Snake Pit

Slash 1995, French interview about his band Slash’s Snake Pit
This is a letter tomy creativity coach Sara
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.
My Miami Vice DVD box just arrived.
5 Seasons all neatly packed up into one box, which was by the way far sturdier than the reviews at the site were accusing it to be.
Either the packaging was changed or the people who had bits flying around didn’t understand the mechanism.
Which may be a nice metaphor for me or life itself:
If you have bits flying around, you don’t understand how it works.
But either way I have the entire Miami Vice body of work here at my fingertips, and it will get me through quarantine, just like others get through it with more modern media.
.
I got the discs out in one piece but I have plenty of bits flying around in other places.
.
And the title got me thinking:
Miami Vice
The definitive collection.
.
And that it’s so easy to appreciate something once you know the ending.
It’s a lot more difficult if you’re working with the indefinite collection.
Such as your life.
.
Only last Thursday, I cancelled my work, my writing under the name LS Harteveld.
What I basically did was bring her to 1995, where she will pick up diary writing as a 22 year old Lauren.
That is her project.
Like a performance art project.
.
I m still not sure if it will be blogged immediately, here at the blog.
Or if it won’t come out until this age of C. is over.
Until it is safe to tell the story of how I spend my days, without people unconsciously checking which part is true, which is fiction, and if I m a responsible citizen.
.
I don’t know what the rules are where you live, or how you interpret them, but I understand them here, as not being allowed to touch a man unless I m married to him or live together.
.
I just tried to comment on that but when I opened my mouth only snakes, frogs and black tar came out.
That’s how toxic I feel.
How repressed.
How angry.
.
So it’s back to cornerstones of society, marriages and “households”. You can have sex if you are a household.
It’s like we’re back in the 50’s Sara.
I heard they brought the term “head of the family” back in America.
My father used to speak of himself that way, in third person. And it was A JOKE!
.
And ultimately it’s all for our own good, how patronizing.
.
All that freedom we fought for, ever since the 60s.
.
All that economic freedom we created, so many entrepreneurs who will be wiped away in one lock down.
.
What will unemployment be in 3 months?
50%?
.
I m shocked by how easy it is to get your population docile and obedient. And I don’t even think it’s conscious, really.
I don’t believe there is some master plan or rising dictator behind all this.
I think everybody is so afraid, firstly, of their own death.
But this goes further, it is a two-puncher:
First you are confronted with your own mortality.
And then you’re knocked out by being made responsible for the death of others.
.
It would take a professional fighter to counterattack that and to immediately strike back.
The only reason we are so obedient is because C. does not have a face. C. is not a foreign dictator.
But is there not something inherently wrong with giving up your freedom to begin with? 
I find the willingness with which we comply, and that absolutely includes my own, absolutely shocking.
That no political party in the Netherlands, no political party anywhere, has asked:
“Where are our boundaries? When will we stop being so reactive?”
I ve always thought that if a war came, I would be too afraid to join the resistance.
So in a way my own docile behavior disgusts me, yet I knew this was me.
That I would never stand up for freedom.
.
But now we have all these countries, an entire world, who say that we save the world by staying indoors and destroying our economy, demonize human touch.
.
Then what world are we saving?
.
Why does no one ask, where we are going to stop?
.
It scares me.
God damn this entire letter is 100% not what I intended to write.
I m sorry.
I guess it comes out, the way it comes out. Just like it always has.
.
But what I wanted to say is this:
Last Thursday I moved to 1995. And I have arrived safely.
Today I went back to 2020, to pick up the rest of me. Because as it turns out, there wasn’t any part of me that was willing to stay in a country, a time, ruled by fear. 
All my creative outlets will be written from 1995, for as long as this goes on.
.
Maybe that is my message to the world, maybe that is what I realize true freedom is:
People can tell you what to do.
They can keep you from speaking your truth as well.
But no one can ever tell you what to think.
.
The freedom of thought, of where you give your attention to, and what you are completely going to ignore for example by going to 1995 and leave the empty shell of your quarantined body behind;
That freedom is entirely yours.
.

the writer formerly known as
~Lauren/LS Harteveld

Lauren Harteveld was a fictional writer, from 2006 – 2020
.
Lauren’s work is published at: 
New books will be added, as sites are being curated.
 
You can follow her work through this Facebook page
or Twitter
.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

Bring in the Pink Mint Flamingo Miami Vice 80s Retro Mood

24 Hours after what I would call “my identity lock down”, where I announced I will no longer be LS Harteveld and why (I wrote 2 blog posts and reposted none of them because it’s just too depressive) it is hard to establish which part of feeling terrible is because of losing her?
And which part is inevitable, because it’s mourning of a lifestyle and a world that is no longer there and where carefree human relationships will not be fully restored until there is a vaccine?
See. Told you there was a reason I didn’t repost those blogs.
No one needs this.

So between the lines you can read that my conclusion is indeed that the reason today was a toughy, and that I had a very unwelcome migraine-to-go with my period that kept me in bed for a few hours –
that I wouldn’t have felt better if I had not pulled the plug on being LS Harteveld after 14 years.

But as I said in my second blogpost (read at own risk, come back to snack on pink after) which I wrote for my oldest site, not continuing to live present day as an artist, doesn’t exclude me living on in a different time and space.
And for me that place is 1995.

In summer 2019 I started a project 1994. And it’s a project that I always felt deserved more dedication.
That I wasn’t fully IN IT.
The idea of living life as a 22 year old graduate, in 1994, was appealing, but real life kept getting in the way.
Current day, kept getting in the way.

With the C. crisis, there has not been a better time to take art or escapism to a whole new level. And with most of us bound to home, also a very convenient one.
You can now create your own mental space, your own bubble.
And especially if you live alone, everything that happens in your life is more predictable than it usually is.
You can filter it out or reframe it, way easier.

So today I had that migraine. It almost felt like a transition, like time-travel. Shedding old skin, and becoming anew.
And in my 1995 I am not just into that year, not just basking in that decade of optimism;
I m mixing it with my favorite decade, the 80s.
With the pinky minty colors of Miami Vice.

I also like the bold, bright pallet of the 80s and the grungy arty New York feel of the 80s;
But those are not what I need right now.

I need flamingos.
Diners with Formica chairs, in pastel colors.
Don Johnson wearing espadrilles.

