Categories for My story

My diaries 1973 – 1987

I’ve kept a diary for the most part of my life. My first page is when i was nine years old, 1973. The last page was 2006. The last nine years of my life i didn’t keep one.

In this post i show you some pages from my diaries up until 1987. The first page is from my oldest one. I photographed this page before for Homebase, a project from 1998, but so much smaller, it was hardly readable.

The next pages are from my diaries i kept from 1985 until 1987. I wrote a lot during that time. Multiple times a day sometimes. It’s bewildering reading those diaries now, in 2015. It’s so much, so many thoughts, crazy, wild, messy. I was desperate trying to find some peace, some rest. In those days, i couldn’t find it.

I didn’t read the diaries very thoroughly. Part of why i want to show them is the look. The handwriting. Some drawings, doodles in the sidelines. And i did use the I Ching a lot in those days.

I do feel a lot quieter now. More peaceful. And happier! The past nine years have worked out good for me. Even though my thoughts are still racing, it’s not racing in circles. My thoughts are still changing daily, moving forward.

Like today, my initial thought was to write about February 11 1986. I was going through my diaries to look up what i wrote. It is in this post. But i decided that, since i had already written about that day, i would show you the pages themselves. And some more.

I did translate some sentences in the captions. But it’s too much to translate. Still, enjoy!

Edit May 22 17:15 – I am translating the pages now, adding it to the captions.

My father

Saturday i made a new post with the title ‘Love’. I did plan to write that post. And in my mind, towards the end of that post, my family, my father would come into the post.

That post ‘Love’ is still here, waiting to be filled. Today i made a new post, this one. My father. I don’t think i ever wrote about him on lfs.nl. I don’t talk about him a lot. Only with my family, very rarely.

I haven’t seen my father for around 27 years. He does still live. I know my mother will hear it once he has passed away. Some pension thing. He is 85 now.

When i moved out of the house i am born in, where i grew up for the first 21 years of my life, my mother decided to divorce. I did agree with her. I do remember, when i was 14 years old, saying to my sister that i didn’t understand why my mother stayed with him. There was no love. No contact. No joy. So, it wasn’t a big surprise that after i left the house, the last daughter to leave, my mother left too.

In our house, my father wasn’t a big presence. He worked, he slept a while after dinner, always too long. He sat in the kitchen when he woke up, smoked cigarettes. He was hardly there. Me and my mum were in the living room, watching tv, chatting.

I do think it was difficult for my father. He had three daughters, all intelligent, outspoken. Not afraid to speak up to him. He might have tried to make it work, but i don’t remember. I don’t remember any real interest of him. No questions. No hugs. Nothing. Ever.

I did try to keep in touch with him. I remember coming at his birthday. I rang the doorbell. A face with eyes wide open surrounded by foam from douche gel appeared for the little window in the door. I was the only one there. Later on a friend came by, which was a relief to me.

He did call me. Sometimes he talked, other times he didn’t say a word. I knew it was him. I could hear the water bubbling from the aquarium, close to the phone.

He refused to fill in the forms for my study allowance. The parental contribution would be set to maximum, if there was no information given. I talked to the dean at art school. She said the only solution for me was to get two signatures from people and a signature from my father himself, to get me uncoupled from my father.

The dean gave me one signature. I went to my family doctor and asked for his signature. I had to explain to him it wasn’t a judgement on my father, but a judgement on the relationship i had with him. So he gave me a signature too.

I don’t remember talking to my father. I know i went there. I don’t know if he yelled or just said no. I simply wiped that talk from my memory. I know i got into the house of our neighbours. I do remember the wife getting angry and telling me to leave the papers with her. She would take care of it. And she did.

I do clearly remember the last contact i had with my father. He called me up. I don’t know if this was after or before the signature talk. But, he called me up. He asked me if i wanted to let my blood be taken and be checked. Because he didn’t believe i was his daughter. I responded very calmly. Sure. If that was what he wanted, i would let my blood be checked. No problem.

There was no argument. We had a simple talk over the phone, like two mature people.

It wasn’t a simple talk though. And we were not two mature people.

That was the last bit i ever heard of him. I received no more phone calls from him. This must have been 1988. 27 years ago.

