I will play

Maybe one day
When they’ve thrown me to the ground
One will be there
To hand me the cord in welcome
Offering the white flower of peace and protection
I don’t know by what name they will call me
But I will answer and play.





I guess I found a new source of inspiration for writing, finally.


starfishskies pony


While the guys were working on another pony related project including a lot of cables, LEDs, and an Arduino, I decided to finish painting a weird nightsky on a pony. There is a starfish, my three favourite constellations – Orion, the Big Dipper, Delphinus, and a bunch of random stars. My little Starfishskies … welcome to my crazy world.

University will start again on Tuesday.

Favourite Friday: what I like about my body

This is something I’ve wanted to write about for quite a while now, but when I watched the TED talk I posted above, I decided this would be a good time to do so. There is so much pressure on us about meeting beauty standards and yada yada yada. I believe you know what I’m talking about.

So instead of pointing out my flaws, I want to share what I like about my less-than-perfect body. Nobody has a perfect body without physical or digital surgery.

Let’s start down to earth. I like my feet for carrying me. They are less than perfect, but they are strong. I play Capoeira, which is a sport practised barefoot most of the time. So my feet are not exactly smooth as baby skin, but they serve me very well.

I like the strengths in my tights, gained from horseback riding for some years during my childhood and early teenage years, and maintained by lots of walking.

I enjoy the flexibility of my body – and the fact that there is room for improvement. I have quite a bit of natural flexibility, but it took me about one year to be able to turn over from standing on all fours into a backbend without falling over, and it felt amazing when it worked.

I came to terms with the fact that I’m more on the flat-chested side. You know what? Now that I’m no longer in school were I had to fit in and all, my shape gives me more freedom than having a D-cup would do. I can forgo uncomfortable wired underwear and replace it by a snug tank-top layered with a t-shirt and be good to go. I can do push-ups and other weird not very ladylike movements without squeezing my chest to death. I don’t have to worry about jiggling.

I like my freckles. I don’t care about people who imply they are something to get rid off. Without my freckles, I’d  be pale and boring. They make me look young and healthy, I think. And they give me a reason not to cover my face in thick layers of make-up, because without my freckles I also look weird and flat.

I’m happy my hair is long now. A long braid is very comfortable and easy to maintain, and it looks nice with about all outfits. I like my braid.

While I don’t love my eye-colour too much, I’m okay with it and sometimes I also like it. My eyes are of a greyish blue, somewhat looking like rain clouds.


What do you like about your body?


green kitchen

The last few days I spent too much of my free time looking at Fisheye Placebo art in Yuumei’s deviantART gallery and her Tumblr. (You can read the whole comic/graphic novel on tapastic http://tapastic.com/series/fisheye for free! Go check it out!)

Well, the combination of the cherry trees blooming our city and seeing this picture too often …

Fisheye Placebo: Background Concept Art 2, Artist: Yuumei (Wenqing Yan), Original on deviantART: http://fav.me/d5sxdof

… resulted in our kitchen turning greenhouse:

There are some cherry branches in water, because I read that they might grow roots, but you have to take off the blossoms so they don’t use all their energy on these. In the tiny pot there are some lemon seeds, and today’s addition is the juice-to-go plastic cup. I put soil, moss, a stone, a random tiny plant from our roof inside, together with some ivy from the big jar on the cupboard, to create a small “ecosphere”.

The ivy and the other green plant have been on the kitchen cupboard before, but “other green plant” has a new offshoot, which is now dangling into a jar of water to grow roots, too. Not included in these pictures are the flower box and the flower pot, which are sitting on the window sill as well. In these I planted cucumbers, carrots, garden radish, and kohlrabi some days ago – and they are already sprouting like crazy! And I put a piece of broccoli stem halfway into the soil as well, maybe it will also grow new roots?

once in a lifetime

There are some once-in-lifetime experiences. Sometimes you know it before or while they happen, but sometimes you understand  it only afterwards. There are small things, and bit things.

See the picture in the side-bar of my blog? The big bales of straw? I don’t know if I’ll ever find myself between such huge bales on a sunny day again.