And to go to sleep knowing I will wake up in a different time.
Feeling shiny and new.

the writer formerly known as
~Lauren/LS Harteveld

Lauren Harteveld was a fictional writer, from 2006 – 2020
Lauren’s work is published at: 
New books will be added, as sites are being curated.
 
You can follow her work through this Facebook page
or Twitter
.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

The Last Letter of LS Harteveld

source BuzzFeed, click photo: “This is what the aids crisis looked like in the 80s”

It’s noon on a Thursday, and the past 24 hours I spent how many of them on content I ultimately did not post?
Five hours?
Seven?
My most recent accomplishment is deleting a 20 minute video for a YouTube channel under my real name, after editing it and writing out the description in the box.
.

The only thing I have been confidently sharing is my Dutch work under my real name. That is either “just” yoga or it is really loving and safe.
No feathers are ruffled.
Which is a very small part of me, the part that actually moves through life offering real yoga or soothing art.
Rock Star Yoga, my English work under my real name, is bigger.
And LS Harteveld?
Ooohh… LS Harteveld is definitely the largest part of me.
The raw message that comes out exactly the way it comes out, and that answers to no one.
That? I have in spades.
.
Or had until the Corona crisis.
.
Because I really don’t have anything to say, until there is a vaccine and we can talk about sexuality in a normal way.
Until that time, LS Harteveld doesn’t have a place in this world.
This is not her world.
.
LS Harteveld, the pen name I have been using since 2006, came into being the year I became single.
Her specific goal was to conquer her fears of STD’s/ STI’s/aids, and go beyond to find out what her true sexuality was.

Who was hiding under all that fear?
Not fear of death, but of being banished from society for being sexual.
It is only until recently that I realized that I had been suffering from a social phobia, and had been the victim of mental abuse, similar to pregnancy being the stick to beat Christian girls with.
.
Just like it is a thin line between “Don’t get pregnant.” and “Don’t have sex at all.”, it was a thin line between “Have safe sex.” and “Don’t have sex at all.”.
.
And the irony is:
I had hacked this.
.
I came to understand what ambient abuse is, what taking your own responsibility is. And I became a master at tackling every conversation that contained unspecified expectations, and ruthlessly forced the sender of such things to specify EXACTLY what they were suggesting would happen if I did not behave according to their standards.
Or even what their standards were.
I no longer accepted any responsibility for other people projecting their fears of being socially judged, onto me.
That is, until Corona.
.
Because as trained as I am to confront people who pretend to be on the look out for my safety, when it’s their ego I m supposed to protect;
I have no answer to anything, if you threaten me with being responsible for the death of the elderly and the sick.
If me leaving the house equals sick people dying, I don’t just not want to leave the house;
I don’t want to live.
.
My entire life (as LS Harteveld) is based on freedom, and in creating the space to live free.
.
I remember when I was still deep into my phobia, and the few friends I had confided in didn’t understand why me and my boyfriend didn’t just get tested so the fear would be over.
Because the fear would not be over.
I would have created a situation where I would no longer have to deal with the fear, because I had created a contained environment.
I wanted more.
And one night, when I was in my late twenties, I suffered from an extremely violent panic attack, fueled by an infection of a tooth. And it was in that moment, trembling and suffering from diarrhea, seated on the toilet, that I decided:
“No more.
Give me your best shot, and show me everything you’ve got while you can, Fear, because I don’t know where you thought this was going but I am Not.Backing.Down.”
.
It was in that night that the real me was born. The one who would never bow to fear ever again. Who would look everything right in the eye.
Death.
Judgement.
Social exclusion.
Sorry, not sorry, but No! None of those things will ever be a good enough reason to dance to the beat of what society wants me to do.
.
And I began to understand that the sex education based on “Do it safe” had missed a very important aspect: Risk assessment.
That it’s not about “staying safe”;
It’s about understanding what you are risking (pregnancy, death, stigma, social exclusion) as a result of any encounter you have.
The revenues have to outweigh the risks.
It’s not rocket science, it’s not difficult, anyone can do the math and establish for themselves what their risk assessment is.
.
But Corona brought something into the equation that makes this different:
The lives of others.
.
Doing your own risk versus benefit assessment for Corona is relatively easy. Even if you do it to flatten the curve, you have some sense of what you are willing to risk.
But making an assessment on whether you are willing to infect others, that is impossible and unbearable.
.
To me “Stay safe”, the Corona mantra, doesn’t imply a concern for my well-being;
It triggers the mental abuse of the eighties and I feel the pressure of having to behave in a way that doesn’t confront you with whatever it is you are not willing to face.
.
At the very minimum “Stay safe” means:
“Please behave in a way that my loved ones and people with poor health are safe.”.
Already something VASTLY different from what you are saying, but okay. I ll keep them safe by living like a hermit and being called out on any social interaction I have.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel we are not addressing the real underlying topic at hand.
Just like in the fifties and the eighties, the threat of social exclusion was not based on a risk assessment with pregnancy or aids being the cons, but on “underbelly emotions” of being punished for having sex;
“Stay safe” doesn’t have anything to do with my well-being;
and very little with the well-being of other people either.
.
I would be very surprised if “Stay safe” would not be code for everything we have not come to terms with..
If it wasn’t an expression of a process of risk assessment that was halted in its steps.
And that couldn’t be finished because the thoughts of loved ones dying or of our own mortality – stepped in and took over.
And maybe “Stay safe” also doesn’t need to be improved.
The thought process doesn’t need to be completed.
As long as the majority of people is okay with it, why bother digging deeper into your fears?
.
But to me “Stay safe”, and all the uncomfortable unfinished thoughts that surround it, all the choices that we’re not making, all the things we’re not saying and the responsibility for banning human touch and interaction that nobody seems to process as to how this affects our humanity;
That is what “Stay safe” means to me.
.
“Stay safe” means
“Mommy is busy and doesn’t want to be bothered with your difficult questions.”
.
It means, do as you’re told, stay indoor, don’t fuck, don’t kiss, don’t hug, don’t hold somebody’s hand on their fucking death bed or you are responsible for the death of others.
.
LS Harteveld means:
I don’t want to live in that world.
.
Maybe others can live, because I stay indoors for days on end. And because my purpose is apparently to be a good citizen, protect, serve and become a human shield for the innocent. And until my redemption, my body and my touch have become weapons of mass destruction.
If we are sinners for having a body than Corona is the 2020 version of the original sin.
I feel the only way out is to destroy t
he part of myself that is physical, sexual and free.
The part that is LS Harteveld
.
The LS Harteveld that was born in 2006, does not want to live in this world. Doesn’t want the 2020 version of “Why don’t you just both get tested and get it over with.”
She wants to look fear in the eye, yell at it that it better give me its best shot now that it still can because starting tomorrow we take matters into our own hands and Not.Back.Down.
.
And that is what makes me a mass murderer.
It is exactly the kind of mentality that we don’t need.
Mommy really, REALLY, cannot be bothered with people asking difficult questions, which is why I have decided my time has come.
.
And yes, maybe LS Harteveld will be reborn after a vaccine for Corona has been found.
And then you could say that me pulling her out of all this is my way of keeping her alive.
Of keeping her safe.
.
She’s been through enough in the eighties, and she’s not going through it again.
Because that’s the biggest lesson for me, in the eighties.
It all starts with being present.
People can’t abuse you, nor project their fears onto you, if you are not there.
The first choice, in any relationship, is whether you show up.
.
By cancelling my alias, the truest part of who I am, leaving an empty, dutiful shell that will become a successful model citizen, where no one will die because I wasn’t careful enough,
I have done everything within my power to save a world I do not want to live in.
.
~Lauren
Suzanne Beenackers
curator of the legacy of LS Harteveld 2006 – 2020
.
.
I will no longer create new work, and I will start curating
the 14 years that I was “her”.
I will share this on the social media accounts.
I will update them as soon as possible to them being curated/archived outlets.
.
New LS Harteveld books will be added to the BOOK SHOP
.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

