Nell's Blog

Today my aunt Francesca was cremated. After fighting cancer for nine years, her battle ended last Monday. She is my mother's second oldest sister, so she is from the good side of my family. The bad side would be my dad's side.

Today was a turning point. In my attitude, in my thinking, in the way I lead my life, in the way I will write my blogs. I've seen some lights and closed some doors today.

In the past year and a half, I have 'buried' four loved ones, I have seen my parents divorced, I have been dumped, I have been depressed, I have been in a wheelchair. And today is the first day of the rest of my life. With this death, that period of my life has come to an end.

One of the consequences is that from now on my blogs will be private. Some people may have found in the frankness of my blog a license to judge, and now that I am doing better than before and the content of my blog will increase in positivity, they will no longer get that power. I was a silly little naive girl to think the internet was anonymous, it is not, and some may have laughed at my misery but I will give no-one a chance to mock my happiness. Lately more and more blogs have been set to private - as you probably HAVEN'T noticed because you couldn't see them. I'm making that a habit.

From now on only neighbours/friends can read my blogs, and slowly I will start setting olders blogs to private as well. You've had your fun - now I'm going to have mine.

Bye!

So here's the plan. I have some 'open spaces' in my studying schedule left, and in those spaces I will take some 'smart-choice' courses. Management, media and communication, etc. After I graduate as a historian I move to the UK. I spend the summer desperately looking for a well paid job, which may be a bit easier with the management and media training. Historians are very wanted in management, PR and government positions. I will work for a college year - at the end of the year in April, the auditions for theatre schools start.

I have most my hopes set on Guildhall School of Music & Drama. This has the lowest tuition fee for undergraduate students. This way my loan won't have to be too big. However I do not have any illusions about how difficult that will be. I'll have to audition at all the drama schools in London, because there's only a very small chance you get selected. Even Ralph Fiennes was rejected time and time again until the RADA finally accepted him. But I can't help but wage my hopes on Guildhall because of the finances.

My preference goes out to three schools, not talking price-wise. Guildhall School of Music & Drama (Daniel Craig, Orlando Bloom, Joseph Fiennes), Drama Centre London (Paul Bettany, Colin Firth, Anne-Marie Duff) and Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts (Alan Rickman, Ralph Fiennes). Actor-wise, of the three Guildhall is actually my least favourite. Actors I look up to as actors are Paul Bettany, Anne-Marie Duff, Alan Rickman and Ralph Fiennes. But the fees for Drama Centre and RADA are insanely high. I better get a damn good job after I go to those schools.

I've explored the possibilities of 'limited training' - shorter periods and focused on the aspect I want. After all I just want stage acting and mainly classical to be honest. Not very interested in modern comedy-improv or musicals or clowning. But I found the more classically focused possibilities to be extremely limited. So now I've figured; why the hell not. Chances are I won't even get into any of the schools, chances are I'll give up after a year.

The best one by reputation, and also the best one for classical acting, without a doubt is RADA. Rada has a reputation for producing brilliant actors. And their classical strand is fantastic and developed and wide actually because of Ralph Fiennes' support donation. Good reasons to go for RADA. Only it'll cost me 3,000 something pounds, actually not much more than Guildhall. Drama Centre however approaches the 10,000 pounds. I can't afford that.

How do students in the UK live??

One of the courses I am taking is Medieval Irish history. At the beginning of the course I was still very ill and couldn't go very far on my own - so I emailed the professor and asked him if it was okay that I didn't come to a few classes (there's two classes a week) because of my illness. He said ofcourse and was very understanding.

However even when I started to get better, I didn't go to the classes. I think it's because this course is from the Celtic department and after the fiasco that was the last two courses I took there, I was just not motivated to score in the Celtic department. I failed my midterm Medieval Irish History, I'm quite sure of it, but I never came to class to pick up my midterm results so I'll never know for sure. The fact that he still has my results should tell my professor enough about my continuous skipping. I honestly have a hard time with the idea that I'll have to face him again. It's not bad will, it's not because I don't respect his subject or don't appreciate his understanding. It's because of me. I'm not easily focused. And me and Celtic got off on the wrong foot. Besides, I'm not your average Celtic Department student. Dispite the fact that I am a pagan like most of them and I love Ireland like most of them, they seem to be highly motivated to master ancient Irish law and I seem to be highly motivated only when going to the Irish pub. I'm rather a history student - political debate, social context, religious conflict, movements and revolutions and argumentative essays. I'm not honestly interested in knowing all about the ancient Celts and I've mistaken loving what's Celtic about the Irish now for being motivated enough to study laws on adultery and fosterage from a people who lived BC.

