Yes

To my Mr. Sweety,

It’s funny how I’m writing you this letter while we’re in the same room. You have no idea what I’m writing. I made myself comfortable on the couch and you are cleaning. You let this pregnant girl rest her feet while you make sure our house is tidy & clean.

I realize that posting this letter will reveal our little secret to the internet people. Although most of our ‘real life’ friends and family already share in our happiness for quit some time now. I liked having our little secret. But now it’s time to share with everyone.

You see, I never kept it a secret to anyone that I love you. The baby I’m carrying is prove of that love. But it’s more. You’re my true love.

The line “If you weren’t real I would make you up.” (from the song - Honey and the Moon by Joseph Arthur) says exactly how I feel. Because that’s what I would do. I would make you up if you weren’t here. If our relationship didn’t exist. If we had never met. I would fantasize of you. And dream of you as my true love. You’re that one guy I would compare every single man I met with.

But you are real. We are real. And every since we are together you have proven you are my true love. We are the perfect couple. That sometimes scares me, because than I fear it might end. But most of the time, it makes me smile and realize what a lucky girl I am. And why I had to say yes when you asked me to marry you.

Before the readers of my blog start gagging, I want you to know. I can’t wait until we say I do, this October 10th. Because I do, love you.

Your fiancée

No. 436, 438, 487, 526, 556, 81, 84, 151, 156, 235, 247, 297, 356, 361, 43

Every year, there are 2 minutes of silence in The Netherlands.
Every year on May 4th.
Every year at 8 PM.
Every year the streets fill with silence.
Every year people gather around a few monuments in The Hague, Amsterdam and other cities.
Every year the TV’s silently show a scene of people dressed in black. And over the years the older people make place for younger people.

At May 4th , we remember those who died in World War two.

Last year I wrote a post about it and I was in doubt to do it again. Since my grandparents are gone, I feel little connection to the experience they have had during the war. Even though my grandfather died on May 4th many years ago.
Through a coincidence, today I stumbled upon a website that brought history a bit closer to my 21th century happy life.

The website is called “A Jewish Monument.” All Dutch Jews brought to camps by the Germans during WWII can be found in the database linked to this website. Some just with names & address. Some with pictures. Some with stories about their lives.
Each dot on the homepage stands for one Jewish person who died during this war.

I gave in to my curiosity, and searched by street name. Our street name.

With little nausea I looked at the search results. The database showed me the names of no less than 15 Jewish families. All taken away from their houses in this street. Our street. Most of them died in various camps.
And I realized. History was never far. History is right next-door.

Crazy, I did find some relieve in the fact that our house wasn’t separated from their owner in that cruel way. But next time, when I walk past the houses on the list, I have to stop. And realize.
We should not only remember those who lost their lives, but we should celebrate our freedom. Even though times are dynamic for whatever reason. We don’t live in WWII. We don’t have to abandon our houses because of our religion, skin color or background. We are not put in camps.

We are lucky. We are blessed. Just as they once were.

From the Jewish Monument Website

Sam

Sam is my colleague
Sam is 25.
Sam’s smart and funny.
Sam has a bachelor degree in international business communications.
Sam isn’t allowed to go abroad to pursue her career or dream.
Sam says going abroad as a woman doesn’t fit in her culture.
Sam’s a Muslim.
Sam will be a virgin until she’ll get married.
Sam must wear a veil to cover her hair.
Sam will live with her parents until she marries.
Sam isn’t allowed to go out with her friends at night.
Sam has an evening curfew.
Sam avoids being around people who smoke.
Sam’s afraid when her parents smell smoke on her, she’ll get punished.
Sam is sad because she hasn’t found a man yet.
Sam has to marry a Muslim man.
Sam attended her cousin’s wedding a few weeks ago.
Sam’s cousin was send back to her parents by her new husband.
Sam’s cousin was accused of not being a virgin anymore.
Sam took her cousin to the doctor.
Sam’s cousin was still a virgin.
Sam was standing outside with a Dutch colleague some time ago.
Sam was just talking
Hooker! She was called by a couple of Moroccan guys who saw her talking to this “white guy”.

I wrote this because I talk to Sam 4 days a week. And it breaks my heart to see her pain. To see a girl having to choose between freedom and family. But Sam’s not alone. Many thousands of young Muslim women in The Netherlands experience the same thing. However, it’s still not something that we can all chat about in this country. We like to pretend things like this only happen in Afghanistan, Iraq or Iran. Not in The Netherlands! Sssssssh.

I’m sorry if I in anyway offended anyone with this post. That was not my intention.

STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!

Since last Thursday I’m marked “difficult employee”. Why? My need for justice has gone beyond the point where most would say: “Oh fuck it, I’ll just look for another job.”

