The next journey

I’m back from Poland after 2 months away, feeling like I’m a world different.

Start missing Poland already.

10 years ago my struggle was to get to Norway. Now, out of it. I give myself 1 year. There’s a lot to do.

But before that …

My mum was here to help us. Turned out we were mutually helping one another. Looking at her I saw clearer many things in myself, how reserved, and shut-down i have been and how bad it is to be so. I take after her many mental features, many of them are unhealthy.

In this 1 month i stayed in poland and had to be the head of our little ‘family’ there, I’ve grown to be in control and responsible, to be active and managing. I feel so alive.

I started speaking the little Polish I could when the situation forced me to. I learnt that I can do so much.

I was very scared before we went on holiday. All the time in my mind was the story of Stephan King ‘The monkey hand’. I read it years ago, never able to shake it off my memory because it was so horrible, so philosophical, so right. What was supposed to be your helping hand turned out to be your disaster. It was exactly like that. And as with all disaster, the only way to get out of it is to reach out your hand down through all that smelly sticky muddy shit and try to find the plug. Only then can you flush it all away.

Anyway …

I started to feel Poland as a part of me. I’m still not sure if it’s the place to be. But not Norway, definitely. Norway is a highly developed country .. in the wrong direction. A snake eating up its own tail. I’m heading back here feeling like channeling myself into water of danger. Here i have to watch my steps all the time, smell the danger in the air, in the smiling faces around me. In Poland I felt freer and safer. The people are real. At least it was the inital impression so far.

So here I am, at the next turn of my life. Such should be life, isn’t it. Never stay the same for too long. My river always flows.






Dream catcher

i have no time right now, but just some lines to edit later.

I like to sleep (a little too much) because i like to dream and i had a lovely well-rounded one last night.

I dreamt of an eye-candy guy with a look like Jonas Kaufmann or so, who makes me want to kick myself in the ass because of guilt. I’m married.

We both knew it was wrong. Shouldn’t be. It smells of tragedy. We both fight to break away from a vague force pulling us together. The force which says ‘what if…’ As i grow older, i believe more and more in telepathy of sort, that is if you hold a liking to someone, even though you never mean to show it, or to say it, or to express it in any visible way, somehow the other person will still get a phantom impression of it though they never can put a finger on it, nor be sure about their suspicion. They rather assume that it’s their imagination and try to ignore it, or suppress the desire to find out. Still human’s curiosity is on guard and at times they register tiny confirmation of the doubt they rather try to forget or devalue.

… in case they also care for you.

He chased me away because he knew it’s hopeless anyway. He was scary. (Women and children are tempted by scary things).

I managed to tell him i had a crush for him for a long time. It was a relief and good feeling, just to speak it out and for him to hear it. And not win anything.

He said we won’t last. It feels rather tragic, not because it didn’t last, but because we confronted it and confessed it together, like dropping flowers on our common grave. Then he left for adventures in his man’s world.

I was with a baby.

My man comes home, our tiny cosy home where everything will last and thrive. He’s not eye-candy, he’s not stormy. But he’s where i belong.

It’s such a good feeling of being complete, knowing you don’t need to have what you crave, what attracts you, but just land into your right place.

Words, words, words

My husband once told me his favourite quote, from Shakespeare or so (my bad memory) :

“- What is that you’re reading, Master?

– Words, words, words….”

Words to a story is like jewels to a lady. It’s ornamental, it’s delicious to look at and it draws admiration.

But it can’t turn an ordinary women into a bella. No matter how elaborated it can be.

A beauty queen is magnetic, even when she’s naked.


Having said that, and knowing it’s true, still i wish ‘If only….’



Dreamy mum

Can’t help thinking the other day that women who have too complicated soul, too passionate about things they like, think too much, dream too much, too sensitive, have too many hobbies, who constantly pick up new things they’d like to learn or to do, like me, in some aspects, make bad mothers.

Simply the number of things we like and have to do increase and increase, and the hours of the day stays the same, which means we either kill our dream or kill our duty.

Simple women who don’t have much to occupy their mind, just focus on what have to be done: housework, care for children, routine work. And basically that already takes up all the day. Jobs done and they’re happy.