Take that one to heart | “1994” series

Friday March 3, 1995
.
Does it require an explanation why I didn’t write, for two months?
Especially since my last entry early January ended with the militant:
“But I will put one foot in front of another, and become a writer.
Alone if I have to. ”
It hardly seems on point that I have not written anything since.
.
Well, yes and no.
.
I didn’t give up on the idea of becoming a writer but it turned out, no writing is required. Or even desired. Because I went through my old manuscripts and diaries and it’s all there.
An entire body of work, as if it dropped right out of the sky.
I honestly had no idea I had written that much. 
.
So I don’t need to write, in order to become a published writer.
I need to organize, curate, filter, edit, embellish, smooth out.
The finite conclusion really is, and I wish it wasn’t, that in order to become a writer I need to be doing the exact same work I do (still) to make a living.
The same work I hate so much.
Eight months since graduation, the loneliness is daunting and my ass feels like it will fall off one day. But I guess that is a shitty reason not to work on publishing my own books right?
Whether you re sitting down every night to write new work, or to edit your existing work, doesn’t really make a difference for the sagginess of your ass.
But it felt different though.
And the idea that my road to becoming a published author, included expanding my ass-sitting hours from 8 to 10, doing the same boring work I m already way overdue with and sick of, was not appealing. 
.
So although I was thrilled to find I was basically already done writing, the conclusion I had maxed out on my solitary desk-sitting-hours, and that something needed to change to avoid “death by copy editing”, was something I needed to come to terms with.
.
This weekend I will start looking for a new job. Something where I have to leave home for, see people, have a laugh or two.
But God, eight months in, and I have to start all over again.
So depressing.
In combination with my love life which has absolutely bottomed out since January, I really had little to be excited about.
.
Both the Slash painter and Bear are up till their necks into their responsibilities towards their families.
With Slash I kind of knew that of course, but nevertheless it still hurt.
And with Bear too, I just want to shake him up.
But I don’t know if I want to do that because I want to yell: “Pick me! Pick me!” or “Run while you can!”.
Or if it really is none of my fucking business how he chooses to live his life, and which responsibilities he accepts.
His purpose, what he has to do in this life; It really is none, NONE, of my business.
I know that, I do.
But sometimes I think I spent the last two months keeping myself from contacting him, and trying to get through to him.
Through to them.
.
It cost a lot of energy and I m still not “done” or at peace about Bear or Slash.
I find the whole situation extremely unsettling. But two months is enough, and I am no longer going to wait for them to change their minds.
I need to get on with my life.
Especially after news came about Slash.
.
It is tempting to go into detail as to how I found out about either one of them.
What was going on with Slash, what with Bear. Who told me what, what I heard from others, and what I picked up intuitively or even paranormally.

But it doesn’t really matter.
The stories are similar.
Both could have chosen for me, and both didn’t. And I didn’t do anything to change their minds.
Technically Slash doesn’t even know how I feel. I never said anything. I can still see his jacket covering my coats at December 31st when he came in to eat oliebollen but I never said it.
I still only think about Bear when I think of sex, but I never told him.
And besides, wouldn’t that be a reason for him not to see me?
That I m all about sex, and that it’s superficial and that he now wants a real woman with whom he can have a future together?
.
I think the difference between me and the men I m in love with, is that to me a man I have sex with, or want to have sex with, is automatically extremely meaningful to me.
They are different, they have a broader taste.
Slash dated many women before he was married for sure, and maybe even now. He could be having an affair with the bar lady from Warhol. It certainly seemed that way.

And Bear has always had other lovers throughout the five years we were seeing each other.
He seemed to have received a calling to settle down and get serious, but I don’t understand it because it’s so not him.
Or is it just so not me?
.
Am I projecting how special these men are to me, and my conscious choice for a tailor-made, unconventional sex life that honors what is, instead of working within the boundaries of what it is society wants from us? 
Is this all me?
.
After two months I ve decided I m done caring.
I m done thinking about it, done worrying about it and if they actually would need saving, I m the last person who should be doing that.
Because it would screw up what we have. It’s an entirely backwards power dynamic, if I start interfering claiming I know things better.
I always had faith in Bear making his own decisions. Always. There is no exception that says:
“Except when you don’t choose me.”
.
It is so simple that I can’t believe I actually spent two months wondering if I had to offer or say something. Or if they were going to turn around. 
It’s so disgusting.
.
Almost as disgusting as getting a saggy ass, not publishing my own books and having to write basically the exact same diary entry twice, two months after you already knew what you had to do.
.
Let’s get to work.
.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living
.

Subscribe to 1994 

The subscription button to this blog is on this page,
probably on the right.
Take that one to heart | “1994” 
is the fifth chapter of
1994 part 2: A new life

Notice

This blog is reserved for my retro series 1994 diary, where I translate everyday events back in time.
Articles on men, movies and more are now posted to my old blog! 

