I think I would endure giving birth in front of my entire royal court, like queens used to do, if in return I I would have people bringing me coffee in the morning.
I think that is fair.
What may not be is to train my newborn to perform the task, yet I may give it a go. It is about time someone figured out what babies are for.
31/03/2011
18/03/2011
I like the dark
Hit me with some dark humour any old day, Im a taker. Throw the acid cyinicism and I will double it. The blackest armpit a black humour can be furthered I think and enjoyed.
Only this is not appropiate when you are pregnant.
I am already dreading when I am supposed to giggle about cute things other people's kids did.
Other people's kids suck. They put me of my pregnancy.
Just to give you a mild idea: when we told the american side of family, that we have decided to call the boy Meticulous after his father who is the cleanest and tidiest person ever, they were terrified.
He will be bullied, he will be an outcast, nobody will get his name, he will always have to explain.
Have you met me? Have you met your brother? Our kid is going to be no outcast bullyboard. Our kid is going to be king of the universe.
Anyway, jocking about your baby is ok people. You will commit much greater deeds against him, than stating that he will go to the orphanage if not clever enough.
We are his mum and dad we ought to fuck him up.
Only this is not appropiate when you are pregnant.
I am already dreading when I am supposed to giggle about cute things other people's kids did.
Other people's kids suck. They put me of my pregnancy.
Just to give you a mild idea: when we told the american side of family, that we have decided to call the boy Meticulous after his father who is the cleanest and tidiest person ever, they were terrified.
He will be bullied, he will be an outcast, nobody will get his name, he will always have to explain.
Have you met me? Have you met your brother? Our kid is going to be no outcast bullyboard. Our kid is going to be king of the universe.
Anyway, jocking about your baby is ok people. You will commit much greater deeds against him, than stating that he will go to the orphanage if not clever enough.
We are his mum and dad we ought to fuck him up.
15/03/2011
In the kitchen
Yesterday, as I was washing my chef-knife after carving up avocados I suddenly smelled something for the very first time.
It was a baby-thing. Or mother thing.
Alien, yet plesent - it took me a while to establish that it was in fact mine.
A whiff of the future. Small, naked, pink smell.
The way other people smell. Mainly in catalogues. I never thought that one day I will have that sort of, sweet, organic, clean smell.
I thought that I am very much set for the much heavier drapery of tarr, or best case scenario Gucci.
Should have never gave up smoking. Could not smell anything than.
It was a baby-thing. Or mother thing.
Alien, yet plesent - it took me a while to establish that it was in fact mine.
A whiff of the future. Small, naked, pink smell.
The way other people smell. Mainly in catalogues. I never thought that one day I will have that sort of, sweet, organic, clean smell.
I thought that I am very much set for the much heavier drapery of tarr, or best case scenario Gucci.
Should have never gave up smoking. Could not smell anything than.
14/03/2011
Emotions :{
:)
Whatever that means. It is a brutal reduction of something so immensely complex that language can't possibly express it accuratly and than we throw this on our emotions and we are sorted.
:\
Me and my hormones go to curious places. I was in the shower with the boy when the emotion hit me.
That I love the man.
That I love the man so much /beat
that it might be time to /beat
Tatto his name on to my arm.
/pause
TATTO his name on to MY ARM.
The sheer terror of love, and the unprobability of the freak of all my ideas was dripping from me together with warm water and the palmolive spa cucumber edition.
I promised the boy there in the shower that his mother will not loose it.
That he will be born to the woman whose womb he implanted himself, who was funny and intelligent and unique.
It might take some wrestling with petrifyingly random thoughts, but I will win.
I have to win.
;)
Whatever that means. It is a brutal reduction of something so immensely complex that language can't possibly express it accuratly and than we throw this on our emotions and we are sorted.
:\
Me and my hormones go to curious places. I was in the shower with the boy when the emotion hit me.
That I love the man.
That I love the man so much /beat
that it might be time to /beat
Tatto his name on to my arm.
/pause
TATTO his name on to MY ARM.
The sheer terror of love, and the unprobability of the freak of all my ideas was dripping from me together with warm water and the palmolive spa cucumber edition.
I promised the boy there in the shower that his mother will not loose it.
That he will be born to the woman whose womb he implanted himself, who was funny and intelligent and unique.
