Spoiled fruit

The garden of Eden was once so innocent and glorious. Happiness grew on trees, the smell of rose blossoms and fresh grass filled your nostrils. The sky didn´t have a single dust particle that could disturb your chances at seeing the flawless sunrise each morning. If it would rain, it were golden raindrops landing on the pure land. If there was wind, it was a sigh of naive, young love watching over us with a slight frown at the silliness. There was no storm. Unheard of.

As long as we did what we were told to do, we were in the haze of the garden of Eden. In my story, Eve didn´t get tempted, but Adam did. The tree of good and evil got touched as he took a bite out of a tempting red apple, unfortunately this apple was well diseased. He knew the day he would take a bite out of the forbidden fruit, he will die. Temptation lead his choices, as he ripped the apple off of the tree, behind Eva´s back. Warnings of evil and bad endings by voices did not stop him. He took a bite, enjoyed the juicy taste of secrecy, chew it well, and swallowed it all down with little care. He continued to live and love for days, weeks, months. The apple laid on his stomach like a brick. Yet, Adam´s reasoning was- as long as Eve doesn´t know, it won´t do any harm.

Time passes, and Eve woke up to thunder, for the first time. This was new to her, she didn´t know what it meant, what it was. Angels took her aside, and said, Eve wake up, Adam is lying to you. He touched the forbidden fruit, and didn´t tell you. Eve didn´t want to believe it, yet she had tears running down her face, to even have the slightest chance of this being true, there. She walked around the garden of Eden, looking for Adam. She stumbled upon the apple core that was left under the tree... Adam soon came and knew how to mislead naive Eve. He said that the apple was eaten by insects, not him. Eve took his contrasting hand, wiped her tears with it, and walked to see the sun set.

Eve let go of his hand, as her soul led her to Mokum Alef to find truth. Mokum gave her new insights and she grew mature. She didn´t need the luxury of the holy garden, she didn´t miss it either. She realized that the contrasting hand she was holding in the garden of Eden, was a lying hand. She never wanted to touch this lying hand again. The tears she once shed for that lying hand, turned into gold and brought her more happiness than ever.

She never returned to the garden of Eden. Mokum Alef, I love you for giving me truth.

Since when did raspberry sorbet become a hair color?

The strive to be unique nowadays is becoming extreme. People stretch, ink, dye, cut, and pierce anything nowadays in order to look different. Why harm your body like this, and go through blood, sweat and tears in order to look different?

We tend to want to look unnatural, almost theatrical. What happened to the natural dumb blond? The brilliant brunette? The bashing black and the sexy red head? Nowadays our streets are covered with a My Little Pony color scheme- Anything from raspberry sorbet, to bubble gum blue and pistachio. I feel like I am in an ice cream salon!

The strive to be unique has become conventional, and the idea of "different" and what it entitles has become a mainstream ideology, in my eyes. Yet, I must admit, this "phenomena" of being different in more ways nowadays, has not excluded me. Oh no, we are definitively friends. Yet, nothing too extreme, no ice cream colored hair for me!

We must stand out in today's world. With a population that keeps increasing and increasing, and with the competitiveness in our society, this gives a dangerous cocktail, which results in our "unique" generation we have today. Parents shall not complain too much, before this is a natural reaction we have in our "monotone" society. We want to spunk out!

We all want to be remembered, and your look happens to be your business card. We invest tons of money in our image, we boil our brain picking a perfect Friday night outfit, and we consciously kill our dyed hair each time touching up the roots, or picking another ice cream flavor, knowing you will soon lose your Pony manes!

The idea of beauty has changed over time, it is not the curvy Marilyn Monroe no more, it has become a boxy, androgynous, short haired English man in New York. And that's fine by me. Yet, I won't pursue that look because I still believe in the feminine sexiness that shan't be hidden under such uniform.

I find it important in the fight against the mainstream, to not become mainstream. If everyone turns around and starts believing and doing what you do, then what's the point?
I won't fight popular taste. Popular taste tastes good because it is liked and chosen by many for a reason. Yes, you might be vanilla at the end of the day, but then just add some sprinkles or disco balls to make it more fun.

