Dear All,
This is a call for help. My muddy brain needs cleaning. Who would be proud to say that she forgets that her husband is allergic to nuts? On a ongoing basis. I sprinkle nuts in salads, on desserts and last Thursday I brought him an ice-cream at the Falsterbo Beach with a thick chocolate layer with embedded almonds. And I don't think it has anything to do with him or our marriage - lets face it, I am not trying to kill him or anything. I love him. But my brain has gotten a bit rotten lately. Muddy is only the tip of the dirty ice-berg. We can call it anything that has the consistency of porridge, New Oreans food or Vaseline. Yesterday I stored a package of butter next to the CD-player. It must have something to do with the fact that I heroically had to save J from his big sister, or a stone, or a stick - anything that could make me take the butter in to the living room - I just have to hold on to the fact that everything has a logical explanation.
To come to the point: I will blog to unclog and at the same time I will conveniently forget that my brain was never really sharp or clean before - but heck, that is my right as a wannabe to ignore that nagging fact. What is to have brains anyway? I cannot sum up numbers in my head, (addition is easier than deduction but my brain hurts when I try) put circles in squares or whatever that weird IQ thing one must know, hear the difference between Beethoven and Bach (not to say Beethoven and Bryan Adams...), or remember anything other than authors' names and book titles (where I am surprisingly good).
In this blog I will vent things from my life, big and small, in order to find my creative self and to write, write, write. (And to face the fear of being read.) I write in English although I am a Suede - a blond chick actually (to quote a good friend that can be mistaken for a younger version of Moses) with my husband Peter and two living children, Maja and Joshua. My little angel in heaven, Fred Oliver would have been four years old the first of August this year. I think of him daily and my being breathes his existence every moment of my life. I am him and he lives in me.
My new town lies in Germany. I am a housewife in exile actually and lots will be about that, I expect. Like how the German average housewife cleans, irons, and cleans again. And how I am not like the average German housewife. I let my Maja dress herself (sometimes she wears nothing...) and how I hate grocery shopping, cannot cook very well, and cleans one hour a week max.
Will anyone read? I would be surprised if they did. And scared! I am doing this for me, for having some sort of organised writing, some finished work for viewing. To explore events in my life and to investigate my mind. I refuse to accept that I am an average person with an average life - no, I want to describe mundane things in my life for it to take on new lights, new insights. Through it I hope to gain brain power, happiness, and a personal history.
The Blonde Chick
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