Amanda Blog and Kiss

Facebook right now is flooded with photos of friends on Amsterdam’s frozen over canals, happily slip-sliding away, or skating, or falling probably, if my experience with ice is anything to go by.

So that’s how I know that the canals are frozen over.  I feel like a bit of a spoil-sport that I haven’t gone out to check it out for myself.  After all, this is something that hasn’t happened in years, and the city is absolutely ecstatic about it.  There are concerts on ice!  And races on the ice!  An ice skating disco…on ice!

But me and the cold, we don’t mix well.  I have a seeping cold in my bones already, so I am chilled from the inside out. (Cold hands, warm heart, that’s what they say right?  Right?!)  That’s probably an exaggerated way of saying that I have piss-poor circulation, but you get the hint.  No amount of socks or gloves can keep my fingers from feeling like someone is shoving knives up under my nails and then chopping the tips of my fingers and toes off.

In addition to that, my eardrums get so piercing cold that it feels like they are being stabbed, which in turns makes me feel nauseous.  (I would be so shit in a torture scenario.  I’d tell everything, whatever they wanted to know.)

So to willingly put myself through that pain by heading out into this biting, freezing cold?  No, thank you.  I see everyone’s facebook photos and it’s quite nice on the ice, yes, but that’s as close as I’ll be getting while I sit safely inside with my bowl of hot tea and three (THREE!) hot water bottles.

On the subject of poor circulation, I just read an article that said that if you put your feet up against the wall it helps poor circulation.

I wonder how the hotel would take that though, during working hours?

Welcome to Hotel V! Would you like to checkin?

Try and follow my train of thought here, it takes a couple of weird turns.

Let me preface this post by saying that this is not an expat blog.  I don’t wax on and on about how the Dutch do this or why the Dutch do that.  I prefer to spend my time trying to blend in and experience life in the Netherlands rather than ostracize myself by pointing out how Dutch people are different than me because of x, y, z.

THAT BEING SAID, I was on the way home from work tonight after an event (Dutch company, mostly Dutch guests) when it hit me that there is nothing quite like a Dutch person at a bar at the end of the night after the bar closes.  After last call, whether it is out of sheer stubbornness or a complete lack of shame, you will always, ALWAYS get a few Dutch people begging at the bar for more drinks, no please just one, aw come on you can sell me one, it’s just me, one beer won’t hurt, etc, etc, etc.  They even have the nerve to get annoyed with you if you are firm, but I imagine that’s mostly the alcohol speaking at that point in the night.

In my 13 years of bar work (in 4 countries), I have served citizens from pretty much every member state of the United Nations.  In Brussels the bar where I worked looked onto the EU parliament building- a parade of Europeans would come there to drink after work, so I had a lot of time to study the different countries’ attitudes and habits in a bar scenario.  I tried to think: was there any other culture that is as annoyingly persistant (from a bar work perspective) at the end of the night?  Nope, really not.  I can pick out some other strong seemingly country-specific traits, such as: Spanish customers- always order tea or coffee, always come in a large group but pay separately, never tip.  But that end-of-night begging for drink thing?  That right there is very Dutch.

I tried to think of how it is in the States, but that’s when it hit me that I really have no clue.  My entire adult life (from the age of 20 to 31) has been spent in Europe, the European bar culture is what I know.  What I know of the American bar culture is from my few trips there as an adult, basically a tourist experience.  At one point, in New York City, I had to sheepishly ask my bartender friend (Irish born and raised but he’d spent 5 years bartending in NYC at that point) how I was supposed to tip in the States.  I left the country before I was old enough to drink in bars.  I have waited on Americans in Europe though.  Their country-specific trait?  They ask a lot of questions (“What brand of water do you serve?”).

And yet, and yet.  Back to my earlier point. That begging for drink at the end of the night, after last call, after the bar is closed?  That is something that I don’t think I will ever get used to, nor will I ever do, no matter how long I’m here, whether I am drinking with or serving alcohol to the Dutch population.

And that’s about as expat-y as this blog will get.

Night after night after night, and year after year- in about eighty percent of my dreams- I have been plagued by a leg (the right one) that doesn’t work properly.

What do you call a reoccurring theme in a dream?  It’s not the same dream over and over again, but rather that I always have a right leg that refuses to work in whatever dream I am having, whether I am dreaming that I am in Israel, Amsterdam or my old school, whether it is a dream about animals or work or shopping.