I'll still give you an A+

My legs are starting to shake, and my heart rate goes up by the thought of tomorrow... The start of my internship!
This week I have to go to a school in the neighborhood and observe a few fashion and nutrition classes. I have to make notes on how the students behave in class, how the teacher teaches, what kind of media is used, etc.
Then, after Easter break, I actually have to stand in front of a class and teach a bunch of teens. It sounds so crazy to me, because not long ago, I was in high school, just as them. And now I get to be the teacher, who tells kids what to do.
In one way, it's awesome, I can shape myself to be the best teacher ever, and have the kids work with me. But it can also turn a totally different direction, and I can have the kids turn against me. I mean, I am only 20 years old, the age difference is not that big, so to get a sense of authority, or at least to have the kids think that you know what you are doing, will be tough.
Fashion and nutrition classes are mostly girls in general, and at that age, in middle of their teens, I am going to have to rock it and show my dominant side.I have never stood in front of a class to teach, so this will be something completely new.

When I was in high school, I thought teachers just correct homework, and make sure they keep you occupied during class. Wow, was I wrong. There is a lot of work that is hidden behind the scenes with this profession. The thought that scares me most is that you have to be an expert at what you do, you have to expect any question from your students. You have to know your material inside and out, because you do not want to get hushed by one of your students by lack of knowledge about your subject.
For now, I am going to find an appropriate outfit for tomorrow (not too short, not too much cleavage), and hit the hay.
Prayers for tomorrow are welcome!

Connect the clips

Can you find the red threads?

Got beef? I like it raw

My dear friend, Gette, and I were recently cruising around with his car. Usually, I fight for the Ipod in the car, begging him to be DjClaudia-on-the-cut. He hates it, because I get so predictable with my music choice, and there is nothing really refreshing. If I don't win over the Ipod, I actually learn about new music. Sometimes it's a gift, and sometimes it just hurts my ears. But this time around there was no Ipod involved. He had just bought a new cd, by Mumford & Sons. I was expecting another "fantastic" drum and base or trance marathon about to happen. But this time around, I was pleasantly surprised!

The British band took our breath away with number 5 on their album (Sigh No More), which is called White Blank Page.




The volume was on full blast, both of us turned quiet and were flabbergasted by the beauty of the song. We must have played it like about 3 times in a row. We could barely vocalize our feelings about this song because we were so at loss of words. I actually had tears develop, but didn't dare to let them run down my cheeks. Crazy what a song can do!

The rawness of the guitar work, the vocals and the lads themselves adds such a pure, and honest touch, which really brings out the meaning of the song. The well rounded mix of instruments makes it an enjoyable modern folk rock interpretation, that I would guess most of us like, or at least remember...

Now, every time I ask to put on track 5, he knows exactly what song I mean! The rest of the album is also really amazing, by the way.

Hope you enjoy it as well!

A true housewife, is a decadent housewife

So, I got this book from my sister for Christmas, The handbook for the Decadent Houswife, by Rosemary Counter. The Toronto based writer has written a few other books, with a similar writing style, which I am very curious to read more about soon, hopefully!

Before opening this lovely present, my sister told me that this is something written for me! And it's totally true. The sense of humor, the extreme feminist way of thought and the extravagant decadence is just hilarious. Every page I turned in this book has had my face muscles working out one way or the other! I have been meaning to make a blog post summarizing, expanding and brainstorming the ideas written in this book- and now, that I have vacation until the 13th of February, I finally found some time to sit down and hopefully pull off a few smirks, knee-slaps, or a few other people who will buy this book! And of course, most importantly, convert some traditional housewives into decadent housewives. Enjoy :)

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Chapter 1: 7.30-11.30 am, A good beginning

Decadent housewives are not meant to be morning birds. So lay lavishly in your bed as your hubby wakes up and gets ready to go to work. He's the money maker after all, so whisper a few good-girl-gone-bad words into his ear to start off his day well, and of course to make sure he is awake and gets out of bed on time, so you can have more space to snooze away until the rays of sunshine brutally open your eyes (My gosh, poor unfortunate soul, way to wake up...)!