They can be followed on my social media accounts
Follow on Facebook or Twitter
NEW connect on Linkedin

Or take a peek and browse for yourself
lsharteveld.nl
(that blog does not have a post-subscribe button)

Other:
YouTube for My Life in Bon Jovi songs.
and my Dutch blog about film. Nederlands blog over film:
Zeg maar Lauren

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

Intense and Unsettling

Last Tuesday I had a conversation with my creativity coach Sara
and it came to how creativity operates in an entirely different way than regular economic exchange.
As a creative you create what you feel called to do.
And then you sell it, or you don’t.
In regular businesses, you create what you can sell.
.
Being creative is a blessing, it is fulfilling, satisfying.
Sexy!
But it is also a curse, addictive and in all likeliness an economic sin.
Your art not just exists outside of existing economic structures:
It also has the power to disrupt it.
.
And if you’re any good at what you do:
It will.
.
A great artist is someone who immediately wakes you up.
Or their work is.
But it’s not a place where you feel all comfortable and fuzzy.
.
So there is that:
The realization that my purpose work takes place outside of society.
And that in all likeliness, it will always place me outside of it as well.
.
But there was also another lesson I learned, and it was something that I think many clients (of Sara) would have found an uncomfortable observation by her.
Yet I totally loved it….
.
We were talking about personal branding, a topic that rarely comes up because I no longer see my creativity as something I necessarily sell.
But we touched on personal branding because I confessed to Sara that I would love to pick up coaching and teaching yoga again;
But was held back so much by this realization that there is something vastly different about me, compared to what someone expects from a coach or a yoga teacher.
.
This something within me kept getting in the way of being able to offer my services.
I wasn’t able to communicate what it was I had to offer, and kept getting stuck in the standard image of a coach or yoga teacher.
That’s when Sara talked about personal branding. And she spoke the words:
“I think your personal brand is INTENSE and UNSETTLING.”

.
Wow.
Yes!
YES IT IS!
.
I once had someone tell me how people immediately felt better when they saw them. That a calm and peaceful mood struck them, where everything was okay, just from being in the presence of this person.
.
I immediately shot back:
“I have THE EXACT OPPOSITE effect on people!”.

Deep fears, coming back to haunt.
Dreams that were lost, suddenly resurfacing.
Insecurities, which were carefully contained for years, suddenly omnipresent.
.
But also: Big and powerful breakthroughs happening in seconds.
.
But also: For the first time seeing their own strength mirrored.
.
But also: A meeting of souls.
.
But also: Receiving clarity and ownership over your life.
.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t see what I had to offer the world, it was that I kept getting stuck in not being able to word it.
.
INTENSE and UNSETTLING

Bingo.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe 

Aside from the occasional letter to Sara, this is blog is the home for my
1994 diary where I translate current day events to my 22 year old self in February 1995.
The subscription button is on this page, probably on the right.

Notice

With the coming of 1994 diary, articles on men, movies and more are now written on my old blog. 
They can be followed on my social media accounts
Follow on Facebook or Twitter
NEW connect on Linkedin

Or take a peek and browse for yourself
lsharteveld.nl
(that blog does not have a post-subscribe button)

Other:
YouTube for My Life in Bon Jovi songs.
and my Dutch blog about film. Nederlands blog over film:
Zeg maar Lauren

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

The Stopping of the Giving of the Fucks

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.
..
Dear Sara,
.
It’s hard to say when I decided to pull myself up by my bootstraps, get back on the field, which I seemed to have given up to former and potential lovers, professions, employers and a variety of financial and sexual saviors to, I don’t know, take a fucking dump or something?
I mean for FUCK’S SAKE what was I thinking Sara?!
What were all these people still doing on my field? Why were they invited or why did I even allow them on? 
.
download (21)But dating problems aside as to when it started, I do think the moment of having a next level fuck-that-shit-moment, putting my cap back on, wiping the snot out of my eyes and the blood off my face, spitting on the home base and giving the pitcher a determined look that regardless of what he was gonna throw at me,
I was going to knock this thing out of the park;
That moment had been brewing for a while.
.
That I had actually been very aware, right from that lousy 10th of December, of how difficult it had been for me.
Not just to see my lover leave. But the why.

It had been a genuine choice by him, and a big leap forward from a moral perspective (and who does not wish for their loved ones to have a clear conscience?). But there had been circumstances which caused me to think this was not entirely voluntarily. This was a man doing what he had to do because life had been so cruel, he could no longer allow for his own cruelty to coexist.
The only way to do the right thing, was to become the angel he had never been.
.
Now I m the first one to admit my perception is terribly biased. And it’s certainly not as if he sat me down and explained himself or defended himself.
But then again:
If he had left me for a badass girl half my age, who filled his penthouse with the smoke of pot, and considered out loud if she’d take a pet hyena – I would have known that.
It’s not an ego thing, that I frame my ex-lover’s departure into him taking a step back to take responsibility over his life. 
.
And it’s not even an ego thing that I unconsciously waited for him, for two months and 19 days.
It’s not even because I thought he would not get by without my company, my love, my sex. In fact I believed it to be a huge relief, to finally not have this “mistress thing” haunting you at night.
.
I don’t know, I don’t know….
Maybe it was because I did respect him so much and did not take this breakup personally, that I wanted to wait to make sure he didn’t come back.
Or maybe the past few months of waiting were my own personal mourning time. 
.
All I knew, and this is the strange part, was that I couldn’t cut ties, nor recognized how powerless I was making myself, until I applied for what I unabashedly labeled “my dream job”.
It was an organization that I love, my favorite department, the location is smashing and it buzzes with energy and worldly excitement. (no it’s not a brothel! lol) 
.
To say “I applied” would be an understatement.
I energetically aligned with them, and wrote a letter from the heart yet it referred to universal principles and could have passed as their 2020 mission statement.
I think it cost me half a workweek, but afterwards it was no longer a question if they were going to give me the job;
It was only a question if they could afford not to.
.
I know it must sound arrogant but just like I had been convinced I was an extremely good mistress, who had offered a unique and extremely valuable arrangement (and her heart!) to the man she loved;
I knew what I offered this company, was beyond their wildest dreams.
.
And then: Nothing.
.
Turns out nothingness is pretty killing when you can’t wait to start having the amazing kickass relationship you saw in your mind’s eye.
Until it finally hits you.
If someone takes THAT amount of time?

