nice cream

lady [Flickr]

ingridf_nl — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 04:46:35 PDT

ingridf_nl posted a photo:

i got jane and pauline mixed up

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 21:52:00 +0000

So clearly there is not enough difference.

Sigh.

Jane vs. Pauline.

Pauline's plot line somehow took over Jane's. Pauline went from biologist to psychologist. Jane's plot abruptly ended.

I feel embarrassed. . . but there's a lesson in there too.

Must be more diverse with my characters somehow less distracted so I know who I'm actually writing about. :P Ah well.

cluck cluck cluck cluck

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 19:06:00 +0000

cluck cluck cluck cluck from nice cream on Vimeo.

eating breakfast with me is *very* exciting.

"music": I like eggs, by me
breakfast: mine, on saturday

...

followed by an awkward silence...

pauline (9)

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 17:40:00 +0000

Read part1, part2, part3, part4 , part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 ... or continue.

When Joe left Pauline's office he felt like an idiot. He sat in his car, palms sweating, his heart jackhammering his insides, his stomach in knots.

"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!" he said to himself in the rearview mirror, then dropped his eyes. At this moment, he couldn't even look himself in the eye.

Joe was a man of little courage who rarely had the conviction to act on his wishes. This was mostly because most of the time he was not sure what he wanted.

Pauline was the exception. He met her at a friend's dinner party. She sat next to him along that long table of people he didn't know and she had been attentive. She had asked him questions about himself to which he had stammered short replies.

"So how do you know Jim and Paulette?"

"I ... work with Jim," he stammered.

"Oh, so are you a lawyer too?" she asked.

"No. Secretary," he flushed and straightened his already straight cutlery beside the plate in front of him.

"Sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you."

"I'm a secretary," he replied, overly loudly.

The table hushed and people looked at him curiously and perhaps a bit condescendingly. At least that was what Joe thought.

"That's great," Pauline had replied. "Secretaries are really what make businesses run smoothly. I'm sure you are fantastic. I hate my job," she'd said, then it was her turn to blush.

"What do you do?" he'd asked.

"I ... I'm just a little burned out," she confessed, now as red as the shirt she was wearing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm a therapist."

Perhaps it was her vulnerability in that moment, but with her confession, he felt open. He felt like he could make her feel great letting her fix him. So over the course of the evening he arranged to go to her office, to discuss his problems. His plan was to reaffirm her self worth by making his own case a success.

The problem was that, other than loneliness and awkwardness, he really didn't think he had a problem. So he made one up. Rather than a man with no dates, he became a man who women broke up with. Before each session he would write out yet another relationship failure, his own neediness and and his broken heart. And after each session, he loved her more for her compassion and awkwardness, which was growing.

He misinterpreted her awkwardness as reciprocated feelings. Her need of him.

apes in the orange grove

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 17:28:00 +0000

"On a sunny day in August 2008, the Apes went about Amsterdam, playing their songs all over the place for passers-by, vagabonds and kids leaving school. The music was recorded and mixed a week earlier by Wessel Oltheten at Spoor 14 Studio in Boxtel. Joeske Vervoort and Vincent Rietveld were catching it all on video, and Joep spent hours and hours making it all fit in just three minutes."

Lyrics to "August Amsterdam"

Meet me in the park, we'll stay outside
The chandeliers are in the trees tonight
You know that pretty soon I'll go away
So let's just have a smoke and feel the day

There's a bar I like where we can go
It's a quiet place that no one knows
You know that pretty soon I'll go away
So let's just have a drink and taste the day

Cause it's August Amsterdam
So go out while you can
It's August Amsterdam
You'll see me back again

Let's go see the sunset at the lake
My sister's got a bike that we can take
You know that pretty soon I'll go away
So let's just sit and watch and live today

No goodbyes
You'll see me back and we both know that time will fly
A year from now we'll catch up on our lows and highs
Again

weekend pics

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 21:34:00 +0000

Some weekend pics.

pauline (8)

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 12:47:00 +0000

Read part1, part2, part3, part4 , part 5, part 6, or part 7.. or continue...