The leg drags behind me and I am slow and encumbered.  I need to pull myself forward by holding on to walls, handrails, friends or sometimes the ground.  I will the leg to take the weight of me, to remain strong under me, but it never works.  The leg refuses.

My dream-self has come to terms with this handicap, as I assume anyone with a handicap eventually would.  Over time- I have had this recurring theme for years now- I have learned how to ignore the problem because I am so used to it, if you can call slowly sinking to the ground and dragging myself forward on hands and knees “ignoring it”.  I press on with the dream despite the leg.  Or I explain to people in my dreams, “It’s just my leg, it doesn’t work properly.  I can’t walk so fast, can we slow down?”

I wish my dream-self would invest in a dream-wheelchair.  It would make my dream-life so much easier.

A tradition here at AmandaBlog&Kiss. (Earlier versions here: 2006, 2007, 2009, 2010)

I present you with The 2011 Alphabet:

A- AmandaBlog&Kiss: This year I bought the domain for my blog and gave it a spiffy new makeover.  And then shortly thereafter completely fell out of tune with blogging.  My timing is always impeccable at best!  But as the year draws to a close I find myself drawn back to blogging more and more, so here I am again! ….and now the domain registration expires in less than 20 days.  Did I mention my timing is brilliant?  Because it is.  (Note to self: Let’s remember to update that, hey?)

B- Barcelona: A wonderful trip to Barcelona with friends this summer.  What a great city!  Even more great when you throw away all intentions of doing anything touristy, and just relax and spend some quality time with friends.  That’s what life is all about, right?

Barcelona Alley at Night

C- Camera: Probably one of the nicest birthday gifts I have ever received: my new Canon camera.  Dave knew that I regretted ever giving up photography, so for my birthday he surprised me with a new camera.  I totally wasn’t expecting it.  I’m having a lot of fun with it.  Am I good at it?  Nah.  But it’s a learning process, and I’m okay with that.

D- Driver’s License: I finally put one foot in front of the other and went down and took the exam for my Dutch driver’s license.  I passed!  …And since then I haven’t gotten into a car at all, except for maybe a taxi here and there.  But damnit I have that little piece of plastic, and that’s good enough for me.  And if anything, it’s made me a completely better cyclist.  True story.

E- Events:  I organize the events now for the hotel.  It was an unexpected but welcome turn of events (no pun intended) and I’m loving it!

F- Family: Family in Ireland, Family in Scotland, and Family that visited Amsterdam.  A lot of family time this year.  It was lovely, and something that cannot be underestimated when you are an expat who lives far from home.

Family Time in Amsterdam

G- Games: Mediamatic gave me a huge present this year wrapped in the shape of an exhibition on nostalgic arcade games and a three day conference on mobile gaming.  I went several times, and several times more, to play games that I used to love before video games became crap, such as Super Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt (video here).  Yes, this was a highlight of my year, you’d better believe it.

H- Hotel: I bore everyone to tears saying how much I love my job and the hotel where I work.  So I’ll skip this and just say: Best. Job. Ever.  (Damn I did it again didn’t I?  Sorry!)

I- Ireland: We made a last-minute trip to Ireland this year for family purposes, and while the aim of the trip wasn’t that great, hanging out with everyone was, as always.

J- John/The Colours of Amsterdam: The joint production with John of our new blog blew back some creativity in my life where it was sorely lacking, and from that spark many others followed.  Now if only John would contribute some more!  (HINT HINT JOHN.)

The Colours of Amsterdam

K- København: I got you this time, K, you tricky bastard.  A wonderful trip to Copenhagen with 2 friends to visit a friend that was studying there for the semester!  This was my first foray into Scandinavia, and it’s true what they say!  It’s a very clean place.

Three Girls on a Boat in Copenhagen

L- Lola: My lowest low of 2011, maybe of my entire life.  She’s almost always been the L when I do these posts.  I still miss her daily, and cry for her often.  I can’t get a respite from the guilt that came with her death, or the big hollow hole inside of me since she’s been gone.

Lola sleeping whereever the hell she wanted to. One of the many things I loved about her, and what I miss today.