Anyway - in two weeks I have a test for the subject coming up. I have the book and everything I need to study for it. The two times I did go to class and met up with some friends I'd met in Old Irish Class in September, we all agreed that our professor - as much as we respect him - mainly repeats in class what is already in the book. Nothing new.

Now that the test is in two weeks, I've decided that I might as well not go to any class anymore. I've only been twice, he already knows I'm not being very proper about it, I'm behind on the reading and my time is probably better spent studying for the test than at the last moment deciding to go to semi-useful lectures after all.

But it's made me wonder. I've come to realize how thin the line is between responsible and irresponsible - mature and immature. There are several ways to look at the situation. Am I responsible for saying in all honesty; you know what, my time is better spent studying on my own. Or am I being irresponsible skipping classes - something which is actually as unnecessary as the classes themselves. Am I being mature because I'm standing up and chosing what I think is best for the end result, or am I being immature by skipping class like a rebelious teenager. Do the means justify the end? What is more silly; going to unnecessary lectures because it's expected, or not going to lectures at all against the rules under the impression they are unnecessary? The line is just about as thin as the line between loving the Irish pub and loving scientific studies of ancient Celtic culture.

Brand New Day

New Year's Resolutions usually die out after a day or a week, but I must say this year is different for me. I'm keeping to it and I'm quite enjoying it - I could get used to this new year after all.

My resolutions were well adjusted compared to all the other years. Before I wished for things that I knew I wouldn't get (emigrating), I made vows I knew I wouldn't keep (you don't actually believe I really want to quit smoking?) and I had expectations that were just way off beat with real life. In a way I guess I was used to every year being at least remotely the same. I thought I knew what to expect from a year, so I thought I knew what to wish for. Last year taught me I know absolutely nothing about what's to come - none of the things that happened in 2007 could have been predicted by me. And so this year I decided to have resolutions that were real, honest and prepared for surprises.

I'm going to keep my room clean, keep my finances organized, take better care of my skin, work out to get more physical strength, and most of all enjoy everything unexpected that happens to the fullest. I don't know what this year will do to me, but I know I will be ready for it. I've cleaned up my room, even bought new sheets for my bed (I love sheets, I swear I could spend all my money on my bed), organized financially, I've been eating healthy (as opposed to forgetting to eat) and I'm studying when I should be. This year nothing's going to stop me, knock me off my balance or get me all emo again. I am back out of that shell, and I am ready for life.

I won't be spending as much time with my parents, I won't be slacking, I won't be living in a mess, I won't be afraid to fall in love and get bruised a little and most of all I won't be afraid to be honest and live in honesty. If that means that people laugh at me, so be it. I know what life is about, I know who I am and I know what the possibilities are in this world. And I've never been so happy to have had a year like last year, and at the same time been so glad it's over. I've learned a lot, but I'm glad the lesson is over for now. On to the next one, one might say. Let's hope that if something happens again, life will outbalance it again with something wonderful.

So I was already going to go to London in March - to go to the In Bruges premiere with the Bruges pals. Then yesterday I found out Ralph Fiennes will be starring in a play in London around that time, The God of Carnage or something. I thought; hey, nice bonus! Would be nice to combine those two things while I'm there anyway. However then I talked to my parents on the phone and they were all... weird. I'm sorry, but who were the ones giving me money for Bruges last year because they loved what I was doing? Who were the ones encouraging me to buy into the fantasy? I think it was them. They said they were proud that I was following my own path. And now suddenly this play is a 'bad idea' - it takes up too much time, it's just a play, why go, waste of money. Blah. What?

I've given up, seriously. What they tell me completely depends on how they feel! Last year in Bruges they were on the verge of a divorce and suddenly I had to follow my dreams. Last summer my mum got into a relationship with the drummer of her dreams and suddenly I had to go after Colin Farrell (in her dreams). And now I want to go see an innocent play and they're all like... don't. I just want to see the play! I cherish no silly other expectations, puh-lease! Have you seen Ralph Fiennes lately? He's shy, he'd run away so quickly I wouldn't even have the time to get silly ideas. I just want to see him in a play! And then leave!

This has even more made me realize it's time to cut the amount of parents-influence from my life. I'm paying everything myself now, technically they have nothing to say about me anymore. Why the hell should I care?

