The loving continues...
A Little About Allison: Allison and I grew up in the same town and even went to college in the same town. Though a lovable goof, she is tres intelligent and is now in Arizona where she intends to receive her DMD, Doctor of Dental Medicine. Coincidentally enough, she too is a Dutch American like me.
Commence Wooing
Hey, baby, I think there's something in my teeth, do you think you could get it out for me? No, you won't be needing any of those silver tools, hot shot! ;-)
Notice anything different about me? That's right, I brushed my teeth just for you, this morning! Now I don't want you to think I'm some sort of dandy or anything, but I also flossed! Wait, what? You're supposed to do that every day? Oh...
Dream Date: First, we would make pannenkoeken, which are kind of like crêpes, except thicker and with things embedded in them. Then I would take her to a night club where we would have fun dancing. And if it were my dream date and not our dream date, the night would conclude with a make out session in a dentist chair, but I understand you don't want to mix work with pleasure. So, I think we'll end the night by making exquisite sundaes involving hot fudge and bits of marzipan.
Okay, so the last entry gave advice to single people, so I feel like I owe a little morsel to my lovers out there who already have other lovers.
When I was in tenth grade, a girl asked me what romantic thing she could do to impress her boyfriend. Here's what I came up with:
Everybody expects chocolate on Valentine's Day, maybe even more so than flowers. Luckily, they're conveniently packaged in hearts to let our significant others know “I love you AND I remembered that you love chocolate!” But lovers of the world, you can do more.
Not too much more; you don't want to exhaust yourself silly before your big date. But here's a simple way to take a very standard gift and make it your own.
Go ahead and buy one of those heart-shaped packages and make a list of reasons you love your significant other. There should be as many reasons as there are chocolates in that package. Write those reasons on little pieces of paper and place one under each chocolate. That way, each time your lover picks up a piece of chocolate to eat, they get to read a new reason why you love them!
And the best part is that if you can't come up with a reason for each chocolate, you know it's time to move on and find someone new!
Okay, so this entry isn't primarily about New Year's Eve, so here's a quick wrap up of the events:
I had no clue where I was going for the first 18 hours of the day. My bro told me the night before that his friends wanted a bartender at their party, and I agreed. It was for free of course, but I want to be able to boast experience. So, I was waiting by my cell phone all day waiting for Thijs (my bro) to call me and tell me where to go.
He gave me the address and I headed over and started pouring drinks for people. My specialty that night was the Manhattan, because that's what I came prepared to pour. Then I started exploring the hosts' liquor cabinet and realized I could make some Scarlett O'Haras, which is Southern Comfort and cranberry juice, with a splash of sour mix. There wasn't any sour mix at the time, so I did without it, but they went over well, nevertheless. Thijs eventually brought sour mix, so I made someone a whiskey sour, which is a favorite of mine.
I received an awesome fortune cookie that said “Because of your melodic nature, the moonlight never misses an appointment.” I'd explain to you what I think that means, but I think it would lose its poetry in the process. I can assure you, it seems fitting for me.
When the ball in New York reached 2010, it hit me: I needed to fulfill the most important New Year's tradition: the first kiss of the year. I looked around. Total sausage fest, except for some ladies, who were otherwise spoken for. I asked if the guests could excuse me for ten minutes, which they could. I ran across the parking lot (it was an apartment complex) and ran to another party I knew of and got my first kiss.
When I went home, I planned this entry on a notecard and then went to bed. It's not lame! It's part of my resolution to be more organized in every endeavor, so I don't waste too much time. Okay, onto the meat of the entry.
I've realized there's a theme to holidays I truly love and holidays that don't do much to impress me. There are two basic types: social and domestic. Below is a list of examples:
| Social | Domestic |
| New Year's Eve | Christmas |
| Halloween | Thanksgiving |
| St. Patrick's Day | Easter |
And if I were in New Orleans, Mardi Gras would be counted among the social holidays. I would love to go down there for that holiday! I bet it's even better than Halloween.
Social Holidays
Social holidays are holidays you spend with friends outside your own home unless you're hosting. I'm quite the social butterfly, so I thrive off of these kinds of parties.
Growing up, Halloween was pretty much one of two social holidays. The other was the Fourth of July, which has become less social in the latter half of my life. Halloween was, and still is, my absolute favorite. It was the one holiday there was an aspect I had complete creative control over: the costume. I could be anything I wanted! And then my parents would drop me off at my friends and we could trick-or-treat without parental supervision. It felt incredibly free.