I can’t switch into a simple happy woman. That’s my curse. I do hope my neglection from my duties can somehow be balanced with the quality of my attention when i do not neglect them. but i’m not sure if it’s a good enough excuse.

Self-discipline helps maybe, so that i don’t tip over to either extreme. Moderation. The old acrobatic work of walking on a fine line and trying to maintain a feeble equilibrium.

Growing up

It’s the first day of the Lunar New Year.

Getting (more) mature is a bit of a schizophrenia process. You learn to see invisible things, hear unspoken words, and treat them as the real scary part of your everyday.

I once saw a family in Ikea, a boy clutching to his mother’s arm, heading to the canteen to buy some food. It suddenly reminded me of my mum that i haven’t seen and been with for years. And at that moment, I wanted to be with her, like that boy, clutch her arm and “Mum, buy me this, or that”. That’s the child that i have always been, that’s how it often was.

I realized I have always been a child, or I never wanted to outgrow that child. Within me.

Somehow there’s always someone who will be there to shoulder the burden, to take care of the heavy, tough part. Someone who will always give me their arms to clutch on, and pay for my food.

My mum was really here a short while ago. I’m surprised to see it was no longer like that any more. The roles have changed.

I can no longer be a child for her. Well, you may say it’s about time, I’m going to be 33. But it’s not about how old I will be. Maturity doesn’t always come with age. It comes by force. That child is still in me, but i can no longer pull out my hand to clutch her arm.

Her arm is already too full of burden. More than she can actually keep.

And now, it’s my turn to give her my arm.

She, my mum has become like a teenager child to me, one who now needs my reassurance, consolation and guidance. One who needs to lean on me.

The child in me has to grow up, because there is burden to bear.

How lonesome it is to be a grown-up. That’s the first impression. You have to stand on your own, and problem wash down on your head. Luckily, I still have my husband. That’s a relief, you see that you’re in fact not that alone, there’s still someone that you have fetched for yourself along your life. Someone you can count on. Good to make a good choice, so that now you have some ’emotion capital’ to spare.

But husband is not someone you can count on like parents. They are someone for you to appreciate their accompany, and that how horrible it must be to live without them. But most of the time we take them much for granted. And sometimes treat them like a parent.

Sometimes you see your parents as the way you’d see husband, and luckily i think my husband is better off.

It’s not always easy to comprehend the expectation/responsibility our dear ones have upon us. Responsibility is an ugly thing, and invisible thing. Responsibility is an endless and boring list of ‘can you….’, and ‘you must…’

But it’s not just about ‘I did my part’ , there’s the invisible ‘disappointment’, ‘lack of care’, ‘hurt of feelings’ (men do have feelings!!!), ‘appreciation’, etc.

There’s a lot of ‘but you never say…’ . But i’m not very sure about blaming close one for not saying something as I know i take them often for granted, and we do hear only things we’d like to hear.

I need to get my thoughts together, Focus on common aims, and see where I’m standing.

It’s not good to be schizophrenia. Lost and bewildered in an invisible mine field.

Perhaps we should make invisible things visible, and speak out unspoken words.

It’s strange but I, as a woman, don’t know how to speak about inner feelings/assumptions. Or i don’t hope they can be heard. Because if you speak to wrong ones, it can be a dangerous thing, To unappreciative ones, i can get a cold shoulder, and it hurts. In other case, other can bark back and bite in your ass. Sometimes, you’d prefer to keep your inner world hidden and safe. But to husband, maybe it’s better to take a deep breath and spilt it out. Either it may bite or not, it’s your relationship’s sake to spilt it out.

Growing up always undergoes pain, crossing your comfort zone, and courage too, to do thing you didn’t dare before.

I don’t like people who see their life just rosy, because that make me green with envy, and i think: no, it can’t be so easy. Difficult is the normal state of everyone’s life. They’re either is cheating themselves, or are in for catastrophe. Either they’re missing out on big important things (that’s why they’re in for catastrophe), either they just want to build a facade in front of others.

Ok, something concrete: this year, i will wake up early, and be structured about my daily routine.


A messy state of mind leads to messy actions -> bring no good result -> frustration.

Deep breath ……………….

Take a walk outside to detach , I will, have to fetch my baby soon.

