say which present I actually bought him). The one who guesses right first will receive a small poem by me. You know, for when I'm famous when I grow up. :P But don't expect more than ten lines, seriously, as I am on my mini sabbatical.

About My Little Brother

Let me tell you about my little brother
I call him little even though he is tall
Yes I call him my little brother
But he is the tallest of us all

My little brother has brown hair and dark eyes
And likes to dress the part
He is also sweet and considerate
And, despite his accent, very, very smart

There are three things that my little brother loves most
Besides his girlfriend Sil
Cars, hardcore music and video games
Although I have never understood the thrill

World of War Craft is my little brother’s favorite
Oh yes he loves that game
But he dislikes a lot of other things
He thinks that almost everything is lame

But I would not say that my little brother is a negative man
He has a heart of gold
He cares for his family and his friends
Although he is a little spoiled…

By this I mean that my little brother still lives at home
Where his Mom and Dad keep the house clean
Besides a fried egg he does not know how to cook
And he has never used the dryer or the washing machine

My little brother likes to live in Almelo
He thinks the town is grand
There are so many things about my little brother
That I will never understand

But then again my little brother does not understand me either
He thinks I read too many books
He probably thinks that I should finally get a real job
And start focusing on my looks

My little brother’s girlfriend Silvana
Seems to make him very happy
And together with their dog and cat
They form the perfect little family

They hope to buy a house real soon
And I hope that they succeed
I am sure that it will be a warm and loving home
I just wonder what they will eat…

For Christmas my little brother asked for three things
One was perfume by Armani
But I do not understand why he likes the stuff
Because he hates to go to Italy

He also asked for a pair of Bjorn Börg boxers
Whose designs are expensive and rare
But I just did not feel very comfortable
Picking out my little brother’s underwear

He also requested a G-STAR RAW hat
A so-called beanie black and fair
Probably not because he likes the look
But because he hates to brush his hair

I have the right to be a little mean
As my little brother’s big sis
The teasing is almost over
But what I still have left to say is this:

My little brother is also crazy about his Spanish heritage
He likes it very much
But now he does not like his surname Sijbesma
He thinks it is too Dutch
But the most important thing that you should know
About my little brother
Is that I love him very, very much

Mini Autobiography

On November 18, 2008 I had to write a so-called Mini Autobiography for my American Studies class called Topics in American Diversity: Ethnic Experience in Multicultural Context (I am telling you, these elitist Humanities professors and their class descriptions are like impotent men with their Ferraris - they think: 'the longer, the better'). The idea was to reflect on our own multicultural history so as to deepen our studies about American multiculturalism. Now, I am as much of a fan of 'talking out of your ass'-assignments as the next girl, but not being graded on extra homework is quite another thing. But since I have absolutely no energy to write anything new on this blog as I am at the moment far too busy procrastinating during my Christmas break, I figured I could reproduce it here.



I have been living in Utrecht for the past six years, but originally I am from Almelo. Almelo is a city in the east of the Netherlands in the province of Overijssel and in the region called Twente. Quite a few stereotypes are linked to this particular part of the country, and not all of them are positive. People from Twente, including my own family, speak with a thick accent and are often considered to be somewhat harsh. I can relate to these stereotypes. I lived in Almelo for eighteen years, fourteen years in the same suburban area, and pretty much hated every second of it. To me the city felt too small for my big dreams and I thought the people were prejudiced, irrational and small-minded. I also severely disliked the accent and wanted to get rid of it. I could not wait to leave and after finally receiving my high school diploma after six long years, I left for Utrecht to study Humanities at University College.

Neither of my parents were originally from Almelo. My father was born and raised in Wierden, which is a small town next to Almelo. His father had traveled from the island of Terschelling to the province of Friesland to the small town of Wierden. Eventually the entire family, my grandfather, my grandmother, my father and his seven siblings, moved to Almelo when my father was in his teens. My mother made an even bigger journey. She moved to Almelo from Spain when she was eight years old. She came from a city called Terrazza, one of the suburbs of Barcelona, but her parents originally came from Andalusía, a province in the south of Spain. Together with her parents and little brother my mother arrived in the Netherlands in the 1960s and my grandparents started working as so-called guest workers in the factories in the east and a couple of years later a younger sister was born. Eventually my parents got married and my Spanish-born uncle also married a Dutch wife. My Spanish grandparents, however, missed their homeland and soon after my two cousins, my little brother and I were born, they eventually moved back to Spain, taking my aunt with them, who was then just a teenager, and leaving their two oldest children behind in a ‘foreign’ country. Many Spanish guest workers did the same, and although there are still certain Spanish traces in the east, they are few.

