15:40

Good afternoon, my Sweetniss ♥

Sweetniss means sweetheart in Cuddle :]. 

I hope you’re having a good day. I really appreciate that you’re stopping by here. You’re now reading my 270th post :). The amount of content on this blog has been growing increasingly fast. There are so many drafts that need to be finished, still… 

I think that the amount of work I need to finish for this deadline is going to require a lot of my last energy resources. After I’ve finished everything, I have time “and money” (because the 30th is after when I get my study financing I actually shouldn’t accept) to go to the doctor again. I still need to do the test that lets me know if I have cancer or something – but honestly, especially since the way I feel, the chance is so high that the test will be positive, that I just don’t want to know… 

The cold has turned me into BedFangs:

On the couchh

But sitting inside is making me go crazy. Just like not having an actual income. I’m going to check if there are vacancies that suit me, at the university closest to the house I live in. (I’m talking 10 minutes :D.) Also, when I came back, my mother indoctrinated me with the: “If you’re coming home straight away, you’ll get into a fight with “your father” again. Make sure that you have your statements ready about finding a job.” 

There was no beef. She probably just wants me to work… 

Who’s my papa? I might have spoken to this Cuddle, but I didn’t know that he’s my father. I find him so Cuddle, that it is possible that he has told me that I’m his, but that I haven’t stored this, because when I’m near him, everything goes in slow motion, because I love him so much, I get these symptoms of being in love with someone. You know, shaky legs and becoming very sweaty and stuff, just from standing within an arm’s length of him. I can’t help but follow him every move and look him in the eyes so deeply that our souls touch. My heart is always so happy when I see him. The whole thing with the going missing and saying that I had sex with him et cetera, is such a long misunderstanding that it’s too much of a waste of energy to dig it up and explain it. To make a long story short: when the cops interrogated me, I wanted to see him afterwards, so I wanted to make it seem like we were close, because before this I had only met him twice and my mother didn’t want me to get so close to him, because she has trust issues. Just like those fucking bitch ass cops at the station near the house I live in… 

I know I can trust him. Get the fuck out of my life, if you’re trying to keep me away from him. What the fuck. Especially if I “posess 50% of his personality”. I have the right to get to know every single thing about this side of myself. Of the older and masculine copy of myself. Ah, meow… Also, I wish to be saved from this household that is not really a contribution to what I’m trying to achieve, when it comes to useful conversations, feeling loved, an environment in which you can focus in comfort, et cetera… My “parents” (or my mother and stepfather(?)) spend 90% of their time at home watching reruns on TV. And then they often complain about me doing nothing. All of my occupation come from my own creative incentives. There are not many people who are able to do something like that, on this planet, so how the actual fuck can they tell me that I do nothing? Coming home is to them literally saying: “Hey where’s the rest?” [so “Where are your mother and your (half?) sister?”] or “Hey have you spent all day doing nothing inside the house again?” [and then I give a summary of the things I’ve worked on, while I grind my teeth, because the amount of disrespect in that question is outrageous]. And then the TV goes on and it doesn’t go off until it turns itself off, because they’ve fallen asleep in front of it. 

I’m programmed to think that I look like the man whose house I live in. If he is not my father, I strongly insist to alter my life into natural living circumstances. Also, I need some cash????? *looks at you in a Cuddle way*

I know that Benoît knows where I live. I have never told him my address or even in which city I live, but during one of our conversations last year, I vividly remember him saying something like: “Capelle aan den IJssel is a very convenient location to live, when you’re a student here,” when we were talking about when I was a student there. He mentioned the city I live in, while I hadn’t told him I live there. That was when I started to think that he might actually really be able to hear me reason and more. I’ve not told him that. I was slightly stunned by his knowledge, so I didn’t really say much… 

Know that I’m always ready to welcome you with open arms, here in this house. Know that I’m actually, deep down, expecting you to come over one day, since I know you know exactly where I live – this goes for more people now that my KvK number is on my web pages loooool – and we have such a special connection and unfortunately you can only come to me, because because of your status I wasn’t sure if I could ask you where you live and now I don’t know where you live, so you can only come to me… 

But should I then replace first name with “papa”? I’m confused……….

My hair loss rate is intense, by the way. Just like my fatigue. I might not make my deadline… Usually people have an entire team to work with, to make a deadline. I’m doing everything by myself. I need to finish the new D.O.C.I.S. International website, finish the overture, finish the FREE ebook and then manage the corporate alterations… It’s crazy that people haven’t been willing to pay for my writing, but my audience grows every day. With my current financial situation, I actually really have to make the book something paid, but by now giving very useful information away for free, I might be able to count on engagement in the future. This while I actually solely depend on engagement from powerful individuals and not the masses.  