As a child, I was already afraid of growing too old to trick-or-treat. I therefore, continued to trick-or-treat through my last day of high school. I also had a particularly lame Halloween in college where I didn't have anything planned, so I grabbed my roommate, Eli, and we went trick-or-treating in our dorm, both dressed as Willy Wonka. We got some candy, a beer, and a whole lot of condoms. Also, people were delighted to see us, so I guess we gave smiles in return.
What I didn't get as a child is that I wouldn't want to trick-or-treat later on in life. I looked so forward to having children so I could take them trick-or-treating. Now that I'm in my early twenties, I'm into the party/bar scene. And I DREAD having children to drag me away from that.
New Year's Eve started as a domestic holiday for me. But I'm going to count this holiday. For a short period of time in my life, my parents would take me to the Netherlands every year for New Year's Eve, and that was fantastic! It was still domestic in that it was spent with family, but man! Do the Dutch know how to celebrate New Year's Eve! You know, I have no clue where I'll be working next year, but if I can, I should go to the Netherlands so I can write about it in this blog!
Anyway, the Dutch like to send off the old year with explosive fireworks! To explain to my friends in the wussy state of Massachusetts, these aren't far off fireworks you get to view from a mile away. No, these are up close and personal, blow up your neighbors' mailboxes fireworks!
To be honest, New Year's Eve just isn't the same in America, but at least I get to see friends. I think I'll have to try to find myself in a bar on my next New Year's Eve that's spent on this side of the pond, either as a bartender or as a customer.
Being not remotely Irish, I didn't quite get St. Patrick's Day growing up. Then last year I went to the Harp, a local Irish bar, and it was packed! I guess everyone is a bit Irish on St. Paddy's! My friend Will likes to tell everyone about his “Irish name” on that day. What he means by that is his nearest Irish ancestor's last name. I forgot what it is. All I have are Dutch names on either side, so I tell people to call me Mr. O'Vries that night as opposed to de Vries.
Actually, I have a very unfortunate name in terms of Irish-izing. O'Vries? Sounds kind of like ovaries. And if I add “Mc-,” I get McVries, which almost looks like McFries, which gives a fast food sort of feel to my name. It's much easier to Francify my name since everyone already seems to do that. “Hey, Paul. No, not you, Paul Jackson, Paul de Vree.” Folks, I love French culture, I really do. But I cannot stress enough that my name is Dutch, not French, and the Dutch pronounce everything. As a joke, I now spell my name as “Paul de Vrix” on occasion.
Domestic Holidays
Thanksgiving has always been an abusive holiday. So many side dishes, and even taking a thimble of each, my stomach is bursting at its seams, and I swear off food for eternity! This is not possible, because when I see leftovers, I must dispose of them, the proper way. I'm not anorexic, but my body hates that kind of excess, and my mouth doesn't know how to say no to it.
Christmas is of course a joy, but I wouldn't say it's my favorite. My fellow classmates thought I was weird since this wasn't my favorite holiday because of all the gifts, but I hear psychologists say that experiences make us happier than material possessions. So, I think I got it right!
Of course, Christmas has some social moments, such as holiday parties and Christmas caroling and... why the heck did the only holiday party I go to not have mistletoe? I mean, I liked it, it was fun, and I was bartender... Oh well, most of the people there worked at Best Buy and played video games, so it's not like they would have known what to do with mistletoe!
Let's face it. When you're too old to get huge baskets full of toys and goodies, Easter has nothing left to offer.
You'll notice I left out St. Valentine's Day. This is a weird holiday, which I suspect only exists to make all of us, couples (I call them two-people hive minds) and singles uncomfortable! But, I save that for a later entry, since it is slowly creeping upon us.
I'll be damned, though, if I let that smug Cupid's holiday get the better of me!
2009 started differently than 2008 in that I had a car for the first time in my life. A silver 2002 Nissan Sentra. This meant more mobility, but also more bills to pay. Yes, I take the bad with the good. I also started and continued writing a novel throughout the year.
Winter's a bit of a blur right now, and I will not endeavor to remember things that were clearly not worth remembering.
Perhaps, though, I will encounter them again tomorrow when I read through my diary entries of 2009. I'm a bit nervous about that activity. In the earlier part of the year, I only ran to my diary when really upset, so I'm expecting it to be a painful experience. But one I can learn from for the next year.
Karaoke
One thing I thought I was going to blog about, but ended up not, was the Western Massachusetts Karaoke Idol contest. I decided to optimize my chances by entering at two bars: Sport City Grille at the Spare Time bowling alley in Northampton, and the Silk City Taproom in Florence.
