In one way or another, the number 36 has felt like a milestone birthday for a long time. As a tween, I imagined the glamorous autonomy that came with being 36 because I was hooked on watching the televised adventures of a foursome of privileged White women in Manhattan. Now, finally at 36, it feels important that I could’ve had a child as an adult who would now also be an adult. I say “adult” but we all remember the self-important idiots we were at 18.
(Keep reading)Yesterday, I attended the very first gathering of FC de Filmfanaten, a brand-new film club that my friend Jolien started. There were four of us, and we discussed the movie I was proud to have suggested: Talk To Me. I love speaking about films with others, and particularly with this diverse group of people. Everyone brought a completely unique perspective to the film, one brought film industry insights while the other had thoughtful ideas that I hadn’t considered.
(Keep reading)My attempt to lure both Anja and myself outside for some fresh air and a walk was thwarted as soon as I learned the place was out of my favorite bubble tea. We strolled to Flevopark, in my hand an ice cream cone, and on my face the disappointment of a toddler who can’t be satisfied.
The park has a wide field that allows loose dogs to roam freely in the off-season. Even through the trees Anja and I spotted the corgi from half a mile away.
(Keep reading)I offered this confession as part of my confirmation into the Mennonite Church of Haarlem. While I recognize a few details that make me chuckle or cringe, much of what I believe today is reflected in the words below. At the time, I believed this church was the most at-home I would ever be able to feel at church. After I moved away to Amsterdam, and after years of being a spiritual nomad, I discovered All Saints.
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