Making breakfast is out of the question, of course. For a decadent housewife at least. If you are a traditional housewife, and make him breaky each day, men complain about burnt toast, bad milk... So keep breakfast for the very special occasions, so he can have no previous comparisons in mind. Anything will do then. For now, keep it at coffee. You get away with it, putting in as little effort as possible, and not much of a going-wrong-ratio. Sublime!

When you finally had your beauty sleep completed, first thing you do when you are out of bed- analyse yourself in front of the mirror. Once you realize that your beauty sleep really didn't change anything about your looks, get going! Take a bath.

If you have time, take an applauding long bath. If you don't have time, make time. Trust, it will be worth it. Plus you are going to be multitasking; working on your body and soul, making phone calls, Sip on some Champagne, chain smoking... Make sure you have an enormous amount of bath and beauty products waiting for you to test them out. Just smear them all on, save time not reading what they are needed for. Just make sure you don't pull a Mean Girls move, and smear foot cream on your face.

Le make-up routine is up next. But first let yourself air-dry. No need to use a towel, this is for the rushed people. Just take your time, smoke another cigarette, read some more celebrity goss, or parade in front of the window to tease your next door neighbor. All while you air-dry. Chill out, no worries, there is no rushing in any decadent housewives' life!

But it's really time to cake on that foundation to hide the real monster... After you apply that mask, generously apply concealer (all super models swear by it). Then powder your visage to seal the deal!

Lipstick is an essential, and you don't match the lipstick, but the lipstick will match you. Capiche?
Mascara is another essential. Apply an enormous amount, to get those sexy, thick, unnatturally long lashes. Watch out for the spider-leg effect, though. Or just go with the fake lashes, daily decadent behavior for the real one's.

Get dressed, gal! Wear a gala-ball dress to organize your bookshelf (color-coded of course, alphabetic order is sooo passé), organize your filthy overloaded closet with your red Jimmy Choo's on, or your Louboutins, as you wish.Then flaunt your silky soft skin, with a silky soft Japanese kimono. Those fluffy bathrobes are not chic, hun. Get your sexy on! Or dress like a French maid, your household chores will be soon be forgotten.If you are done with all this, before 11.30, use your backup checklist.This checklist consists of other beauty treats that could fill up your time ( cucumber eye treatment, washing face with stimulating circular motions, spraying perfume in the air and walking through it, ...)

Now, your good beginning should be made. Are you getting a feel of the horrible * cough cough* life of a decadent housewife? Stay tuned for chapter 2, Long Lunches and Brunches.

Xoxo, your Decadent Housewife in training.

Let's go oldschool: Write me a letter.

Yesterday I was watching the movie, Dear John, with one eye, and the other eye I was sewing for school. I soon put down all the sewing to watch the movie, because it was just too beautiful!

Today I got a postcard from my dear friend, Alex, from when she was in Vienna. I appreciated it so much, and together with the movie Dear John, I came up with the following idea:

Write me. A postcard or letter, from wherever you are. I may know you, or I may not. Doesn't matter. It also doesn't matter if you are writing it from an exotic resort or just your good ol' sofa at home. All I want from you is some writing.

If your handwriting looks like a 5 year old wrote it (guilty of that myself), don't let this stop you. Or if you put in some heavy calligraphy kills- Go for it! Or if you prefer to have spell check from Word, and just print it out- Totally cool as well!

What you write, is up to you. You could send me all your troubles, a drawing, a love letter, life lessons, critique, hate-mail, your bills in hopes I will pay them, a care-package, a cd with your favorite music, your homework, your life story. Or just send me some cash :D.

I want to see how big of a collection I can get from people all over the world, strangers or people that I know myself. Or maybe even meet new people this way. Who knows.

Will I write back? Well... You will have to wait and see I guess, but chances are I will :) And if I am allowed from whoever wrote me, I will publish the coolest, sweetest, funniest, most touching writings that I received on my blog! Time to get creative ;)

The address you can send all your writing to is:

Claudia Rammeloo

Berlaarsestraat 22

2500 Lier

Belgium

Talk to you soon, pen pal!