Behaviour disorders, berry candles and self-made cookies

Artists, especially writers, poets and composers, are in higher risk for mood disorders. Yep, major depression, bipolar I and II, dysthymia, ... they are all on the path I try to wander. Maybe I should take a side way somewhere. Escape, get out of this place, these chains of personal expectations... Some people always want to be different anyway. Reading about mental problems from breakfast (euhm, brunch) till 2 hours after my midnight dinner (gnocchi), you would become depressed for less. Me? Depressed? No, I'm not. Maybe just slightly borderline personality disorder, in a mild and functional sense, experiencing mood fluctuations guided by distracted thoughts. Making loose associations in my head all the time. Does it make me leaning in the direction of schizophrenia? The disorganized subtype, while my 300 'friends' on facebook honor me as 'most organized'. They should know better.... They should... I make good cookies, vegan ones. One day they should honor me for that. Especially my new creation: cinnamon-apple-raisin-vegan delight!

Much has happened the last weeks. Is it really two weeks ago since I wrote? Is it really almost time to leave Vancouver and the people I love here? I have been studying for days now, my eyes getting used to nerdish strong glasses on my nose, the small letters of my textbook (with the suspicious looking psychopath hiding on the cover page), my ears getting deafened by the sound of silence. Fortunately there were Petra and sometimes Alex (and on sunday Marina) to keep me company in the dead house. Never heard such a silence in a student kitchen. And of course there was Whistler last monday. Touching the snow. Marina quite literally with her open shoes. We learned a lesson that day, reading 'wise sentences' on touristic magnetic gifts in one of the hypertouristic shops in Whistler Village. I'll tell you later about the sentence, it just doesn;t fit here. I should tell here about the expedition to the Whistler Public Library, about the two vegan wraps I got in a Greek fast food restaurant for the price of one, about the Korean highschool system which Mikyung explained me and appeared to me a terrible hell comparable to prison or army. And when I think of Whistler, I can't help it think of the hot chocolate we drank on the top of the ski resort, sipping whipped (soy)cream and gossipping about everything a person could gossip about. Is it already 4 days ago? No...

Time flies when you are having fun, says the expression I recently learned from a friend. That's a good one. What does that tell about me and my study? Or does it tell other things? Things about staying in my bed the whole morning, staying widely awake till at least 2 am... Does it tell things I should better be silent about? My distorted life, daily rhythms abruptlyinterrupted. My clock is not running like it used to run. It got stuck in a peculiar moment, a second, an eye blink. Warn me if I am talking nonsense. Analyze me, please, analyze me and bring the results to my postbox. I live in Fairview 2710 room 1, the small unsymmetrical shaped room on the third floor.

I just needed to write 'something' in order to fall asleep. Write the bad spirits away Kill them with the voice of my typing fingers while I am lying in the bed. The bed which witnessed my life in Vancouver without any subjective evaluation, without protesting, warning me, forcing me to sleep when I should. He acts innocent (my bed), but he knows the tears I secretly shared with his pillow. He knows the dreams that follow me at night. He knows what makes me sad, before I know it myself, but he doesn't speak a word about it. Beds don't sooth, they just make it softer...

Goodnight,
Veerle