My feelings of hurt, of anger have diminished over the years. I hardly think about him anymore. I do sometimes wonder if maybe i would like to see him once more. But no. Our ending was final. I do feel rejected, yes. He is still my father. But all the usual feelings a child has towards his parent have faded away.

I really do pity him. He had a row with my middle sister, a day after she had her first child. She was still lying in the hospital. He didn’t even look at his first grandchild. The other three grandchildren he never saw. He never saw his three children again. All the things which make a life full with pleasure, he pushed away.

I do not write this piece asking for pity myself. Each life has its own pains and sorrows. You simply need to deal with it, go through it as good as you can. I did spend time yesterday and today thinking about this article. I even cried a bit. Some memories do still hurt. Or maybe they hurt more now.

This is an old pain though. Not too present in my life now, more a faint memory.

Tomorrow i’ll write a new post. I don’t know what that will be about.

Make a good day!

Published on May 11, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: My story

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School diaries

A couple of years ago i cleaned up my diaries collection. The last ten or twenty years i used a refillable one, up until i finally got a smartphone. I threw away all the fills. There was nothing of interest in it. But my old school diaries i couldn’t throw away. Especially the two which i photographed for this post, the ones from 78/79 and 79/80. The pages of these diaries are filled with pictures of pretty girls, stories and most of all, music!

You can actually see the shift in my taste. Up until 78 my taste was very much influenced by my elder sister. She is eight and a half years older than me. So Steely Dan, Little Feat, the Eagles, Crosby, Stills Nash and Young, J.J. Cale, Stevie Wonder and so many others were coming out of her world. Over the years, Steely Dan has come back into focus and is now one of my favourite bands of all time, but the other bands didn’t fare that well.

The first band that got my attention, fired me up, with bells and ringlets and triangles was the Nina Hagen Band. She performed on a Dutch show from Sonja Barend and i was totally in love!

Other new bands from this time were Gruppo Sportivo, Elvis Costello and yes, of course the Police.

Enjoy!

A woman

Being a woman is a given to me. It is not a property which i question. I am actually quite happy being a woman. I love my own body. I know i should loose a couple of kilo’s. Well, let’s say ten, or well, twenty. But i am not that bothered by it. Not anymore.

In the last talk i had in the company i worked at last year, my boss there said to me:

You’re such a woman!
Je bent zo’n vrouw!

To which i replied

You are so right!
Daar heb je helemaal gelijk mee!

There was also a bit of an eye movement going upwards. A bit of a sigh. At least that is how i remember that moment. This was towards the end of the talk.

After this talk, i walked a floor up and asked the team i had promised to do some work for if they really needed me. When they said no, i said i was going home that day, or rather, in few hours or so. I went back to my workplace, went out for lunch to get a bit more quiet, got back and turned of my computer and brought it to the service desk. I then gave the remaining moo cards to my then present colleagues and exchanged phone numbers. I then walked down to the cafeteria. I told the barista that i was leaving. He did react surprised. He actually got a bit more angry than me. But it was ok.

He gave me some coffee. After a few minutes my boss came in. We had a short talk, i don’t even remember what was said. Then i saw the scrummaster of my team. I went up to him, shook his hand, told him i would be at the farewell lunch the next week, and said goodbye. With my boss i walked to the reception, i gave my key and left the building.

I know it was a mess. This has never happened to me before. But i also felt that this was enough. I could see an upcoming fight to try to get things a bit more right. I wasn’t sure i would succeed at it. But i felt the road ahead was closed to me, partly by my own actions and feelings. So i left. Relieved.

The expression my boss had when he said to me ‘you are such a woman’ was mostly one of exasperation. Which to me meant that i wasn’t supposed to act like a woman. I was supposed to act like a man? Like a child? Like a hermaphrodite? Like something neutral?

I’m not even sure what behaviour of me caused that remark. But the remark is still with me. I still think about it. I’m still puzzled by it.

Today i read two articles about Joris Luyendijk and his book about the London City people working at banks and making millions: Dit kan niet waar zijn: onder bankiers (This cannot be true: with bankers), which he wrote after interviewing many of them for The Guardian. The first article was in the Dutch paper Trouw: Het amorele systeem waarin wij leven. Joris speaks about this travels through the Netherlands and the speeches he gives. People keep telling him: it’s not like that only in London City, it’s here too. There is no inherent value anymore in our work, it’s all measurable targets, figures, efficiency.