Two start up songs I did at both were “Touch Me” by the Doors and “Paint It Black” by the Rolling Stones. At the end of the former, I did indeed “touch me” in the Silk City Taproom, which caused one of the judges to raise an eyebrow. When giving critique, though, he compared my energy to Jim Morrison's, whom he saw perform, so I was very flattered.
That was the only night that judge came, and I missed him, because he didn't always agree with the other judge. For simplicity's sake, let's call the judge who flattered me “Jim Morrison” and the other judge “Mr. Notascool.” Anyway, Jim Morrison, I think went onto bigger and better things, and Mr. Notascool continued judging, and I think the judge they got to replace Jim Morrison must have been Mr. Notascool's girlfriend. On what grounds? Well, they would stare longingly into each other's eyes before each round started, and I swear Mrs. Notascool would always say “what he said” for her commentary.
I got in the top ten at the bowling alley, but I blew out early for poor musical choice. My girlfriend meant well when she suggested I sing “Big Shot” by Billy Joel, but I knew I should have practiced more. I think that's what knocked me out. But I don't want to dwell on it, because it's a painful memory. Not sad. Just awkward.
I decided I would have to step up my game in the Silk City Taproom. I went to CVS and bought a bunch of bags of candy. Went home, filled up a Ziploc with gumdrops, and another with milk duds. I then took my favorite blue jacket and attached dangling lollipops to the inside, so when I opened it, they would dangle like stolen watches. Get the picture? I took the rest of the candy and put it in a paper bag, went on the stage and rocked “Candy Man” as covered by Sammy Davis, Jr., as yes a “candy dealer.” Needless to say, the crowd went wild and I advanced to the top five.
That's as far as I went, though, with Mr. Notascool finding my choice of Elvis's “Can't Help Falling In Love” not exciting enough. Perhaps he's right. I wish I had saved “Paint It Black” or “Touch Me” for this round, but that's the challenge with Karaoke contests. If you're not thinking about the final round while trying to advance the first couple of rounds, you blow out your best material early.
Teacher
I also was a long term substitute for Amherst Regional High School teacher Ms. Shea. That was a fun experience, and though the kids at times made me want to pull my hair out, in the end I have warm memories of how they made me laugh.
It was a classroom full of computers, so they inevitably found this blog. That was one reason I stopped updating my blog. I thought they would stop reading if I stopped writing. It makes me a bit uncomfortable knowing students are looking. I think this blog kind of reveals just how young I am. 24 ain't too old!
Holland
Because of my substitute position, I had to miss my cousin's wedding. The rest of my family went, and my loving Oma (that's grandmother in Dutch) decided that it would be a shame if I didn't get to go, so she bought a ticket for me and spoiled me rotten while I was there.
My other Oma (my mom's mom) was in the hospital at the time. She, too, had to miss the wedding, which was worse for her, I'm sure. She was recovering, though, when my dear cousin, Heleen, and I went to visit her. Heleen and I got to hang out a lot for the week I was able to be there. It had to only be a week, because shortly after, I had to fly back to Amherst for my summer school gig teaching Algebra.
We went to Volendam, a well-preserved fishing village, where the people wore funny pantaloons and wooden shoes well into the twentieth century. We had a picture of ourselves taken in historical costume. I still need to scan the photo so I can put it on-line. It's pretty funny.
Heleen also showed me Utrecht, the city she calls home. My brother was right when he described it as a more beautiful, less touristy version of Amsterdam. Yes, that means there was no pot or red light districts. Or maybe there was, but it was harder to find. We went up a huge bell tower and then ate at a Greek restaurant sitting right by a canal.
I also got the chance to visit Delft for the first time. Inspired by the movie The Girl with the Pearl Earring, I boarded a train and traveled the city alone. It was the most beautiful city I have ever seen in Holland! I really should have written this when it was fresher in my mind, but it felt like I was stepping into a time machine.
I got to see Johannes Vermeer's grave... I think... but there were two markers for him in the “Old Church.” One had his name and was very small. In a lot of old Dutch churches, you will see names on the floor, because you're walking on people's graves. Since Vermeer died poor, he was buried standing up to save space. What an idiot! He should have sold his paintings, I mean, doesn't he know how much a Vermeer can fetch? Like, he could have even sold one and kept the rest so his kids could have security.
I also went to Amsterdam! And quite by accident, I found myself in _____! There were _____ being advertised everywhere, and people were _____ for everyone to see! I checked my wallet. I clearly had the funds to _____ with a _____, and though it would have made a good story, I decided it was best not to. But I did end up _____ a _____, and I stayed clear away from _____.
