Hug you

Just a simple hug is all I want to give you. Maybe a cup of tea and a tissue to dry your eyes would be the right thing to give. So many years and so many memories between us and all I can do now are give you words of comfort over a screen. Only words on a screen. You have been there for me dear friend. Always been able to fall at your side and cry my sorrows. Now I cannot do the same for you and it is hard to swallow. Am I a good friend after all this time? So sad you are and it is too early to call you, the family would wake and I am reminded of the time difference. Not much to do I suppose. Just type the words I write and hope they comfort you. I pray they do but I really just want to hug you.

Always want to be a writer?

I didn’t always want to be a writer. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be when I was a child but being a writer wasn’t something that came to mind. That came later. That came much later after I left high school and I wrote in journals to vent frustration. When my notebook was open I had something to say about the sorrows and joys I was experiencing. It didn’t matter that no one would read them, they were mine and that was just fine with me. I sit here and wonder what changed that those simple words I wrote to myself became something I wanted to share. Was it a single moment where I thought my words mattered and I wanted to write for a living; letting the world know my words and tell them it mattered? I think it came over a series of moments. Periods in my life where all I had were the words I wrote on cheap notebooks and pretty journals. Periods where the love I had in those pages transformed into something great and passionate; something that I slowly saw that could be used and not suppressed in books collecting dust. I still have all those notebooks but I cannot reach them, they sit in the attic of my father’s house and truthfully, I miss them. To look back on them, see how I have changed and how my writing has changed. I might ask him to send them to me. Maybe I don’t need them any more as I have grown into something better than I thought I would be back then. The notebooks I do have with me I rarely look at; only on occasion to look back on a particular moment for writing or because a conversation brought that subject up. Should I look back? So many questions I ask myself and often I find the answers but in places I didn’t think to look at first. They can come from me in time but they also come from those I love and still they come from places I never looked at before. Given the opportunity to write for someone I now know I want to do. I am a writer; I just never expected to get the opportunity. I applied to write for a company, submitted works of my own to show my ability and didn’t think much on it after. I submitted it and was done. I didn’t dwell too much; I didn’t even tell my partner until I got the acceptance letter. Shows how much I thought about it I guess. I was accepted! Someone thought the samples I sent were good enough to take a chance on me and the words I had to say. That feeling is irreplaceable and indescribable. The opportunity is something I can grow from. Does the person who accepted me realize the gift they have given me? Maybe not but I am eternally grateful to them. I am a writer and someone saw that. There is something else. I was given a gift certificate from the company I write for. It was a contest I wasn’t aware of and I won. It was on using a particular tool we can use to promote ourselves and the company. I apparently used it and was successful in it enough to be given this. So I bought two writing books with it to better my writing skills. If I can use those books bought by them to better my writing for me as well as the company I write for then that’s what I should use it for. And all this is for a girl who never thought to be a writer when she was a child? For someone who uses words daily, I haven’t the words to express what all this feels like, what all this means to me.

Needing

I need to be able to express what weighs down my heart and mind. There must be a way for there to be openness, a means to accept the words I give you as my own and not an attack on anything. Simply accept them. Yet with this plea there lays doubt. Doubt that what I have to bare you will take to heart and judge me for it. Attack the emotions and thoughts I have and ignore that I simply mean to express. I love you, no matter what has been or will be I love you. There have been periods in our relationship where we have been mother-daughter, friends, sisters and enemies. We have tried to pour it all out and at times succeeded while other times failed. I am desperate to find a balance to share with you as you have shared with me but I am scared. Afraid that you won’t hear me; afraid you will banish them as rambles or worse yet belittle them until I feel I have wronged you. I write all this in some attempt to rationalize our rocky periods and find peace when life was beautiful, I write all this in some form of preparation to the real words I am about to write. Whether it works or not remains to e seen and probably won’t show until after you have read this. I do not nor have I made light of our relationship and what has gone on. On the contrary I have held it all dear and close. Sometimes too close but that is my own doing. I have taken and learned the lessons taught me and taken the experiences given me and made them character builders, good or bad. I have taken it all and loved you all the same. At times hating you, angered or hurt by you and other times cherishing you. Cherishing you for who you are, what you have gone through and have achieved. With all this there are times where I feel I still don’t understand you. I feel as though I am a child desperately trying to grasp onto the world around me. Maybe none of this is any attempt or preparation but only a means to stall what I really mean to ask and say.