I had another meeting with my “manager” about the raise I was once promised but never got. He was a total asshole. Did I say asshole? Asshole is too nice to describe him.

I wrote a whole post . Deleted it. Wrote it again. Deleted it. He isn’t worth it. Any letter or word written on the issue is too much.

He’s not only that way to me. He has pulled things like that with every person in our department. That doesn’t make things better. It causes chaos. Revolution hopefully.

It took me up until today to put things in perspective. I probably won’t be working for him for many months years. There are more important things in my life; my life with FreezeM, our future plans, our hopes, our dreams, our upcoming trip to the US. LIKING the job is more important than the money. I HAVE a job. That’s a lot in this economy.

Although today a faint smile could be detected on my face at work again, I still feel slightly rebellious. Because, I’m going to file an official complaint, and by doing that an independent commission is to be set up. Other people within the organisation are going to judge his decision.

If that doesn’t work, I’ll just leave it, but right now? I’m just screaming for justice.

And while normally strikes, like the ones happening in The Netherlands right now, don’t have my approval (I’m more the “just do your freakin’ work already” kind), I’m now joining them. Silently.

Strike strike strike! REVOLUTION!!!! HIS HEAD! WE WANT HIS HEAD!

And by this I will overcome my grand grand grand grand GRAND parents who left France to escape the evil Napoleon before the revolution even started...

It was all about me

Tomorrow is my first day (well evening actually) back to school I’m going to the exact same university I left about 5 years ago. 5 freaking years. (*runs to the mirror to check for wrinkles*) SO.OLD. I’m thrilled to go back to school, but I’m also scared. And confused about those contradictory feeling I’m having about it. Just looking at all the books just gives me the shivers.

The first time I went there university wasn’t about learning. As crazy that may sound. Sure, I went there to learn. And it helped me (although I didn’t finish it) to get me where I am now. I met Mr. Sweety there and the learning experience got me the cool job I have now.

Going to university in 1996, was really for me. Getting to know me. Accepting things. Growing up. And I didn’t even realize it.

I had just turned 17 when university started. At 17 I wasn’t exactly confident of ME, my looks or my intelligence. But what normal teenager would be??

Up until the age of 16 I had thought as myself as an ugly ducky. Silly? Maybe. I was terribly insecure about me. And my body. How contradictory this may sound: the insecurity became even worse when I suddenly (that’s what it felt like at least) turned from a ugly ducky to a cutie. I don’t know what happened, if it was my boobage that suddenly had grown to unknown seizes or that I actually got cuter. At the age of 16 suddenly boys noticed me. Men even. It confused the shit out of me and it got “worse” when I went to university. The question: “Do you want to be my college friend or just have some Sweety in tha sack?” came to my mind very, very often.

Of course I also enjoyed the attention. What girl doesn’t want to hear she’s cute? And it didn’t control my life through the 4 years of university. I got relatively (LOL) good grates, enjoyed the many, many, many parties. The drinks, alcohol, rock & roll.

But I kept on being insecure. And kept on losing weight.

And after two years, it was either the scale that hit less than 42 kilos (92 pounds?) or the ride to the hospital that made me realize I needed to change my lifestyle. Like immediately. I found help. It took some time, but it helped. I started eating again. Munching on apples. Grapefruit. Later bread. Salads. (And who’d believe it, now I’m addicted to sweets & pastries).

And when I felt strong again, I left school because I didn’t feel a connection with the stuff I was learning and I decided to work for a while. That “little while” turned into a few years. And from the girl I once was, I grew into a woman. And now I have finally found what she would like her bachelor degree in: Communication.

And yes, I will go back to the same university. To the memories. The memories that hurt and the memories that make me realize I’m now strong. I’m intelligent. And cute. But most important, to the place I met Mr. Sweety. Because if anything, HE was the one who let me believe in me. And up to this day I wonder why he was willing to start a relationship with me although he had seen me in the absolute lowest point of my life. Less than 92 pounds, ill, scared and sad.

But on a lighter note, I got myself some cute school supplies!

Kiss the girl already!

Answering Zoot’s question to my desperate cry for inspiration:
‘What was your first date with Mr. Sweety?’

Since our first date is not really an exciting story, you’re getting the extended – Mr Sweety & Sweety love story - version!

Mr. Sweety and I had already known each other for about 4 years. We both started at the same university in 1996 and were placed in the same class. Of and on we’d been friends. Both starting and ending relationships during this period.

During university (which be both dropped out to discover the world.. or something) I’d always had a little crush on Mr. Sweety. I had dreamed many many many many many, did I say many, times that we were alone together in the university library. In this dreams I was always yearning to be kissed by him. Even when he came close, and I thought ‘yes yes yes, kiss me now’ it never did it happen. Not in my dreams. Not in real life.

