Fracas Noir || Susanne Waldau - te Brake I swear to tell the truth as I know it…

Life rarely turn the way we expect. In my own case perhaps more so than others. I’ve been told I’m drawn to trouble, and recently a friend of mine (once a very close one) told me “Susanne you will never change”.

A single line in an otherwise empty email, poignantly ended our friendship. I considered just deleting it but eventually hit the reply button. As much as my reply was a defence for my actions, it couldn’t conceal the truth she had stated in that single line. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. In the times when I threaten to leave my husband, the times I accuse him of adultery, the times I thrown various pieces of equipment that just happens to stand in my way. The times I seek for a divorce lawyer, just to end my search in confusion; that line echoes in my mind. “Susanne you will never change”

Life is so fucked up, and I’m a sucker for it. And now as I sit on a speeding train, the one thing I crave is freedom. Not being held down by debts and creditors, mortgages and contracts. I’m seriously contemplating social harakiri. Tell about your chronic decease and you will not get a job nor a mortgage. Tell about the times you were unfaithful and you will not have a marriage. Spill the beans on an abusive domestic life and your kids will be taken away. My hedonistic, melodramatic and very neurotic side wants to do all of that. And as things crumbles, and the ones you most love are taken away from you, perhaps freedom of power and influence will finally intervene meeting out both punishment and justice.

I wonder if I was really meant for the life I am leading now. I doubt it. My husband doubts it, and the few friends I have do so too. And so I seek that easy exit. The divorce papers which comes after several serious conversations from my husbands investors. “Your wife is a liability. She has got to go.”

It’s so easy. So I dare you. Do it. Just do it. Because I really don’t care. And even if I do care, I am just a blip on the radar. And so are You.

Hasta la vista Fuckers!

(5 votes, average: 4.8 out of 5)

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It’s been the day from hell. I literally feel like my brains have been fried, a la something out of Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen. I’m trying to come to terms with if this is just a surreal dream or if it is real life. I’m one week away from my holidays but nowhere near what needs to be accomplished before then. Set back after set back and I’m still desperately looking for an interactive and visual designer for a women’s portal I’m heading up. And this before Monday!

So…if any reader would know of a great candidate, please drop me a line on waldau.susanne[at]gmail.com

Until then, I’m looking at a looong night, crunching out some documents and reports.

The last 5 minutes…

… I amused myself with taking pictures of myself …

… like a fucking self-obsessed prick

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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I rush to the station, half running in a pair of Hugo Boss black pattent leather shoes. Comfortable? No. Sexy? Yes…albeit understated.

I know, I will be late for the office yet again. Nearly missing my first meeting. And then comes the excuses which by now starts to sound like a broken record. “I really did get up at 6.40 am. Well that and my usual morning run.” Was it necessary? Not really, but which made me feel all the better for it.

7 am
…I let my mind go blank for a moment, just aiming for the next corner, a far distant lamppost, the end of the canal. I do a few routines at home, and then let the dogs out whilst making a coffee for my husband. And then the first set of laundry. The house is in complete disarray after a shorter trip and a friend just having left. It needs a woman’s touch, but alas not mine.

I throw myself into the shower, counting my luck that I actually washed my hair yesterday. Sebastian get’s a bath too while Reinout is waking up. A few minutes later and he’s in the doorway, taking over the responsibility of Sebastian. I continue to top off my mascara and curling my hair. There’s a big pile of laundry waiting to be ironed. In contrast my so often over crammed closet looks rather empty apart from ¾ of space of cocktail dresses hanging neatly in plastic bags. I dash upstairs once more and find a pair of suit pants along with a white top which I hastily iron and pull on.

The doorbell rings. I think it’s the cleaners. Relief. But it’s not. It’s the owner of the cleaning company. She would like to chat about a new cleaning routine. I glance at my watch impatiently. “Does she really have to do this now?”
“OK” I say. “It’s ok, we can talk but I need to take out the laundry and put on a new batch.” Our tête-à-tête is done over smelly socks and sandy trousers. She doesn’t offer to help. But then again I wouldn’t have accepted.

Deal or no deal, I can’t take a decision on a Tuesday morning before work. “Send me your proposal” I ask, kindly but firmly.
She mentions the proposal once more in a tone that it’s evident this proposal will never find a mailbox let alone a piece of hardcopy.

“I just want someone to clean and iron for today. Just finish the job” It’s rapidly becoming my mantra.
The lady agrees but again asks me to accept her new proposal. Give me a break I think. Don’t you see I’m on my way to work, looking ever more impatiently at my watch to give a subtle, but hopefully effective hint.
She asks me to call her during the day. I contra with tonight. She accepts.
“And what about the rest of the week?” she asks.
“Just Friday, as usual. I need to think this proposal over.”

I throw myself on the staircase and dash down for my bags. Outside the air smells of damp pavement mixing with the exhumes of a passing car. I wait for a moment before stepping out on the street. Another day in making, and yet again I’m late.