Mom and my wedding

I think about my mother and I can’t help but think of all the trouble we have gone through. My life and the choices I have made weren’t always the right ones according to her. The things I cannot change and the things I had a hand it, it doesn’t matter. Since I was a child we have struggled to have a relationship that was good and strong though there were plenty of times where it was weak and we failed at making a relationship that weren’t full of fights. We haven’t spoken on several occasions and yet there were times where things were good and we talked constantly. Right now I don’t know where we stand, I don’t know how I feel and though I want nothing more than to finally have a solid and argument free relationship I fear I am mad and hurt. Do I express them and rock the boat. I am scared. I am so scared that if I do then there won’t be anything but fights, tears and silence in the end. It has happened before and as much I want to think things have changed, I don’t know that they have. She isn’t coming to my wedding. And while the reason she sounds legitimate and very well could be but something troubles me. There wasn’t much emotion. Did I want her to somehow convey that she was remorseful about it, cry or simply a sniffle to show she really did regret it? Maybe I want too much and there wasn’t any need for such drama or emotion. In either case I am hurt, I am sad that my own mother will not witness my happy day. The day I say ‘ja’ and am considered married in the eyes of the Dutch government and she won’t be there. Granted it will be a gay wedding and I know how she feels about gays, seeing as she is a born again Christian and all. She has said she would come; that she loves me regardless and be there for her only daughter’s wedding. Is it really too hard and the inability to get the time off just a clever way to avoid? These things I can’t help but think about. I could be making something out of nothing because it is such an important day to me and the thought that she won’t be there hurts, tears a little at the seams. It could very well be that because of the significance I am making too much out of it, trying to read something that isn’t there. Am I? I want her there, and now she won’t be. There weren’t tears that I could hear, there wasn’t much said on it at all actually. I being afraid to snap the thin and worn thread and she, I don’t know. She was able to get time off in July and not my day in September but maybe she can come then to finally see where I live, how I live and simply want to be near me. Maybe she will.I love my mom; I really do and want nothing more than for us to finally have a solid relationship. Yet part of me is scared that history repeats itself. Am I paranoid, scared or simply being ridiculous?

An odd moment in Hilversum

As I was walking to the store to get coffee and something for dinner tonight I noticed something about those standing under overhangs or just inside the door of the stores. It rains a lot in the Netherlands. The rain comes and it goes and the dutchies I saw about were waiting it out. I had never thought, wait until it passes so I don't get wet, I just go about. Why wait inside when there are things to do and places to be? I imagine it's like waiting for the rain to stop in London on a spring evening. An observation is all it was.

There was a moment the other day after I got my letter of acceptance that life was really going to begin for me in Holland. My goodness I can't get that bubbly scary feeling in my stomach. After waiting for my residence permit to be applied for and then to wait while they process it that's all I can remember doing is waiting! Now that all I have to do is wait just a tad longer for it to come to me I am a little curious as to what it feels like not to wait. What does it feel like not to wait?

Discrimination

What does it mean? Is there anything I am missing? Why won’t people just give me what I want and leave me alone? It isn’t like I am asking for the world here. I really don’t see how it is too much to ask really. Everyone of the ‘norm’ has it so why can’t I? If there was a way I could conquer the world and get it myself I would. Truly I would and I wouldn’t stop at just me. I would get it for any one else in my shoes unable to get it for themselves. Why? Because it isn’t right, it isn’t what I thought people were like. Of course people have let me down before on a variety of other issues so it should be no surprise but it is and it hurts. What is it that makes me so different from everyone else? Am I alien or deformed from any recognition as a human being that they can be so cruel to me?
From the time I was a child I knew I was different. I looked at myself different when I watched people. I did not have the capability to know that there was a term for people like me. That didn’t stop me from wondering, that didn’t keep me from roaming around the playground and stores looking for people like me who looked at others the way I did. Terms didn’t stop me from looking and terms didn’t stop me from wondering if I was somehow broken. Was I different because I wasn’t made right. Maybe my parents noticed I was odd but didn’t want to hurt my feelings. If I told them I thought I was odd would they hate me? Just a few things a child comes out with. I was gay and I know that now.
So what does that mean to me now? It means I like the same sex. It means that I am in fact different from the norm of society. And I suppose it is that difference which means people can look at me as though I am plagued. It means that because I have someone in my bed that society does not approve of I can be treated as though my voice does not matter. However, I want to tell you something. My voice does matter. Just because that voice comes from a gay person does not mean it sounds any different, it doesn’t and it wants to be heard. I see it as such an issue in politics and religions all over the world. It makes its way on the news and the floors of government parliaments and congresses. There are parties trying to treat me like I am diseased and I don’t understand why. Can’t anyone tell me why?

Guilt from my own words.

If I write these words and point you out will you forgive me if everyone sees? My secrets, my life and the stories I put into motion as someone turns the pages. What would you do if they knew I was speaking of you with the actions and hatred you bestowed upon me while they read on? There are days where I put into question any talent I might have. Do I have the right to call myself a writer, a title given to the privileged few? Those afternoons where I feel the talent and ambition flow through me, I wonder how other writers deal with the consequences of the words they write. We press to paper things we know, the pen flowing with drama and horrors we grasp. Sure, we stretch the truth as we see it but the loved ones around us see themselves or our own life’s story in the pages they turn. What does that make me as a writer? The storyteller people want to hate? I fear the day you read my work, I dread the moment you see some part of your life in there for the entire world to see. The guilt I see in myself sometimes eats at me until I don’t ever want to hold that pen and paper ever again. Do I believe you could handle the words I write? Not at all. My life as I see it and lived I use however I chose in the works that I write. However I must tell you I truly dread letting you even peak into the world I have created for myself. It is my words and my life, you just happen to be a part of it in some way. Does that make me a vile monster to express what I feel and think to the pages I desire to create? You would have be believe it so and I tend to agree today. Will that change? It always does, tomorrow I may aspire to be the greatest writer I can be. Though right now, I beat myself up for the words I write, the dreams I show shattered and secrets I reveal for all to see. I dread the moment you open the pages and see the world I created. A work of fiction or non it doesn't matter, you will hate them all the same and detest my fingers for putting it all down. I am a writer, though today I don't feel like one. Today I don't want to be a writer.