I have to double up on M here, because I have two important ones:

M- Mylo:  I have spent the last half of this year with just one dog, and seeing how Mylo’s personality has changed as a result of going from a 2-dog to 1-dog household has been fascinating.  And he’s been an important part of the support that I needed after Lola died.  I guess having no other dog around to compete for my attention has given him one hundred percent access to me, and sometimes I feel that this has overwhelmed him.  I can’t help it, I just have a lot of cuddles to give, and now one dog less to receive them.

Mylo, will you be my new best friend?

M- Milan:  Twice.  Once with Angela where we yapped for 36 hours straight and never once got tired, and once to meet up with my cousin from New Jersey.  Both times were great, and I cried when I had to leave my cousin.  It was really special being with family in Italy, that’s all I’ll say.  …And I might have been a bit drunk.  And holy shit do you know about aperitivo?  This Milanese tradition should be spread worldwide!

Angela overlooking the Duomo as the sun set

I told my cousin to meet me on top of the Duomo. A happy and very high reunion!

N- Nederlands: I’m not sure if I’m learning the language, or just fooling myself, but twice a week I sit through a three hour class, so surely some of it must be seeping into my brain by osmosis, right?  My exam is in January, guess I’ll see then.

O- Overtoom: Still kicking it on the Mighty Mighty Overtoom, 6 years running.  Best street in the Dam.

P- Public Speaking at IDFA: I (temporarily) got over my fear of public speaking to read my diary in front of a theater full of people.  This felt like a conquest to me.

Q- Queen’s Day: The best Queen’s Day I’ve had in Amsterdam, mostly because I wasn’t trying to fight through crowds of drunks.  Instead we sat at the bottom of our stairs and had friends drop by to drink.  What stuff we didn’t sell in the rummage sale was taken away by the crowds after we left it there, and I am judging this Queen’s Day as the best by how a pair of my bikini bottoms are still wrapped around a bike’s handlebars in front of my house, nine months later.  How my bikini bottoms made it outside and around the handlebars is anyone’s guess, I really don’t know.  But it makes me laugh every morning to see they are still hanging there, waving like a flag.

R- Rome: This year we went to Rome and soaked in some heavy sun (blimey that’s a hot sun down south) and some ancient culture.  We also met up with our old flatmate Veronica, where we continued our tradition of jumping in front of some of the world’s best landmarks.

Coffee in Rome, because that's just what you do.

Jumping in Rome with Lake

S- Scotland: Met up with my parents in Edinburgh for a 5-day break.  It was nice to get back to Scotland, and even nicer to spend time with the old folks.  A lot of drinking was done.  A lot.

T- The Stone: I have an old friend to thank for getting me writing again, at least writing fiction, and I look forward to more editions of The Stone literary magazine.

U-  Uncategorizable: My 11/11/11 Party, aptly titled “The Return of the Hat”.  Everyone played along nicely with the theme.

11/11/11 AND hats! What better excuse to throw a party?

V- Valtifest: The festival that marks the end of the summer festivals, and for me it also marked one of the few times this year that I overdid it so badly that I was in tears the next day.  There’s just something about a party with a dress-up theme! Gets me every time. (See 11/11/11 Hat Party, above).  This year’s Valtifest theme was “All in the Family”.

We dressed, we went, we partied.

W- Writing: I fell out of love a little with blogging this year, and immersed myself more into writing offline.  It’s an emotional process, which surprised me to find out.  You have to put yourself into the characters and feel what they are feeling in order to write about them, which doesn’t always translate into good writing, but is interesting to experience nonetheless.

X- Xpat’s Life for Me: As an expat, you simply learn to live with the fact that your other expat friends won’t always be there with you, that in most cases, one day they will move on and the tide that brought them to you will just as easily take them away.

Y- Yankee: More and more as each year passes, I feel a little less American, a little more country-less.  Although based in the Netherlands for the foreseeable future, I don’t feel very Dutch.  So where does this leave me?

Z- Zombie Geisha: This year’s Halloween costume had to fit into the Zombie Walk that I was going to, but I didn’t just want to be any old zombie.  So I stepped it up a notch and went as a geisha zombie.  I wore a kimono, carried a parasol, and had brain sushi on a plate.  It was definitely in my top three Halloween costumes to date.  Except when I had to take the makeup off and took half of my face skin with it.  OUCH!

Mmmmmm brain sushi!

