This year I had some other financial plans that I wanted to [...]]]> I almost never plan a holiday. The last one I planned was 3 years ago and consisted of 3 days in Denmark, which ended badly; long-distance relationships suck, especially when you try them with insensitive a-holes. But I digress, my apologies.

This year I had some other financial plans that I wanted to do first, so in my mind I had already forgotten about the idea of a holiday. But I’ve been working almost nonstop since november and I haven’t been out much. Especially during the time I worked fulltime with the 2 hour commute, I was a hermit after work. So it’s time for a holiday. Still, I was really not looking forward to making holiday plans. I’d have to go alone since I have no partner or available friend, and where was I supposed to go? Moreover, having a business which means no working = no money makes me reluctant to take time off. I need all the money I can get.

But I needed to get out anyway. I figured the location itself isn’t even important, as long as it features a good hotel with decent service which will enable me to just stay in bed and relax. I decided to go to Berlin. That thought turned into “well maybe not Berlin, I can go to Center Parcs and hang out in a bungalow”, which turned into “that’s too expensive, I’m not going”. But now that I got a fairly decent payment for my job, I started thinking about it again, and clicked a trip together on a pretty cool website I used to translate for.

Yesterday I got my new American Express card, which I’m testing for free this year to see if I like it. And before I knew it I’d paid for my trip with it. And now I can’t wait! Even the hotel alone will make me want to stay there, since I went with something more luxurious than I ever did.

I’ve seen many people experience holiday stress, but I think mine is different. I experience stress at the idea of committing myself to taking time off. When I do go, I know from experience that I love it. But planning it is something else entirely. I do know I want to push myself to do this more often. I might actually be going to Center Parcs as well this year!

As I indicated before, I [...]]]> As of today, I’m a freelance translator again. My own little business is back, and today is my first day at work again. I’m back at IBM, and enjoying the familiarity and calm atmosphere. I work four days a week, leaving one day to do other things and socialise.

As I indicated before, I didn’t enjoy being a freelance translator that much. I longed for a solid job which would cover illness, retirement, etc. An ex-colleague from IBM asked me if I wanted to work for a company in Zoetermeer. Not having any freelance work at that point and being quite desperate for job security, I took the job very quickly.

While the job itself was ok, wages were a lot lower than I was used to while working as a freelancer, and the salary I got still didn’t include a retirement plan. I didn’t really mind at first, though. I had very nice colleagues, the location was awesome (it’s a farmhouse) and the work was a challenge. I learned to communicate very quickly (phone calls and e-mails mostly) and to be more assertive (taking over tasks and initiating communications about them).

But the stress of the job got to me. And then there was the fact that I had a boss to report to (or rather two, including my boss’s husband). I didn’t respond well to authority, in particular when they started to change the rules. I don’t want to go into more details here, since it’s not wise. The changes were enough to make me want to go back to my freelance life, though, so that’s what I did. We agreed that they’ll hire me as a freelance translator when needed, so that gives me another customer to add to my list.

The experience taught me a lot. First of all, apparently I do not like commitment to a steady job as much as I thought I would. Also, I need a job that will allow me to keep a social life on the side, which this job left me no space for whatsoever. Oh, and I really like money, more than I cared to admit to.

And, without me realising it, IBM has become a place I return to gladly.

When I was still painting the walls here, before I’d actually moved in, I noticed [...]]]> I’ve been living in Castricum for a while now, and things are going well. My interior is improving bit by bit, I’m finally getting the feeling I’m coming home when I get here. All’s awesome on that account.

When I was still painting the walls here, before I’d actually moved in, I noticed the massive amounts of mail my mailbox gathered each day. When I’d been gone for a few days, I’d find that the mailman had stuffed the last bit in there with force. I always feel better with an empty mailbox and I got sick of all the excess paper, so I started trying to get rid of all unwanted stuff.

So when I moved in, my first move was a NEE/NEE-sticker (which says ‘no, I don’t want local newspapers and no, I don’t want flyers with commercials etc’). That solved just a fragment of it, at least the big heaps of newspapers were gone.

However, the previous inhabitants got a shitload of mail. By a shitload I mean, at least 4 pieces of it a day, varying from ads to loans to payments to magazines to lots of porn I never wanted to see. During the move, they picked up their mail several times, each time claiming they were going to cancel or move the services.

At the time I had two things: his phone number and her e-mail address. First I tried calling the guy, let’s call him Guy. I talked to him, he said ‘sure I’ll come pick up the mail next weekend’, I stayed home all weekend and called again. No answer, no Guy. I tried that again, then it actually succeeded because I said I’d throw it out if he didn’t drop by. He solemnly pledged to move all the services in his mail. He didn’t, not even a single one of them.