What Happened now?

What happened now? Another lie, another fight or was it petty and pathetic? It’s always one or the other, it’s never simple, and nothing ever was. Its foundation was built on deceit, rash decisions and a false sense of need and wanting. It was never what it was intended. Life is funny that way isn’t it? Now you are my learning tool. Something I shouldn’t do. Something I learned too late I suppose. Is that ok? Sure, why not? I was happy in the end. The outcome is not always what we want, what we think it will be. Nor is it the end of our feelings and controlling them. Our emotions control the destiny, the rule of thumb. If only I had paid attention. I would have seen it coming, the end, the beginning. Or did I? Another thing that is entirely possible. I see you now. Are you the same, are you different? What do I see when I look at you? I see all the lies I told you. All the deceit I put into this. I see the ugliness I made, all that shone brightly in front. How is that? I see your mess; I see your degrading nature, your own lies and horrid behavior. I never thought to see my own when I saw your face. I should have. The perplexity that was our world, interchangeable, nerve racking is what it really is. Exposed and abused is what I feel. And this time I can blame me too. So what happened now? Was it another lie, fight or something pathetic? No. It wasn’t. It was me. It was my eyes opening wide open to my own flaws. My own world I created with you. It was my cleared up vision of it all. I get to blame me too now. I get to learn that I botched things up and I made mistakes that were ugly and placed too much weight on your shoulders. I saw myself in your eyes and I hated the imaged reflected. I hated what I had become with you.So, do I walk away from all this that has ravaged the two of us, never to look back and ponder anything? Have I truly learned the lessons given me? I doubt it for there is always something else to see that was missed the first dozen times of rummaging through the mess. I see the notes you left and the anger raging out toward me. Can I catch them all to throw them back at you? Oh how I would love to and yet I know I cannot. There is simply too much for me to bear when I see you and what you have to say about me and what was once us. I have carried the weight too long and for no reason. I ignored the fact that my life revolves around more than just you and how you feel. Egg shells crack and I am tired of preventing it from happening. So what happens now? I angered you and took it personal again. I let you affect me to where I wondered how you felt when I shouldn’t have. We are and have been a series of moments that should be long forgotten. I made a mess and admitted my blunders, why throw them at me now? Why care I have to say now? Why bring up things I have done as though they happened yesterday afternoon? Years will go by and will you still throw it around, will you still be angered at things long forgotten? I pray not because I am tired of the egg shells you put in front of me and the tone I get when you open your mouth.

Religion as a Cycle

Tell me something if you will. I read in the papers of the Catholic Church struggling, the troubles with its priest, there being no money to keep perishes open. I go on the internet and see the government pushing God away from their buildings and speeches. I see and read all this and I wonder in my mind is Christianity being pushed away from the public eye? There are traces of His name fading all around us, a name which once meant so much for so many. We live in a world where material, fame and bank accounts reign over our hearts and actions. Is this our God now? Is money and power being preached on the pulpit in a day where it seems a God of faith would be most needed? Yes it is. It is and only a few seem to notice; only a few seem to take action. A few proclaim the coming of God. Their savior is coming and a time of judgment is upon us. They cry for the many that don't see it. They come to your communities and homes speaking of salvation and love. These few cry that they are right. They have the answer. Are they right and the many wrong? They say it is written in their book, this time of judgment. It is this time where only the few shall hear and see and this time where many will fall. Are they really right? Or is it possible they follow a pattern set in history starting years ago. Can it be they just ride a wave which has been ridden by many others in years past?
Years ago, lands worshiped the Gods of Heaven and Earth. Water, Fire and the Gods who created us were made precious in the human eye. Statues and temples were built in their image, in their glory. They sent their sons and daughters to the fields to gather crops to bring to the Gods. They would have given all they knew and owned to be loved by these very Gods. Cultures around the world kept similar traditions with different names. Thousands of years of devout love, understanding, worship and faith created cultures strong and firm. Egyptians built temples with images of their Gods of many characters. Made silos to keep the grain given to them. Egyptians created an entire system of mummification based on the concept that they would one day live life for an eternity with Gods that told them this was so. The Aztecs gave human sacrifices to their Gods. Pyramids built to honor Gods who said this must be done. Greeks and Romans were no different in doing things to please their Gods. All of them doing such acts based on faith that their God was right. Their God was true.
So what of these Gods, traditions and cultures? Where are they now? They rest in the shadows of homes, of people, once were a majority now a minority. They meet in book stores, libraries, magic shops and in homes not marked by its faith. Will the God of today, this God that Christians and so many others today call the true God, fifty years from now be worships in book stores, libraries, bible shops and private homes? Will they be just as religions of old are now, the minority, the religion struggling to survive? Religions of today speak of the faith of old as though it were wrong. As though what these people believed so strongly about were mad, dammed and blind. However, will they share this same fate? Will they be judged upon, dammed and made wrong in a time not far from here? In a world such as today where money and power are the faith of choice, I see it that way. Another Religion being flushed, pushed aside and another taking its place. Will this God be wrong and another one step up and claim its authenticity? It has not been the first, and more than likely will not be the last.

The Angels, The Nun

I pour my heart out, but it feels no release.

Drain whats left until I am sure its raw throughout.