Sooo, that’s a wrap!  See you all in the new year!  Roll on 2012…

*

Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V: 2011 Wrap-Up:  A Year in the Life of a Hotel

Fiets Mania: Neon Pink Fiets

The holidays and the entire festive month of December have left me feeling sluggish and overdone.  I feel like my oil is running low, and worse yet I have teenager skin!  And not the smooth, wrinkle-free kind.  I mean the “holy shit what is that growing on your face” kind.  I swear any second now a baby alien is about to pop out of my chin and scamper across the room screeching.  I’d post a photo but I don’t want to scare away my last three readers.

I’m not sure why I didn’t heed last year’s warning.

Last year throughout the month of December, the only liquids that I allowed to enter my system were hot chocolate (it was a cold December) and alcohol (and a fun one too actually).  And from what I recall, the only food I ate was chocolate.

And then a miraculous thing happened!

My boobs- they got bigger!  A Christmas miracle!

And then another miraculous thing happened!

My butt- it got rounder!  Could Santa really have been listening all those years when I fervently prayed for a bootier-shaped booty?

And just when I was wondering why no one ever touted the “Binge on Chocolate” diet, a not-so-miraculous-or-wonderful-or-even-wanted thing happened!

My waist- it also got bigger!

That nice hourglass figure that I was sporting due to all of that chocolate overload suddenly turned into a a beer bottle.  And not a nice slim one.  A Vedett bottle.

So I vowed that this December would be different, it would be healthier and less alcohol-fueled.  But lo and behold, December rolled around, and with it the cold weather (sort of) and the socializing (very much so) and of course lots of work events.  I stayed away from the chocolate as best I could until about halfway through the month, but the alcohol?  Yeah, I didn’t avoid that very well at all.

Every fiber of my being was stressed out by the end of Christmas.  I took four days off of work just to stare at the walls and not have to do anything or be anywhere or talk to anyone.  It was a 4 day sleep-a-thon, and it felt amazing.  I snoozed through most of Christmas day even.

But now I sit here and the last vestiges of this December are popping out all over my face, and I physically feel at least three kilos heavier, and I have to wonder: is it possible to find a social-and-healthy balance in the holiday months?  Unless your friends are the carrot-stick-eating and yoga-stretching kind, then I don’t think so.  My friends are the shot-taking, vodka-lime drinking kind, the kind that will gladly stay out until the bars close, the kind that will shrug off the gym if the weather isn’t juuuust so (ok I’m the worst of my friends for that actually- but they encourage me!), and the kind that makes a killer peanut butter chocolate chip cookie.

But then again…who really wants carrot sticks in December anyway?  And January is the month for working off all of those December regrets, right?

I’ll worry about it in January.

So this morning in my haste to run down the stairs at 7:15 am and get to work, I nearly tripped and stumbled headfirst over the bum that was sleeping there all night apparently.

I’m not sure if “bum” is PC enough.  ”Homeless person”? “Habitat-ually impaired”?

Anyway, I careened down the stairs, wrenched open the door, and had to stop just in the nick of time before stepping on the poor guy.  He was sprawled across the entire top landing, with his jacket pulled over his head, snoring gently.

After the initial shock wore off of finding a person where there usually isn’t, I had to quietly, ever so quietly, pull these acrobatic moves to step over him without waking him.

It didn’t work.

He awoke with a start when I was just past him and started muttering (apologetically?) about something, trying to push himself up into a seated position.

I didn’t care if he was there, and I certainly didn’t want to disturb him, so I just sort of whispered “It’s ok, no worries, it’s ok, ssshhh!” at him as I backed down the stairs, making that calm-down-and-go-back-to-bed gesture with my hands, hoping he could get a few more minutes of sleep before he had to go off and do whatever it is that homeless people do to pass the time in Amsterdam.

It all makes me sad to think of it.

A few minutes later as I was on my bike cycling to work, the roads all but dead to traffic, a man on his bike in front of me slowed down and pulled over to the right.  As I went to pass him on the left, he quickly and suddenly turned left across the bike path in front of me, leaving me little choice but to collide into him, bell ringing madly.  This, in turn, threw me off my bike.

Luckily, my cat-like reflexes (!….?) landed me on my feet next to my fallen bike.  I heard him say “Sorry!” and saw him smiling as I stood my bike back up.