Joris: ‘Morality has become suspect. There is only one thing which gets moralized about and that is that we can not moralize anymore. But the absence of a talk about who we want to be leads to a shattering.’

The next article was in the Dutch paper NRC (you need to get a initial subscription and read Dutch): Bankiers leven in een amoreel universum.

Joris: ‘The biggest compliment in the world of the amoral shareholder value is calling someone ‘professional’. It means that you keep your emotions outside of work, including moral convictions. Those are for the home environment.’

Being called a woman by a man or a woman means, for me, being called emotional. Being called a person who feels. Being called unprofessional.

I do not consider myself unprofessional. I do enjoy delivering quality in my work. I do enjoy thinking along and together with the customer. But there have only been a handful of customers who appreciated that from me, in the twenty years i’ve been working. Most simply want me to do what they ask from me. Even if what they want is so wrong for them.

As i said before, this post does not end in a definite answer to last for eternity. I’m thinking. And talking to you, the person who reads this. I do have so many questions, about the world, about the people, about us leading our lives, with fear and uncertainty and love and friendship and loneliness.

I wish you many thoughts. Enjoy.

Published on April 30, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: My story

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The world and the people

There are many more people who do know more than me about this world and the people, the animals and the plants living on it. You just follow facebook, twitter, the news to get links to the places where they talk. I just discovered ideas.ted.com, no videos, but articles. Earlier this week i wrote about Brain Pickings, a site i only know for a couple of months. Earlier this week i found Undernews through a twitter link by Jorn Barger.

It is deafening.

The uproar earlier this week about fugitives drowning in the Mediterranean. They flee from their countries in ramshackle boats paid for by their hard earned money. They flee from war, terror, sickness, cruelty. They flee to us, Europeans. This still rather safe haven in the world. Where we have spring. With yellow green leaves opening up towards the sunshine. With purple bluebells in big patches growing between the roads. With yellow daffodils waving in the wind.

Natural bluebells flowering in the Hallerbos south of Brussels. Photography: Denzil

This week i watched part of a program about Alaska on Discovery. A family was flown back to where they lived in the north western part of Alaska, the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR). They had a short talk about the government wishing to get to the oils in the earth there. I had never heard of this issue.

There are so many things to worry about. IS, the USA, people who don’t believe in global warming, Chinese and other Asian countries fumes spreading out, old people in the Netherlands getting less taken care of, escargots being put into another snails shell, the EU wanting to destroy the boats fugitives might get into to get into Europe, the war in the Ukraine, a pilot killing himself by diving down a flying plain from Spain to Germany, the financial crisis in 2008 and its after effects, bee families suddenly dying and not helping us anymore for fertilizing crops, TTIP giving companies the ability to actually charge governments when they make rules minimizing their chance for making a profit.

It is deafening.

I do not know how to proceed with my life. I can only follow my heart. My heart that still dreams.

My dreams are not very complicated. I just don’t have the husband, children and friends who will make the dreams go away. Which is what happens to most people. Their lifes take over.

My dream still is to join Scritti Politti. As a singer. I used to be in love with Green. I’m not anymore, not since he got married. But i love the music and the lyrics. And i would love to live in London once again. And have friends there. And i would love to travel a bit more, see the world, meet new people, talk with all different sorts of people. People who work on making this world a better place. To actually write about them on this blog. Because yes, this blog will stay with me.

It is hilarious, preposterous. Crazy. But i actually do fantasize about Scritti doing a gig in Rotterdam on the big market square where i get interviewed by Matthijs van Nieuwkerk before. And then i feed my newborn baby, walk on the stage and say ‘Hi Rotterdam!’. And then we start to perform a great gig, which is getting recorded and broadcasted all over the world, or well, youtube. And then we get so famous, so rich. And then we set the whole world right. Everybody wants to rule the world. And then i ask Joss Whedon to think of a clip he can make for us. And he does! Because he has a bit more time now he stops doing the big Marvel movies. So yay!

Crazy.

The baby is very unlikely. The interview by Matthijs too. The gig on the big square, hmm.. bit far of too! Joss Whedon… pffff. These are all things i simply would love to happen. But i’m still sitting at home.

There is one thing though which is a bit more plausible, which could happen.

