February 28th, 2006 § § permalink
I don’t like moving to begin with, but probably the worst thing about it- worse than lugging boxes up and down stairs- is saying goodbye to the apartment itself. All of those memories that you create around your living space that make it a home. I have a hard time letting go of those.
So, here I am sitting in this lonely, empty apartment. Waiting for the new tenants to get here with the landlord so we can do the final handing-over-of-the-keys, and I can say my fond farewell.
I really saw myself in this apartment for the full four years that I am going to be here in Amsterdam. This place really rocks, and I fully enjoyed the six or so months that I spent here. Even though we never used the sauna, we thoroughly enjoyed the jacuzzi bathtub and the rooftop balcony. I will miss them a lot. And being able to stumble to the park just a few steps away with Lola for her daily dose of poo.
I have had good luck in my apartments. It takes patience and determination and a stubborn unwillingness to settle for an alright place when you know the next place you see is going to be “it”. This new apartment is really cool, too- but this place here that I am leaving was probably the best place I’ve lived thus far.
So, large spacious apartment with views of the park, I bid thee farewell. Goodbye local porn DVD shop. Goodbye easy access to the park. Goodbye local Thai takeaway joint- your food isn’t that good anyway. Goodbye local poolhall- I’ll be seeing you again surely. Goodbye four flights of winding staircase that gave my legs a run for their money. Goodbye to the first teeny bedroom that Dave and I shared together as a couple. Goodbye washing machine with the broken handle (courtesy of moi) that you had to open with a spoon. Goodbye roaring fireplace. And goodbye hot neighbors that I will probably never see again.
And so ends this chapter of my life.
Bye bye apartment.
MySpace Comments:
February 27th, 2006 § § permalink
So, I watched the Notebook last night. Marisela didn’t want to, but I forced her to because I squealed with such high-pitched fervor that while she was busy recuperating on her knees in the middle of the videostore, I raced to the counter to pay.
And boy, what a mistake that was.
I had heard that this was a good movie. And heard it from quite a lot of people, actually.
Here are my the elements that make up a good movie to me: a good plot, believable characters, interesting drama, some sort of surprise, and upstanding acting.
Not much to ask, really.
The Notebook had nothing. Nilch. Zip. Zero of the above elements. (although I do think that Ryan Gosling is gorgeous.) It totally ruined my movie-choosing credentials with Marisela, and now not only have I forfeited my rights to choose a movie again EVER with her, but I have to suffer through HER picks now if we ever watch a movie together again, and she grew up watching Lambchop for chrissakes.
We totally did not believe that The Guy and The Girl were madly in love, or even liked eachother. The storyline was flat and unbelievable, the characters were way too 2006 to believe that they were living in the 40s, and I felt not even one tiny iota of emotions when they lost eachother, or found eachother again, or she lost her marbles, or whatever.
Where did you people cry when watching this movie??? I kept waiting for the big break in the movie that would make me burst into sobs and snot all over my sleeves, but IT NEVER CAME.
I like movies, and I have a pretty low standard, so even movies that everyone else bashes are ones that I can find something good about. But I guess I had built up expectations beforehand for The Notebook, and so gave myself an even higher perch to fall from when I found out that it sucks.
February 26th, 2006 § § permalink
Things are getting, good, better, best. There is a force pushing me forward into the path of Good Things to Come, and man this feels good, better, best.
I’ll spare you all the details of how great things are going and instead tell two little tales of Why My Dog Hates Bikes Now.
I was only trying to acclimate Lola to the Dutch way of life. Dogs ride in baskets on bikes all the time here, and before Lole moved here to be with me, I had visions of me and her riding along on a Dutch granny bike, her with her knappy little ears blowing back in the wind as she rode in the basket attached to my bike-…. in other words, totally Dutch-i-fied.
It has taken me awhile to get a bike that had a space for a basket, but after ….one, two, three, eight- EIGHT bikes, I finally have one with a basket holder on the front.
But no basket.
But that didn’t stop me from putting her in a bag on my bike anyway. And she was doing good at first. She was totally digging the wind in her knappy little ears, until about five feet from the front door, when she took a nose dive off of the side (after what, I can only imagine) and really bit the concrete.
That was reason One why Why My Dog Hates Bikes Now.
The other reason came the next day. I figured, OK, we’ll hold off on the basket thing until I actually get a basket that she won’t jump out of, and we’ll be set. The OTHER way that Dutch dogs get around town when they are too big for a basket is by jogging along next to their owners bike. Easy, right? Foolproof, right?
Yes, foolproof.
Until a small dog (Lola) stops right in front of the bike and a stupid dog owner (Amanda) runs right over her.
Reason number Two of Why My Dog Hates Bikes.
(She’s ok!)
February 17th, 2006 § § permalink
Fooled you!
You dirty pervert.
Now go back and read my blog about a musical as punishment.
Go on.
February 2nd, 2006 § § permalink
Things are perking up around here. I started the new Design class, and if you have been reading this Blog, then you know exactly why I was so excited when my new design teacher used the word “swashbuckling”!
I take it as a wonderful sign of good things to come.