“Let me guess,” I said as I got back up on my bike, “ARE YOU A TOURIST?!?!?!”

Then I cycled away before he had a chance to answer, because I’m fair like that.

It’s a wonder the Amsterdam Tourist Board hasn’t personally welcomed me onto their team with a Golden Key to the City!

And so it appears that I dropped all of my leftover Christmas spirit back on the stairs when I was tiptoeing over the sleeping homeless guy trying not to wake him.

Hope everyone had a very lovely holiday!

I have another announcement!*  Everyone quiet down and listen!

An old friend of mine, David Schleicher (I wrote about our uber-sexy date here, see section “First Grade”), is launching a literary magazine called The Stone, and he asked me to contribute to the first edition.

I couldn’t have been more honored!  And so I furiously typed out a story, something new that I had rattling about in my head.  It was a story that was meant to be a “short” story but ended up at 14 pages.  It seems my fingers didn’t understand the “short” party of the story, it seems they didn’t want to stop typing.  I sent it off to him.

This is what I got in reply:

“I am so happy that we both grew up and  became storytellers!  I knew there was a reason I liked you so much when we were little.”

Aaawwww, doesn’t that just melt your heart?

You see the cute thing about all of this, is that decades ago when we were little, before the date that destroyed “us”, we would both write stories and illustrations, sometimes with eachother in starring roles (ah puppy love, ain’t it grand?).

I can assure you there wasn’t much by way of plot and even less of characterization, but damnit we were writers!  We were seven years old, and we were writers!

And it appears not much has changed.  As the years passed, David published his first novel, and we’re both now bloggers, so you see Words were always in our stars.

This makes me happy.  A happy full circle coming back around again, stars twinkling and all that.

What also makes me happy is that I got to flex my fiction fingers a bit while writing this story for the launch of The Stone.  This is something I have been furtively doing here and there, writing when I have spare moments, happily letting the stories write themselves- an interesting phenomenon when you see what the stories are capable of if simply left to their own devices.

The Stone is available on Amazon for the Kindle, but if you are Kindle-less you can also download the free Kindle app for your phone or tablet here.

And Oh Emm Gee, do you see that right there?  Amazon officially lists me as an ‘author’ now!  Sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  DON’T.  SAY. A. WOOOOORD.  If no one says otherwise then they’ll never know the difference!

That’s worth a celebration drink alone.

***

*I promise that I will not only post when I have “announcements”.  I hate it when bloggers do that.  No, no, no, I do solemnly swear that I will continue to post that inane boring stream-of-conscious blogarrhea that you all love so much just to fill the bloggy silences…

I know it’s been awhile since I posted one of these, and you’re all maybe sitting at home thinking, “Wow, guests of the hotel where Amanda works must not be trying to mail weed home from Amsterdam.  They must be BEHAVING now.”

NOPE.

Dear Luca...

Dear Luca Q. from Italy,

How’s it going?  Did you enjoy Amsterdam, hm?  Soak in the culture while you were here, yeah?

I’m sure you did.

I couldn’t help but notice the envelope that you asked us to send for you.  You know…that one full of drugs?

Here’s the thing… I can only suspect one of the following three issues with you, Luca:

A) You’re blind.  I don’t remember seeing any blind guests in the hotel lately, but you MUST be blind if you don’t see that there is a bright red postbox directly across the street from the hotel.  And surely, surely, if you’re going to mail weed from Amsterdam, if you are going to do something illegal, you don’t want to give it to someone else.  You wouldn’t want anyone else to do your dirty work, right?  You’d just want to slip it nonchalantly into the postbox and keep your fingers crossed that it gets to you in Italy.  But no, you gave it to the hotel reception staff, so it must be B…

B) You think that the hotel staff have no sense of smell.  I know your brain is all fuzzy from your time in Amsterdam, Luca, and that’s not from the Rembrandts and Vermeers.  You probably spent so much time in the coffeeshops here that your sense of smell is dulled to that sharp skunky weed aroma, but the thing is, Luca, amico mio, the smell coming off of that envelope was strong enough to hit me like a ton of bricks from 6 feet away.

Or could it be…

C) You come from the southern European hemisphere, and you JUST. CAN’T. HELP. YOURSELF.  Like this guy.  Or this one. Or this one.  Or this chick.  Ooooor this one.