The past months, since the sledgehammer moment, i’ve been thinking about these drawings i made, in 1986.

I gave these drawings away, twice. First time i gave them to Iris, who was my friend when i made these. She is actually on the first drawing. The girl dancing with the yellow hat. After a time she gave these drawings back to me. Maybe because, if i remember correctly, i was looking at the drawings a lot when i was at her home.

The second time i gave them to Femke. She gave them back too. I don’t remember what she said. But i have the feeling she felt it was too much.

After that i kept these drawings. I actually almost forgot about them. Until the sledgehammer moment. I got them out of the cupboard. I made a photo of the seventh card, which has only text on it, which is the last part of the song A little knowledge by Scritti Politti.

I always felt that i shouldn’t keep these drawings. I was actually thinking of giving them to Green in 2006. I talked about this idea with friends, who advised against it. I do think they were right, then.

Now, I actually would like to give these drawings to Green.

No strings attached. Well, apart from my crazy dreams, but hey!

This could go many ways. First, of course, is that nothing will happen. Which seems most likely to be honest. But i hope not. And there are of course a million other ways this could go. Yes, i have thought about this too! For many many years. And its scary. Yes. But i do feel i gotta do this. To sort of liberate myself? Maybe? And i know i could let it go. Which is what i said two days ago. No i won’t write. No no nononono. I have my pride. I’m not gonna do this.

But every dream i have comes to this point. And i can’t get around it. I always get stuck. I change things, twist them, but it always happens. And i don’t know why.

I’ll miss my drawings. But i do think they will go to a good home.

Hopefully.

Published on April 24, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: My story

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Thinking

My head was spinning around all over the place today.

First i thought i’m gonna write Green! Then i sort of stepped back, thinking hmm.. no i won’t. I might send it to Rhodri first. And then i .. hmm.. i don’t remember! But no, i won’t write anything.

This evening i suddenly became so angry! I thought i don’t want to live this life! I don’t wanna have a mortgage. I don’t wanna have insurances. I don’t wanna pay all these silly things like VAT, like taxes. Take it away! Which is silly. Well, i still don’t want to be here and grow old quietly and obediently. I don’t want to get sick and be left all by myself and be taken care of by uninterested young people. I don’t! I wanna have friends and a family. I want to have a warmness around me. I don’t even know if warmness is a word. But i don’t care! Fuck!

FUCK!

Last saturday evening i spend with an old friend. She asked me on facebook. We ate something simple. We drank three bottles of wine. One of which was a Reichsrat von Buhl Pfalz Riesling Sekt Brut 2012 – not entirely sure this was the one, but it’s close! – , which i bought and took there with me. One of my favourite bubbly wines ever. We talked about many many things. Also about my dreams. And about love. And sex. And men. And age. And children. Her two almost mature boys. A fun night. And my following sunday a bit hungover. But still good.

And now i’m a bit more quiet.

I’m reading Brain Pickings a lot lately. I love it. Today there was a new post, The Art of Stumbling: David Brooks on Character, “Résumé Virtues” vs. “Eulogy Virtues,” and the Humility Code of Living a Meaningful Life. In this article was a reference to an earlier article about Joss Whedon’s commencement address. Which was wonderful too! I will quote a piece here, but there are many more quotes which i could have picked.

This contradiction, and this tension … it never goes away. And if you think that achieving something, if you think that solving something, if you think a career or a relationship will quiet that voice, it will not. If you think that happiness means total peace, you will never be happy. Peace comes from the acceptance of the part of you that can never be at peace. It will always be in conflict. If you accept that, everything gets a lot better.

And a quote from the David Brooks article.

We are all stumblers, and the beauty and meaning of life are in the stumbling — in recognizing the stumbling and trying to become more graceful as the years go by.

The stumbler scuffs through life, a little off balance here and there, sometimes lurching, sometimes falling to her knees. But the stumbler faces her imperfect nature, her mistakes and weaknesses, with unvarnished honesty, with the opposite of squeamishness. She is sometimes ashamed of the perversities in her nature — the selfishness, the self-deceit, the occasional desire to put lower loves above higher ones.

But humility offers self-understanding. When we acknowledge that we screw up, and feel the gravity of our limitations, we find ourselves challenged and stretched with a serious foe to overcome and transcend.