All the angels left for heaven, tonight there is no ease.

God doesn't feel these tears, He doesn't hear my lungs shout.

Knocking on the wooden door, let me in it's bitter to my skin.

The nun says stop, the angels have stopped carring for God's kin.

Have we broken His heart? Let down His message?

Well He has broken mine! Neglected this body, this soul.

The angels rest beside God, their wings closing our passage.

We are left to hell, He will not console.

The nun packs her bags, walks beside me in the rain.

God is selfish, He no longer sees our pain.

Books and scrolls a lie? God a fictional dream?

The angels laugh above the clouds, we fell for their deception.

Left stranded in madness, He never believed in me.

Loneliness. I never believed in His redemption.

I am desperate for truth, pleading for my everything.

The nun only shakes her head, there was no God in anything.

The angels close us out, God sleeps in their wings.

Million Little

Million little pieces. I pick them up one by one.

Are you watching the fragments collect in my dress?

Week after week you wear me thin. Months of words bellow.

Screams and scratches, they all go unnoticed.

Million little tears. Will you dry them one by one?

I watch you laugh at my loneliness.

Day after day I die a little living with you.

The heavens wont help me now, God refuses to reach out.

Million little blessings. Is there one for me?

I look for my belongings, you deny me my affections.

Moment after moment I grow smaller, I cannot reach you.

Are you who is meant to protect me?

Million little stares. One, two, three, I count on.

My bones you brake, my clothes are too small.

Hour after hour those who teach ponder on my bruises.

They neglect me just as you do.

Million little children. I am but just one.

Scour for love, reach out for sweet attention.

Minute by minute I am listening to your hands.

You lock the door and no one sees me any more.

Changing the Masses

Who decides what is right for any culture? Isn't it the culture itself which decides what is good and true and what is wrong and distasteful? Here I sit in a now heated debate over that very subject. What is appropriate and what is unacceptable behavior, who decides and who should benefit from such a decision.
I was once a woman who looked at any other culture as fascinating yet alien and abnormal. If it was different, it wasn't right. I moved to such a culture where I didn't know it, understand it and wanted it to change for my needs. Naive and foolish is what I and my thoughts were. When you leave your native land for another country for whatever reason you need to leave behind the notions that you can change the country and people you are moving to. Am I, the foreigner allowed to judge the habits of another when it is perfectly acceptable to them and not to me? No, if this is the custom of that land then the stranger cannot come in and judge or change it.
So I sit here now, a little wiser and more understanding of my surroundings, in the midst of an on line chat with expats such as myself debating on whether or not the way women in this country behave and speak is acceptable or not. I mean not to judge or categorize an entire populous of people in what I write; I only intend to write of my observations and experiences on the matter, the topic being the differences between women in Europe and American women. European women have, from my experiences, a way to be direct and to the point. They feel no need to beat around the bush and tip toe to make life a little easier for someone else. They speak their minds, and lack the ability to paint a pretty picture when the art work should be ugly. If you ask them what they think, they will tell you, even if it is to say you look bad in this or your opinion is naive and narrow minded.
The word tact has come up more times than it should and rudeness is another word being used to describe a class of women who in reality are kind and attentive. They are not indifferent to those around them and are not rude when they speak. They are women who are strong in their convictions, tasteful and delicate when need be and direct and honest to whom they encounter. Is there anything wrong with that? But if someone comes across the pond who is brought up dainty, taught to beat around the bush and avoid those toes at all costs and start pointing fingers and bashing the behavior of others it gets a little annoying and can cause arguments to ensue.
American women were raised differently than European women, why? Simply that their life experiences are different, their histories are by no means similar. It makes for living and raising very diverse. Does it mean that either is right or wrong? No, it shouldn't but it does mean you should respect the other culture and leave your eyes open to understand them as a whole and as an individual. Stating that all American women are weak too opinionated and uneducated to back up that opinion is also something one should not do. Do you know each American and for that matter do you know every European? Judging and demanding change is unreasonable and wrong.
I have heard conversations where Americans were generalized and put down for this reason or that. I have heard similar things when it came to the Europeans. There should be no generalizing at all. We are different and that is OK. It is acceptable to live differently, act and speak to what we know. So why go into someone’s home and tell them how they should raise their kids and cook food? Would anyone appreciate it if it were done to them? Probably not yet so many do it. As in this heated debate. Such cruel things are spoken to an entire class of people and for what reason, ignorance and the refusal to accept change and adapt to your surroundings? They live in a country not their own and expect people to make it as though it is. They demand change when there is no reason to ask for such a thing. You choose to leave then you must accept your decision and adapt to the place you live now and not try and change the masses to suit you.
Here is a thought to ponder. I read in this chat that they don't have to like, accept or adapt to the differences between them, the expats, and the culture they put themselves in. They will go on as they are and if they don't like the way people are here they will just avoid them all together. Wouldn't that alienate you and make your life miserable? The way people speak about each other and the places from which they come can sound so hateful and discriminatory. They expect it to be ok to speak about people in such a way that leaves others to believe they are barbarians or people unable to blend with others and get along with. Why expect it to be ok to say such things to others when in the very next sentence hate when people do it to you?