I remember feeling very special as a child for being a half blood, as we used to call it. My brother and I thought it was much more fascinating than the ‘boring’ backgrounds of our Dutch peers. We were given Spanish names from the province of Cataluña, Nuria and Jordi, which made us stand out even more and forced us to spell our names and correctly pronounce them basically every single time, but we got used to it. We were crazy about our Spanish family and visited them often, sometimes more than once a year. I also clearly remember feeling more Spanish than Dutch and really connecting to Spanish culture. Moreover, a lot of Turkish and Marrocan people had moved to the area when I was a teenager, so I was used to being surrounded by people with different backgrounds. Although these ‘foreigners’ generally had a bad reputation, I saw no harm in them.

I first became intersted in the U.S. at University College. Many nationalities were represented at the international campus and I quickly befriended several Dutch and American friends who are still my friends to this day. After spending over eighteen years worth of summer holidays in Spain, I wanted something different, so in the summer of 2003 my Dutch friends and I visited our American friends in California. We stayed for a three-week road trip and since then I have been hooked. In 2004 my friends and I spent a semester abroad at the University of California, myself at UCLA. Although it was a rewarding experience, I did notice a shift in attitude. At the end of six months I wanted to go home and suddenly felt very misplaced in American culture for being so, well, ‘Dutch’. It was an unexpected feeling because I never really felt connected to Dutch culture up until then. According to my old professor Nicole Reith this was due to culture shock, and had I stayed in the U.S. for a year or longer, I would eventually have adapted, but I have doubts about this claim. Since then I have felt more Dutch than Spanish. My accent now only resurfaces when I am back home with the rest of my family and many people think that I am from the U.S. when they first meet me. During my first year at University College I tried to get rid of my accent, and somehow, over time, I did and many find my current speech somewhat odd, even though I definately did not plan on sounding English or American. I find it slightly ironic.

This does not take away a continuing interest in the U.S. After graduating from University College I started studying English at Utrecht University. I finished a minor in American Studies, spent a month in New York last summer and almost enrolled in the American Studies master program, but my wish of some day becoming a teacher stopped me. Therefore, I am all the more grateful to be able to take this class.

About Tom and Danielle's Wedding

Well. Writing a blog about Tom and Danielle's wedding has become a task of Olympic proportions. I wanted to write a piece that was informing, yet interesting, while also funny. But I just haven't been able to find the words to describe that wonderful day and that great week. And with the wedding having happened over two months ago, my planned blog about it has become more and more a mute point. Suffice it to say that it was sublime. With nothing but the old "a picture says more than a thousand words"-cliché to back me up here, I hereby present to you my favorite pictures of that time instead.

Tom and Danielle during the ceremony

with my groomsman Tyler right after the 'walking down the isle'-thing (beer and champagne were in order after so much pressure ;))

with my fellow bridesmaid and best friend Anna after the ceremony

Jochem and I with Anna and Ashwin after the ceremony

with Anna and good friend Derek after the ceremony

with Jochem, Anna, Ashwin, Derek, Tom and Danielle at Leadbetter Beach in Santa Barbara the day after the wedding (where I burned my legs a nice shade of red. Again. Sooooo Carmel summer 2006...)

Kitty Update

Here is a picture and a video from when Jochem and I visited our kitty on November 14, 2008 in Kampen.

Jochem

This is my entry for Anna's Contest. I know it is a little longer than it's supposed to be, but conciseness has never been my forte and my creative writing cannot be repressed! :P I hope you like it, sweet friend.

Anna once told me: “You want to be perceived as a bitter cynic, but you are just pretending to be one. At heart, you are an eternal optimist and romantic.”

It happened on Tuesday, September 5, 2006. I got up at the crack of dawn to pull a 15-hour shift for my job in hospitality, and my ex-boyfriend would be my boss for the day. I did what any ex-girlfriend would do when she has to spend a whole day with the man who broke her heart: I looked fabulous. I went for that cosmopolitan, New York look where I wore a big scarf instead of a coat and was carrying my large UCLA coffee tumbler because I wanted to look like one of those cool people who just can’t function without coffee, like Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City and the two Lorelais in Gilmore Girls.

When we arrived on location in Amersfoort I was told by said-ex-boyfriend that I would spend the 15 hours behind the last bar with “some guy from Nijmegen”. He pointed me in his direction, towards the guy who had missed the instruction meeting because he was smoking outside with a buddy. Great.