The stumbler is made whole by this struggle.

It’s like, i have read these sort of words before. I have read psychology books, filosophy books, literature. I have also read many science fiction, fantasy, romantic books. I read Tolkien. I love young adult books: Harry Potter, His Dark Materials, Tonke Dragt books. I’m not sure why words from Brain Pickings now hit me so many times.

It does have something to do with that sledge hammer feeling i had in October 2014. Since then i feel more alive. And i do remember the first half of 2014, in which i felt so empty. So silent. I don’t think i even cried then. But i do remember thinking then, that i couldn’t see a life worth living. That i would rather die. Well, not straight away. When my cats have died. Not with any seriousness. But i did feel hopeless.

So now i’m here, in 2015. There are so many things i dream of, it’s like almost too many. There are so many things i want. It’s hard. But, it’s also just in my mind. Outwardly i’m quiet, friendly. I chat to people in shops. I smile. I actually do enjoy that. That’s true! I bought some kibbeling (fried cod fish) today at the market. I sat in front of the markthal and ate it slowly. And looked at all the people passing by. Just watching them. Some quiet, others loud. Little children. Old people. Young people. Why am i looking now, and why wasn’t i looking a year ago?

This post will not have a big final. It will not point to a grand solution. I’m not saying my life is just beginning. It started 51 years ago. I can see my whole path towards this point in time. Some parts i have forgotten, some parts have stayed with me.

I’m not sure where i will end up. Where i will live. Where i will work. I still have hopes for myself. Wishes. Wants. Needs.

I’m tired. I will go to bed. Hopefully for a good night’s sleep.

See you tomorrow 🙂

Published on April 22, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: My story

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My futures

The night between last saturday and sunday i was lying awake thinking. Thinking about choosing between a private life and a public life. At one point i got out of bed and took the I Ching out of the bookcase and started reading it. I was looking for the line about that same choice. Which just happened to be in the first hexagram of the book.

I Ching Hexagram 1 – Ch’ien / The Creative
Nine in the fourth place means: Wavering flight over the depths. No blame.

A place of transition has been reached, and free choice can enter in. A twofold possibility is presented to the great man: he can soar to the heights and play an important part in the world, or he can withdraw into solitude and develop himself. He can go the way of the hero or that of the holy sage who seeks seclusion. There is no general law of his being. If the individual acts consistently and is true to himself, he will find the way that is appropriate for him. This way is right for him and without blame.

A part of me wants to shout out and go and bang and dance. Another part wants to stay quiet and think and observe.

The past months have been sort of crazy in my mind. I had many many daydreams, all different kinds. I did feel happy most of the time, but i also felt sad, hurt even. It usually stayed in me house. The walks… i love the walks. Going outside, looking around, watching the trees and shrubs and houses and roads and birds and people. A time out. Sometimes it felt hard going back inside once again.

These few months mean something for me. It’s six months ago since i had that sledge hammer feeling. Since then i am on this journey. A tightrope. One step at a time. I remember writing the about present on lfs.nl. The sudden realization that it was the last page of lfs.nl. This wasn’t me thinking rational. I just.. knew.

At the time i didn’t know i would start blogging on ellenpronk.com in a few weeks time. But that is what i did. After a week of designing, working out the categories, the layout i was. The domain i already registered a couple of years ago. I never got around of setting it up as a work website. I had tried. But i thought of a better way of using it.

My life has been very solitary so far. On the whole i didn’t mind that much. I enjoy my own company. But i would like to have friends. I would like to cook for more people. More people than just me. I would like to laugh a bit more. Talk some more.

I do listen to music a lot these days. I actually do sing along too. I like that. But it doesn’t fill the void.

I know the private life. I have lived it for the past thirty years. It’s difficult and hard work. There is peace and quiet. And loneliness.

So, if i have to make a choice, i’d rather choose a public life. It will be equally hard work, it will be equally difficult. But it is also filled with friends. I will not have complete freedom in choosing the things i do. But on the whole, i think i will be happier. A bit messier too. But that’s alright.

Ooh, in both scenario’s i will continue with ellenpronk.com. Of course. It’s what i do. I love this place. Truly.