While in Amsterdam, visited the Old Jewish Quarter and saw the Amsterdam-based American Improve troop: Boom Chicago. They were hilarious, especially if you're a Dutch American like me, since their material relied heavily on making fun of Dutch culture and American culture.
Summer School
I don't feel like I can write too much about this, but it was quite the experience. I think I want a vasectomy, though.
Heartbreak
I worked for two months at the International Programs Office at Umass. It was great to encounter students who actually saw me as human on a daily basis. My coworkers were quite lovely, and I miss them dearly.
After working there for a couple of weeks, I felt quite at home. As my coworker, April, said, it was indeed like having several moms in one place. And fathers, too! They were all going to support me when I participated in Amherst Idol, which, I suspect I was kicked out of for my dance moves. When the Candy Man doesn't come prepared with props, he resorts to gyrating. I can't help it. I gyrate. So did Elvis, who cares? But the judges were very displeased by my performance.
It was good to have a workplace I could call home at the end of September when my girlfriend of two years left me. I don't know how much the necessity of a break up takes away from the pain, but I didn't take it well. I was able to bear a grin at work because I was comfortable there. But at home, I was drinking and physically hurting myself before going to bed.
I also took drives late at night on highways and I would think, Here I am in another state, and nobody knows or cares where I am. It was a very strange sensation, because as every boyfriend knows, he has to check in with his girlfriend every night. Especially if he's planning to go driving. On Friday I did the most self-destructive thing yet: I checked into a motel in Vermont for $66 when I had a perfectly good bed at home.
It was at this point that I decided that 2009 was a failure. Nothing could make it a good year. I would just have to wait until 2010.
Sinus Issues
Perhaps my bigger battle was with congestion. I was congested for months, making me think I had infected sinuses. Finally, I saw an Ear, Nose, Throat specialist, and he revealed that I had a deviated septum.
So, I scheduled an operation in December, and in the meantime, people had to deal with my sniveling and coughing.
Now my nose feels great, and I can breathe really really well!
Reclaiming 2009
What did I do now that my best friend had left me for good? What else but karaoke? My friend Samson suggested I go there and so I did. It was a place of healing and I made many friends.
I also made friends by having an awesome Halloween costume: I was a Werewolf.
I did my own make up, and I'm really proud of myself for choosing to wear grizzly bear slippers for their feet. I'm wearing them right now, because they're so comfy and look great with my bathrobe. The ears I made of felt and attached to my actual ears by gluing them to clip-on earrings.
It turned out to be quite the conversation piece, which helped with introductions as you can imagine.
I decided I was premature in my earlier assessment that 2009 was a failure, and that I still had a lot of time to make it an awesome year.
My coworkers and I were sad to part. Ashley, a student worker, created a cake in the shape of a bear's head that we all ate. They also asked me to serenade them, so I sang "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Elvis. I felt so happy to have worked in such a caring place.
I went back to substitute teaching after my temp job ended, which is a little annoying these days since the scheduling is done through an automatic system. I try to stay on top of the game by grabbing assignments as they come by frequently checking on-line, but I don't think the school is using me to their full potential. For instance, I should pretty much be their go-to guy for middle school math, like I was last year.
Instead, they have me working one-on-one with special needs students, which is fine, but I get paid two thirds as much for those assignments! And they're more work, too! Well, that's how the world works, I guess.
Under my mom's suggestion, I decided to take bartending classes. Mixology is really fun, and I hope I get the chance to use my skills. It would be the perfect job for an aspiring writer, I think. I'll have to work it out with the job market, though.
A year ago, I thought I would be in a much easier place than I am now. I also thought I'd be with my girl.
But being single affords me more time to write, actually. Less of it is spent cuddling and shortly thereafter arguing. This year has taken a blow on my romantic inclination, truth be told.
Actually, I reject that last sentiment! Perhaps I am hardened to the notion of love, but I am a romantic in all other aspects of life! As Oscar Wilde ever said:
To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.
And I make myself the perfect boyfriend! I have the patience to stand by myself during the tough times, because I know that together, I can make it! And nothing in this world is so dreary as long as I'm by my side.
Also, in my newly terminated relationship, I felt very old. Now I realize how much youth I have left in me (a f___ton at 24!) to get at life. No need to settle on a status quo by tomorrow.
Get a good job. I have a decent job, now, but I would love one that could get me ahead quicker. Bartending would be fun, because that can end up being very lucrative.
Go to the gym. I already do that. But specific goals are: working on a six-pack and being able to pull my own weight.