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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Finally in bed after another non-stop day. 2 meetings down, administration and a near empty inbox I am ready to leave for Cologne tomorrow for GamesCom. Although my schedule is completely open for once, I look forward to some good parties, networking and bumping into familiar faces from the games industry.

Sebastian and Victoria are coming too, and we got a family suite at the Marriott. It’s almost like a little mini-holiday and I’m planning to take Wednesday afternoon off to explore Cologne with the kids.

Can’t wait! But now off to sleep. Tomorrow is another (very early) day!

Photos from yesterday’s exscursion to the woods…

Victoria was practicing her monkey act…

…and Sebastian was just pretending to be cute (and succeeding!!)

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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It’s been a pretty hectic week. Back to back meetings, followed by catching up on deadlines and sporadic attempts to clear my email backlog. I’m not as fanatic as I used to be, and have curbed my desires to work past midnight. But still when I finally hit the sack sometime in the 11th hour (literally), I’ve been beat.

Moreover on Friday I was utterly exhausted and fell asleep on the couch before the end of Style by Jury, and woke up to Criminal Intent.
Even an all exclusive day dedicated to myself like yesterday’s (spraytan, hair extensions, manicure and pedicure would any woman leap with joy), saw me tired. After a brief dinner at Bij Tholen (a local restaurant here in Haarlem), where I managed to gulp down dinner in less than 5 minutes (I was hungry after of weeek’s worth of inconsistant dieting), I crashed once more on the couch.

With a potential holiday coming up in a few weeks, I feel too tired to make the effort. I would happily leave that part to my husband, and continue life as it is. I realize this is not one of my more excited blog posts, but it all feels pretty gloomy. Despite fake tan, hair and nails…

Love the nails though…nail varnish from YSL

(1 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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I was on the bus, making a journey I had done so many times before. I past the powerplant overlooking the Amstel river. Erections of steel mirrored it the muddy waters. The bus continued further, and left the sight behind for new landscapes. My mind drifted away as I leaned on the window, my breath condensing on the cold glass. As much as I was trying to keep the past at bay concentrating on the future, I was unable to. In my outbox several emails awaited to be sent off, as soon as my laptop would hit the the wireless. Regret mixed with despair, as my eyes began to water.  I hid behind a pair of large Marc Jacob sunglasses, purposely having taken a seat at the back of the vehicle.

Only moments earlier, checking in with the bus driver I had, in my internal confusion,  forgotten my destination. As I stood there, letting other passengers passing me in an attempt to alleviate the situation, the bus driver grew noticeably irritated.
‘Don’t you know where you’re going?’
‘Yes’, I said ‘but I just can’t remember the name of the bus stop’
I fished out a long discarded bus ticket, in the hope of providing me with further assistance, but to no avail. All seemed futile until another passenger mentioned the same  destination, exchanging money with the by now angry bus driver.
‘Yes, that’s my stop.’
I handed over my 10 euros and got 7 back. Walking down the bus isle I noticed a few  stares. I reminded myself of my sunglasses, providing the most immediate need for protection, and pressed on.
—
The office was rather bustling and someone was playing music in an adjourning room. I opened up my laptop which was down to 4% of remaining battery and quickly attached a power cable. The wireless icon went from grey to black and I knew my emails would be sent any moment. As not bare witness to such an event, I went to the kitchen to offload my breakfast and lunch, destined for the fridge. I prepared my usual blueberry and raspberry mix whilst the coffee machine was working up a strong double espresso. My hands were full as I walked back to my desk.

The breakfast tasted bland and the coffee bitter, agreeing with neither carnal nor spiritual matter. I browsed casually over Aftonbladet’s news section, but my concentration level was down to zero. I clicked away and decided upon an entirely different strategy. My action list needed rapid refill after yesterday’s successful meeting, so I proceeded to add various items. Randomly, and not in any particular order, my brain was spitting out priorities. When even that came to an end, I continued with the emails left behind after this morning’s cull. There were exactly 9. I clicked F5 to check any responses, but non so far.

—
Fast forward. Thursday pass into Friday. I sleep little and wake up intermittently throughout the night. Nightmares plague me, and when the rays start to penetrate the bedroom blinds before morning has taken proper hold, I’m wide awake. Night has finally given in to day, and my torments has equally succumbed to relief.
My eyes are puffy, and I rinse them with cold water to alleviate the swelling. It doesn’t really help but temporarily numbs my headache.
The rest of the day goes by in a haze. The headache grows into a migraine and I stack pillows on my head to block out both noise and light.

He comes by later to check on me. Taking my hand, kissing my palm. I smile. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I don’t even wish to think of how we ended up here. I know I will have to….eventually, and surely that email will arrive. The bullet point one, where I aim to excel in my linguistic formulations, making that definitive point. But for now, I just want to let it go. Let it slip away into oblivion.