It might take some wrestling with petrifyingly random thoughts, but I will win.
I have to win.
;)
23/02/2011
The god-given animal instinct
I had this thought during my midday shower today, that I respect and trust my body more than ever before.
It is not the most comfortable place of late, it will no longer get me on page six or win me an olympic medal, but for heavens sake, it assembled a fully functioning human being out of a microdrop of sperm.
I also think that pregnancy is a wonderful and rare chance for women to reconnect with the natural world. You have to trust your body above all; more than your doctor, your midwife, your mothering friends, your baby-grow vitamins and your calcium supplements. Books are placebo, the internet is overkill, no app on your 4G Iphone will get you far.
It has to be you natural physical ability and your god-given animal instinct.
You have to listen to them most.
You have to let them take over.
I have never thought it is possible to feel so out of control and powerful at the same time.
Cue Lion King.
It is not the most comfortable place of late, it will no longer get me on page six or win me an olympic medal, but for heavens sake, it assembled a fully functioning human being out of a microdrop of sperm.
I also think that pregnancy is a wonderful and rare chance for women to reconnect with the natural world. You have to trust your body above all; more than your doctor, your midwife, your mothering friends, your baby-grow vitamins and your calcium supplements. Books are placebo, the internet is overkill, no app on your 4G Iphone will get you far.
It has to be you natural physical ability and your god-given animal instinct.
You have to listen to them most.
You have to let them take over.
I have never thought it is possible to feel so out of control and powerful at the same time.
Cue Lion King.
14/02/2011
I love Budapest
So for a month discovered one of his places of origin in his flesh and blood incognito.
He floated from streets to coffees, museums, friends-flats and theaters - a friendly little ghosts of times to come lingering in the cold unseen swallowing his mothers culture and amniotic fluid to equal measure hopefully.
We listened to nagymamas voice, tasted cottagecheesballs and gulyas, even listened to gipsy music, took yellow cabs and unmeasurable amount of unsolicited Hungarian advise.
Now we are back on the island ready to proceed.
Grow my boy.
He floated from streets to coffees, museums, friends-flats and theaters - a friendly little ghosts of times to come lingering in the cold unseen swallowing his mothers culture and amniotic fluid to equal measure hopefully.
We listened to nagymamas voice, tasted cottagecheesballs and gulyas, even listened to gipsy music, took yellow cabs and unmeasurable amount of unsolicited Hungarian advise.
Now we are back on the island ready to proceed.
Grow my boy.
11/02/2011
Round days
She who is big and is humming with two lifes has a new haircut.
Is still in Budapest, but days are running painfully short.
Is hypersensitive and overly active for her state.
Has an anterior placenta, belive it or not. Yes she does, you need not to wonder about that anymore.
Wears horisontal stripes today to emphasise the ball she has become.
The firm ball carrying the generations to come, mucus and her son.
Always just a step away from hyperventillating due to furious anger, surprising herself with a random a orgasm on public transportation due to a few bumps in the road, collapsing from hunger in a heartbeat, or being washed over with organic euphoria due to a very small man kicking her guts.
Is still in Budapest, but days are running painfully short.
Is hypersensitive and overly active for her state.
Has an anterior placenta, belive it or not. Yes she does, you need not to wonder about that anymore.
Wears horisontal stripes today to emphasise the ball she has become.
The firm ball carrying the generations to come, mucus and her son.
Always just a step away from hyperventillating due to furious anger, surprising herself with a random a orgasm on public transportation due to a few bumps in the road, collapsing from hunger in a heartbeat, or being washed over with organic euphoria due to a very small man kicking her guts.
31/12/2010
Flirting with photography
I am.
Even though I have been reluctant to admit its merit as a form of art. I thought it is the creative past time of the lazy, the button pushers. I have met people like Dobos Tamas and therefore I have changed my mind.
Even though when I have changed my mind I also realised just how technical it was. In the past turning the lens to get a sharper image seemed a bit intimidating, let alone the mechanical alchemy of measuring light. And the post production phase. The atmosphere of a studio. That intense and out of the ordinary encounter between two people on either side of the camera.
About a year ago it really started fascinating me, I wanted to observe the process as eagerly as I wanted to watch basketball when I was 12, or theatre when I was 14 (and ever since) And I had some opportunities.