Next, my dad went on a worry rant. He's worried about EVERYTHING! My studying, my cleaning, my emotional wellbeing, my physical wellbeing. It's exhausting. TRUST me for a chance, dare you?

What a ride. Well at least now I know it's really time to stop going 'back' and start going foreward. And if they want to come visit along the way that's fine, but I'm not going back there pretending that that is 'home' anymore. It's just not... I'm past that phase. I've been living on my own for a year and a half. I'm no longer the kid they can influence. I'm an adult now - as silly as that may sound to some. I am, and this is my life. I don't even want to see the stupid play anymore. Big fuss over nothing... big turn off.

I once overheard "them" say that once you've moved out, it becomes impossible to live with your parents ever again in the same house in harmony. I think they might be right on this one. You see, by the time you've both lived in homes without eachother you know better. The kids know their own rules in life, the parents know a life without kids again.

I am back in my room in Utrecht again, to stay. The Christmas holiday is over, and I've never been so happy about it. Finally, life goes on. I was getting so tired of sitting in our old shit, literally. Over there, everything is still so much alive. Over there the divorce is still going on - they still constantly want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it. My parents divorced in 2007. Yeah. So. Big deal. They're divorced now. Life goes on. It was difficult to deal with at the time, but surely we're not going to celebrate anniversaries are we? I don't need to talk about it, there is nothing to say. It was crappy, I wish they hadn't but I understand they had to. End of my side of the story.

However the year  being over somehow was emotional for me. 2007 with all its weird ups and downs had always played a part in my head in the present - but now that the year is over it's become concrete that it's time to move on. There will be new ups and downs, surely, just as intensely. I might as well enjoy the quiet after the storm now before the next one comes along. There will be pain that equals the pain of the divorce in the future - that is for sure, that is life. But at the same time it guarentees there will also be highs like the one in Bruges. It is a bittersweet promise in life, I suppose. Your last down may not have been your last down, but your last up wasn't your last up either. There will be more to life than Bruges and the divorce and everything else that's happened. And I can't wait. I'm pretty sure 2008 won't be seamless normality, either. Given I'll be going to Greece, Dublin, London, Arizona, California and again to London. Something nice is bound to happen sometime there.

But for now I am just home, home being my place for the first time rather than my parents'. It's my life, and I can't wait for the rest of it. 2007 is over, unfortunately, but at least 2007 is finally over. Off to a new start.

And with the new year at my parents' house with all its miniature ups and downs, there came a new year's resolution. This year I will stay here in Utrecht. I might travel, surely. But I won't be counting and calculating the amount of visits to my parents. No way jose. You won't see me there anymore for now, for at least a month. Blissfully I'll be sitting here in my own apartment, as I was a year ago before I went to Bruges - only this time, what's life gonna do? Make my parents divorce again? Kill my grandmother again? Make my family try and claim me again? Make me get dumped again? Make me life-endageringly ill again? Put me in a wheelchair again? Make my grades drop again? Make me go on anti-depressives again? Been there, done that. Misery is so 2007.

Will life ever settle down? Not while I'm here. It will never be the pretty picture your parents showed you while reading fairytales before bedtime. It will never be the pretty picture your life probably is. My life, my parents, their past marriage to eachother, our ideas about life, they will never suit everyone, and maybe don't suit you. That's okay, though. We're not looking for anyone's approval. Like anyone is, we're looking for the manual things; love, happiness, fun, reality. Reality being a highly subjective thing ofcourse. Most people perceive reality to be things you can touch, see, perhaps look up in a dictionary or some kind of book. I quote an Oscar Wilde book when I say; the greatest ideas are in the mind, just as the greatest sins are committed there. The world we stand in now is founded on things that started with imagination, and perhaps if you can't understand the romanticism of that (and how it can enhance lifelust), you won't ever understand me. Again; that's okay. You don't need to understand me, you don't need to see who I truly am, how I like my eggs in the morning, what I truly worry about and am occupied with while active in everyday life. I am not expecting the readers of my blog to see fragments and then know the whole. I don't even know the whole. I don't believe in the theory of having a soulmate who DOES know the whole of you. But just because I don't believe in that, doesn't mean I am not a dreamer, doesn't mean I don't think the world would be boring without hopes and dreams. Laugh at them, they make me a happy person - I'd suggest rather that you worry about your happiness than spend time laughing at mine, humble and pathetic as it may seem to you.