It’s not a match.
..
Sure: you could play the game out. Keep your cool. Pretend you didn’t even notice their response took ages, and be like:
“Oh! Now I remember, yes! That application! Jeez, I d forgotten about that, but yeah, I d love to meet up!”
And if this organization had been anyone but my dream employer, I would have had no problem playing this game out, bluffing my way through as if it was poker.
And I would have won.
..
But that hard to get strategy, is not how you win the game of love.
This can only be won by showing your heart. Just like I ve never been shy towards my lover that I was crazy about him. 
In the beginning, when my lover just like this employer, slowed things down by cold shouldering me, I was very vocal and broke up with him.
I said I was crazy about him, and since he seemed to insist on being irritated over how “difficult” I was, I was apparently alone in those feelings.
So bye then.
It was an incident that he would bring up, whenever we brushed on the subject of choosing for each other and get a “real” relationship.
His “You just walked out of me” versus mine “Only because you didn’t want me there”.
But it worked.
And he learned that I would support him, always. That I stood by him, even if he didn’t contact me. I had full faith in his ability to manage his own life, and plan when he wanted to see me and when he didn’t.
But he knew I was crazy about him, and that he wasn’t allowed to treat me as someone who didn’t care.
He had to acknowledge how special he was to me.
That was all I asked.
.
And that’s what happened after waiting for them for two weeks to respond to my letter: I broke up with them, by withdrawing my application.
.
Because I finally saw that it was not their responsibility to explain or excuse themselves or to be a good future employer.
It was my responsibility to get the fuck out of there.
It was never my path to fit into a neatly crafted position, something my application had overdelivered on from the start.
.
My application and the weeks of silence had been equal to falling in love with someone who has not made up his mind, and who has no interest in acknowledging your feelings. Meanwhile leaving you with your heart all open and out in the streets.
Maybe they’ll pick it up for you, once they’ve made up their mind.
Or maybe they’ll trammel it.
.
Which leaves you with only two healthy choices:
Quit (if it’s real love) or turn the game around and treat them the way they treat you.

Pretend it leaves you completely neutral that they ignore you for weeks, and start dating their biggest competitor.
And in all likeliness it has to be a two-puncher:
First quit.
Then if he wins you back, you still have to keep your cool.

This is how I played my cards with my lover, and it’s why I got to be his mistress for five years, and I regret none of it.
Not playing the game, he was used to winning.
Not investing so much time and energy into someone who I have never been able to call “mine”.
It was all worth it.
.
If the object of your affection is your number one priority, you should take your chances.
.
However, before you do, a moment of contemplation is in order.
And in my case that moment came as soon as I started Googling my other options. Searching LinkedIn for the people who ran similar organizations where I could offer my services and make a serious impact.
When suddenly I realized:
“Wait a minute! This is not MY path! This is not my job. No job is.”
.
Once again, AGAIN (!! I can’t stress the stupidity I felt) I had bought into the fantasy that next to my purpose work as an independent, there was a job for me.
A warm and fuzzy place where I was a normal person, and people expected normal things that were not about me.
Where I was part of a team.
Where I belonged.
.
There is no such place, Sara.
.
Just like my relationships with men can be better than they ever had, and I do make sure that they are;
They will always choose someone more relatable and more presentable to settle down with.
Just like my entrepreneurial skills will outdo those of any other employee in terms of making money and making an impact:
They will always choose someone less outspoken and easier to be around with, to take within their walls.
UNLESS!
Unless you make it your number one priority.
.
Any game can be won, if you insist on it.
.
I could have won the heart and become the woman at the side of my lover. Just as I could have gotten this job.
If I had made it my sole focus of attention and dropped anything else.
My writing.
My publishing.
My speaking.
And my entire new life and career which I m currently crafting under my other name.
Everything.
It’s almost as if the other people instinctively know me better than I know myself. That my lover knew I would never stop writing (about us) not even if my life or our love depended on it.
And that any employer will understand that ultimately I don’t live for them.
I live for me.
.
There are no fuzzy office corners with friends for me, Sara.
No job where I ll not be haunted by the idea that the real work is waiting for me at home.
There is no bed for me, where I’m always welcome.
Those were all things that I thought I would get, in return for allowing all those people on the field. I was so, so wrong. I need tattoos to remember this, I need high level boundaries, I need to stop giving fucks and I definitely need to get real about whose game this is.
.
There is a movie with Madonna from 1990, Dick Tracey. She plays a nightclub singer Breathless Mahony.
Confused by all the crime cartels in his city, Dick Tracey tries to figure out who Madonna is playing for.

Dick Tracey:
“Whose side are you one?”

.

Breathless Mahony: 
“The side I m always on. Mine.”

.
Mine, Sara.
Mine.
.
~Lauren

An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe 

Aside from the occasional letter to Sara, this is blog is the home for my
1994 diary where I translate current day events to my 22 year old self in February 1995.
The subscription button is on this page, probably on the right.

Notice

With the coming of 1994 diary, articles on men, movies and more are now written on my old blog. 
They can be followed on my social media accounts
Follow on Facebook or Twitter
NEW connect on Linkedin

Or take a peek and browse for yourself
lsharteveld.nl
(that blog does not have a post-subscribe button)

Other:
subscribe to YouTube for My Life in Bon Jovi songs.
and my Dutch blog about film. Nederlands blog over film:
Zeg maar Lauren

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Catherine?”