Some time later I’d gathered a new big pile, and I thought I’d be kind. I asked for their new address in an e-mail I sent the girl, let’s call her Girl. I happily got it, because Girl knew it’d be way easier to have a free mail forwarding service than to pick it up themselves. I sent them a costly package by mail once, knowing it’d solve nothing.

Anger was building up, but now I had a tool: their new address. At that point I started keeping up with whatever I got, how I dealt with it and what the result was. Everything I could easily send back with the right address on it, I did. If I found an easy phone number, I called it. I made absolutely sure every service was moved instead of deleted. Perhaps that’s evil, but then I couldn’t resist. It was the one way I could show them how much I care about their mail getting to them properly!

I have some stats for the amount of mail I got. I started this file on 5 april 2010, lots and lots of mail had already passed before I started indexing it. So that’s 5 months worth of mail. The file shows I’ve had mail from 27 different companies, and most of them didn’t get the first notice of the address change. I missed a few things while indexing, so I estimate I got around 85-90 pieces of mail (27 times 3, give or take a few, some companies were really persistent). A few themes were big with them: scouting, charities, diabetes and porn. The charities were particularly difficult to cancel. The highlight of this adventure was when I got a nice anonymous package delivered. Two cockrings, addressed to Guy.

Now my mailbox is relatively quiet. I do still receive Quest, a monthly magazine full of fun facts. Quest doesn’t care if their payment gets bounced or their letters get returned, I still get the magazine. It’s good reading material for in the bathroom. Next to that, I still receive mail from WWF (bunch of sad pandas they must be) and every now and then a new type of loan. I wonder when they’re going to send me flowers. They’d certainly look better on my coffee table than that pile of paper…

I’m one of very few people, I imagine (perhaps I’m wrong), who’ve never considered being overweight as anything other than their own fault. I blamed lots of factors in my life, but nothing which I had no control over. I thought it must be the eating pattern I [...]]]> Well I’m posivitely flabberghasted. Here’s why.

I’m one of very few people, I imagine (perhaps I’m wrong), who’ve never considered being overweight as anything other than their own fault. I blamed lots of factors in my life, but nothing which I had no control over. I thought it must be the eating pattern I had when living with my family (my mother is overweight as well), combined with the lack of exercise. Since I only tried to go on a diet once and failed miserably at that, I figured I simply wasn’t trying enough.

Yet I don’t eat lots of food, like people have always assumed. I’ve witnessed the astonishment of many friends as I claimed to be full while they expected me to want at least a second plate. I’ve never liked those responses, yet I can’t blame them. If I saw a fat person I’d think exactly the same. The problems I have with eating are a) I need more vegetables b) I need to ignore things like one-euro-snacks at train stations c) I need to schedule my eating pattern a bit better. These factors are reasons for being a bit overweight, but not for being like me. I gained weight over the last couple of years, doing nothing at all different from when I didn’t gain much weight before. Oh and you might not believe this, but I actually tend to forget to eat. Or drink. It doesn’t make much sense really.

A few weeks ago I had an introductory meeting at my new physician. A few days before that meeting took place, my dad collapsed from heart failure, and he was admitted into the hospital. It was bad but he’s still alive and back home, thank goodness. It’ll take about half a year before he gets to go back to work again. When I went to the meeting with my doctor, I was more than a bit shaken up by this (I don’t want to go down that road) and I told her about that. She asked if anything was bothering me and I started about my weight. I’d get a dietitian and a blood test to rule out certain malfunctions in my body.

Parallel to this story, is another story about my dentist who told me ‘hey you don’t have much saliva’. I said ‘well I have next to no tears either’, which was determined last year. He ordered a test at the hospital to exclude a disease which might cause both, called Sjögren. So Friday morning I went there and the surgeon asked me about my weight, and I thought ‘not this again’. He asked me about a number of other symptoms which I could confirm. Really, talking to a dental surgeon about your digestion is the weirdest thing ever. Then, he explained he asked me this because he thought my thyroid (NL: schildklier) wasn’t working as it should be, and there should be a blood test to confirm that. Well of course I’d already had that blood test a few days earlier. The results were just in and they confirmed it: my thyroid is working too slowly.

With my thyroid not doing its job, a diet wouldn’t have helped a thing. If I get a cure for my thyroid, I get a cure that will help me lose weight, decrease my paranoia, depression and fatigue, and fix other more minor problems I’ve had. Now all I need to do is wait until I get to see the doctor on Wednesday, and I will be a lot wiser for it. With a cure I might just lose weight for the first time ever. I can’t wait!