So Pauline decided that she would take a break and leave her practice for one month. She was quite sure that one month of not listening to her patients would cure her sense of antipathy. That it would make her whole.

Instead of some distant trip, she decided that she would stay home. That she would redecorate her apartment, take some long walks, maybe buy a kitten or bird and explore the neighborhood she had become strangely detached from despite having lived in her apartment for over three years.

When she told her patients that she would be unavailable but that she had arranged for a well-trusted practitioner to take over the care of her patients, she had mixed responses.

Joe Brown was appalled. "But how could you leave me?" he asked accusingly. "You said just last week that we were making progress, that I only had a few sessions to go."

"Well, Joe. This isn't about you, it's about me," she replied and then stopped. No, this kind of line was not going to work on someone who was in therapy because women broke up with him, like clockwork, after only one month of dating. She looked at his shocked face, regrouped and said, "Joe, you are making progress. You called Linda last week and she agreed to meet for coffee. Your worst enemy is yourself. You just have to stop apologizing immediately after you've been intimate with a woman. You have to stop following them to work. And most of all, you need to get a hobby." This was not much better, but it was as good as Pauline could do in her current state of mind. "And you'll really really like Dr. Branco. He's very good. He has many happily married patients."

"Oh. Well. OK, I guess," Joe replied. "Since you're not my doctor for the next month, do you want to ... go out for coffee some time?"

Pauline didn't know what to say. She had declined previous requests for dates from Joe based on the fact that he was her patient, and that it would be inappropriate. So she replied, "Well, I'm hoping we can restart our sessions after my break, so it's probably not the best idea."

Joe looked at the floor and covered his face with his hands. Pauline felt guilty, and in this guilt she misguidedly said, "Maybe just once."

Joe immediately brightened and smiled broadly at her, saying, "Great! It's a date."

Inwardly, Pauline moaned. She knew better than to accept dates from a man who had displayed stalking behavior and, from his own accounts, was bad at sex. But now, now she felt like she had no choice. "OK then," she stood holding her hand in front of her.

Joe stood at the same time and then lurched towards and inexpertly planted the wettest kiss she had ever experienced on the side of her mouth, his tongue pointing poking her teeth.

She lept back, "Joe! I think you are presuming a lot! You can't ..."

He held up both hands, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. There was something I could never tell you in the session, since you were my doctor and all, but I've been fantasizing about you for months. You told me to be more spontaneous and I thought..."

"Oh Joe," she said, completely confused about what to do next. "Um. I'll give you a call."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"You're sure?"

"Um."

"Don't worry about it," he said, his voice tight. "Um. I guess I should go now," and as he opened the door he said, "Sorry about the kiss. Call me."

Her next patient, Mrs. Wetherby looked anxiously through the door at Pauline, who was flushed and shaken. She still had another six patients to tell.

ceci n'est pas une pipe

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 09:18:00 +0000

Bought some fun stuff lately :) A t-shirt bought to remind me to have one (also, my first boob shot ever):

And two lies (see next image). The picture/purchases may seem like I'm trying to make a statement about the superficiality of modern life, but the reality is that I am uneasy saying anything definitive about the real world versus cyber world. The reason? I've met awesome people online, it has spurred by creativity, I have found not only a great collaborative community but I have also shared a lot of humor and "reallife" with people who I've never met. The best of the internet is pretty awesome.

That said, I find myself re-emerging into reallife more and more. Loving the feeling of the sun on my face, the smile of a person I am actually proximate to, buying stuff I touch first, smelling things I see... Now that's multimedia. And it's free.

I think that there is a place for both of them (real and cyber) but need to find a balance between the two.

Anyway, here's a t-shirt and necklace I bought lately. :) (It's my second boob shot.)

(I haven't yet worn them together "outside", but I really want to. I thought the t-shirt was funny because "they're real" but am now feeling uncomfortably worried that people might not think so. I know. Nutjob.)

Hi from Multitouch Barcelona on Vimeo.