So you see Luca, this ain’t my first ro-de-o, cowboy.  And I’m sure it won’t be my last.  So which is it?  A, B or C?  I need to know so I can better understand why people are as inane as you, so inane that you can’t cross a street and put a small envelope in a little red box on your own.

Sincerely wanting to know,

Amanda in Amsterdam

Now that I am in my thirties, there are a few things that I should probably stop doing:

• fishing for compliments
• jumping up and down when I get compliments
• a combination of the two:

Me: What did you think of my story?

Other: It was great, I really liked it.

Me: (hop, hop, hop) REALLY?!?! (hop, hop, hop)

I think it’s high time I grew up.

*

Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V:  What to do in December in Amsterdam: Try Something New!

*

My blog search results tell me that someone found my blog via “blond american babe Amsterdam”.

You’ve found me!

I may not be so “blonde”, and the “babe” is debatable since I’m plus 30 now, but damnit I’m American and I’m in The Amsterdam.  Close enough, hey?

After my last post, I wrote that I would let everyone know how my diary reading went.  You can stop holding your breath now.

It went well!  I stood in front of one hundred and thirty five people (yes, I counted the seats) and I didn’t shit myself!  And people laughed when they should have, and listened when they should have, and overall it just went as well as I had hoped it would.

It was a great night, I loved everyone’s stories and I was on such a high afterwards that I kept asking my friends, “What did you think?  Was I funny?” and that lasted about, ooooh ten seconds before they were rolling their eyes like, “Yes, yes you were funny, people laughed, get over yourself”.

Nothing like friends to keep you grounded!

I hope to do more with Paulien, Micha and Kevin in the future, but more on that if and when it ever comes around.  In the meantime, it’s back to the every day hotel grind that is my life.

I didn’t write this before, but I am now the Events Manager at Hotel V.  Which means I throw parties!  Best job ever.  This position brings me into contact with so many interesting people- I love it.  I didn’t think it was possible to love a job like this, but the hotel just keeps getting better.

But don’t tell them I told you that, they don’t need the extra leverage, know what I’m saying?

*

Words Elsewhere:

Hotel V: V Crew Seen About Town: Kim on TV!

The Colours of Amsterdam: Twirling Over Dam Square

Fiets Mania: You-Can-Ring-My-Bell Fiets

*

So this November is turning out to be as wonderfully exciting as I had hoped.  I wrote a blog post about it over at Hotel V, because I have been looking forward to November like a kid waiting for Christmas….one month early.

So much has been happening!

You see the thing about Amsterdam is that you have to participate to really reap the benefits.  There is so much happening all of the time, but if you sit at home and never leave, then you miss it all.  And really what’s the point then of living in a great city like this?

There is a long-standing joke with several friends of mine who are under the belief that I don’t ever leave my house, and don’t ever leave the street where I live.  To be fair, I don’t call it The Mighty Mighty Overtoom for nothing (look ! Webcam!)- it is a fantastic street to live on and has everything that I could ever want in a street.  But this joke started when I worked from home years ago.  So I worked for 8 or 9 hours on the Overtoom, went to the gym on the Overtoom, and drank in my favorite bar (R.I.P. Tig Barra- gone but not forgotten!) on the Overtoom, walked my dogs on the Overtoom, and rested my head on the Overtoom.

But now I work across town, and tend to throw myself into the deep-end of what’s going down in Amsterdam.  So much so that my home time is precious to me.  More precious than gold and diamonds.  I need that quiet home time to gather my strength, and I take it and cling to it whenever I can, which isn’t much lately!  But sssshhh, don’t tell those friends!  I wouldn’t want to spoil their joke!

So, for the announcements:

First-

If you want to see a handy guide of what’s going on in town each month, I write one up over at the Hotel V blog in the “See/Do” section.  So if you’re missing my writing (you know you do) or want to know where to find me (you know you do!) then check there for both!

