My last nights have been bad. I had nightmares, almost every night. Completely out of the blue and in no relation at all with my life. Most times, the nightmares are about my kids or my mom. And I reached a point where I prefer not to sleep at all out of fear to have a nightmare again. But, to be honest, no sleep is not an option either… It makes me even moodier than I usually am. But hey… The kids think that I am easy-going these days. That’s something, isn’t it?
I am spending my nights differently… Taking selfies and putting one million filters on them. (Or only two: vignette and b/w)
Reading stories on the mighty internet, or reading books; watching movie after movie; playing stupid games on my phone… Whatever kills time.
Released in 1996 and directed by James Foley. Awesome thriller with Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon and many other known faces. A love that turns into an obsession… One of those movies I have seen too many times. And also one of the first times that I got in touch with the music of Bush.
Seeing that the film is 23 years old, it is charmingly outdated too
Some writers like to stay incognito. Most bloggers prefer to stay unknown. I am a little different. I think once in a while it is good to see the people behind the screen and the eyes of of the writers. I also like to share pictures of my handwriting. Not because it is particularly pretty, but it completes an image. I am an open book anyway.
Like me or not. See me or ignore me. I am here… There is a lot of me, and I have some moments of awesomeness.
My book “Unquiet Minds” is still available on Amazon. And in my inbox. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
I am 35. I feel old today. But I also feel young. I received an invite to a school reunion. I was 12 when I saw most of these people for the last time. Now I look at their pictures and some look old, and I look like me. Do I look old for them too? I don’t feel like 35. How is one supposed to feel at this or that age? I have no idea. But. And this is important. I am happy and I am very comfortable in my skin these days. A fact that is not always true. Right now it is. Don’t worry, I am not in a midlife crisis even though I am repeating my age. I just like the sound of it. 35.
The pic was taken today. I dressed up and straightened my hair for work this morning. I was filmed. Hey… I never said that I am not vain.
Enough space take with nonsense. I wouldn’t share the pic if I didn’t like it.
Hello, it’s me. I am feeling the summer. Took a selfie with a little blurring effect… I wish you all a great weekend.
(Just dry skin on my lip… Nothing else. No scar, no injury, nothing else… Just dry lips. 😉 )
Is a 35 year old still cute? Moments ago, I was called that and I wondered immediately if I am too old to be called cute. I can’t take compliments well.
How cute am I?
My tiredness is amplified in the mirror. Swollen eyes… Overflowing emotions…
Getting rid of the long hair was a big deal for me. 40cm (16inch) were cut. I always looked young. I look even younger now. Quite weird actually. This change of hairstyle happened spontaneously (on a whim) and after many years of being proud of my long hair.
While my kids aren’t fans of the short do (my daughter cried!!), I honestly love it and most people seem to like it too. (Or they are just being polite.)
I can’t really put into words how this feels. But I am happy 🙂
So, a nice man was paying me compliments for this picture. First he asked if it was an old picture, then he said that ‘No, it can’t be, it takes years to become this beautiful’. I admit, it worked. I blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.
Besides, I would not share a picture of myself that I don’t like. I like my eyes on this one, and my hair. The shadow on my face (from the rearview mirror) is annoying though. Just felt like sharing a picture of me again.
This is the same person who fell asleep while watching a movie for the first time tonight. Which movie, you ask? Logan. Yep… I slept through Logan, then I dragged myself to the bathroom and to bed in a semi-asleep state. And now I am wide awake. That’s me.