The instant joy you sometimes feel when hearing a song from when you were young. Looking back, everything just seemed to be so free and right without worries. In that moment all doubts disappear and you feel that everything is in its place. You are in your place, right here, right now. 

And I’m standing still in the middle of the sidewalk with heavy grocery bags, listening to the prologue of Tunnel of Love. Just because.


I look at him while he is sitting in his crib. He just woke up and is looking back at me. The sleep still in his eyes but fully awake. His mind ready to absorb a new day. In his eyes I see why all of it is worth it. I try to carve this image in my mind so I can go back to it many years later. But I know I won’t remember it. It is this moment that can be enjoyed. It doesn’t last longer than the few seconds of this moment. That’s it. 
I remember the moments I told myself to remember. This feeling, this image, this face, these toes, this sound. I never do. 


Nu pas realiseer ik me dat het lezen van boeken je eigen leven zachter en draaglijker maakt. Daarom lezen mensen. De non-lezers wentelen in hun eigen gebrek aan draaglijkheid en reageren het af op de ander. Een ander. Wie dan ook. 

Het is niet dat lezende mensen intelligenter zijn, het is eerder de troost dat een verhaal biedt aan de hardheid van het leven zelf, hoe simpel, moeilijk, complex of makkelijk dat leven dan ook mag zijn. 

Die troost laat hen naar binnen keren en niet naar buiten. Naar zichzelf en niet naar een ander. Daarom zou iedereen verplicht moeten lezen. Het is een geneesmiddel voor het toedienen van onnodige kwetsuren aan een ander door zielsvernietigende woorden en daden in de hoop het leed in je eigen leven zachter en draaglijker te maken. 

Het resultaat is echter leed voor een ander en geen verlichting voor jezelf. En zo zien we een vicieuze cirkel geboren worden. Want het gewicht van je eigen leven wordt er alleen maar zwaarder op en de behoefte tot verlichting dwingender.

Het Gras

Ik trap nog te vaak met open ogen in dezelfde val. Die van het gras, dat altijd groener is aan de andere kant. Niet is, maar lijkt ongeacht vanaf welke kant je het bekijkt. De thuisblijf ouder wil werken, de werkende ouder wil thuis zijn. 

Cheesy sentimental fool

Call me a cheesy sentimenteel fool, but I love the soundtrack of the movie The Bodyguard. I love the old school Whitney Houston and that movie from 1992 when Kevin Costner was still cool. I have no idea how often I have seen it throughout my life, but every time that boat explodes, it makes me jump. Just a little because of course I know its gonna happen. I’ve been listening to these songs since I was 12.  And today, 23 years later, I am listening to this album again with a baby in my arms. With the little monster. And I wonder if I have ever listened to this music before with the thought crossing my mind that one day I will be a mother and hear these tunes while holding my baby. And starting from this day I am looking back on all the years right to that very moment 23 years ago when I heard these cheesy songs for the first time. When I was young, still really young and longing so damn hard for everything out there in the world. And I’m trying to think of all that has happened from that moment onwards until this very moment now. It’s ungraspable, no matter how hard I have tried to document it. Everything about this thing called my life.

The Red Silence

En opeens is de gedachte er. Zij zegt dat het allemaal niet meer gaat gebeuren. Zoals je nu leeft en denkt, zo zal het de komende 30 jaar zijn. Er staan geen ingrijpende veranderingen in het verschiet. Niets geen later. Dit is het, dit heb je ervan gemaakt, dit gaat blijven. In die gedachte duiken, onderdompelen, blijven. Een mes rijt het hart open.

You know you’re getting old, and start becoming/resembling more and more your parents, when you find yourself waking up early, and actually do things in the morning before going to the office. Things like exercise, gardening, cleaning out the dishwashing machine, and sweeping the courtyard.

My love, FB

Dear Diary,

I am so happy! Today I married the love of my life, his name is Face Book. I feel like I am the luckiest girl alive! FB and I have been together for almost 8 years now but I truly feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives! He is always there for me to talk to and you know what, he really listens! We share everything with each other. Today we got married and I truly want to spend and share the rest of my timeline with him.
Continue reading “My love, FB”

11 Weeks later..

After having a great Christmas holiday in her hometown Groningen, Maysha returns to Beijing. She has decided to do the project at Dutch Telecom, to quit her job at Intertalent, and to be away from and back to her beloved ones for three months. When she arrives in BJ, she knows all too well that time is precious as she has only two weeks before the plane will bring her back to Amsterdam again. She fills the two weeks with making arrangements with the apartment to ensure that she can come back to that little place in the hutong, and spends loads of time on the things and persons she will miss most during her stay in Holland.