Differences

OK so here is what I am thinking. Being this American in a nation of Europe. I thoroughly enjoy seeing my country from this stand point. I mean really, can you see the whole picture when you are just a fraction of it? No, of course not. That's why non Americans know more about America than the Americans. And whether you like to admit it or not, they really do. Now, I didn't always like it, seeing what others saw about my country. I wasn't exactly gun ho about my country but it's mine and well you always have certain patriotism to it. Sitting on this side looking in made me see a lot I didn't like. It showed me a side I hadn't known existed to the extent that it does. But being has I have seen this point of view for some time now I have gotten used to it. I am not surprised as much as I used to be. Talking to my mother and other people about how after five years of having a residence permit here I can go for my citizenship I have come to a really big conclusion. I will give it up and become Dutch when I can. I will no longer be considered American when that time comes. I will be a Dutch National. And I tell you, it isn't as scary of a decision as I thought it would be. It actually seems fairly simple. When you factor the reasons why I will do this it seems almost funny that I pondered it for so long because every time I did I came to the same conclusion. OK. Let’s go here for a second. In my own country I cannot marry as I want. I cannot bring my partner. I know what you’re thinking; I am making this decision based on just this. Of course not. Though if your country said you were wrong and you weren't normal and had no rights wouldn't you feel just as disgusted? I think you would. Americans have a money hungry, power driven president who really doesn't care for the good of the people. Rather he thinks with power and money. Americans (whether you admit it or not) live in a place where, yes, your media is censored. I hear about things you don't. I have asked family and friends, have you heard about this? Or did you hear about that? And they go no, what? I would have more protections under Dutch and European law than I would in my own country. If I get my citizenship I can live anywhere in the European Union without question just as US people can move state to state. If I intend on living my days with my woman in this nation then why keep ties to a country I have no intention of living in again? What is the point? Do you see one that I am not? I know right now I am only going for my permit. And when I get it I will be able to function in this nation almost like everyone else. When my five years come up I can go for my citizenship and function just as any other national here. Why not want that? I talk to my father and he says to me, the Dutch can do that? How does that work? Would that work here? Of course it would, just the American Government wont try it. Whatever the case is the answers are the same. The American Government won’t do it unless it benefits the Government and it doesn't matter if it would benefit the people. What exactly is the point of this post? I don't think I have one.

Culture Differences

When I first landed in the Netherlands to say I was taken a back was an understatement. Just the look is different to what I know in America. Being to several states and living in a few I can tell you, most of it looks all the same. Sure we have mountainous areas, deserts, forests and crop fields but when you get to the rural areas and cities, aside from the occasional building that stands out, really it looks all the same. The streets I was now walking on were cleaner and the endless cobs of wires hanging over our heads for power, phone and whatever else we can think of was no where in sight. It was all under my feet with dirt and brick covering it all nice and neat. I know places like California does this but where I from in New York, that isn't the case. Side walks was another thing, they were everywhere! Bike paths, side walks and the road flows nicely side by side with rules for each to follow for all to live in relative harmony. I mean, since bicycles are a major mode of transportation here they had to do something right? In North Babylon side walks are scarce, reverting to walking along side the road or on someone’s lawn. But this is all just the look of the Netherlands verses America. Every country looks different with things that make them who they are. It's also the culture that's extremely different.
In the first months that I was here I was getting one eye opener after another. You see stories on the news here that you have seen in America but it seems so different. It isn't censored! They tell the whole story for what it is. So I was getting larger amounts of facts I hadn't living in America. To say the least it was a large pill to swallow. You know that the media can be corrupt and people want things covered a certain way but really, this much! Whole stories I couldn't find on any news station or news paper there I was finding here and it was on my own country. I know Americans like to think they aren't, that their government and media, for the most part, is fair and just. I was just such an American. That's why it was so hard to take. Yet it wasn't only the television that was uncensored here. The people were just as demanding to know and open as the television in front of me.
Take for example what I as an American goes through with living with a father. I get my period and need tampons, now I am in pain and don't really want to go out but he is so I ask him. First off, squirms at the thought. Looks at me like I asked him to walk on the moon but says OK. I tell him what I need and off he goes. He is so mortified by the experience of buying a product that is as natural to use for women as toilet paper that he tosses them my way and informs me to never ask again; beet red and shy to even discuss it. Why? Any woman in his life has or is going through this and he is by no means the only man who acts this way. Most men in America will not do this for their women or if they do they are so shy and mortified by the experience they want to hide when they get to the counter. Yet here if a woman needs that very same product, they ask what and get it. Now sure there are a few who squirm a little but for the most part they see it as natural as toilet paper and tissues.
I was at my mother in laws house one weekend and I wanted to weigh myself. Of course you are down to your underwear and wait what the digital numbers are going to say. Now while I am in this process of torture my mother in law walks in the room! I have a thong on and nothing more and she starts talking and looking at the scale as though it was perfectly fine! My skin and weight number are now in her line of sight and she keeps talking! Is this right I ask? Do they really do that!? My partner looks at me like I am the odd ball because, well, I am. A body is just a body I am told. She has the same stuff I do just a little more used. And my weight? Well that’s just a number right. Good god! I think I have seen my mother naked once in all my life, at least that I can recall. Nudity is shown on the television because after all, its just a body. Can you see what I am getting at. Americans are prudes. We really are. We are sheltered little beings that are taught that Modesty means not even your own mother sees you naked and God forbid we discuss the facts of life in a calm manner without anyone turning ten shades of red. The Dutch are direct and honest. They are open and tolerant, at least on the outside. Americans don't know what tolerance means and being direct and honest is a trait so few have now a day. We beat around the bush with beautiful flowers in our hands in hopes of hiding the hideous truth. Why?
Now I know not all Americans are like this just as not all the Dutch are this way. But majority are and the differences in just the few examples I have given are vast. The world I now live in has changed me. I am more comfortable in my own skin, I blurt out what I think, most of the time, and the stupid things we get shy about I look at and go so what. Some say Americans are weak and intolerant. They are prude and shallow. Now, being an American, I would have disagreed, totally and completely. But now. That's a different story.
When you step outside your world and see it from someone else point of view, I mean really have an open heart and mind to see what they see, and you will learn about yourself and where you are from. I have learned so much about America by simply not being in it. And maybe that is the case with other people and other nations, I don't know, but I know this is the case for me. I know that, for me, they were right. We can be very shallow, opinionated with not much to really say. We are prudish and shy about the simplest of human natures. Sex, menstruation and other issues don't get talked about much. We don't go into detail because it's too private. Well if we don't talk about it in a public way what makes you think people talk about it in private? We don't talk about the intolerance and the weakness in ourselves. We don't talk about the 'secrets' in society. What exactly do we talk about?
This is just my thought on just a few things I see as an American outside in Europe. I could go on, but that would mean a book!