I feel that the femme fatale figure of legend,
myth and modern popular culture tells the truth about sexual relations..
About male fear of woman, not male hatred of woman.
.
The femme fatale shows that in her supernatural kind of power,
that woman is ultimately unknowable.
.
Not only to man, but to herself.
.
Camille Paglia
audio commentary to Basic Instinct 
.
This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.
There is only one part of my 1994 project that is actually taking flight.
Just one part of my life, that easily transcends 25 years back, and I would be able to write about in my 1994 series.
.
Everything else that happened is just untranslatable.
.
I can’t share that I ve decided to go out into the world under my real name, starting with an entirely new Bon Jovi YouTube series.
The only filming we did in 1994, was with a camera that had videotapes in them. And we were unlikely to share it with anyone we did not already know.
.
I also cannot tell how I found the bestest job in the history of being LS Harteveld. A job opening which has excited me to the level of Jon Bon Jovi funding my life on the condition that I only do whatever the fuck I want, every day, for the rest of my life.
And if that means I will do him, that would be great. But if not he’ll still be my biggest fan.
That would be like the Next Best Thing, to finding this job.
But it is so tied to modern culture that I have not found a way to translate it to 1994.
.
And in this 1994 series, which really feels like ages since last time I wrote for it, I also cannot tell that in order to apply for this job I am supposed to clean up all my blogs at least to some degree, in order to apply.
And also, the absolute daunting task awaited me, of going through both of the YouTube channels (the description boxes) to clean them up, take out any cross-referencing from my secret pen name to my real name, take out all services that I no longer offer, websites that I no longer support and social media accounts that have changed.
And remove everything that I don’t want biting me in the ass, when I m visible or famous under my real name.
Nor did I want anything online which I did not 100% stood by, the moment I was sending out the most important application of my life.
.
And – and! – Sara, you are not going to believe this;
I can also not work into my 1994 series that YouTube then did the stuff nightmares are made of:
It.
Unedited.
My.
Videos.
.
Five years of work, trimmed endings, cut monologues, ringing doorbells and bare bellies from tops that exposed me;
All online.
And that’s just the stuff under my real name.
God knows what I edited from my more candid LS Harteveld channel.
That channel could have an atomic bomb of bloopers, that could blow up any career, let alone the carefully crafted public image I was creating under my real name.
.
But the good news is that the unexpected YouTube fail left me no choice but to simply take down all 500 videos on my two channels, only leaving a goodbye video on my LS Harteveld channel, and the three videos I had shot for my new series under my real name.
It cost me four hours of intense anxiety and full-blown panic on a Monday night.
It saved me days and days of editing description boxes and a guilt trip towards my audience for every video I removed.
A simple apology on both my channels, explaining what had happened and why I removed the videos, was all it took.
I think I owe YouTube a big Thank You.
.
So all these major life events, the decision to become known under my real name, starting a new video series, finding the perfect job opening, and my adventures with my YouTube channel and the blessing that turned out to be, colored the past two weeks.
Yet I did not write anything for the only series that I hold in the highest regard, and that I consider the most pure version of me:
1994.
Where I translate my life into a fictionalized past.
.
22 Year old Lauren had not moved a finger, in the area of work nor her writing.
And there was really only one aspect where I knew what she had been up to:
She had fallen in love with Michael Douglas.
.
She had no idea why she had managed to miss him, when she had seen Basic Instinct at the theater, but she had.
And now that she owned a videotape of Basic Instinct, she just couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
She was spellbound by his strong, macho on-screen presence. And she was sure the magic was in his voice. 
The way he said: 
“What the fuck do you want from me Catherine?” while looking straight into Sharon Stone’s eyes, up close, sparked a deep longing in her to be with a man again.
To have a man asking her that question, in an almost bored, definitely not impressed with her, way.
.
Maybe her ex-lover Bear would?
She still thought almost exclusively about him. Even though he seemed to have really left.
But maybe it would be someone else, someone new who would come into her life and possess that same kind of distant cool, that made her feel safe. 
Whoever it was, she would recognize him if she saw him.
She was sure of it.
.
And he, would recognize her.
.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe 

Aside from the occasional letter to Sara, this is blog is the home for my
1994 diary where I translate current day events to my 22 year old self in February 1995.
The subscription button is on this page, probably on the right.

Notice

With the coming of 1994 diary, articles on men, movies and more are now written on my old blog. 
They can be followed on my social media accounts
Follow on Facebook or Twitter
NEW connect on Linkedin

Or take a peek and browse for yourself
lsharteveld.nl
(that blog does not have a post-subscribe button)

Other:
subscribe to YouTube for My Life in Bon Jovi songs.
and my Dutch blog about film. Nederlands blog over film:
Zeg maar Lauren

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

I m ending my YouTube channel & going underground

I ll admit it:
Technically, this is not the YouTube channel that I should be cancelling.
Not the one under this name.
.
Just like technically it are not the posts on this blog, that I should be clearing out.
Nor my original blog.
Nor my Dutch blog.
And yet, that is exactly what I will do. 
.
I will basically decimate my online presence as LS Harteveld, because I have chosen to become known/ active under my real name.
I m finally speaking my truth there.
Don’t get me wrong, it is far from the transparency I have had as LS Harteveld, from 2006 and up; 

But that is exactly why it is manageable.
Why I don’t break into a cold sweat at the idea of someone asking me questions about it, having to explain myself, or even selling my work.
.
Under my real name, my work is genuine enough to be a considered a part of me. But it is impersonal and general enough, to not have the same emotional value, as my work as LS Harteveld.
At least, it won’t once I ve cleared 80% of my blog and YouTube there as well –
because that’s what I will do.
.
The past few months, I am noticing that people become obsessed with me way too easily. This doesn’t have anything to do with my blogs nor my YouTube:
Often they don’t even know I have those.
It has been that way since I was very young, and I suspect all women experience this. But I find the emotional harassment from men I barely know, unbearable.
.
Just tonight I was unlocking my bike, in the city, and someone stopped his bike right behind me, and forced me to have a conversation with him and wanted to get to know me, which of course I refused.
But it WAS the moment when I decided enough was enough.
That I was going to delete my LS Harteveld YouTube channel so that my face would never be known again under that name.
.
I started writing as LS Harteveld in 2006, and it has been so nessecary for me, to cope with life this way.
Writing is my sanctuary.
And I m proud of the books I created in 2017, and look forward to curating all the material I still have and create new ones.
.
But in the upcoming years my face and my work will also become known under my real name. And that is the moment when it becomes very inconvenient that my candid LS Harteveld videos exist.
Especially because I will be writing here, and needing this place here, more than ever.
.
The blog you re reading right now, has my 1994 project on it, where I fictionalize real life events to a 22 year old Lauren, who wants to be a writer.
And I also write letters to my creativity coach Sara here.
You can follow this blog by subscribing on this page.
.
Next to that, I have my original blog.
The reason I started using that, is that it doesn’t give out email notifications!
This allows me to write things I want to share on social media, but that I don’t consider my core work.
So if you want to read this extra work, you can follow me on Facebook or Twitter
.
Like I said I expect to write a lot. More than ever before. 
I think my adventures in the real world will really stir my creativity, although I will never write about my payroll job/ work environment where I m not a speaker or writer. 
.
So I can no longer afford the candid conversations I ve been having on YouTube.
.
Today I was covering a song/ video in a series I m currently doing on YouTube, and I will make a new final video explaining why this brought me to this decision, but the short version is:
The topic I wanted to cover, and which I had actually announced the previous day, suddenly struck me as very unwise to openly discuss.
After a week, rich in drawing unwanted attention to myself, the last thing I wanted to do was put oil to the flame.
And all I did want to do, was pull the plug.
.
So I will.
.
Just like in 2010 when I first came online, all photos of me, all videos, will be removed. And the LS Harteveld blog you are on right now – will become a sanctuary where I can be myself and share my best work.
For ever.
.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

Subscribe 

The subscription button is on this page, probably on the right.