After we both dropped out of university (not at the same time) we kept in touch. And since a few weeks before our first date we had become close friends again. Mr. Sweety was a happy single and I’d just broken up with my previous asshole boyfriend. Mr. Sweety was there to comfort me (excellent timing there hon’).

At one time during that period (end of November ’99) we were chatting on ICQ. Mr. Sweety was saying he was just about to watch an American football game on TV. I convinced him (puppy eyes beam through ICQ you know!) to stay.
After hours of chatting we came to the conclusion we should go on a date. And so we did. The next day.
I could not remember ever being that nervous to meet him. For crying out loud, we had seen each other a gazillion times. I had never worried once before what to wear when I met him. But now, everything seemed to matter, my hair, my clothes, my make up and OH MY GOD what kind of perfume was I going to wear?
He picked me up at my place and we went to the movies. We went to see the General’s daughter (not really a happy first date kinda movie ;). We had some drinks and then he brought me home and spend some time at my place. Nothing happened. Not even a kiss.

I think at the time we were both afraid of ruining a perfectly fine friendship.

It took us up to the 25th of December (ah mistletoe) to finally realize we should listen to the strange feelings we had for each other. And that night I yearned and yearned and yearned for him to kiss me, just like in my dreams. And it took him beyond forever.
But before Christmas was over, he kissed me. FINALLY!

Best christmas present ever, and I'm reminded every year. Mr. Sweety is just greatful he can never forget the day we started dating :)

Remember

In the Netherlands May 4th and May 5th are special days . Today we remember those who died in World War two. Tomorrow, May 5th, we celebrate the liberation.

My grandma told me a lot about the war. How her family didn’t have food, how she lost her best (Jewish) friend, how my grandfather fought in the war, that he became a war prisoner and how he escaped.

Although she described it very vividly, I never could really imagine how it must haven been like. Ofcourse in school I learned about both World Wars. I learned about the Germans, the Jews, and the camps. I learned that the US, English and Canadians rescued Europe out of Nazi claws. But it was not school that made me realize that we (Europeans) should be very grateful to the English, Canadians and Americans, but movies like Saving Private Ryan and the TV series Band of Brothers. At school the liberation part is covered only basically. Like the Allies just walked in, slapped the Germans around and went home. Just like that.

Never did school made me see, really see, how many lives the war really cost. May 4th and 5th were just normal days for me. A minute of silence at 8 o’clock and then back to my TV series.

Until last Friday. We accidentally drove by the American Cemetery and Memorial in Limburg. We stopped, turned and went to see it. The moment we stepped out of the car, and walked to the memorial & cemetery I was overwhelmed by the peace and silence that was there. The memorial sight was amazing. We walked passed the memorial to the cemetery. Every step we took, the names on the crosses got more visible. And I stood there, feeling this immense gratitude for those who died to rescue us. Never before had I shed one tear over that war (or a war). But being on that cemetery with over 8000 crosses. It just dawned on me.

So yes, this year I will remember. And be grateful to the men & women who gave their lives and made it possible to live the way we live now, here in Europe.

Planet earth please

I had a migraine today. A very light one (please no Judith Light jokes, Judith Light Brigade :)

With the medicine I took I could sit, eat, drink & watch television. I used to have migraines that were much worse so I'm happy.

So here's my day:

Watching Larry King rerun, being bored, read, read

Read some more, being bored, watch the ceiling, watch the Bold & Beautiful

Took my meds, everythings goovy (wait are those tails?), fall aslleeeeep, waking up, watching Oprah

Having tea, watching ATWT, getting eaten and being washed.

What an exciting day! I'm feeling lots better now, so I think I'll be up & running & back at work again tomorrow. I'm really pissed of missing the first warm day of the year.

If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to visit my favorite blogs in my PJ's!

Do your math!

I realize that perhaps winning the US Greencard Lottery isn't our biggest chance of making our dream come true & move to the US. But with only 5.9 million applicants instead of 10,2 million in last years' lottery, our chances are slightly growing :)

Let a girl have a dream, wipe that sarcastic grin of your face.

More Dutch Cheese & American Pie.

Application Received

So wednesday we finally did it. Me & mr. Sweety entered the US Diversity lottery. Many thanks to our good friends Kev & Mel for helping us make the digital photo´s!
Now there´s nothing much we can do but wait. It´s out of our hands. Trust on the 1% chance. Spring 2004 we´ll find out if we won or not.

I would have shared our application photo´s, but the MT uploading seems to not work on this pc. *sighs*