Complete a novel and submit it to publishers. It may not be the one I've been working on. My father gave me a bunch of books on writing, and I'd like to start with a really organized effort. Perhaps I should have some regularly scheduled novel time. And also, devote one day of the week to writing theory. I'll be treating it like a class, because I'm still a student in this craft.
Also, reading good fiction will help, I am sure.
Regularly update this blog. This is kind of like the gym for my writing muscles. Working outside of a plot gives me more freedom to explore themes that I can perhaps entwine into a plot.
I'm really excited for this coming year... and decade! Oh my! What a year to sign a new lease on life. And with my septum fixed, I can start it breathing easier!
Here's something I wrote the night before Thanksgiving, but I think it is also fitting for the New Year:
I am thankful for
Old friends
New friends
Friends who became better friends
Shabby friends who became better strangers
Sympathetic shoulders
Supportive family
Artists, both living and dead,
Self love (yeah, thank you, me!)
Champions fighting injustice
Puppies for still being puppies!
Amazing coworkers
An active Muse
Kittens (although, they do grow up to be cats)
Strangers who smile
Misanthropes who stay at home
Lycanthropes who plague my mind
Aspirations for helping me see the good that will come
Memories for seeing the good that has come
and Moments when I see the good that is here
- Paul de Vries
Thanksgiving Eve, 2009
That was more than a month ago, and my sentiments haven't changed.
So, I only think I reported that the operation went well, but I don't think I told you what exactly happened. My dad drove me there and I remained calm as we arrived.
I think my mom was trying to stop me from getting the operation the previous morning. She told me that it would hurt, and perhaps not even make things better. She distrusts doctors, which is ironic, seeing as she is a nurse. Or perhaps her being a nurse explains why she distrusts doctors. Nurses get to know them better than we do.
But I was determined to get the operation. So many people already recommended it to me. People who had gotten it themselves. It would be nice to have my mom on my side, though, I thought.
If the medical arguments for it wouldn't work, perhaps I could appeal to her new age side. Is there a divorced parent out there who doesn't practice something that's mystical and Eastern? My dad practices yoga and Buddhism, my mom Feng Shui.
Knowing something about all that jazz, I said, "Once I get this operation, the chi will flow through my nostrils better and probably bring me better fortune for the new year." And that convinced her.
The idea of pain didn't bother me. I was going to be put under, anyway. But when they were going to take my vitals, I started to worry that they were going to prick my finger the way they do at blood donations (always the most painful part!). How could I be so afraid of a little prick when I was very determined to go under the scalpel? Or whatever sort of tool they were going to use... I still don't know what they used.
After checking my temperature and my blood pressure (both of which were fine), they asked me to change into one of those hospital gowns, but I was allowed to keep my underpants on since they were operating on my face.
Then I walked to a stretcher and just lay there. A nurse put an IV into my vein, and that hurt a little, but not a whole lot. Then the anesthesiologist made me sign something giving him permission to knock me out before the operation. Really, how could I refuse?
There was a lot of boring lying around and waiting, and they had me take six pills designed to make me drowsy. But it got really exciting when the anesthesiologist put I don't know what into my IV. They started wheeling me away to the operation room and... did I mention I was too tall for the stretcher? My feet were dangling off the end, a dangerous position for the nurse, who was male, wheeling me to the operation room.
I think I remember actually reaching it, but then it went black. I didn't even dream. It was as if that interval of time didn't happen and I was back where I started, but extremely thirsty. Another nurse came by and I asked her when the operation was going to start. She told me it had already gone on.
I tried to sense my nose, why, I don't know. After such an operation, I should be glad to be so blissfully unaware of my nose. But I concentrated on the sensations of my nose. It was only a little bit in pain, a 1.5-2 on a scale of 1-10. At least, that was my answer when they asked. I was able to sense that there was gauze sitting at my nose.
But overwhelming any feeling in my nose was the extreme feeling of thirst I felt on my tongue. It was burning, as if someone had sandpapered it. I begged the nurse for a drink, and she told me I had to wait. And that was the longest part of the whole ordeal. Waiting to relieve my burning mouth.
My nose bled heavily during the first day, and I constantly had gauze paper sitting below it. It kept bleeding on Christmas Eve, but only a little bit on Christmas. I took frequent naps while on the Vicodin, but as of Sunday, I've been off pain killers, and I don't feel any pain.
Tomorrow is my follow up appointment, which, according to some, is the most painful part. They take out the supports from the nose, which is a bit frightening. Wish they could put me under for that.
But final exams are always the most painful part of the semester for a college student. And once final exams are over, so is the semester. I am so glad to have this over with for the New Year. I could use some good chi flow for 2010.
XML Feeds