Notice

With the coming of 1994 diary here, articles on men, movies and more are now written on my original blog. 
They can only be followed on my social media accounts
Follow on Facebook or Twitter
NEW connect on Linkedin
.

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

 

My fate was sealed a long time ago

Slash-coverThis is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.
.
Dear Sara,
.
I know our call is over a week away, but I m ready to call it a day.
The upcoming week will not bring any dramatic change, nor a massive production of blog posts, because I m kind of… I don’t know.

Done?
I know who I am, I know what I want, and the days of changing direction or wasting time are behind me.
..
Another reason I have found myself toying with the idea to write you this weekend already, is because I have no intention of holding on to the ins and outs as to how I got here.
And as soon as I try to explain it, it rapidly turns into this boring list of all the blog posts I wrote that shaped my mind. I think I m close to 10 including several written under my real name, all written in the past 2 weeks.
I didn’t just write, I also worked and did other things. 
And yet all in all, the past two weeks felt intensely alone. Not lonely.
.
First I assumed it was my obsession with January 1st, that I just wanted to start the decade off by myself. 
But then it became the second of January, third. And nothing changed. 
I would go to the movies, theater, see friends even. But it was almost like I made sure it didn’t impact me as much as it usually does.
I could feel that although I wished I had started the year fresh;
I still had things to figure out.
There was still “life clutter”.
2020 Had not started as clear and purposeful as I had hoped.
December with my lover breaking up and almost daily social appointments, had been hard on me. This year solitude and writing were the only thing I longed for.
To figure things out, and let go what was no longer needed.
The good news was it worked.
.
Last week I saw how all the major aspects of my life, and how I want them in the future, had stayed partially clouded (although for many of them I was on the right path for sure!) because I had failed to see one thing.
Or maybe I had seen it, but I had failed to see the consequence:
THAT I AM A WRITER
Or artist, in a broader sense.
I honestly have no idea how I let’s say “managed to miss that”, because the signs have been all over my two author names, five different blogs, ten published books and material for the next ten already done, but I thought that being a writer, publisher, artist, was somehow something that could be:
– negotiated
– parked
– downplayed
– bargained
And even:
– erased
– denied
– ran away from
.

Slash-1024x1024Yet through the lens of:
“Honey, you’re a writer, you need ample time to process all those times you look for the meaning of Life behind every man you meet (that’s not true, just my lover and the man who looks like Slash), every guitar hero whose biography you read (also not true; just Slash) and every movie you see (probably just everything featuring Adam Driver or other gorgeous men with dark hair).

You re a writer and it’s going to cost you your life.
Get used to it.”
In that light it’s obvious my writing doesn’t budge.

Every time I panicked over something – being someone’s mistress, writing about my sex life to name just a few – it was just because I failed to understand:
I AM a writer.
That’s what I DO.
It’s not a “I m a writer unless I m in love with you, and you don’t want me to write, then I m not a writer.”
It’s not:
“I m a writer unless you want me to really get my head around this new job and go head first into this new world making new friends and giving me a new identity because then I ll be that.”
I m a writer period. It’s not an app that you can remove from your phone.
.
The first areas where this fact, obligation, curse and blessing of being a writer started to sink in were my love life and work. I now know that as much as I would agree that it’s not ethical to write about your sex life, it’s not something I can change any more than the color of my eyes.
As much as I would love to have my life free to jump head-first into a new career: I am a writer already and I publish my own books.
End of story.
.
But there was one area where it took a bit longer.
And I think it was this epiphany that needed the solitude of the first weeks of 2020 before it could come out.
Teaching yoga.
The area I had been on the fence about since summer 2018
.
As you know I have unpaid work with male co-workers, and it’s very practical work. And at the same time I ve pretty much called off all my friendships, and currently no longer hold any steady arrangements of seeing people.
My preferred method of socializing from this year forward, will be through work in a male-dominated, practical environment.
.
Together with the realization that I AM A WRITER this quickly led to the realization that there is no place for teaching yoga in my life. That I want to spend my working hours among men, and my time off behind my desk writing or working on my own publishing business.
Ideally I want to make a full income selling my own books, and work a job 3-4 days a week, including my current unpaid work.
.
I kept all the other things that had to do with the yoga studio. 
The space, my class teaching friends, my own yoga practice. I write for my  Rock Star Yoga blog.
I still see myself as someone who has something to say on yoga, just not teaching it.
Becoming an (albeit antagonistic) spokesperson in the yoga world will still happen. 
.
So after two weeks it’s finally done, all the internal processing and seeing where I will be taking my life.
I’m updating all my websites and profiles, and will update my resume so that it reflects that I am a writer and a publisher. No longer a yoga teacher. 
.
One of the movies that influenced my decision was Words of Love on Leonard Cohen and his muse Marianne Ihlen. It didn’t take long for me to recognize myself in Leonard.
In the poor deal he could cut her, where it was practically impossible for him to give even a little bit of himself to her, I recognized the state of affairs in my own love life.
.
It’s not that I don’t think a man doesn’t deserve safety, warmth, predictability, stability, monogamy, a future. It’s just that I can’t give those things.
.
And all I can offer are words of love.
.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

related:

On my other blog: Two be one – on Leonard Cohen and Marianne Ihlen

On my Rock Star Yoga blog (written under my other name)
My Way – on how I learned to live through Slash’s biography

Subscribe 

Aside from the occasional letter to Sara, this is blog is the home for my
1994 diary where I translate current day events to my 22 year old self in January 1995.
The subscription button is on this page, probably on the right.