Would you?

What would you say if I told you I liked Europe better? What would you tell me if I admitted I never wanted to live in America again knowing what I know now? Would you hate me? Call me unpatriotic or anti American? There are things I see and things I hear that forces me to rethink what I understand as a human being and as an American. Events take my eyes and open them wide to the images I didn't know existed before. Would you stop talking to me because our opinions and life experiences change? I think some would because it has already happened.
Let me share with you a story. It is a story of a friend I used to talk to on an everyday basis. Politics, the weather, issues at hand and mundane things that went on in our lives. For the most part our conversations flowed effortlessly and rarely did our opinions differ. We were both Americans just living in different states. However when I moved to the Netherlands things started changing. Conversations dwindled and opinions became very different. We don't talk about politics and the issues that face America and the world any more. We don't talk about priorities in our lives; we actually hardly talk any more. Why? Because while I changed when my life changed with the move her life stood still. My eyes opened to a whole new world over here in Europe. Their mentality is different as is the cultures they live in. More open, honest, brutally honest at times, and not afraid to say what they think of any country or people. I think I have developed said mentality in living here and dealing with Europeans on a day to day basis. If I think the American government is doing a horrible job or if I think the American people don't do enough in questioning their government or standing up to it I will say so and have.
This friend tells me it would be easier to live in America with my Dutch partner. How? I cannot bring my partner over as the law is written now. My relationship with my partner is not protected under that law. It is here however. She tells me that I could easily find work while she struggles to find one herself. She tells me things will get better over there while the powers that be won’t show a way that it will and that is OK with her. How can it be OK? Don't you write your congressman, vote in elections and do everything you, as a citizen, can do to make changes? No, I do not, I am just one voice so what does it matter is what I am told. Yet in the next breath she complains about the lack of change. If I speak of how her voice does matter, or if I express an opinion about the government I am told that it doesn't work that way, I do not understand. Why do I not understand, just because I live over seas? I am still an American; I still watch and read the news. What goes on in that country does affect me as I am still a citizen of that country, yet somehow I do not understand? She gets flustered when I mention anything that doesn't flow in her mind. So, now as it stands we barely speak. We do not agree on much of anything and in her opinion I am too blunt, too opinionated and lack the ability to see America as the land of the free and opportunity.
Am I distracted by the Atlantic Ocean and the distance it brings? Am I blinded to some truth that the European culture covers up? I will tell you this. I do pay attention to the news everyday, both here and what goes on in America. If I do not understand something in which I have heard I will research it up to better follow it. I did live in America. I lived as an upper middle class citizen and have had such struggles that nearly landed me on the streets. I have been ignorant to the ways of the country and the government and have been ignorant to the way outsiders viewed my country. I have also opened my eyes and had painful days in accepting the reality of my country, my home. I have seen America through an Americans eyes and I now see America as a non American sees it. Is this cause to say I am too blunt and opinionated? Do I really lack the ability to understand America and the world around it? I do not see it as the land of the free. If it were I would not have to tell my partner I cannot bring you to my country. I do not see as the land of opportunity unless you are wealthy and buy that opportunity. I do not see how the American public does all it can to be active with its government and I lack the ability to understand why they bitch when the same government does something they don't approve of.
So, in all this would you hate me if I told you I did not like the country I came from, that I was disappointed in the choices it has made? Would you be disgusted if I told you I was willing to give up my American citizenship in order to be a Dutch National? Does that make me unpatriotic or anti American if I better my life by doing so? This friend is just one of a few people who look at me in a disgusted manner because my views and opinions have changed. What does that mean to me? Will I lose more people I thought friends because I no longer believe in America? These things I ponder, these things make my heart ache. Would I hate me if I looked at this the way they do?