Published on April 15, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: My story

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Sex

When i was around twelve years old erotic feelings came into my life. Masturbation was my secret pastime during the evenings. I loved doing it. I lied on my belly and and rubbed against the sheet. I still remember the orgasms. They were wonderful.

My first kiss was on Tenerife on holiday. In the moonlight on a beach. We had sat in a disco. My holiday friend was kissing this other guy and i felt completely embarrassed. When we left the disco and went to the beach, he kissed me. Woah. After the holiday he came along, all the way from Blackpool, England. I remember buying a XTC record, Black sea, when we visited the record store Plato. I also remember my mum telling me he had said to her he didn’t get it why i went to the gymnasium, the Dutch highest level high school. I would get married anyway? Sorry Jim, you shouldn’t have said that! Bye bye!

Back at school i developed a crush on Marc. We went out one time. I didn’t say a word! We didn’t go out after that. Duh. And he got back together with his former girlfriend. But i did fall in love, and we did get this sort of intermittent thing. We did kiss on the exams night when we set up tents on the school ground. And there was more kissing on other evenings. We never went all the way. Not for lack of trying. It just didn’t happen. We both went to Delft to study. But there it was left to fade away. And then i left Delft and went to the Rotterdam art school after four years. Never to see him again.

At sixteen i got on to the pill. Together with my mum i went to our doctor. Periods were giving me lots of pain. The doctor suggested that the pill would be a good option for me. So for the next five years i was having no trouble with periods and protected from getting pregnant at the same time! Not that i was having sex. When i was around twenty-one twenty-two, i decided i would quit the pill. I wasn’t having any sex anyway, and i would see how my periods were going. It was alright. Maybe i was getting a bit fiercer and the periods simply didn’t bother me that much anymore. Or maybe they were getting less painful. I didn’t know. The thought of taking these hormones each day was not a pleasant one. The pill was out!

In Delft, I do remember sitting with a friend, Marcel, in his room. Later on he said he was surprised there was no attraction between us. I do know that i simply wasn’t thinking about sex with him at all. I just liked him. No other guys attracted me in Delft. Well, apart from this gorgeous guy whom i only stared at in the college room. That got to nothing at all, of course.

I did meet another guy in a pub Dizzy. I went out alone. I actually said i to Rens was feeling recalcitrant. We had a long talk. Not sure it was that same evening or later, but i also do remember going out to McDonalds with him and having a long long talk about all sorts of things. He asked me to come to his place and have dinner. So i did. And then we tried to have sex, but sadly no. I couldn’t go along with it, it just didn’t feel sexy at all. It did pain me to say it, but that is what i did. He was a bit upset. I did stay and sleep over, the next day we had breakfast together. And that was it.

Rotterdam. Where i lived from December 1985. School started in August 1986. I had a talk with a teacher in a pub. He asked me what i really really wanted. For someone to really love me, i answered. I meant it. A friend pulled me away from him and i went home. A week later, in his class, he was sitting there with a his face turning red. We never talked about it. He was having sex with other students. Not for me.

No other boys at art school got me interested. Or girls. I was thinking that maybe i was lesbian. But i simply didn’t fall in love with a girl. I did have best friends. I believed. After art school, from where i graduated in 1991, me and a friend organized an exhibition about sex, Sexposition. It was in the Fabriek, a squatted old factory with studio’s and a large exhibit room, in the west part of Rotterdam, close to the Delfshaven tube station.

We worked on it for a year. We got a subsidy. Marlies Dekkers showed her exam work. We also organized an evening of sex, with art work, a lingerie show, some singing and other things happening. It was sold out. All that time, i never had gotten any sex myself.

The evening of the show, i went out with a small group afterwards. We went to Tudor bar on the Nieuwe Binnenweg. I went to this place so many times in the 80s. At the end of the evening this guy named Bart asked me to go to his home with him. And i said yes! He had a waterbed! Man, that was a surprise when i stepped into it. We made out. No sex though, grrr. I fell in love a bit, but nothing happened. I think a few days or weeks later i went by and we talked a little, but no, nothing.

Around christmas 1992 i gave a dinner party at my place. I read a story to a couple of my friends. Ben, a friend of a friend, was there too. A few weeks later, at new years eve, we started to kiss.