Then-

My good friend John from the blog John Does Amsterdam and I have started a blog together.  This is something that we have had endless conversations about over the last half a year over endless lunches of bagels and soy lattes and endless mojito dates.  And we finally got off of our bagel-loving-and-mojito-guzzling asses and set it up!  So please head on over and check out The Colours of Amsterdam.  Here you will find our special way of honoring this city where we live and love- through the medium of colour!  Enjoy!

www.thecoloursofamsterdam.com

Next-

This Wednesday I have the absolute joy and honor of reading some passages from my teenage diary during a special evening session of DocLab called ‘Stories We Love to Forget’ during the International Documentary Film Festival that is in town right now.  That’s right, my 14 year old awkward self is having her 15 minutes of fame!  On stage!  In the Tuschinski!  Kill me now!

You might remember back in 2009 when a few passages of my teenage diary were published in the book Cringe.  Well, here I go beating that dead horse again!  (Not really- no horses will be harmed during my reading.)

Also reading, hosting, or telling their own stories that night are author Paulien Cornelisse (the brains behind this event and this monthly event), comedien Micha Wertheim, and comedy actor Kevin Allison. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I’m the one credited as “someone reading an excerpt from their adolescent diary.”  (Mother, I’ve made it!  I’m “someone”!  It says so in the description!)

These are like…real people, real funny people.  I’m nearly afraid that they are going to find out that I’m just an angsty, hormonal 14-year-old stuck in a 31-year-old’s body, reading from my diary, and try and keep me from getting on stage.  (Sshh don’t tell them until it’s too late!  I won’t go down without a fight!)

What really tickles me, however, is that Kevin Allison, for those who don’t know, used to be in  The State, that somewhat short-lived comedy show that was on MTV back in 1994/1995.  The irony of all of this, is that me and all of my friends (like all other suburban American adolescents at the time) were quoting that show constantly during 1994 and 1995.  And the diary that I am reading from just so happens to also be from 1994/1995.  And now here, some 17 years later, one of the actors and I will be sharing the stage!  Isn’t that a completely rad coincidence?

Maybe not for Kevin Allison, I’m sure he doesn’t give a damn, but holy shit man, my head is spinning over this!

Anyway, a few of my friends will be there to support me (laughing WITH me of course, NOT AT ME) and if it weren’t for them I don’t think I could do this.  I’ve never been on a stage or read to a large audience before, EVER.

Anyway, if you are in Amsterdam and want to join us, please feel free! More info here on tickets and whatnot.  Just remember- it’s okay to laugh.  My therapy has gotten me through the worst of it!

OK that was it for the announcements, but I will be back after Wednesday to let you know how it went!

It’s 4:30 am.

I just woke from a dream where I gave Lola, my dog, to a friend to bring her to her new owners.  The friend left, and Lola walked out behind her, not looking back.

After a few minutes, the panic started to rise in my throat.  I turned to Dave. “But….can I….will they ever let me come and see her?  As often as I want?” I asked.

He tried to explain that it might be hard to see her again, and the sad look on his face brought the panic in my throat rushing upwards.  I started to choke and sob as the realization sunk in.  What had I just done?  Had I given her away for good?

And that’s how I woke up, choking on tears.

I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep again tonight.

Since losing Lola in early June, I’ve been having a pretty hard time.  It’s not easy spending months on the verge of tears, waking at night from nightmares or not being able to sleep at all from thinking of her (and her death).  Even now, going on 5 a.m. and 5 months after the fact, I am sitting here trying to see my typing through the tears.  I’ve tried several times to blog about her, I’ve tried to give her the eloquent eulogy that she deserves, but in this one crucial time, the proper words have failed me.

How can I possibly summarize in one blog post what she meant to me?  The words end up clunky on the screen, inadequate and dull for a dog who was so full of love and sweetness and who made me smile every day for the seven years that we shared this life.  (Every day.)

We started a list of all of the small and funny ways that she made us laugh and what we will miss about her.  The list goes on and on.

There is so much that I miss.

There is a lot of advice out there about getting a dog, raising a dog, living with a dog, training a dog.  But what they never tell you about bringing a dog into your life, is that one day you will have to say goodbye.  How are you meant to deal with that?

I am working through a lot of sadness, emptiness, and guilt.  Her death, too soon and too sudden, was harsh and unfair for a dog who was so mild-natured and delicate.  I didn’t have a proper chance to say goodbye, it was over before I realized that it had even started. How am I meant to deal with that?

I wish that I had the energy to write more about her and what she meant to me, but for now I have to make do with the fact that she was no stranger to this blog.  I hope she knew how much I loved her, and that I continue to take her with me everywhere I go.