The Christmas holidays, as anything in our former household formation, was a chaotic mess. Running up and down between mum and dad's house - I can't say I could relativate or laugh at the time, but then again I take my hat off to anyone who can relativate anything that happens to them the moment it happens to them.

The emotional consequences aren't significant enough for me to really get into the whole "How my Christmas was" thing. What however is important to me is the new year. Not speaking from the perspective of actually believing it is a new year (every day is a new day, bla bla blah), but rather seing it as the upcoming 12 months that happen to form a year on our calendar. I have so many fun things planned already and I can't wait. Ofcourse the being unable to wait part mostly involves the travelling I will be doing. Restless as I am, life will never settle down - not while I'm alive. And I love it. I will always be a bit of a freakshow, so will my parents be, and though I can't say I love to wallow in it, it doesn't bother me much. I'd rather spend my energy on working overtime in the store to be able to stay in Dublin and London a bit longer this year.

Another blog that will add absolutely nothing to your life if you read it; but I just can't help myself from ranting can I? Today Natasha and I were on the bus, discussing actors. She voiced to have noticed that I had taken Colin off our Wall of Hotness (well our bathroom is boring, so we decided to stick sexy men to the wall) to make room for Ralph Fiennes - most of the other guys were either hers or classics. I had to take one down to be able to put Ralph up, and the person I took down happened to be Colin (don't worry, there's still the huge Bruges pic in the kitchen, some things never truly change).

"You know," she said "I think Colin's boring, but honestly; Ralph Fiennes replacing him? I'll keep Colin, thank you." Natasha and I never quite agree on what is sexy and what is not - in fact I could honestly safely bet my life on it that any man she finds attractive, I find repulsive. And every man I find attractive she finds repulsive. We couldn't be more opposite in our idea of 'what is sexy'. Obviously we both enjoy sexy, just the exact opposite things. We go to a tupperware party, she's looking at the feathers and I'm looking at the wips - we go buy lingerie; she buys the cute striped bra, I buy the black laced bra. Figuratively speaking I'll add, sparing you the details you never wanted.

"Are you kidding me?" I say "He's actually a lot sexier than Colin. I mean Colin's sexy, but just in a very different way. Colin's a pretty boy, nobody can deny he was the lucky one when God was handing out the looks..." Natasha finishes my sentence "... and Ralph is ugly. He was at the back of the line when God was doing that."

"Okay," I say, turning to her, intensely losing myself in another one of our useless debates (well we've lived in the same house for one and a half year, this is what we do) "you know Daniel Craig?" She shrugs and answers "No?" I frown and say "Ofcourse you do! The new James Bond guy! Casino Royale!" The bus turns around a sharp corner and Natasha replies "Oh right! That guy!" I nod; "Yes," I continue "Daniel Craig. He's sexy, right, I think we can agree on that? Well he's not particularly handsome either - he wasn't exactly the first in line either. But he's sexy! It's a British thing; British guys do that. It doesn't matter if they are pretty or not, they've got the broody British thing down - and so does Ralph!"

"Actually" Natasha says "I think Daniel Whatshisface is quite handsome."

We're back where we started.

Dad and I are slowly getting through this, let's hope there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

However last Saturday night, the night before the argument, I had the most frank conversation with him and Ann I have ever had in my life. I just told them everything and they gave me credit for it, and it felt so good. Things I had tucked away, things I've never said aloud before, even things I've never thought aloud.

For the first time I talked openly aloud about my bisexuality. I also admitted aloud for the first time that Malcolm dumped me because I wouldn't sleep with him. It was for the first time said out loud that I'm a runner; I get restless, and I have to catch a flight every now and then in order to stay happy and calm. I said that I dumped Wouter because he didn't make me feel safe; he was way too oversensitive, way too careful, and he took his time too much... this is a problem because I'm quite a sexual person and yet I'm a virgin, and if I get into a relationship now, I want the sex as well, and I want my first time to be with someone with whom I feel safe. Wouter was so overcareful, so slow, so insecure that I didn't feel safe. I dumped Wouter because I didn't want my first time to be with him. If I hadn't been a virgin, he would have been my boyfriend now.

I've realized a lot of things about myself. I'm not half as scared as I thought I was over the past eight months. When the divorce broke out, I crawled back into my shell; I became that bullied little emo girl again. But that's not me, that's my shell. I am calmer, saner, more open and shameless and certainly more free.