Category: Journal

I’ve been eating too much junkfood over the weekend. Hamburgers and french fries and milkshakes and crisps…my stomach feels like a bog at the moment. Ugh.

On the other hand, my friends and I had a wonderful dinner at Palladio on saturday night, with phenomenal food, wonderful service and excellent company. It was Dennis’ birthday two weeks ago, but the celebratory thing that usually accompanies a birthday was long overdue. So it was Dennis, Sam, Richard, Edwin, Esther, Eva and Frank. Great time.

Might I invite everyone who’s on a recent Microsoft system to try Windows Antispyware, which is currently in its beta test cycle, but is already kicking much ass in the removal of malicious spyware?

So, tonight, as I was leaving home to go to Kung Fu, I got in my car and drove off. Not too far from my house I saw a rather large puddle of pink paint on the ground. Instead of doing what any sensible person would do, which is to say, drive around the fucking puddle, I decided to blast right through it. I had the top down, and because of that I could hear the rhythmic sludging noise of the left front tire stamping the road with pink paint as I drove, but I figured that shit would wear away sooner or later, so I wasn’t worried.

It wasn’t until I stood at a stoplight that I figured something more was going on than just a dirty tire, when I saw people eyeing the side of my car with curious, puzzled looks on their faces. I pulled over, got out and saw that there were stripes and splashes of pink paint all down the side of my car. That I wasn’t hit with it is a miracle, because that shit was everywhere.

I got to Kung Fu, got some coins off of people, and drove down the street, where there was a car-wash place. Not one of those drive-through type car-washes, but the ones where you get to toy around with high-pressure water cannons. I had such a blast cleaning the paint off, that I decided to clean my entire car while I’m at it. I got so incredibly high off the soap fumes that I’m thinking of making this into a bi-weekly excercise.

When I got back to Kung Fu I was so incredibly giddy that the entire class got derailed and we were all acting stupid and laughing at everything.

So, last week Marco decided to sell the house. This means I’ll have to move.

For those of you that aren’t aware, Marco is one of my best friends, who decided to move to Texas about five years ago now. Right before he made that decision, he had bought a house in a rather prestigious part of Hoorn, the town I live in right now. He wanted to keep the house, at least for a little while longer, so that he could return to the Netherlands if things didn’t go according to plan. Made great sense at the time.

I was just out of college and I needed a place to live, so with Marco leaving and still paying the mortgage on the place, and me needing a place to stay, it was quickly decided that I would move into his house, to keep it occupied, to keep an eye on it, and to relieve the financial burden on Marco. It was all supposed to be temporary, but since then, four or so years have passed.

In the meantime I’ve had two housemates, one being my cousin Kim, the other, more recently, being Samantha. Samantha moved out a few months ago, and got a great little apartment on the Brouwersgracht in Amsterdam, right across from my work, incidentally. The two of us were basically carrying the brunt of the cost for the house, and Marco was pretty happy having two people that he trusted living in his house and paying off his mortgage for him. When Samantha left, he had to start paying half the mortgage again, and, well, I guess it wasn’t worth it anymore, so he decided to sell the house. I completely agree with his decision, in fact, I have encouraged him to sell a couple of times over the years.

But now I’ll have to find a new place to live. I want to move into the city, simply because my work and friends are here, and here’s where I spend most of my time. The only things I have in Hoorn are my mother and Kung Fu. Despite Moulsari’s objections to my logic in a previous post, I think I’ll free up a significant amount of much needed personal time if I manage to move into the city’s centre somewhere. I’ve asked around, and I’m trying to find a flatmate, simply because with a double income you’ll be able to find a nice place that much sooner.

So far I’ve generated a few leads, non of them very attractive, but hopefully things will pan out once I really start putting some effort in. I’ll keep you posted.

Lately, I’ve been making a lot of long days at work, trying to get different things done on time. I’ve been doing an average of about 55 to 60 hours a week, which equates to about 11 or 12 hours a day, not counting lunch and travel. Including that, I’m busy with work about 14 hours a day, giver or take. Seeing as how I’d like to sleep about 7 hours, that leaves me with a grand total of three hours of relaxation time each weekday. If I didn’t have a social life to upkeep, where I spend time with friends, family, and my girlfriend, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. If I didn’t have all these small projects that I want to spend time on, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. If I didn’t strive towards doing some physical excercise, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

And that’s where the trouble lies the most; On a good week, I spend about four and a half hours doing Kung Fu (90 minutes on Wednesday evening, and 90 minutes on Friday evening, and 90 minutes on Saturday morning), but Wednesdays is usually right out, and by the time it’s Friday, I just don’t feel I have enough energy to really go all out. Saturdays I mostly teach young children; two groups, one aged 5 to 9, and one aged 10 to 15. It’s strenuous, but it’s not the same as excercising for your own benefit.

Honestly, I don’t know if I could handle the responsibility of children with such a busy schedule. I’m going to see if I can cut some corners somewhere. Hopefully moving into the city will save me the daily 90 minutes of public transport hassle.