I just ate half of a Boerejongens brownie in Amsterdam, and now I’m journaling, hoping to catch feelings and record them here, live. A little experiment: eat a Boerejongens brownie, hold a pen (finger on phone), transcribe the fun as it arrives.
It would be fun, no? Fun for me now, fun for future me re-reading it. If I do manage to catch fun feelings, that is. So far (8 mins later): nothing. Not a giggle. Not a glimmer. Not even a yawn.
In fairness, I stopped journaling for a month-ish, and I’ve forgotten how to journal my feelings and thoughts. The pen moves (finger clicks), the feelings don’t. Instead, I wondered whether Tata could speak Dutch, so I messaged Appa, but he said he had forgotten. Ok. I take the honest answer, Pa.
A whole language, sitting somewhere in the family line, has gone quiet (until cousin Ben picked it up).
This Boerejongens brownie was supposed to make me giggly, not contemplative.
I blow-dried my hair myself, which is good. I guess. As in, good that I brought my Dyson all the way here, because that thing takes serious luggage space, and today it earned its seat. Omg, this note is f-ing dry! What else can I write? Am I feeling anything? Or am I really immune to green these days?
I feel like I still have CPA brain, you know. As in, still too rigid and highly strung to be lulled by the joy of green.
My brain is doing a month-end close. And well, I am not feeling anything… nothing. 17 mins in. Still nothing. The brownie and I are at a stalemate. I have to read a memoir book to get my journaling going (recommendations welcome). I forgot how to relax. Good G!
I am sorry, future me, for being too high-strung to enjoy life.
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