So yes, a couple of days after that Ben asked me to have dinner at his place. I stayed the night. Not completely sure of the timings here (it’s been 22 years!), but we did have sex around that time. What i do remember is that we tried and the first time it didn’t go. But when he was asleep and i was awake, i went to him and started kissing and he woke up and yes, then it happened. For the first time. I was 28 years.

We were together for like two, three months. He gave me one of his works, a foamy yellowish cast of a painting. It still hangs in my house. Then we broke up. We were not in love. We liked each other, but that was it.

Well, i knew that. But still, it was a lot for me to come to terms with. And i got a fever. I was sick for a week. A close friend Femke took me out to the Veluwe, a national park in the center of the Netherlands. We walked and talked. I was not feeling good.

I didn’t see Ben for many years. Only later, when i bumped into him at a friends house and i was too surprised to not say hi, i realized he is just a nice guy. Now when i see him, once every two three years, we can do some small talk.

A 1997 i started to work on lfs.nl. Or rather, home.luna.nl/~ellen. In July 1998 i got an e-mail from Jeroen, ‘hulde! prachtige site!’ (‘honour! beautiful site!’). A friendship started. With Jeroen who also lives in Rotterdam, of all places. And i fell in love. And he did not. With me anyway. I have some e-mails in which we talked about it. We were outspoken and honest with each other. But no, it wasn’t going to be. No no no.

Reading those e-mails, thinking back about those days, i do see now i was so serious, nice, but also close to impossible. It reminds me of the thoughts i have about myself while i was in art school. I see now i was very closed up. Nothing the teachers said to me really got through. I was like this knot all tied up.

I came closer to the dark years. The years of not working on lfs. Of me trying to get away from it all. Of me playing warcraft. Of me not seeing anyone. Of me going though the motions. Everything seemed to be coming to a full stop, while time was running onwards.

Looking back at it, the first half of last year, 2014, was the ultimate full stop.

I talked about it with a friend, and he came with this job offer later on. In August i started working there.

I’m not sure what happened. I felt like i was hit by a sledgehammer. It was a short crush on this person which felt very strange to me. Which i could switch off rather easily once i realized that he was married.

I started to work on lfs.nl again. After 8 years. I started to daydream. And i felt aroused. I felt alive again, which was a really good feeling.

So now i’m here. March 2015. My sixth week of working on ellenpronk.com. I still feel that sledge hammer hit me when was it? September 2014? October 2014? I still feel the energy inside waiting to be pulled out and used.

Looking back at my life. It does feel like completely mine. I’m truly happy with that. Nothing really bad has ever happened to me.

I will take my steps into the future. I have said it before, i gotta stay close to what i want, deep inside. I managed that so far, i hope i will keep on doing that.

Published on March 17, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: My story

1 Comment

My work

The first year at art academy was glorious. It was 1986 – 1987. I was living by myself for around nine months. The first year was introductory, with a week long travel into Germany in autumn. I loved sculpture, drawing, art history. I loved it all. I remember working with plaster in sculpture. I collected the plaster dust which other people dropped and made small work with it on the floor. Geometric and organic shapes. And of course completely unable to save them. For an assignment for a drawing class, something with weaving, i started to use paint over the entire paper and cut and use it over each other. I actually wrote a paper about Scritti Politti for art history. Pretty sure it was all a lot of nonsense, but i loved it. Still a shame i never got that paper back.

After that first year it did go downhill. I tried painting. That didn’t work, i got a zero and had to choose another subject. Photography and ‘monumental’ (sorry, no idea how to translate that) was better. It did get more serious. I got more serious.

I’m not sure why i started to make self portraits. I know we had an assignment early, maybe even in the first year, to draw yourself. I made these sketchy drawings, which didn’t look like me at all. Later on i started to make photos of myself. First at home, later in the school studio. I still don’t completely understand why i made these. I do know i looked pretty in the photos. I don’t think i was aware of that in my daily life.

My exams art academy work i used in Homebase, Feel me – Free me – Fuck me. The photos were large, around 1 square meter each. The text was done with transparencies in the darkroom. It was just before Photoshop took over. The photos were from different sessions. I do think the first two were made in the school’s studio with studio lighting. The third one i made at home with flash light.

I’m not sure about this work. I do see the work that went into them. It’s just, they do not speak clearly to me. They feel like an intermediate work to me now.