Hi, a real human interface.
--
Concept, design and high-tech by www.multitouch-barcelona.com
Music: wake up, wake up by www.lullatone.com
Filmed at www.hangar.org

sheepish

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 19:59:00 +0000

I have a confession to make. I have not even started on the postcards.

I am writing this to make me accountable and feel a little guilty.

They're coming! Really! I *will* finish them. Unlike the sheepish picture on the right that still has the tentative pencil sheep...

In the meantime, how are you?

xo

getting to know you... when you are lost

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 15:23:00 +0000

Amsterdam *is not* a big city, but this week I managed to make it a very winding place with lots of places to get lost since I was trusting in my "innate" sense of direction. I managed to get lost both going to and coming back from my Dutch classes. Yep. 35 minute bike rides took an hour each way.

Going to the lessons, I was quite flustered and kept mixing up my rights and lefts as I was given instructions (thank god for cellphones and patient men) repeatedly. Took me a total of three (or was it four?) phone calls before I finally made it to my destination out of breath and flustered.

Going home after the lessons, however, was lovely. Yes, I did get lost. But knew approximately which direction to go (east) and so my lostness was sort of fun. I ended up finding all kinds of wonderful neighborhoods I've never been in before and will attempt to find my way back to in the future. (Good luck with that.) I liked being a little lost. It was a mini-adventure. :)

Next time I will bring a map. (I'm actually good with maps.)

So, tell me...

Do you get lost or does your sense of direction actually lead you in the right direction?
How do you feel when you are lost when you have time versus when you should really be somewhere?
Where's the best place you ever got lost?
How about on vacation?
Do you feel differently (better or worse) being lost with someone else or by yourself? (I prefer being lost by myself, since for some misguided reason when I am with someone else and lost I get really frustrated with them. Since it must be there fault. It can't possibly be my fault. I never get lost. Uh...)

As always, looking forward to hearing your answers... (Have I told you that you're awesome?)

make me giggle

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 18:56:00 +0000

I'm bored. So I'm willing giggles.

Not working yet.

Heard any good jokes lately?

video distractions: animalcolm, we have a band and garrett murray

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 17:25:00 +0000

The Tourists (2007) from Animalcolm on Vimeo.

"Another transient day at the beach...... In this animated short Malcolm Sutherland lovingly pokes fun at the transient yet timeless life of the beach tourist. Animated ink on paper, made in 2007."

We Have Band - You Came Out (Official Music Video) from We Have Band on Vimeo.

http://www.myspace.com/wehaveband

Shot over 2 days and stop frame animated from 4,816 still images without a single moment of video footage.

My Day, Yesterday from garrettmurray on Vimeo.

(I really love this last one. I want to do this too.)

fava

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 19:42:00 +0000

fava, originally uploaded by ingridf_nl.

Interesting facts about Pythagoras from Wikipedia.

"The Pythagorean code restricted the diet of its followers, prohibiting the consumption or even touching of any sort of bean. The reason is unclear: perhaps the flatulence they cause, perhaps as protection from potential favism, perhaps because they resemble the genitalia, but most likely for magico-religious reasons, such as the belief that beans and human beings were created from the same material.

Most stories of Pythagoras' murder revolve around his aversion to beans. According to legend, enemies of the Pythagoreans set fire to Pythagoras' house, sending the elderly man running toward a bean field, where he halted, declaring that he would rather die than enter the field - whereupon his pursuers slit his throat."

See... yeah. I don't even know how to process this information.

Not that I really need to.

I eat beans. Proudly and loudly.

new hair

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 12:16:00 +0000

So after many months of postponing, I finally went to the hair dresser.

I'm a "member" on this site that lets me try different hair styles before my hair is actually cut. Very entertaining. But frequently the happiness of just trying the hair styles on the website satisfies me enough that I don't actually get my hair cut.

Yep. It's cheaper that way. It's hair fantasy land. And just to reinforce the illusion, I use a really good, slightly over exposed photo of myself that makes me look about ten years younger. Niiiice.

Thing is, it's much easier to choose this pretty hair that I don't have. My own hair is coarse, frizzy, poofy and unless tied back, a bit out of control. So it will never ever turn out like these pictures.