Notice

With the coming of 1994 diary, articles on men, movies and more are now written on my old blog. 
They can be followed on my social media accounts
Follow on Facebook or Twitter
NEW connect on Linkedin

Or take a peek and browse for yourself
lsharteveld.nl
(that blog does not have a post-subscribe button)

Other:
subscribe to YouTube for My Life in Bon Jovi songs.
and my Dutch blog about film. Nederlands blog over film:
Zeg maar Lauren

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.

EBOA_BLWkAAyQwV

I remember when we met | “1994” series

I was archiving my spiral bound diary of 1994. When closing it, the first page fell open and it just broke my heart.
It had a quote from Bear.
It was from a conversation we had, about our dreams.
Or his dreams, which fascinated and inspired me.
It may have been why he was so irresistible to me; He just did his own thing and I seemed to have little impact on his life. We only saw each other when it suited him.
Which was another thing I liked, no one understood.
How could I not take initiative to see each other? And didn’t I want him to be there for me when I wasn’t doing well? How could I give him all the power, controlling everything?
That not having a say in whether or not we were going to see each other, was actually one of the most intoxicating things about it, baffled them.
I usually added that I would initiate contact sometimes, to ensure he didn’t feel excluded. But he rarely accepted the invitation.
Late 1993, he had taken his physical exercise to the next level. It didn’t seem to take him any effort. He had been training every day since October, November, and he had been keeping it up.
I immediately started dreaming what I would be able to achieve if I did that.

But Bear reminded me this wasn’t the first time I was inspired by his discipline. He said he would be more frustrating than inspiring me, since I seemed to be having so much trouble to stick to a regiment.
I denied and ensured him 1994 would be different.
Starting with quoting him on the frustration thing, at the beginning of my journal.
Only to not read it again until January 1995 when archiving the journal.
And suddenly I felt so guilty.
Not for not keeping my word to Bear – regardless if he would have been more inclined to stay with me and not break up if I had become more successful at my fitness dreams.
No.
I felt guilty for not backing myself up.
It wasn’t just the fitness.

I vowed to become a writer in 1994, and then didn’t.
It wasn’t all bad, don’t get me wrong. Both Bear and me finished our thesis and got our Masters. We both started our working lives as well.
And then a month ago he broke up, and now it’s January 1995, and I m like:
Where did the time go? Where did my dreams go to workout every day (in my case yoga) and to become a writer?
It was all so very sad.
How full of life I still felt one year ago. Everything Bear and me had been sharing. Our five years of being lovers felt like a heart shaped bubble. A curated experience like something you could put in a museum.
The intensity, and the beauty of it just brought tears to my eyes.
For the first time I cried, thinking about our years together, and that he had moved on. Wanted a family. Wanted normalcy. Didn’t want me anymore, the girl who had asked him to have her first time sex with.
Because her boyfriend had ended it, right before her 17th birthday, and she didn’t want to leave this to chance or let it fall into inexperienced hands.
I remember how a burden had been lifted from my shoulders, when I had found him.
Just like the past month after the breakup, I had been devoid of emotion, and I had been pragmatic about what needed to be done. I was young but I was determined to find someone skillful to give me the first time sex.
And took all the steps on instinct.
Bear immediately sprung to mind, because I knew him from stories from two friends and had seen him on a number of occasions. We had been briefly introduced but never really talked.
Bear had been sexually active, and was notorious for not committing. Through the two friends (I can’t remember which one) I got his telephone number, I came up with some kind of excuse for needing it.
I rang him up, explained who I was, and that I wanted to ask him something. But that I could only do it in person. We set a date to have coffee together, and I was business-like about what I wanted from him.
It wasn’t until he said Yes, that I broke into tears.
Suddenly all the tension of setting this up, the fear of staying a virgin far too long, grief of having lost Jonathan at such an important time;
It all came out.
“I m sorry,” I sobbed.
Bear just smiled and took my hands over the table. Touched my face. I wanted to crawl away, I felt so vulnerable. Bear tried to look me in the eye, but the more he tried to stay connected with me, the more I started to cry.
“It’s going to be fine, okay?” he finally said when I had calmed down a bit. “You trust me?”
I nodded.
“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. Do you understand?”
I didn’t explain that I wasn’t crying because of him doing something. But out of fear of him not doing something. Out of fear of him changing his mind and leaving me hanging. And a virgin.
But just like the daily exercise, Bear did what he promised.
The first time we didn’t go all the way, but stuck to the things I was already experienced with. And the second time we had real sex.
It was extremely emotional. It had been such a big hangup for me, and at first I really thought it was that stress, why I was crying.
But it would stay that way.
The fucking brought out so much tension, I cried more often than not. I felt like a baby in his arms, and it was all okay. More than okay.
It was wonderful.
And now he has ended it.
And there is this bubble of beautiful memories, that will never go away.
Our first date he had ensured me he would never do something I didn’t want;
He held true to his word.
All the way up to the end.
As soon as he wanted a normal relationship and possibly a family, he asked me for a similar coffee date as I had five years ago.
And he left.
Bear was right. 1994 Was not the year he would inspire me to great heights, and became the source of frustration instead. Not because he had stuck to his exercise regime and I hadn’t. But because our time together had come to an end, and had left me empty handed.
Finding the quote in the diary was the first time I cried for our breakup.
For not backing myself.
For making resolutions I didn’t keep.
For not being a writer.
Not having a lover.
Everything.
After two days I decided enough was enough. I was only 22 years old, and I still had my life ahead of me. I took a piece of paper, and drew out what I wanted this year and also for the upcoming years. Just as Bear had done for his.
There were way too many blanks to my liking.
With whom was I going to make love?
Cry?
In whom would I trust?
It was an incredibly lonely exercise, and I can’t say that I’m suddenly healed and looking to the future with hope and dreams.
But I will put one foot in front of another, and become a writer.
Alone if I have to. 
.
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living
.

Subscribe to 1994 

The subscription button to this blog is on this page,
probably on the right.
I remember when we met | “1994” 
is the fourth chapter of
1994 part 2: A new life

For the real current-day me: 
subscribe to YouTube for My Life in Bon Jovi songs.

Follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

diaries en erotica are available in my BOOK SHOP

25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2019
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. The subscription button to this blog is on this page, probably on the right.