Oh. Em. Ef. Gee. I haven’t updated my blog in FOUR DAYS. This is what happens when you live in a city where marijuana is more or less always available. The situation synergizes when my host parents leave anf the kids are also gone. I’ll talk about some deep shit to make up for it though:

So over the past weekend I was totally free, and had lots of time to think. For the most part, that was what I wanted. After the kids left for school, I did some random stuff around the house, and then smoked up. It was really relaxing at first, but after about a hour alone with just the televisions, I was pretty fucking bored. So I got online and went to hitRECord in an attempt to… entertain myself. I think it worked for a bit, but… well, I don’t exactly remember. I went and took a really hot bath after that and ate something, so I came down a bit. Then I listened to Simon and Garfunkle and Amy Winehouse–perfect contemplation music. I mean seriously, is there ANYTHING Simon and Garfunkle can’t use as a metaphor for disconnectedness?

Anyway, I found myself being bored with that soon after, and felt frustrated with myself, because I feel bored very often. Except when I am writing, but I can talk about that later.

When I first moved to Amsterdam, everything was really exiciting, fasted-paced and new, at least with the family. I went out with a friend once with some people she knows, and I remember feeling really bored there as well. Like I have been there a million times, making small talk about geographical differences in this country and that country and blah blah. I go shopping with my host mother, talk about and wear make-up, paint our finger nails, all that crap. But I’m disgusted with that as well. I just find it to be empty and meaningless. It’s too much.

Naturally, I wonder where the feelings come from, and why they are there. I do remember from glancing around at hitRECord reading the question “what is love?’. My first thought was “love is a just some chemical reactions caused by physical attraction“, or something like that. Really? That’s THE FIRST thing that pops into my mind when I think about love? The one thing eveyone thinks they want or need to find? The thing that is supposed to unconditionally and eternally bind parents and children, lovers, owners and animals, etc. It´s supposed to be deep and special and lasting, committed. You know what I mean.

I’m also… disgusted with myself for feeling and thinking this was so often. I think this is the first time I’ve even experieneced the feelings, or at least admitted them. Now that I read what I wrote, I see that I have options. I can dive into things more. I mean, like Ghandi said, be the change you want to see. If I want something different, and I´m not getting it, I have to just make it.

That´s enough for tonight, goodnight. Time to go read some Bukowski.


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