Persuasion

Last evening my friend, Marjon, stayed overnight. We had a delicious night, watching a Jane Austin film and drinking hot chocolate. The film we watched is called Persuasion, which is my all time favorite of the Jane Austin stories. Most people don’t really notice. I think it’s my favorite because I learned an important lesson from it. I was thinking about the Jane Austin stories recently and realized that most, if not all, of them have a very important lesson that comes with them. I can’t remember them all, but there are a few.

Pride and Prejudice (the current rage) – don’t let your pride put you above others, and don’t form a prejudice about a person based on what you see…there’s always more to the person inside (and sometimes those who you deem as more worthy of your company have much less inside).

Persuasion – don’t try to make up people’s minds for them. Listen to them, but don’t try to make them do things your way. You could end up stealing their happiness away from them.

Mansfield Park – true love comes in the form of a best friend, not in the pretty face or flamboyant personality.

Sense and Sensibility – stay true to the love of your heart, and that love will come to honor you and make you happier than you thought possible in return. (it’s been a long time since I’ve read it, so it’s not fresh in my mind. I can’t think of the entirety of the moral behind it, but a small part at the very least).

Emma – you have plenty enough to be busy with in your own life. You don’t need to concern yourself with the lives of others, especially if that concern has to do with matchmaking. Let people find their own perfect match.

I haven’t yet read “Northanger Abbey” and “Lady Susan”. I guess that they’ll have to be added to my “to read” list. First, I have a few Dutch books that I have to finish and then perhaps I’ll be able to tackle those two.

Persuasion was my favorite because I'd noticed that I was often, if not always, busy trying to persuade my sisters when it came to their relationships. I always had an opinion and was always quick to give it. After reading the book I came to realize that even if my opinions had been right (which isn't necessarily true) I had made my sisters' lives much more uncomfortable through my opinions, suggestions, and persuasions. Sometimes I still play the part of the persuader. Maybe it has nothing to do with a person's love life. Maybe it has to do with a person's family relations, or how to raise their kids (I'm not really qualified to comment on that entirely), or maybe on how they should live their lives or what choices they ought to make. I don't really want to play that part, but then, I'm not perfect and am still learning very much.

What have I been doing?

Well, I guess I’ve neglected this thing for long enough. Ever since I’ve been back home for Christmas I’ve seem to lost my desire to keep up with my blog. Perhaps it’s because I’m tired of broadcasting things over the internet. Perhaps it’s because I suddenly became aware that people were reading, which means that they were able to see a bit into how I was feeling or doing. Maybe it’s because I know if I write all that I do, see, and experience that perhaps I’ll be bombarded by opinions about whether it was fun, stupid, right, or wrong. I’m not precisely sure why. But, I’ve definitely lost an inspiration. Sitting behind my computer and spending time with it is less and less desirable as the days go by. The only time I find pleasure in it is when I’m chatting/talking to a family member or a friend.

What have I been doing? The usual. I’ve watched four little kids, almost way too much. I’ve taken care of them, fed them, scolded them, and joked with them. We talk a lot. On weekends I try to keep busy with friends. That may become more difficult now because one just moved further away from me, and she was the one that I spent the most time with. However, I’ve also been able to hang out with others. Perhaps that will give a small remedy for the loss I feel, though it won’t give a whole. I’ve been trying to learn more. I’ve been learning more words in Dutch. I’ve come to know more people and to be able to converse with them freely. In fact, the last two weeks have been rather amazing for me because I’ve spent so very much time talking to people in Dutch. I liked that. I liked it very much.

Two weekends ago I hung out with friends. We went bowling. I’ll tell about this night because it was very fun. I enjoyed myself immensely. I, my friend Dorien, her boyfriend (Eric), his friend (Maartin) and friend’s girlfriend (Marlou), and another girl (Ingrid) went bowling. We were six, obviously. We bowled from 8:15 until 9:00, at which time we were required to stop. The night was young when we had to stop, and none of us really felt like heading home. So, I was told I needed to decide what we were to do. The options weren’t very good, at all, which made the choice rather easy. I chose that we would go to a place called “Big Daddy’s”. That place is a kind of bar/place to dance/place to get drinks and snacks/and a place to play pool. Basically, you pay to hang out, and it’s full of music and smoke. (Anybody freaking out yet? Shaking their heads?) The last thing that I mentioned to do, playing pool, is the one that took up all of my attention.

