Falling feels like flying
Until you hit the ground
And everything is beautiful
'Til you take a look around

I'm listening to Tom McRae and I realise the falling has stopped. It's not that I don't want to fall any further for my cute colleague. It's that I met two friends from the past last Thursday night, one of which used to be a boyfriend. The other one's the brother. And it's the brother that bothers me. I just can't get him out of my head. Lalala lala la lala.

It's like I'm frozen on my way down. If I see The Brother again soon - unlikely though he offered to give me shelter from the storm - I don't think I will let him go. But today I saw my colleague, his ironed beige trousers and Doctor Martin's shoes and thought about what a great catch he would be. For some reason I think weird clothes combinations host great personalities.

Where does all this impulsiveness lead to? Probably to making out on a Christmas party at work. Enter The Brother and I'm convinced the great neonlight on my forehead (blinking take me baby for my colleague) has gone. I feel relaxed and in control since I'm not free falling anymore. This feeling in combination with glühwein or any other alcoholic drink is lethal. On nights like those I turn into Henry, the protagonist in D.H. Lawrence's The Fox 'He was a huntsman in spirit, not a farmer, and not a soldier stuck in a regiment'.

No wonder I never look my age. I don't think my age either. I love it.

No pictures of the party yet. And I wonder whether there will be any. The party was a big succes, but my sister's not much of a photographer (should've thought of that) and most of the time she was filming the event instead of taking pictures. I love my sister, but she so goddamn down to earth. Digital pictures? For registering the eating habits of your sons and capturing them growing up. A digital camera? Great for registering movements as well! No, she's not the kind of girl who thinks a well taken picture can express more emotions that one hour of video tape.

Nothing much worth talking about lately. That's what I always think until I start writing. But then again...

The girl in the car right next to me is my friend Betty who is now living in Paris. Boy, I miss her sometimes (though she only left a good month ago).

Then there's a colleague I'm falling in love with. I'm trying hard not to because I don't know where to start. At work he is supposed to somehow report to me. He doesn't drink coffee nor tea. Where to start ? ?
I managed to take a break with him today. For that I - Orpheus - had to follow my love down to the underworld - aka the smoking room. It's freezing and stinks. I wonder whether he's suspecting anything. He must be. Who else would be sufficiently silly to follow a guy - an everyday bad smoker's teeth guy - all the way down into the wintertime smoking room? I can only be me and I can only be falling for him. But then again he's so cute (nevermind the Shane McGowan teeth) and clever! Grrr.

Next post will feature a recent picture of myself. On Friday me and my sisters are throwing a surprise party for our parents and there will be digital cameras everywhere.
My mum is extremely suspicious, so tomorrow we have a pre-surprise dinnerparty to divert the attention of Friday. Very complicated stuff. Tiring. Need to go to sleep now.

I wonder if everyone is as busy as I am or if it is just me thinking everyone's busy since I don't have time to look any closer. I'd put my money on option 2.

However, I did find time this weekend to really go out and dance all 16-year olds off the dancefloor. I don't mean I vulgarly jumped around and kicked them off, no I mean that my friend Anja and I litterally danced for at least 4 hours in a row and that by the time we starting thinking of going home there were at least 10 other songs to dance to and no one left on the dancefloor (except two gourgeous young men, not dancing but talking). I sang along with every song. I'll shake this world off my shoulder ... com' on baby the laugh's on me ... dudududu.

It feels like waking up, this starting to go out again. I've been half dead since Monday morning because I worked in my sister's restaurant for the rest of the weekend, but I don't want to go to sleep, I want to go out dancing again. Friday then. On someone's birthday party. That's why they call me slim Sandy, I'm back, I'm back.

What also felt like waking up was last week in the gym when I found out what type of man could always sexually arouse me: a firm muscled body wearing glasses. Auch! I must have had a head redder than ever on that treadmill.

Speaking of treadmills and being busy... I have started to consider running a marathon next year. Or maybe in 2007, since I need a lot more training and less renovation of an appartment and working in restaurants and bars. I may be too early with my new year's resolution (this is really the first one in years) but for 2006 I plan to run 1/2 marathon in one of the late spring season contests. And I also want to start a radio show again. Stay tuned for the execution of my plans.

I envy people who renovate a house together. They can fight over colors, materials and interior design, but at least they have two opinions. I'm stuck with myself trying to decide which color I need for my kitchen wall. I fell in love with the bali green from the levis colores del mundo collection. However ... I work so slowly on my appartment that now the color is out of stock, never to return. Levis, you can't do this to me! Aaarrgh.

Vandaag heb ik de faïencen gevonden die ik zocht! Maar de prijs is nogal aan de hoge kant en ze hebben 97 kleuren om uit te kiezen ... groen is magnifiek, maar er zitten weer tien verschillende soorten groen in en ik kan van mijn appartement toch geen voetbalveld maken? En toch, ik kijk naar de velden in de Polders en denk 'dié kleur, dié komt overal in huis!'. En dan denk ik er meteen bij dat mijn plafond dan maar in de hemelkleur moet en de vloer in modderbruin.

I did make up my mind to go with Tadelakt in the bathroom. The colorrange is rather limited since it's a chalck with added pigment. That should make me make my mind up within 2 weeks max. In fact, I already know what I want right now. I want a man to go with the pack of chalck to plaster and polish the wall and to stick around for tea and listen to soul music.

Some people don't allow themselves to be let down easy. No, they have to make a big thing out of something that never got further than an embryonal status. Like a stolen kiss from a drunken lady. What happened on Saturday was that I did not feel like going clubbing at all - while the guy who asked me out considered it a sin to refuse. As if he were talking about tossing a delicious fresh curry, now thàt would be a sin. In fact, all I could think about that day was hot, harty food and an evening spent entirely in bed. But since Arthur insisted, I agreed to have a drink in the trendy but 100% boring White Bar at the hotel ↑ . When my date arrived he delivered a sermon of about half an hour about how he cancelled all his appointments with his 1,000,000 friends to go out with me (the honour!) only to find out that I was dumping him.

Now here's a thing about myself: don't trust me when I'm drunk. I'll tell you all sorts of things, remember them in the morning, but won't give a toss. I had actually warned him that's how I work and he admitted he didn't believe me because I look 'so very innocent'. But I wasn't ditching, didn't dump anyone. In the end we agreed on that. And spent a good two hours chatting about family and interests. I guess we found out that we weren't that bad after all: he proved to have some sort of brain and I was less bitchy than he'd thought I was.