Marriage

It's fascinating to me to read people's opinion on gay marriage. In reading articles all over the World Wide Web I get to see what people think on the subject and what they really feel about it. People have reasons for allowing it almost as many reasons as to why they shouldn't. Gay marriage, what does that mean? It means two people get married. They have the same protections that marriage offers and it means that these two people are treated as a couple. It is the same thing for straight people. They have the benefits of marriage and can share in their love with other on their big day. Why can't gay people have the same rights?
Some people say it is because of religion. God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. America was founded under God. America is a Christian Nation and therefore what the Bible says is gold. I mean, this list can go on and on and that’s just religion. However, aren't we supposed to separate politics from religion? Ultimately the decision is made on religious reasons only. Why? What if people do not believe in God, does that mean that a politician has spoken on their behalf based on a religion they do not believe in? Now I understand that homosexuality is against several religions, Christianity and Islam to name a couple. Yet, there are plenty of people out there who do not fall under the categories of religion. What happens to them and what they want when the majority who is religious says no? Where should the line be drawn between politics and religion? I thought the American Constitution already drew that line.
Some people come out with that it isn't normal. Well, I am sure there are people who can recall a period when bi-racial marriage wasn't normal. I am sure there are people that can recall when blacks didn't have rights because to give them rights wasn't normal. What is the definition of normal? Seriously, who decides what is normal and what isn't? Do I, or you? And if we are the creators of the definition of normal then please enlighten me as to what it is. In some cultures it’s the norm to have several wives. It is also customary to get married at the age of 15. Why is that? It goes on because it is the norm for that culture. I could also tell you that it is allowed in some nations to allow drugs, it’s illegal to drink in others or that it is customary to walk around topless at a beach while in other places it is not. What is the norm? Who decides if gay marriage and homosexuality in general is the norm and why do they make the decision despite what others want? I truly want to know who these people are.
There are the few who also state that gay marriage would actually harm the sanctity of marriage. Now I personally think this one is my favorite. It will ruin the sanctity of marriage. And how is that? When the next door neighbor gets married to his high school sweetheart there may be people who object to the whole thing. They say he isn't good enough for her. Maybe he harms her in some way. Do these protests ruin their marriage? Do the words that anyone says against them harm the sanctity of their marriage? No. If they get married and it’s a horrid marriage that ends in divorce, beatings or affairs, does this ruin the sanctity of marriage? There are several examples of gay marriage scattered over the globe to prove that it does not harm it in any way. In fact it shows just the opposite. Gay marriage allowed in different countries has shown that people are happier. They are protected under the law; they can do for their partners and generally have the same rights as the average Joe down the block. Divorce has actually gone down in some cases and so has suicides. What does that say? If you look at it from this stand point it might become a little clearer for you. I am not in your bed; I am not married to you. I do not have kids with you and a white picked fence with two cats. I can no more tell you how to live your life than you can mine because we do not know each other from a hole in the wall. I am not in your bed and therefore cannot tell you what to do in it. It really is that simple isn’t it?
Gay marriage and homosexuality is a topic that people love to talk about. It isn’t the norm or it’s wrong. Should they or shouldn’t they have the marriage or should they even have the right to be gay? Such conversations go on all over the world. They go on by straight people as well as the homosexual man. Yet I do not understand why it is such a big deal for straight people when they themselves are not gay. They assume that homosexual people have the option to be gay; they assume they have the choice. If they had the choice do you really think they would take such a hard road through life, having people hate them, disown them and tell them they are less that the rest? I don’t believe they would.

