Category: Journal

Headaches

I suffer from clusterheadaches. If you don’t know what they are, think of the worse migraine you’ve ever had, multiply that by a hundred then you’ve got its intensity. They show up in small clusters, hence the name. The clusters usually last for about one or two weeks for me, in which I’ll have a headache attack about once every two days. For me they don’t last very long, perhaps 30 to 45 minutes, but for others it is known to last up to 3 hours. Sometimes I pass out. If I don’t, I throw up. I haven’t had one in a long time, and for that I’m glad. The first time I had one and where I understood what I was suffering from was in the spring of 2001. My doctor asked me to find out if, as a child, I had suffered headaches like this as well. My mother told me I had spells in which I was nearly unhandlable and crying all the time when I was very young and unable to explain what was wrong. We think that they might have been clusterattacks, too. It goes away for months, sometimes years at a time, and they really don’t know what causes it, nor do they know if there’s a cure. The only thing I have is Immitrex, which is like horse-tranquiliser, that I can administer by pen-injection, but I lost that thing, so I’ve got some pills around. They keep me from passing out, but they make me more nauseous once the pain is gone.

Anyway, while I’ve been actively dealing with that for a few years now, why, oh why can’t I just endure a two day normal, vanilla-icecream, jetlag headache without getting cranky?

Quitting

One of my colleagues just decided to leave the company. Well, he didn’t just decide this, he’s been thinking about it a while, and he and I have even discussed it in the past, but he just announced his departure. It’s going to be a very difficult few months when he departs since work is stacking up as it is.

Home and an Angry Friend

Home
So, I’m home. Well, I’m home-ish. Home doesn’t really feel like home anymore, I have to admit. Where I once looked upon the house I live in as a spacious, slightly Spartan but comfortable home, now I just see an old house, with a garden I don’t care about in a neighbourhood that I don’t understand. The only thing it has going for it is that it has a driveway, it’s close to the trainstation, and close to where my mother lives.

I have an option on an apartment in the old western part of Amsterdam the deal on which I’ll most likely be closing this Thursday. I’ve talked about it before in this journal, so those of you that read it (semi-)regularly should know all about it by now. It’s far closer to work, closer to some of my friends and, well, it’s something new. It’s not better than the house I have now, because it comes with its own problems, like not having a place to park my car, it being smaller, and it being rather far removed from Kung Fu, but it’s going to be a change, which is welcome.

An Angry Friend
In other news, I managed to severely piss of Sam yesterday when I called her after not speaking to her in nearly three weeks. We had a falling out due to miscommunication before I left for New York, and about ten minutes into the phoneconversation yesterday it became really aparent that we weren’t quite done being angry at eachother. It sucks severely.

In case you’re interested in my side of the story, which most likely differs quite a bit from her side of the story, our falling out was due to some miscommunication the blame of which she puts squarly on my shoulders alone, telling me that “[I] just need to interpret [her] properly,” which, I think, is a little too one-sided in a case of miscommunication.

Well, she’s made a list of demands that I need to meet before things can be resolved. I really don’t know what to do with them as some of them are, well, hard as all hell to meet, and all of them put together is, once again, rather one-sided penance.

She’s always made a point to tell me that she felt like I was like family to her, and in her list of demands she made it very clear that she doesn’t consider me like that any longer. Very clearly she stated “I am not your family,” which, to me, sounds like a rather significant statement.

Perhaps I’m misunderstanding her again.

A New York Weekend

So, Moulsari had friday’s off, so we decided to go uptown and do some shopping. It was our intention to find her some clothes, but we ended up finding me some sneakers and a nice dress shirt. The sneakers are white…oh, so very white. Reeboks. I decided to wear them right there and then and trash my trusty old shell-toe’d Adidas. They’re very comfortable. And very, very white. A couple of days of walking around in this grimy city should take care of that.

Speaking of Adidas, Mouls and I found an Adidas Superstore on Broadway. It’s interior design was very sleek and minimalistic, utilising the triple-stripe in almost everything. Surprisingly, the sleek design, with a lot of black background and white and chrome finishings, was actually quite overwhelming and in-your-face.

We also found a dress shirt for me. It’s a black pin-stripe shirt, really very nice. We also found some nice, open shoes for Moulsari.

We saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith (read my review here), which was a tremendous amount of fun. The cast was great, the plot, though simple, was exellently executed, the choreography was sleek and the humour was spot-on for the film. Two thumbs way up.

One thing about this city that I really like are the disproportioned amount of thunderstorms. One thing that I dislike about this city are the disproportioned amount of people with teeth missing.

On Friday night we went to a really good burger place, which was so good I forgot the name. Right next door was a bar where Mouls knew some people, so we decided to have a couple of drinks there. One of the bartenders recently broke up with her boyfriend, and it was quite obvious she was out on the pull. She was dressed rather provocatively and the dancing she did while making cocktails was nothing short of filthy. It was very cool to see all the guys drooling over her, and in turn to watch her drool over all the guys. She was tending the bar with another girl, Victoria, who was one of Mouls’ acquaintances. The three of us couldn’t help but laugh.

After that we hopped in a cab and went uptown again to go to the W hotel where we were supposed to meet a friend of Mouls. We figured he’d be in the hotel’s club, but it had a $20 cover charge, so we said “Fuck that” and went to look for him in the lounge. We couldn’t find him but we did find an Australian boy and girl of roughly our age, two impressionable fourty-year-old women from Nebraska, two guys from Madrid, and three thirty-something women who were in town for a convention. And of course the Danish guy from Kobenhavn who was so drunk he insisted on buying all the drinks. We had a lot of fun. Then the lounge closed and the club decided to drop their cover charge. We found Mouls’ friend and did some dancing until it was time for us to sneak away and grab a cab home.

The following day, Saturday, was spent in bed. All day long. Yummy.

On Sunday we spent the entire afternoon walking around Soho, looking at little gallerias and drinking overpriced Mojitos at pretentious little cafe’s. All in all I had a really good time. We tried to get some cheap tickets to go and see Glengary Glen Ross, but sadly there were no Rush tickets available, and normal tickets cost about $95, each. Good, but not that good. We decided to go out to eat at this really groovy Vietnamese place on the corner of 28th and 3rd. We had beef sate and a surprisingly good fried rice while we drank cocktails. Like I said; groovy place. We had some dessert at another place, closer to home, on the corner of 34th and 3rd, and watched the people walk by. Great evening.

Anyway, I just walked Mouls to work. It’s 10:45 and it’s already hotter than a motherfucker out there. I’m staying indoors, with the AC on, keeping myself from evaporating.