I walked up to him, offered him my hand and said: “Are you Jochem? I am Nuria. We will be working together today behind the last bar.” He looked at me with a bemused look on his face before taking my hand and saying: “Yes, I am Jochem. I’ll show you the way.”

This man was quite a talker. He wouldn’t stop flirting with me. He did it in that annoying, confident way. He talked to me like every man who knows they can get any woman to sleep with him, talks to you. When he came back carrying supplies for the bar he looked flushed, so I asked: “Are you okay? You look flushed.” And he replied: “I’m only hot because of you.” I looked at him the way every woman who knows that they are unattainable looks at the man who just had the courage to use a lame pick-up line on her; much the same way in which my elitist literary professors look at me when I dare to suggest that Ronald Barthes was a lunatic for suggesting that the author is dead and that Jacques Derrida was his bitch: “You poor little thing, you just really don’t understand how it works, do you?” I finally looked at him and said: “You think you’re a real smooth talker, don’t you?” That shut him up for at least 5 minutes.

This went on for 15 hours and at the end of the day I was no longer worried about the ex-boyfriend because I was too preoccupied with the gorgeous, funny, albeit slightly clueless, guy from Nijmegen. Imagine my surprise when he didn’t ask for my phone number after having invited me over! Going against all things feminist, I decided to give it to him anyway.

To say that my first impression of him was not good, would be an understatement. To say that I never thought I’d be here, would be cutting it short. But somehow, almost 2 years and 3 months later, after countless dinners, drinks, movies and parties; numerous good times, several bad times, a couple of very bad times, one Friday the 13th drama, and a few broken cups; about a dozen heavenly trips to faraway places later; after red roses and chocolate cookies, butterfly kisses and more joyful R-rated information, I find myself living with this same man in a beautiful apartment in the city I love, with two goldfish in our study and a kitten on the way, with small and big plans lined up for our future, actually happy, and I can’t help but wonder: How did we get here? Because we made it happen. And even though I know we are like black and white and although we by no definition represent a perfect couple, I know that we are perfect for each other.

I would like to end with a quotation from the movie A Beautiful Mind. At the end of this film the protagonist, John Nash, uses his Nobel Prize Acceptance Address as an opportunity to thank his wife, Alicia. While I was looking for the original speech, however, I discovered that there never was a Nobel Prize Acceptance Address by John Nash. But as Anna knows, I believe these ‘details’ are best forgotten over time. So I present the quotation anyway:

I have always believed in numbers. In the equations and logics that
lead to reason. But after a lifetime of such pursuits, I ask: "What truly is
logic?" "Who decides reason?" My quest has taken me through the physical, the
metaphysical, the delusional. And back. And I have made the most important
discovery of my career. The most important discovery of my life. It is only in
the mysterious equations of love that any logic or reasons can be found. I am
only here tonight because of you. You are the reason I am. You are all
my reasons. Thank you.

Cat Drugs

And by the way, did you know that there is something called a cat nip? This is a drug that you can give to your cat to calm him down. According to Kiran's cat book it is a legal drug administered in the US and has the same effect as LSD has on humans. I mean, besides the fact that Americans are apparently also drugging their pets (no offense ;)), isn't that the most BIZARRE thing you've ever heard?! It supposedly stimulates your cat's imagination - I bet it does! I wonder if it works on humans... Perhaps I can start a lucrative man nip business now that mushrooms can no longer be sold in Dutch coffee shops and use the proceeds to finance that big world trip of ours! :P

PS: I just finished my right leg and Pesto was, indeed, staring at me. This whole pet thing is a trip!

On the Characters of Fish

Is it weird that I recognize the different character traits of my two fish? We've had them for about a month now (and they're still alive, phew!) and I think they're so different from one another. Pasta is kind of wild and crazy; he is either swimming around in circles at a fast pace or kind of floating in oblivion. Pesto, on the other hand, is very observing. Every time I come closer and stare into the fish bowl to, yes, see if they are still alive, he comes up and starts gasping for air. It's almost as if he recognizes me and is waiting for his food. Proof: I am the only one who feeds them and Pesto only comes up when I look into the bowl, not when Jochem does. Also, just now I was sitting on top of a stool in the study, right in front of the fish bowl, plucking my left leg, and as I finished it I looked to the right and saw Pesto floating in mid bowl, STARING at me! I'M SERIOUS!!! Now that I'm behind my computer he is at the bottom, playing with the green pebbles. I wonder if he starts staring again when I go back to do my right leg...