Who we are

Here is a thought for the day. Who are you? Who am I? What makes us American, Dutch, German or any other nationality you can think of? What identifies us to the culture in which we come from and what guides us into the new culture we are itching to consume?
Someone pointed out to me a few things yesterday. Now I come from America and with that come a certain amount of attitude and back talk when someone points out a flaw we don't want to see. I should tell you, I didn't want to hear it at first. All the things I was missing and the things I wasn't doing to squeeze myself into this culture I have plopped myself in. I wanted to defend myself, give examples of why I couldn't or why I hadn't. It's what Americans do right? Well, I am Dutch now and do the Dutch argue the way someone from America might? Not at all. So, what were these things thrown at me in such a manner that I had no choice but to see them, acknowledge them and swallow them down like a giant horse pill? To answer that question I have to show you something that I have learned.
The Dutch have an interesting way of existing that I frankly never understood or even acknowledged for the most part. Do you know your neighbor? Do you know how to defend yourself, family and friends at a moments notice? I bet you couldn’t tell me where every item is in your home? They can with such accuracy it boarders on scary. Are you a pack rat? Someone who saves all the practical things for years, such as bags, containers and every bill and letter you have ever received in the mail? I can tell you from personal experience they have every bill and piece of paper ever received and asked about such a piece of paper can bring it out in two seconds. Why, because they love covering their butts. They know that the world is flawed and that if anything were to happen with the bank or the mail they can prove they did what was asked or can show what hasn’t occurred and why. There are four piles in our home. One pile is the mail just received, second pile is the bills that need paying, pile three is the pile that has been paid for the month and the fourth is the mail that isn’t a priority but we will look at when time allows. I have to tell you, my time in America and paying bills was not this organized. I have come to accept and fall into that pattern of the piles. I know not to touch piles two and three since they do not apply to me. I know I can browse through pile four and I put together the first.
Bags, lots and lots of bags are roaming in the pantry. Sandwich bags, storage bags, the grocery bags and the biggest of them all I call the granny cart. Were you aware that you have to pay for your grocery bags in the Netherlands? Ten cents for the plastic and up to five euro for the bigger more durable bags that will last you years if you treat them right. I know; we have had the same two bags for two years now. Why do they do this? Well, they actually have a few reasons. One reason is if you have to pay for something, you are more likely not to chuck it on the ground or in the river. Grocery bags are in every Dutch home. Some people keep them in a crate, the containers the milk comes in at your local corner store, and some keep them within a bag. We keep them nice and tidy in a bag. I will bring two with me to the grocery store on average. Major shops or trips to the market require the granny cart. Now these bags will last a while, even the ten cent bag which brings me to another reason, resourcefulness and practicality. Why buy two bags when you have two perfectly good ones at home? So fewer bags are wasted and less plastic used and abused in our environment. Waste not, want not. The Dutch take this to heart. While an American will go to the store and buy groceries and chuck the plastic and paper bags that will only last until they reach their doorstep the Dutch see a reason for making more durable bags to use again. More plastic and paper will be wasted when next they need milk bread or a bag of chips.
An American will easily use a sandwich bag once and chuck it in the garbage, or anywhere else they see fit, they will chuck their bills and curse later that they didn’t save it when someone calls saying they didn’t pay. I know; I used to be that very person, like so many floating around that big country. But why do the Dutch save and reuse virtually everything? They do it because they know what it is like to not have anything. Do you know what it is like to lose everything because water decides it wants its land back? I know I don’t but they do. I have learned that for many, they aren’t into having things just because they can. They have things because they have value in some fashion and they hang on to it because at any moment it could all be gone. I was that girl who wanted things just because. I was the girl who saw no reason to worry that something might happen. I have never been conquered, I have never lost to the sea and I have never endured the perils of having nothing. Which comes to another thing I was shown.
What would you do if your neighbor’s dog was sick or the old lady down the street needed an extra hand with her groceries? Would you even know that dogs name or the old lady down the road? They do, seriously, they do. They are a nation who talks to everyone. They know faces, names, dates and pets. They know where you work and what you like. They are a nation who loves their neighbor and will stop in the middle of the street to ask you how the baby is holding up in the cold or how your mother is because they know them too.
Now imagine if something happened. Mother Nature was in a mood or your neighboring country wanted your land what would you do? Would you wait for the military to come in and save the day or wait for the government to tell you what to do? Yes you would, as an American; you most certainly would because it has happened time and time again. The Dutch, when the government has gone on the tube and announced what is going on and what to do the Dutch already know and are already in the middle of doing whatever it is they need to do. They ban together, kick butt, save lives and fix what ever needs tending to before any authority has told them to do it. Why, because they love their land and their people. They are Dutch and the Dutch have endured long before America was even seen along the distant horizon. They will wait for no one and they will do it themselves because if they want it done and done right, their own two hands will do it. Their neighbors will call their names and they will come. That is the kind of nation this is. It was brought to my attention that I don’t know my neighbors names. I can remember their face but I don’t know much more than that. If something were to happen, I would be the scared little girl waiting for someone to save me.
I am Dutch now. I am Dutch and therefore I need to think Dutch. I need to be Dutch. I wanted to defend myself and tell my friend he had no right to talk to me like this. Yet I said nothing and listened. I need to learn that I am somewhere else. Kansas doesn’t exist in my world any more. Things were brought to my attention that needs to be attended to. I need to walk, talk, sleep, eat and think in the nation that I put myself in. I am Dutch. What makes me that way? Is it the land I step on, the buildings and customs or the language and history? It is all of it and more. It is a mind set and acceptance of those things that make people who they are. A German can be stopped anywhere they go just as an American can be pointed out. Why is that? It is because we take who we are with us, our own history, language and culture. Can you become German without being born there? I think for the most part you can. Forego all you know and submerge you in them and be as they are. So we are who we want to be. We are who we are based on history, experiences, where we have been and where we are going. We are who ever we want to be and all it takes is acceptance of that and what is around you.

I am an American

I am not trusted. I am judged and looked down upon. I am blamed for your mistakes. I hate you for what you have done; I hate you for what you neglect to do. There is shame in being who I am. There is disgust in where I come from. The land of the free and the home of the brave; you are by no means brave and you took our freedom with a click of your pen. The sound of your voice angers me. Your face I would love to take as target practice. I never nor would I vote for you. I would never save you if your life depended on me for I know you wouldn’t save mine. Rather you would preach upon my grave the errors and sin you judge me for. I am nameless to you, faceless. Yet you bring down your book and your God. The deaths of thousands are on your hands. I walk down the street knowing they stare. I go to speak and they glare in disgust. I am shamed for your crusades. I will give my citizenship back to you. I will deny my place of birth. For freedom and safety I must. It is because of you. I am no one to thousands yet my passport and voice place me with you. I am an American. I live outside your reach, yet ever present you are. I am an American. And it turns my stomach that you rule this nation. I am an American, and I hate you for what you are, for who are. I hate you for what you do, and what you do not do. I am an American, and I want to give it back. Do you care how the world sees me? How the world see you and your nation? We travel all over. We live outside your grasp. Yet we are the Americans the world picks at. We are the ones they take it out on. And you sit and do nothing. You do not care. And I hate you.