So today, I go equipped with a picture from the site. This one. I think it's somewhat realistic in terms of what my hair can do. Plus a little "cool" so, yay.

I'm liking it, in principal.

After one hour of cutting, thinning, statements like, "It's a bit shorter than you were hoping for, but I think you'll like it. . ." I ended up with soccer mom hair. Oh yea. Super poofy 80s hair. I paid and left shaking after muttering, "I really like it." (Why the hell I'd say that I have no idea. Because clearly I didn't.

Arriving home I rushed to the bathroom, plugged in my straightener, didn't even think of takingyou a fabulous picture of the horror. (Sorry about that. I would have made this whole story much better and more entertaining.

Now I have this. It's OK. I'm OK. I'm breathing. The bangs are not exactly whispy, but it is kind of cool. I think the hair dresser may have been a bit shocked by the immediate poof effect a blow drier has on my hair. Not her fault.

Does it look like the picture I brought: NO. Can it: erm... maybe not... It'll be ok. Give me a couple of days and a headband.

randomness

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 08:27:00 +0000

I'm no videographer... so basically it's just a bunch of random scenes with a little music thrown on top. Will work harder on it next time... I promise. :)

hot summer from nice cream on Vimeo.

music: amanda jenssen, do you love me

red rabbit

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 07:24:00 +0000

Red Rabbit from Egmont Mayer on Vimeo.

(thanks Eli!)

other people's stuff

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 11:36:00 +0000

Other people see wonderful things. :) Here are my favorites on flickr.

I love how other people's stuff tells me stories.

Thanks other people. :P

blurbs... about meetings, expectation and intent

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 20:59:00 +0000

...this morning's stream of consciousness... (they don't go together. they just represent little scenes.)

"Did you sleep well?" you asked when I came into the kitchen, still yawning and bleary.

"Fine," I lied.

"Coffee?" you asked.

"Yes please," I said, reaching for the steaming cup you held out. "I really need it."

Truer words were never spoken between us.

We shook hands. Nervous. Sweaty. A bit of shaky shaking.

It was much easier to meet online where physicality did not intrude.

But then, we found our common ground. Here. For real. And we laughed together and we heard each other's laugh. For real.

I had all of my very best anecdotes at hand. Prepared wit. And a jaunty and self-assured smile, practiced, to go along with it.

I was not ready for your openness and candor.

It stripped me bare left me wordless.

You thought I was really boring. I'm not really. I just thought you'd be more fake.

I arrived, late and out of breath.

I handed you the wine bottle and you nodded and smiled at me, not smiling.

That night was awkward. Full of pauses. The elephant squashed the air out of our lungs. He took up even the smallest spaces.

We had no words.

A girl with glowing skin and a shiny brown pony tail sat in front of me on the tram.

Her pony tail swished back and forth, silky and flowing.

I realized I had scissors in my purse.

I heard the bell of the ice cream truck coming.

My heart made a "pitter patter" of anticipation, but I am on a diet.

So I just remembered its creaminess, wistfully.

In the park, a little girl mistook me for her mother.

She ran towards my legs and joyously wrapped her arms around them.

For a second, a whisper... I pretended she was mine.

"Do you want to lick the bowl?" you asked.

For some reason, I hesitated.

And in that second you turned saying, "that's ok," and plunged it into the soapy water in the sink.

morning coffee, mourning coffee.
humble pie.
a recipe for disaster.
you are what you eat.

queue cards

cue cards
flash cards
memory cards
recipe cards
index cards
mostly blank
full of intent
no action
useful
unused.

Photos by oooh.oooh, Sébastien Magro, Adrian Midgley, tsmyther, kim scarborough, Steve Wampler, wiccked, mollycakes, hawkexpress

motivation

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 18:19:00 +0000

So, there's the stuff you really want to do, for which you don't really need a nudge. For example, drinking a glass of beer on a sunny patio with friends. Easily done. There you are. Life is fiiiine.

Then, there are things which are possibly more beneficial in the long run, but for which you don't necessarily have the same instinctive desire. Say, cleaning out the vegetable drawer of your fridge because there could be some sentient life in there, or doing that little extra project you know will be glad that you did but are semi dreading since you are chronically afraid of failure or of underachievement.