Before he leaves, he gives me a twinkle with his eye. I smile yet again, and then pull my pillow on my head. All turns dark and quiet…

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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I’m sitting here with my agenda planning the week ahead. It’s an exciting week with several meetings regading a project close to my heart. Last night, in anticipation of the next coming days, I cleaned out my inbox (*relief*), completed my administation (well overdue) and did the laundry in preparation for the cleaners coming over today.

I went to bed at midnight, but couldn’t sleep. Eventually, under a chemically induced state of mind, I drifted away into oblivion. I can’t recall any dreams, but sometime during the night Sebastian woke up, whaling. He has diarrhea, and a whole sanitation process kicked in, before eventually calm descended once again. At 8 o’clock I woke up from the dogs barking. It took me a few seconds to register it was already Monday. But I can’t help but wonder - where did the weekend go?

Friday evening, Reinout asked me to join in for a wine outside the office…

Sebastian and Reinout….words are superfluous…

MJ is contemplating being back from Ibiza

…and the next day I bought myself a pair of blue ballerinas.

Not from Chanel but Ab Donkers (vastly better for my economy!)

(3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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It’s been a strange week in retrospect. I met some very interesting people, engaged in mind challenging discussions, were given some sever reprimands and got the brunt of some people’s emotional reactions. Knowing it would be foolish to let these events pass into obscurity, I’ve taken some time to think things through.

One particular discussion stood out. We were at Viqhs, talking to some semi-famous DJ turned business man (or was it the other way around?). We went from Persia and the Shah’s fall of 1979 (after all I am a history buff) to DJ’s, the beautiful girls of Cartagena Colombia, Online Casinos and the rearrest of one of Amsterdam’s top criminals. Makes for good conversation over wine and tapas, and I felt like a fish in water.

At one point (and I’m not sure how we got into this), our conversation ventured into fidelity, or rather the lack of. I declared my undying love for my husband, vowing I would never be with another man. In fact when times of self pleasure, I would only think of my husband. My husband remained silent. I continued to babble (it must have been the wine) and at one point my husband took my hand and through silent eye communication told me it was sweet but enough.

Our DJ/business man was of another opinion and appeared to find the conversation intriguing. Had I even thought of that a man might want a bit of fresh flesh once in a while? Of course I had. So much to the point that 5 days ago, whilst wanting show my husband our dog’s football skills, knowing he was closing off the office but wasn’t there, and three phone calls later all ending all in voicemail greetings, I started walking through a cloud of monsoon rain towards the red light district just to check. Just to check…. You know, calm my mind. Or perhaps finally find proof of any suspicion that harbours my warped mind. Paranoid yes, but there were mitigating circumstances…

Now infidelity comes in many ways, all being based on trust. And so it became the final definitive question. The question, or paradigm if you like, of Trust versus Freedom. I’ve been thinking about it, every single hour, minute and second that was not preoccupied by something more important. Was he (the DJ) right? Were the best relationships the ones based on utter freedom? And what about Love? Will it diminish as we care less about our partners sexual exploitations? Or will it grow stronger thought the ultimate gift granted? I’m admittedly still pondering…

Reinout in negotiation??

(4 votes, average: 4 out of 5)

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As with all good things it had to come to an end. It had started in a rather stressful fashion, at 6.30 am walking the dogs, doing the laundry and then off to the gym. More laundry, getting dressed and off to work. At Central Station I detoured picking up cakes at Hema and plasters for my feet that rapidly were developing blisters from my Christian Louboutins. They are obviously not made for comfort nor walking on the Dutch hole studded streets.

A raspberry and blueberry cocktail later and too many cups of coffee I’ve lost count of, I prepared myself for my meeting. An hour later I was happy not having been crucified but instead being granted the extra bonus of birthday hugs and presents.
—

Leaving 5 minutes before 5.30 pm I naturally managed to miss the bus by 10 seconds and was forced to wait for another half hour. I came home exhausted and frankly not in a mood for birthday celebrations. A slight headache that had developed throughout the day had transitioned into a migraine. Champagne, cigar smoke and small talk only seemed to make matters worse. At 10 pm and Sebastian throwing pens and tantrums with what seemed to be with a certain premeditation, my husband and I had settled for cold war. It continued until I was ready for bed.

Although we talked, and the next morning promised a new beginning, the path of war was already trodden. After an over reaction from my side I snatched a 20 euro note and walked off with brisk steps to the train station, determined not to miss another train nor bus.

Almost an hour later and I’m on the last bit of the journey. I’ve gone through my emails, and written an apology to my husband. I am not sure he will accept. My iPhone is blasting with Madonna, my sure-fire tactic for chic survival. Today is just another day, and thank God that birthday is done and over!

Nightmare shoes…at least for catching the bus

(4 votes, average: 4 out of 5)

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At work, so little time for a longer blog entry but here comes some pictures from the day! Birthday girl got lucky!!

Morning essentials

My colleagues celebrated me at lunch….sweet

I got “A touch of Sunrise” from Rituals

Happy camper!

Nice smell too…

Healthy lunch at my desk

(4 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

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