In 1994 i started to work at the printing office. It was hard work, but also a lot of fun. That was the time we made the christmas cd. I sang my own song.

In 1995 at work we got a modem and an internet account. I took that home during the weekend. I loved it! I started to play muds. Micromuse was the first world i visited. I worked on building an old Greek part in there. Windsmare was my first game world. I started playing other muds. I also started to play Angband, a roguelike game.

In 1997 i started my own website on ~ellen on home.luna.nl. Which to my surprise is still there! I went through my links just to see if any were still life. The only relevant one today is Superbad. Which is still one of my favourite websites ever.

The years after that are documented on lfs.nl in these text presents:

The past nine years were crowded with playing World of Warcraft, especially raiding. The past 4 years were busy with work. Trying to get it, trying to make enough money to keep living.

The last five months have been hectic. From ecstatic happy to truly sad.

I’ve met some old friends again. I do feel my life is much better than were i was a year ago.

I do know i will not get my old life back. Too much has changed. Some friends got children. It’s different. Everyone’s life has moved on.

And me? I got a bit of time. A bit of money. To make this website work.

Please.

Published on March 4, 2015 at 6:00 by Ellen

Categorised in: lfs.nl, My story

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My birthday!

Happy birthday Ellen!

25 february 20:19
I’ll fill up this post tomorrow during the day. For now, a relaxed evening watching tv or reading is up. Seeya tomorrow!

26 february 9:30
I just got out of bed. The weather is a bit dreary. But that’s OK, i don’t mind. I still don’t sleep too well. That has been going on since October last year. I do wake up or don’t fall asleep at all. But during the day, when i sit down, i have small sleeps. And sometimes i go to bed real early, like at nine.

Yesterday I listened to music. No tv, no reading.

So for now, i’m gonna make myself a bit of breakfast, bread with egg. After that i’m gonna make myself some coffee with a cookie. After that a shower and than i’m gonna take of and go and think of my present. See you later!

26 february 10:10
I have another comment! A hug and a smooch. Yes! Seems like non-Dutch people are commenting more. But hmm… with only two comments that’s a bit early to say. [Edit: non-Dutch = US ]

26 february 13:27
Back home! I bought my present. It’s still packed. I went to the Marqt as well, got me some bread and butter. Also dark chocolate ice cream! And chocolate!

I also went to Platenburg and bought myself a nice bottle of good red wine, a Pieri Rosso di Motalcino 2012. We also had a small glass of white Colombard Sauvignon (sorry, i forgot the official title) to celebrate my birthday.

I bumped into Hans, a good old friend while i was walking to Skins. He just came out of a shoe shop with his two kids and his girlfriend. With some shoes for his kids.

Well, that was if for now. Gonna make me some lunch now.

26 february 14:54
Just wrote my short and easy post for tomorrow. Picked out the photos and did some minor touch ups on them in Photoshop. Done!

Also had a chat with Leonard Grossman on Facebook, who has been following my work since 1997. It’s weird to realize that is 17 years ago.

Liked all the congratulations of Facebook too, thanks everyone!

26 february 15:19
Unpacked my present!

Review by Katie Puckrik Smells

26 february 17:07
Gonna watch a bit of tv. First the Great British Menu on SBS 6, 17:30 – 18:05. Than i think i will dance a bit with my headphones on! I usually go through my mixtapes and see if there is any song i wanna dance to. It’s different each day. I do check out De wereld draait door on NPO 1, 19:00 – 19:50. Than i usually check The Big Bang Theory, the news and any other channel. This evening there is the show i watch every week: The Great British Sewing Bee on BBC 2, 21:00 – 22:00.

As for food, i will warm up the Rhubarb Crumble i made yesterday. Post on that tomorrow, it’s real easy to make. I might eat a sandwich later this evening. And coffee with some chocolate, or maybe evening a chocolate drink. Hmmm.

And then i’ll drink some of the wine i bought today.

After 22:00 i might type in a little more. Not sure. We’ll see 🙂

26 february 22:07
So, the final piece. I just watched The Great British Sewing Bee. Loved it! It was structure week. They had to make a corset, change an 80s suit and make a kilt! I had never thought about how a kilt should be made. Now i know.

I’ll be going to bed soon. It was a lovely day. Thank you all for your congrats.

Good night!