Yeah.

That's where I'm at.

Any useful mind games that work for you? Do you use incentives, cold hard self-discipline, or guilt?

Image by ricko on Flickr.

many, many postcards to send

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 07:30:00 +0000

You guys are awesome! I'm looking forward to writing you.

I'll try to send all of the postcards by Monday, so that you'll get them in the next week or so.

Have a fantastic day lovelies.

i'll send you a postcard (5)

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 19:10:00 +0000

It all started half a year ago, when I discovered the joy of sending you a postcard.

I think it's nice to get real mail, and in this cyber world, it's also nice to get something you can touch, and feel, and if you're me, smell. (Kidding.)

So, if you would like me to send you a postcard you can e-mail me your address and I promise that you'll get something in the mail.

ingridlovesme @ icecreamisnicecream.com

I hereby promise not to abuse your trust by doing anything nasty with your address. I will only send you sweetness and light. And maybe some sarcasm, because that's what I do. (**For those who I've sent mail to before, please resend your address since I seem to have stupidly deleted the folder that I was using.)

You're fabulous, supportive, and otherwise generous to be sticking around my erratic blog. Thank you.

Let me thank you with real mail.

(The lovely postcard above is by the fabulous Esther Aarts.)

more ze frank joy: five people

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 08:06:00 +0000

More awesomeness from Ze.

HardTimes :: Five People from ze frank on Vimeo.

stuff i noticed lately: randomness

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 14:16:00 +0000

Click on images to go to the sources.

kidlauncher from connors934 on Vimeo.

bungee cords, plastic and water makes for launched kids at
Camp Kaleidoscope in Cambridge MA

getting to know you: o how are you

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 09:17:00 +0000

O How Are You, originally uploaded by wokka.

Really...

1. Best thing that happened last week?
2. Thing you are most looking forward to this summer?
3. Weirdest food you like to eat?

Have a wonderful day.

feeling ranty and superior

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 19:40:00 +0000

I feel like having a rant but I am repressing the impulse, since inevitably I end up blabbering in a snarky, hypocritical and bitchy way.

It's that whole, "point one finger, and five are pointing back at you" thing. (As Marinka points out in the comments, I screwed up this saying... but was picturing other hand in a fist. At least that's my excuse.)

Am more faulty than I want to 'fess up to.

Resisting. Resisting. Resisting.

Thinking bitchy thoughts but not writing or saying them.

My tummy is messy. Maybe this is why I feel like this.

OK. Going away now.

Ignore me.

Bye.

Let's just say I feel like biting off heads of naturally skinny people, who have never had an overweight day in their entire lives, giving me diet advice. If it was easy, I'd be slim and toned. F*ck off.

pauline (7)

noreply@blogger.com (ingrid) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 19:08:00 +0000

Read part1, part2, part3, part4 , part 5, or part 6... or continue...

As Pauline lay on the couch of the psychotherapist, she took in just how different it was to be in a different chair.

"I've started hating my patients," she began.

Her therapist said, "Pardon?"

"Hating them," reasserted Pauline. "Lately, I have no compassion. They come into my office and all I can think is, 'What a whinger.' I know its wrong. I know this means I should probably take a break. I just want to point out to all of them that the world has real problems... Plus I date inappropriate men," she threw in.

She expected the therapist to say, "Go on," since that is what Pauline would have said at this point, but she just stared. Pen poised over notepad. Not moving. This made Pauline very uncomfortable.

Pauline looked back at the therapist and said, "Well? What should I do?" knowing full well that she hated when patients asked her this question.

Not answering, the therapist jumped up and said, "I don't think I'm qualified to take your case."

"But..."

"No. I really think that you should see someone else."

"But I...."

"I won't charge you for this session, but let me tell you one thing."

"What?" replied Pauline, hanging on every word, hoping for some grain of truth.

The therapist looked nervously at her bitten fingernails and said, "I know exactly what you mean. Exactly."

Cartoon by the fabulous Dan Piraro.