Yet at this point in my life I believe I am fully aware of the list of my sternghts and with visual arts it is much more voyeurism and critique than an active love affair.
I think I am a good second eye, even a great one, with exquisite taste, I can form and express detailed oppinion about why I like something, and my taste is stubborn and individual. So I am the right person to give feedback, challenge a concept or choose wallpaper and the likes.
But I never thought that images should be the medium of my message. Partly because this is not how my brain works, perhaps because my life has been wrapped up in words from the start, partly because I am a bit rubbish.
So the attitude is wrong: images, visual art for me is always the means and not the ends. It is there to inspire, to instantly give, to narrate, or reflect, to illustrate: it is a precious role, but only a supporting act.
And the skill set is wrong: I am slightly technophobe, and I take crap pictures.
Is life to short for detours? Should I not bother just because I know I am not predestined to be the next Brassai?
Life needs to have a rich texture.
I am flirting with photography.
Even though I have been reluctant to admit its merit as a form of art. I thought it is the creative past time of the lazy, the button pushers. I have met people like Dobos Tamas and therefore I have changed my mind.
Even though when I have changed my mind I also realised just how technical it was. In the past turning the lens to get a sharper image seemed a bit intimidating, let alone the mechanical alchemy of measuring light. And the post production phase. The atmosphere of a studio. That intense and out of the ordinary encounter between two people on either side of the camera.
About a year ago it really started fascinating me, I wanted to observe the process as eagerly as I wanted to watch basketball when I was 12, or theatre when I was 14 (and ever since) And I had some opportunities.
Yet at this point in my life I believe I am fully aware of the list of my sternghts and with visual arts it is much more voyeurism and critique than an active love affair.
I think I am a good second eye, even a great one, with exquisite taste, I can form and express detailed oppinion about why I like something, and my taste is stubborn and individual. So I am the right person to give feedback, challenge a concept or choose wallpaper and the likes.
But I never thought that images should be the medium of my message. Partly because this is not how my brain works, perhaps because my life has been wrapped up in words from the start, partly because I am a bit rubbish.
So the attitude is wrong: images, visual art for me is always the means and not the ends. It is there to inspire, to instantly give, to narrate, or reflect, to illustrate: it is a precious role, but only a supporting act.
And the skill set is wrong: I am slightly technophobe, and I take crap pictures.
Is life to short for detours? Should I not bother just because I know I am not predestined to be the next Brassai?
Life needs to have a rich texture.
I am flirting with photography.
First and last dawn of 2010
This is soo familiar and it happened to me before.
Being wide awake at the crack of my day. When times are challenging in the nicotine department times tend to get a whole lot longer.
Effectively, when every single thing becomes the sheer act of not smoking the day expands to 48 hours on its own accord, and than the non-smoker du jour get up a good five hours before it is necessary.
But it is all well, it is a battle I will win, against my own will for the most part, which makes fighting all the bit harder.
But as I said this is nothing new, I remember a morning just like this circa 2006 in Notting Hill, showing down a phallic piece of Shwiss white chockolate, as if my life would depend on it, thinking the sun will never raise on my early-bird tits.
But it does. It is not a hypothesis. Only according to snobs.
Good by 2010, so long most exciting year of my life so far, bring it in 2011, entertain me, delight me thrill me.
I know you will.
Coffee is brewed.
Being wide awake at the crack of my day. When times are challenging in the nicotine department times tend to get a whole lot longer.
Effectively, when every single thing becomes the sheer act of not smoking the day expands to 48 hours on its own accord, and than the non-smoker du jour get up a good five hours before it is necessary.
But it is all well, it is a battle I will win, against my own will for the most part, which makes fighting all the bit harder.
But as I said this is nothing new, I remember a morning just like this circa 2006 in Notting Hill, showing down a phallic piece of Shwiss white chockolate, as if my life would depend on it, thinking the sun will never raise on my early-bird tits.
But it does. It is not a hypothesis. Only according to snobs.
Good by 2010, so long most exciting year of my life so far, bring it in 2011, entertain me, delight me thrill me.
I know you will.
Coffee is brewed.
21/12/2010
Journeis around my womb
Welcome to the countdown.
To these last words before physical matter triumphs over intellect.
Read them before I will be draged away from the keyboard by my nurturing breasts.