I don’t even have a suitable qualification for any of the current non-scientific vacancies on the university’s website :'(. This worries me, since the world of academics is the only world I feel semi-comfortable working in. The most comfortable I am as my own boss. 

I would like to do something challenging, now that I have to do something. I have a certificate in mathematics and one in statistics, but – “of course” – that’s “nothing, in the world of science”… There’s one vacancy that relates to data analysis, but I don’t have much real life experience yet…  

My B… [is how I would call my father, since that’s what I’m doing in my head all day. It’s Cuddle :D] it would be very awesome to still make that research documentary. Especially now that I coincidentally have a certificate in exactly those subjects that are on the foreground. It’s also a great contribution to the analyses that need to be done, before we construct a final/definite version of D.O.C.I.S. Island/Planet Fang. 

What is “funny” is that many people call me mulatto, while according to my last name, I am fully black. 

I’ve been writing so much in a row that to go back to writing on top of writing is such an exhausting thought. My initial intention was to fund the organizational reforms with book sales, but I don’t have any sales. Probably because I need those organizational reforms to get real engagement in the first place. I’m using D.O.C.I.S. for a second episode. It wasn’t intended as this, but I can’t continue the self-research from the first episode, in the second episode, if no one has done the self-research from the first episode. I feel like a mad teacher with a burn out. Speaking of which, I could temporarily become a mathematics teacher in a Dutch school where they teach in English. Or teach mathematics somewhere abroad… 

The problem with this side job is that I’m definitely not in it for the long run and as soon as D.O.C.I.S. International gets its investment, I’ll quit the side job. It could happen in a day, it could happen in two years’ time. It feels wrong to have to sign for a certain period of time, while I prefer working for D.O.C.I.S. International over working for any other boss, because when I’m my own boss, I can give myself the challenging tasks I like and deliver a real contribution. The getting a side-job is solely because I don’t get an allowance and I should actually not accept study financing, because I’m not very enthusiastic about another year of zzzz study. I have bills to pay… If I work, I need at least a semi-proper salary, so I’ll have to work full time, but that means less time to work on the organizational reforms. It’s the same shit as when I started to work at the ANWB, after having ran away from my mother, (step)father and their crew of psychiatrists, to the US. If they were to force me to therapy, while I had this full time job, they would have been disturbing the company and me from saving “precious holidays”, so right after coming back to Rotterdam, I invested all of my free time in that job. And that while my study year at the open university was about to reach its summit. 

Damn, my grandmother’s (or step grandma’s? [:o… That could mean that I have someone else as my biological grandmother…]) “dementia” + aphasia is going crazy. She just called the house phone and spoke to my (step)father. She has seen a vision of her father, which she considered an indication of that the end is near. Now she wants to start to organize her own funeral. My (step)father made some jokes to her about what her options are and then ended the conversation. He must not be my biological father, because I don’t think that that was a right moment to say cold hearted shit like that. “Am vielen Lachen erkennt man den Narren.” (My Whatsapp status. A German saying that literally translated means “You can recognize jokers from the way they laugh very often.”) In some situations it’s better to just shut up, instead of to make inappropriate jokes. 

I need a doctor. I also need someone Cuddle (including the ability to empathize) to come with me to the doctor, because palpitations might make my heart give out, when I hear the news. The amount of people spectating my struggle anonymously, makes me feel like I can scream all I want, but people will just keep spectating instead of doing anything. This little cat with a not very helpful mother and (step)father needs quite some help. I hope the man whose house I live in is not my father and that I have a father out there who is loving and who I can count on.

In the strong wind that flows past the room I’m in, I can sometimes hear a very frequent interval of waves. This makes me very worried about my safety, considering that I’m the type of person who would leave the house when the dikes flood, because I would think: “There’s no way I’ll spend the rest of my existence having to conversate about superficial shit, trapped in this house. I want to live and lead!” But the cold of the water would kill me… 

Time for dinner

And to continue my online course in Italian. I downloaded these apps. They’re addictive… And after that it’s back to writing in an attempt to make my deadline. I guess I should change my focus to the free ebook and then shamelessly promote the shit out of it on all milked out social networks I’m active on, with crappy visuals, because I don’t have professional visualization software or a graphic designer I can pay.