Disaster strikes when she becomes sick in the last week. Having horrible images of sitting in a plane with annoying passengers, while sweating out feverish liquids, she decides to spend her last days in BJ in bed and on his couch. She recovers just in time and before she knows it, she is on the plane again. The thought of being back at work in Holland is a bit frightening and Maysha seriously ponders  why the hell she is doing this.

Very early on Sunday, the plane lands safely at Amsterdam Airport, Maysha’s sister picks her up and they stay at her sister’s place in Leiden. This is going to be the place where she will live for the upcoming three months. Having hardly any time to adjust, the next day, Monday, Maysha starts working at DT. The two worlds alternate very fast, and it feels as if BJ was just a dream. At DT in Amsterdam, she runs into a lot of familiair faces, and setting up the Delivery Academy does not give any space or time to even think about the worlds that just switched places in a blink of an eye. Let alone that Maysha has any time to update her blog. 😉

She fights against jetlag in the 1st week, starts finding her way at DT Delivery in the 2nd week, finally sees Erika again who got MARRIED in 2008 in the 3rd week, has dinner with Hok Kwan whom she knows from BJ causing her feel like being back in BJ again and to almost yell out Fuwuyuan to the Dutch waitress in the 4th week, parties with her Posse in Groningen in the 5th week, hears that she is going back to BJ for sure in May in the 6th week, breaks her 50-years-old saxophone in the 7th week, cycles with Kirsten to the beach and ends up in The Duke in the 8th week and has an old-fashioned evening with Tobm filled with pizza, pot, and bad horror movies in the 9th week…Still 5 weeks to go….No one knows what will happen..

Merry Christmas again

Merry Christmas again.. The time does seem to go faster the older you get. It is midnight, everybody in the house is asleep. It is great to be back home in Holland during Christmas. Again nothing seemed to have changed. It is great to be back in my hometown and aside from little things like the fact that my elementary school has been torn down and there is nothing but a big nothingness now, nothing seemed to have changed. As if this past year did not happen. As always it puts me in a contemplative mood. How such an artifical creation like a year consisting of 365 days can cause people to think about their life at a certain point in time. Now is that time. Another year over, a new one to start. Again the same thoughts as a year ago, and a year before that and before that..What will this new year bring us?

Everything is insecure, everything in my life can be completely different from the year before, and there is nothing we can do to enlighten this insecurity, to give one any support in the fear for the unknown nearby future. I’ve been writing diaries since I was 8 years old. Since I am living abroad, every year around this time, when I am back in my childhood home, I get out my old little suitcase that is filled with all the diaries, with all the stories I have written about my life, how trivial they are. My life fits in this little suitcase that my dad once bought when he was busy with trying to get out of China. A little suitcase for all his stuff for his great journey away from his roots.  I scan through the diaries and as soon as I start reading I know exactly what it is about, when it was written and what will come after.

When I started writing, I promised myself to keep this up until my 80th year, as I somehow thought that that is the age that will be my last in which I am still able to write. After that I would ask my grandchildren to read me from my books as by then my eyes are probably too old to read the words. I already feel like an old fool. I’m curious and scared for what will happen in the new year. I look at the empty pages in my current diary and wonder what will be written on it. Let’s just hope for a good year..

Merry Christmas!

As for myself

As for myself, after having a couple of weeks in which the fundament of my life here in BJ (Job, House, Visa) was shaking and tumbling around, I, at present, managed to get stuff (new apartment, new visa) arranged to secure my fundament again.

I work, I study, I learn, I socialize, organize, finalize, I make music, I fight for my own justice, I see messed up people, I waste my energy on messed up people, I can’t blame myself, I clear things out, I move on, I see beauty in a city polluted as hell, I adore evenings with good friends, I laugh, I know it is the beginning of the end, and the end is a beginning, and I am happy.