And behold as words like womb and breast take over my once colorful vocabulary.
The last attempts of a vessel to write a blog.
How hormonally melodramatic of me.
I buy books to give the best possible start to the growing life inside me.
I buy books in an attempt to preserve precious thought.
We read The Guardian today and some poems by Emily Dickinson.
I have you know.
To these last words before physical matter triumphs over intellect.
Read them before I will be draged away from the keyboard by my nurturing breasts.
And behold as words like womb and breast take over my once colorful vocabulary.
The last attempts of a vessel to write a blog.
How hormonally melodramatic of me.
I buy books to give the best possible start to the growing life inside me.
I buy books in an attempt to preserve precious thought.
We read The Guardian today and some poems by Emily Dickinson.
I have you know.
12/11/2010
Out of office reply
I got this idea for a sort story about a man typing up his suicide note in his out of office reply.
This is a brilliant idea remains a morbid blog post for now.
This is a brilliant idea remains a morbid blog post for now.
01/11/2010
Talk, talk and talk some more
The man I love is the best listener. His ears are strong pillars of our relationship. I can talk to him for hours.
We listend to the swanlake yesterday and I was mentally unloading and emotionally oversharing on our tiny broken coutch.
In my defence: I did not cry and he prompted it.
He asked me:
What are you worried about? Those five little words spell Pandora's box with a handful of hormones, and he knew.
Worries are the evil twin of daydreams I have come to believe.
I should not take them seriously.
We listend to the swanlake yesterday and I was mentally unloading and emotionally oversharing on our tiny broken coutch.
In my defence: I did not cry and he prompted it.
He asked me:
What are you worried about? Those five little words spell Pandora's box with a handful of hormones, and he knew.
Worries are the evil twin of daydreams I have come to believe.
I should not take them seriously.
Day of the Dead
Halloween for most of you serves me with the unexpected pleasure of a day of.
I could get used to this, I am training myself to let go of carrier and prepare for the other option.
We, the fetus and I hit 3 months yesterday.
This is an important milestone in pregnancy. This is when they stop talking about miscarrige and start with the Down syndrome, and the voluntary termination of pregnancy.
I am also supposed to feel a sudden surge of energy about now, but I think it is just a physical illusion for those who spend the first few months of this blessed state projectile vomiting.
I could get used to this, I am training myself to let go of carrier and prepare for the other option.
We, the fetus and I hit 3 months yesterday.
This is an important milestone in pregnancy. This is when they stop talking about miscarrige and start with the Down syndrome, and the voluntary termination of pregnancy.
I am also supposed to feel a sudden surge of energy about now, but I think it is just a physical illusion for those who spend the first few months of this blessed state projectile vomiting.
18/10/2010
Dumb and Dumber
First time parents.
Clueless.
We don't even know what to buy.
Transfixed on little Prada shoes birth to three months.
Mesmerized by little dresses, pretty with embroidery and all. Just in case newborn has to go to a ball.
But what pushes me over the edge is buggies.
I really want a nice one.
Although they are 700 pounds and probably by the time I will get to use it will be a whole different situation.
A new life.
A new life with new priorities and and humangus breasts.
A designer buggy would just mock my great-big, vertically expanding, knee-length breasts.
Clueless.
We don't even know what to buy.
Transfixed on little Prada shoes birth to three months.
Mesmerized by little dresses, pretty with embroidery and all. Just in case newborn has to go to a ball.
But what pushes me over the edge is buggies.
I really want a nice one.
Although they are 700 pounds and probably by the time I will get to use it will be a whole different situation.
A new life.
A new life with new priorities and and humangus breasts.
A designer buggy would just mock my great-big, vertically expanding, knee-length breasts.
Information overload
Oh, if there is one time when the less you can find out the better it is when you are pregnant.
Expecting and the internet do not match, I think one schould just read one book and stick to it and not listen to much else.
If you happen to be Hungarian and you are friends with a few of your homies than you will do well not to slap the fools who never had as much as a misscarriage but will have plenty of good advise and guidelines.
Oh and the words, the bloody words, yummy mummy, fuck off, but what really is an outrage is "pocaklako" which is like tummy-tenant. I hear that or read that and want to shout at the cretens in furious anger.
