Monday, January 10
My best wishes to everybody for 2011. Even my friend Yvonne and me had to admit that our feelings concerning the new year were not at all overconfident I think bitterness kind of vanished to the background.
Since I have been part of the facebook community writing diary ran out of burning necessity. Communication there is quite direct and I feel more bound into group dynamics. And yet I feel more independent here.
Concerning so called hits most of the people I talk about say that they are very keen to know how many people visited their websites. Me, I never check. I am not interested to know. Whether I write just to myself or to a few or to an indeterminable mass, finally it doesn't change what I want to write.

Thursday, February 10
Yesterday I was invited to a nice dinner with friends. The food was alright and we had an interesting conversation. But after we continued drinking grappa. Another one and another one and another one. And as we had emptied the bottle we continued with apricot schnaps. At home we had a small party. My friend Lukas praised my pictures what made me very proud and happy.
Nevertheless, contrary to all that happiness aroused by the devil alcohol my state of being today is absolute misery. Anybody, who knows about drinking too much knows the flat being of a hangover.
First I had to pick my bicycle at yesterday's restaurant. Everything fine by then. But at work I started to feel de facto sick. I couldn't sit, or stand, or walk. Not far from vomiting. The expectation of following the seconds to pass the whole day made me dizzy and horrified, paranoid. A no-go. Only for a part of a moment I had a clue of what positive awareness of life could be and for this moment I felt I could do it. But that moment appeared only once and never again. After two endless hours of staring into nothingness I decided to finish my intention to appear diciplined. Further I didn't want that people possibly could see me struggling with an invisble demon. They would have worsened my paranoia. So I said to everybody that I didn't feel good and had to go home. Fortunately somebody could replace me.
At home my life came to collapse. Everything I liked was disgusting. My hope for a prosperous future seemed to have gone forever. Maren, when you cannot control your drinking you finally get fucked up. Sentences like that made my heart beat hard that even my neighbours could have heard it. I lay like paralised on my bed. Unfit. It was 16 hours before that body and soul were still proper. But I had damaged myself and foiled my plans for this day, today.
Now, in this moment I am writing, I feel a little better, because of the writing, but I am still bound to the bed, no appetite, no passion. And to conclude, I write to remind myself that drinking did bad to me in the hope next time I chose water. Of course it is not the first time I make that kind of promise - never again, and probably it will happen again. Anyhow, problems don't disappear because of drinking. They appear less severe and life seems easier when I am drunk. But as the following day proves they return at full impact accompanied by additional frustration.
In the next days I will continue my diary more regulary giving respect to what I do and how I think, who I am.

Friday, February 11
Still worrying stomach and weak conditions.
I like Bridget Jones. She is nice. But she is fiction, me is real.
At least after lying in the dark for some hours, I managed to make the dishes and go for small shopping, like washing powder and milk.
Tonight I'll participate in an event I don't want to miss. I'll do everything to be fit for it.

Saturday, February 12
The party was ok.

Monday, February 14
Let's enjoy our day!

Friday, February 4
There is only one sentence:
The cold makes me SICK!

Saturday, March 26
The cold has gone. But I don't know if I am doing good anyhow.
My life feels senseless. People don't need me. And certainly they need my art less than ever. If I am here makes no difference. It's more like I could be dead also.
No pretending.
For sure my parents care. And some friends as well. You never want somebody dead. Of course they don't want me to die.
Its not about blaming anybody for not loving me. There is no force to love somebody. Its just about the continuous denial.

Monday, March 28
I am participating a lecture at University Bâle about Performing arts in South Africa.
I know nobody cares if I do that, but this time I care.