My first three shots were try-out shots at the game. They all went perfectly into the pockets of the table. After my friends saw this they formed the opinion that I was good at the game. We began a game, and I managed to not get one ball in for the whole game. Pretty terrible. After a few terrible games like this I started to watch Eric, Maartin, and Marlou because they all seemed to know what they were doing. I noticed one difference between me and them, but only one. Finally, Maartin decided to teach me how to play pool. He told me all the hints that he could. He showed me how to aim, how to shoot, how to hold the stick best, where to hit the target ball…everything he could. I must’ve been a good pupil because he’s bragged about me the only other time I’ve seen him, which was this weekend. I thought it quite funny.

How did I like pool? I like it very much and wish that I had the facilities to practice more often. I thought my mother might be upset when I told her I played pool in a bar, but she got all excited and said she’d been wanting to buy a pool table for a long time. Of course, that will never happen. But, yes, I enjoy it very much indeed. It’s a thinking game, a strategy game. But it’s a strategy game where you also get to physically move. I like that. I like it so much that Maartin and I have an agreement to play one more time before I leave. I don’t know when that will be, and I don’t know who will join us, but I’m looking forward to it greatly.

An example of a child's excitablility

Kids are amazing creatures. They find the simplest, and sometimes the grossest, things very interesting and exciting. The kids that I watch aren’t very different. Here is a great example of that.

On Sunday I was sitting with my host family, listening to them talk to guests. It was January 8th, which is a very important day. That is Djura’s birthday. She turned 7 years old on Sunday. The visitors had come specifically because it was Djura’s birthday. Everyone was happy, the kids were wild (specifically, our boys were wild…but that’s not very abnormal), and we were all busy talking.

Towards the end of the visit, Karsten decided to go use the bathroom. He really had to go. He’d been in the restroom for quite some time when he finally called for his dad. His dad had to wipe him (yes, folks, when kids are younger you start out wiping them, especially if they have gone poop. If you don’t like that fact, don’t have kids. I will tell you now, it’s better than changing a diaper!). Jack went in and wiped Karsten. When they were finished, Karsten came running into the living room. Apparently, before Karsten flushed the toilet he took a moment to look down into the toilet, thus noting his feces. How do I know this? When Karsten came running into the living room, he was very excited and shouted out in the midst of us all, “I pooped out the cross of Jesus!!!!”

The footprints

I’d just arrived home, realizing the instability of life. Having just returned from a wake held for a good guy that was younger than me it was perfectly natural for a bit of a melancholy to settle over me. I was home with only my parents, but still, I decided to run away.

I changed into some jeans and a warm shirt, wrapped a scarf around my neck and slipped into my heavy winter jacket. I borrowed boots from my mother and traveled into another world.

The door I walked through was nothing special. It wasn’t a wardrobe door or a stargate. It wasn’t even a magical door, though it was pretty enough to be one. It was my front door. Outside there was a deep and fresh snow on the ground. No tracks covered it beyond our house. Nobody had been past recently. I set off, heading away from people, and trekked my way through the ever-deepening snow. At the stop sign, not far from my house, I turned back to have a look. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was quiet.

I continued on. I looked at the snow with the admiration that such a snow deserves. The snow was still falling, actually. The flakes were large and soft. They gently landed on everything, myself included. It didn’t take long for the fragile flakes to melt into my hair. It was only a little longer before my hair was entirely wet. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to walk, to look. To think.

A lot of people sing about a “winter wonderland”. It is a wonderland, really. How can it be anything else? It’s always feels like a wonderful thing to me when I turn around and look back at where I’ve come from and I find only my footprints in the snow. But regardless of that lone set of footprints, something at the back of my mind reminds me that somebody has been this way before, no matter how it may appear. Just look all around. Houses line the street. You stand on a road. But still, at this point in time you are alone. And so are your footprints. But look again. Your prints are almost gone, filled in by that softly falling snow. And soon, somebody else will walk this way and feel like they are also alone. But they aren’t. And neither are you.