Ok, so I am nice the whole day, than I let anger walk me home (commute fueled by private mind games in witch I handle a very tricky situations, defending people, etc..)
Than I calm down.
But occasionally I will have to cyber rumble.
Sorry.
Expecting and the internet do not match, I think one schould just read one book and stick to it and not listen to much else.
If you happen to be Hungarian and you are friends with a few of your homies than you will do well not to slap the fools who never had as much as a misscarriage but will have plenty of good advise and guidelines.
Oh and the words, the bloody words, yummy mummy, fuck off, but what really is an outrage is "pocaklako" which is like tummy-tenant. I hear that or read that and want to shout at the cretens in furious anger.
Ok, so I am nice the whole day, than I let anger walk me home (commute fueled by private mind games in witch I handle a very tricky situations, defending people, etc..)
Than I calm down.
But occasionally I will have to cyber rumble.
Sorry.
09/10/2010
Meeting Spring
I think it is much better to have the baby arrive in spring. Because it is met by a world of sunshine and warm, which might be enough for a sunny disposition.
We live in the Uk.
Baby will know that world can be sunshine and warm for a few hours before it goes away.
We live in the Uk.
Baby will know that world can be sunshine and warm for a few hours before it goes away.
07/10/2010
Silence
I will not speak about the many discomforts of life nowadays.
Enough to feel them.
Think about them.
They match my anxieties and nightmares. All in dark greens of shades.
I carry them all.
The pain, the joy, the life, the aches.
And yet I am happy.
Happy in a way I was never before.
Enough to feel them.
Think about them.
They match my anxieties and nightmares. All in dark greens of shades.
I carry them all.
The pain, the joy, the life, the aches.
And yet I am happy.
Happy in a way I was never before.
27/09/2010
Seven weeks and a day
Right size.
Right place.
Heartbeat.
It is now real. It is alive and well.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Right place.
Heartbeat.
It is now real. It is alive and well.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
All the things you can not to
To begin with you are just this unassuming animal, and nature or life of whatever uses you like a bio-puppet to do their bidding.
And than enters society from the left and scares you with all possible numbers, statistics, images, personal accounts and many of the possible outcomes.
Marching in comes science with all the health-facts and the list of forbidden pleasures or in some cases necessities just keeps on growing.
Do not eat sushi, or camamber, for god sake.
Stay away from peanuts.
Don't touch raw meat but cook fresh every day.
Bla, bla, bla.
And than you have to give up smoking, this most prescious of bad habits, and at that point you are having a full-blown identity crises somewhere between hounting image of the suburban housewife-maximus you are destined to become, and the fucking candel profile pictures af all the miscarried cyber-mums-not-to be.
I do not belong.
But let me have this child. My child.
I know life or nature or destiny, that you failed to deliver a proper blow in the past 3 years or so, I know you think it is highest time to break me again, lets do the phenix once more you humm, and it gives me the chills.
Wont it do, that I will be fat like never before? Wont is satisfy your hunger for dramatics that it will break my carrier, deform my perfect breasts and shred my vagina?
Don't you think it is a bit abrupt even cheap to take it away from me right when I willingly embrace all those changes?
Only the emergency screening will tell.
And than enters society from the left and scares you with all possible numbers, statistics, images, personal accounts and many of the possible outcomes.
Marching in comes science with all the health-facts and the list of forbidden pleasures or in some cases necessities just keeps on growing.
Do not eat sushi, or camamber, for god sake.
Stay away from peanuts.
Don't touch raw meat but cook fresh every day.
Bla, bla, bla.
And than you have to give up smoking, this most prescious of bad habits, and at that point you are having a full-blown identity crises somewhere between hounting image of the suburban housewife-maximus you are destined to become, and the fucking candel profile pictures af all the miscarried cyber-mums-not-to be.
I do not belong.
But let me have this child. My child.
I know life or nature or destiny, that you failed to deliver a proper blow in the past 3 years or so, I know you think it is highest time to break me again, lets do the phenix once more you humm, and it gives me the chills.
Wont it do, that I will be fat like never before? Wont is satisfy your hunger for dramatics that it will break my carrier, deform my perfect breasts and shred my vagina?
Don't you think it is a bit abrupt even cheap to take it away from me right when I willingly embrace all those changes?
Only the emergency screening will tell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)