Then, sort thoughts out with my hubby, I think my program has grown a little overwhelming for me, need a little reorientation from an outsider, and chubby hubby is the one to turn to.

and then hopefully an organized state of mind again.

My teen-or-so brother showed me a Natalie rapper this morning, an outburst of unreasonable frustration, that has no root and goes no where, just a clump of anger by itself, dead end and useless.

and i got infected by that state of mind.

Yes, it takes time to calm down and get sorted out, even from such a tiny thing can trigger some bad messy day.

I realised I have departed from that teen-or-so state so long ago.

it no longer amused me, or entertain me,

it’s simply stupid as it leads nowhere.

Anger has to drive you to finding its root and hence its solution.

Anger should have a meaning, it is the driving force to find ways to terminate itself. Everything should go in a circle.

If it’s just an outburst that help solve nothing, and show you nothing, then it only feeds your feeling of emptiness and hopelessness, and being stuck and frustration again.

I don’t like having to spend this 10 min sorting out my thoughts and explaining myself my own feelings,

but i need to, to go on the rest of the day.

Old age

I was thinking sadly about life after visiting France and his wife. They are in their seventies, and quite sick. And they won’t get better, rather just the opposite, older and weaker, eventually at some point they will die.

It’s not a nice feeling when you see you no longer can care for the house, the garden, or yourself. Future is gloomy and hopeless. I’d be rather depressive in their shoe.

My husband says it’s just normal, everyone gets old, sick and die.  I think i must still feel myself very young, this future is still very far from me. And then i think so what do we do to our young life before we get to be very old and sick?

We work, earn money, buy house, travel, raise kids, do all kind of interesting things, hobby, and when it’s still so nice life seems to go on forever.

But the truth, sad truth for me, is no matter what we do in this meantime, there it stands at the other end of our life, old age, sickness and death. Let’s run away from it if we can, as away as possible.

How to stop to get old. Maybe training.

I know I should train more. I have always been lazy, but …. ok, my fault.

Maybe healthy food.

I have always been eating as healthy as I can. So there’s not much I can do about it.

And i think those ‘so called’ super food like grass extract or whatever are just rubbish and won’t help you.

Well, what else, Hmm…

Ok, it’s impossible to avoid getting old. We don’t fight the impossible. We accept it. Shit, I don’t like this at all.

And if we accept it, we prepare for it. Sad.

france has only one son. And to my surprise, as France seems to live a wealthy life, his son earns his living by selling CDs. I would not like my kid to sell CDs. At least she should be at the same level as us, doing some normal job, earning some normal money.

And it’d be a big burden for her being the only one to be responsible for us. She would need to take care of us, the house, the garden, if we still have one, and her own housework, her own kids and family, her own job, her own health. Well, that’s a lot.

Maybe now is time we should get one more kid, such that Nhim will have a sibling for share her duties with. 2 more kids is even better. But honestly I don’t know if I can be so brave. Having children is burdensome, but at the other end of your life this burden MAY turn into an asset. As we grow old, we become like children too, helpless and dependent.

When I’m sick, I’d prefer to have my mum around. But of course, it’s not possible. Being old and sick and alone is a horrible feeling. Normally I don’t think much how it is for old people. Simply because I’m not old. They belong to a world unknown to me. When you’re in your 20s or 30s, you’re full of energy, and opportunities,You feel you can do so much. You don’t feel you need anyone, because you can get new jobs, meet new people, go to new places.

But it will come, looks like, days when you have to ask for help, not nice, because you can’t manage your self. If you have money you can pay for the help, for housework, for gardening, for doctor. But I don’t think I’d collect so much money in whole of my youth either. Most people will not have so much money either. Moreover, I personally want to feel some emotional warmth around me. Knowing someone from the family, some one who care and love and connected to me to be there with me. I guess, we all do.

Ok, that means I’d have to try to live a good marriage, such that I’d have an old husband, be a as nice person as I can, such that I’d have some friends, have at least one more baby, such as I’d have 2 kids with me when I’d be old. I can offer to babysit their babies too, such as I’d have some grandchildren to come and visit me.

It’s ok to be a bit calculating in life I think, as long as it doesn’t do harm to anyone.