Some of the few positive memories of school include physics and drama class. I miss the simple fun and beauty of laughing about a frozen hydrogen fuel cell on an experimental model car, or sitting in the grass with our teacher eating ice-cream and waiting for our zeppelin-ballon to get warm enough to float. We played funny games to practise acting, and the second real play we staged was pretty complicated and I got the female lead. Speaking in front of a whole hall without a microphone on two evenings, barefoot and in a simple blue dress my mother had sewn and prepped with some dirt. That weekend? A once in a lifetime experience. (I had to stop acting the year before my final exams, because the physics teacher thought it took to much of my time … I shouldn’t have listened to him.)

Even when I’ll visit Ireland again someday,  I won’t be able to recreate the day during our final school trip when we took a bus tour along the Ring of Kerry, stopping for visiting the remnants of old convents and napping on the lawns in their yards, bathing our feet in the warm Atlantic ocean while eating cheese-strings our teacher had brought (I never had eaten them before and haven’t had any since then), and getting  sunburns all over our shoulders. One evening during our stay we went to the local national park and watched the foggy sunset over Ross Castle and Lough Leane, then on the way back we enjoyed ourselves while hopping like Leprechauns to avoid all the horse droppings on the path.

The funny little events during my gap year? They won’t come back. Secretly drinking alcohol out of tiny clay jars on the meadow behind a shack one night, trying to watch “Underworld” from a computer screen with four or five persons while sitting/lying on the floor of a conference room, having an ice-skate disco with the village on the artificial lake in winter and getting startled by big toads there in summer, talking English for a whole day straight for the first time, learning to play Bananagrams from some old ladies and getting my own set as a gift, being confused by the idea of gluing tacky fabrics into a photo album, and many more tiny moments of wonder, surprise, or plain fun.

Even if I might return to Kenya one day, I can’t replicate the simple magic of the first time drank hot cocoa on the front porch and watched the sun rise over a patch of rainforest all by myself, or chasing off geese with a stick so they won’t bite me while going to the neighbours sugar-cane yard with a borrowed machete, and later getting laughed at for choosing way too young canes.

I don’t know if and when my parents might move away from my home town. But when they’ll do so, I don’t know if I’d ever go back there, as there won’t be anything left for me other than trying to remember how it felt to come home from university after half a year or even a whole one, and discovering new parts of the town. One summer night when I went for a walk in the oldest streets I found trees illuminated by fairy lights in the front yard of a small restaurant. Next summer they still were there, but expecting them I didn’t feel the sense of wonder, the awe of seeing them for the first time out of the midnight blue.

Since we moved to what I now call my “home town” about two decades ago, I have visited my childhood village only once. There’s nothing left for me but blurred memories of a monument by the forest, rows of yew trees, apple blossoms in the garden, and horses some houses away, and meeting people whose names and faces I can’t recall. It was a beautiful day though, both the early morning in the car (I even wrote a poem on the way, you can read it in the poetry section of my blog) and the bright, warm day in the village; we even met my best friend from back then who had also come home for the church anniversary and we took some pictures with her. I’ll always treasure that day.

I don’t know if there’ll ever be a new year’s eve as beautiful as the one right after Darling and I fell in love. We had a party at a friend’s house and went out to a snow covered hill – there’s rarely that much snow in December here – so we were at a safe distance from all the fireworks but completely surrounded by them as we still were inside the city. Again, it was so magical I wrote a short poem.

The first time I wandered under a whole sky of pink cherry blossoms? Priceless sense of wonder, pure bliss. Just like the first sunset over the channel and its ships I watched. First own apartment. Suddenly realising that I had made friends at university. Getting married and celebrating in a room decked in ivy and white blossom, arranged by my own hands. The first time the adorable child of friends from church suddenly gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. And way back, the first time I held the small camera I still use in my hands, suddenly being able to create much better visual memories than before.

You see, sometimes I’m a little bit sentimental, but without beautiful memories I wouldn’t be able to dream and create positive things.

Quick meal: cheesy Brussels Sprouts

I cooked Brussels Sprouts to have them with my ravioli yesterday, but didn’t really like that green stuff. So today I tried if they are better with cheese. They are. Everything is better with cheese. Okay, maybe not true for chocolate.

How to fix it:

Put a handful of cooked Brussels Sprouts in an oven-proof bowl, then cover with cheese generously. (I used some leftover Gouda and just cut it into small pieces, but properly grated cheese would work better, I guess.) Microwave it until the cheese is molten so you can mash everything up (I used a fork for that). Mix it with onion salt, if needed repeat the microwaving and mashing. Enjoy.