Who is Suza
Suza is actually Aydin with Suzanna as my middle name, but I don’t feel very connected to my given first name other than responding to it when someone utters it. Like a cat, I recognize the sound and know it’s my cue.
I was born on a Tuesday, August 2 in 1983 between 10 and 11 o’clock in the morning on Planet Earth in The Netherlands with a Dutch nationality attached to my forehead and Dutch/Indonesian blood in my veins. I have a half-brother 17 years younger than me, he’s an expert on dinosaurs and fascinated by all things nature and my digital camera.
I have an interest for drawing & painting and photography, web design and from time to time I enjoy creating pixel art. I have a pretty bad anxiety disorder/agoraphobia - untreated and on the 6th floor where I live with my dad. However, as I’m writing (or editing) this I am awaiting treatment and I feel very happy to be able to say that I finally got my ass into gear.
I have one foot outside of the closet - I guess this sentence adds the other foot as well but sometimes it hesitates and retreats and then it notices how dark it’s in there, and then the big toe realizes it’s slightly claustrophobic and starts yelling at all the other toes. But because it’s a closet and not a bank vault, people can hear all the ruckus and are now listening at the door, trying to jimmy it open while all the other toes are trying to shush the big one so that when the nosy people finally yank open the closet door, you stand there looking like you need to pee.
“The bathroom is over there, sweetie. Who was yelling?” someone will say and you start to panic because you want to explain what you’re doing in there but you don’t want it to be ‘Really? This isn’t the bathroom?’ so it turns into an even less convincing “Finally, you found me! I’ve been in here forever. That’s the last time I’m playing hide and seek with you!”
“But we weren’t playing hide and seek,” says someone else.
Now you just look like a crazy person in a closet and you wish your teddy bear Snuggles was with you. You don’t have a teddy named Snuggles, but every frightening story has a comforting Snuggles so you wish your teddy bear Snuggles was with you even if it’s someone else’s Snuggles.
I forgot where I was going with this, I was having too much fun imagining what my toes would sound like if they could speak.
It’ll be a journey, everything, nothing and the rest of my life, but I’m sure most of its obstacles, victories, random cheese cubes and boobies will find their way into my art. Or something wonderful like that.
Look for me
Some of my accounts/profiles around the ‘Net.
My other website(s):
