If the world went offline and there were no more world wide web, I would be the first to perish - from a withered soul.
Seriously, how did I get through school without Wikipedia? Teenage heartaches without FaceBook chat? Boring study nights without YouTube? Thesis writing without online databases and Amazon? Adventures without a blog? Just about anything without Google?
Was I perhaps living in the real world back then? Not sure I want that back.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Saturday, June 09, 2012
bizarre recurring dream #3
Longingly searching for a big gleaming trendy coffee shop in the sky... or rather, somewhere on an upper floor in a shopping centre. I never make it there.
Thursday, June 07, 2012
how to defeat a hostile life
Teenage distractedness in the Little Shop of Harmony, in the form of a 19-year-old summer help. In the middle of the "everyone-else-is-on-vacation" stress I'm frustrated and fascinated.
I thought I was lacking focus and a sense of direction. By comparison to a teenager, I suddenly seem wonderfully skilled, knowledgeable and, above all, wise to the world. I stand my ground when one particularly scruffy regular is trying to manipulate his way into a discount and I shrug off a nasty insult by a bitter old lady instead of coming apart at the seams as I once would have.
Maybe there are a few advantages to growing up after all. I may envy this teenager her fresh beauty and the adventurous years ahead of her. But I know things she doesn't. I know how to type fast, learn a language and fix a computer (if it's only a little broken). I know that when life tries to kill you, you defeat life by living it. Stubbornly and with dedication.
I thought I was lacking focus and a sense of direction. By comparison to a teenager, I suddenly seem wonderfully skilled, knowledgeable and, above all, wise to the world. I stand my ground when one particularly scruffy regular is trying to manipulate his way into a discount and I shrug off a nasty insult by a bitter old lady instead of coming apart at the seams as I once would have.
Maybe there are a few advantages to growing up after all. I may envy this teenager her fresh beauty and the adventurous years ahead of her. But I know things she doesn't. I know how to type fast, learn a language and fix a computer (if it's only a little broken). I know that when life tries to kill you, you defeat life by living it. Stubbornly and with dedication.
Tuesday, June 05, 2012
a tooth interlude
Was complimented on my beautiful teeth today. Over the phone. There's something that doesn't happen to me every day.
Felt a sudden urge to tell the almost-stranger at the other end the whole story about the braces I had to wear as a teenager and their terrible effect on my self-confidence. Managed to stop myself just in time.
Felt a sudden urge to tell the almost-stranger at the other end the whole story about the braces I had to wear as a teenager and their terrible effect on my self-confidence. Managed to stop myself just in time.
Saturday, June 02, 2012
confessions of a city-dweller
Should point out that I'm not condescending towards village life. Not exclaiming over the delightful quaintness of the natives while wrinkling my nose over primitive habits. People here are as "modern" as I am but have mostly managed to hang on to the good parts of living close to nature and each other. I'm genuinely fascinated by the community spirit and the beautiful surroundings. I'm also more than a little envious.
I grew up in middle-class suburbia but spent high school in the company of kids from this village and many others like it. They took the school bus into the suburb every morning (a few of them had a three-hour round trip) and their funny dialects and stories of village life always made me feel that they were living the genuine life. Perhaps because I myself am only one generation removed from farm life.
At times, I have dreamed of having this life. By now I have identified with the restless, stimulus-hunting city mindset. So, being on holiday in this village, what I feel is gratefulness for being accepted here anyway. Being allowed to take a small part and enjoy myself. I guess I am exclaiming over the delightful quaintness of this life. But if I'm wrinkling my nose over something, it's over the hyper-modern eco-toilet not working properly.
I grew up in middle-class suburbia but spent high school in the company of kids from this village and many others like it. They took the school bus into the suburb every morning (a few of them had a three-hour round trip) and their funny dialects and stories of village life always made me feel that they were living the genuine life. Perhaps because I myself am only one generation removed from farm life.
At times, I have dreamed of having this life. By now I have identified with the restless, stimulus-hunting city mindset. So, being on holiday in this village, what I feel is gratefulness for being accepted here anyway. Being allowed to take a small part and enjoy myself. I guess I am exclaiming over the delightful quaintness of this life. But if I'm wrinkling my nose over something, it's over the hyper-modern eco-toilet not working properly.
Friday, June 01, 2012
in the land of lilacs and curious neighbours
Hello June. Hello idyllic country cottage life. It's all I expected.
* White hardwood floors, birdsong in the rowan tree outside.
* Chilly morning strolls along country lanes.
* Ancient stone walls, put together by farmers trying to clear their meager fields centuries ago.
* Fields with horses that stare at me and the dog.
* Woods with the possibility of meeting an elk, or if you are extremely (un)lucky, a bear.
* Lilacs in bloom.
* Neighbours who say hello. A next-door neighbour lady who brings me flowers from her garden and her husband who comes to fix one of my lamps.
* A cute dog who chases cats and cars.
* Doors without doorbells and sometimes without locks (you are supposed to knock once, walk in and yell for attention. The people inside are supposed to yell back "come on in!" and automatically reach for the coffee pot).
* Mosquitoes, the bane of June.
* An old house (with mod cons) that creaks and sighs at night.
I am my normal cityself, an outsider. The kind that views this as an exotic adventure rather than a way to live. With large ear-rings, nail polish, too-bright-red shirts, and a laptop that plays Gotye, Swedish House Mafia and U2. With late habits and internet addictions and wine bottles. With impossible dreams but also a desire to settle down and revel in this beauty for a little while.
* White hardwood floors, birdsong in the rowan tree outside.
* Chilly morning strolls along country lanes.
* Ancient stone walls, put together by farmers trying to clear their meager fields centuries ago.
* Fields with horses that stare at me and the dog.
* Woods with the possibility of meeting an elk, or if you are extremely (un)lucky, a bear.
* Lilacs in bloom.
* Neighbours who say hello. A next-door neighbour lady who brings me flowers from her garden and her husband who comes to fix one of my lamps.
* A cute dog who chases cats and cars.
* Doors without doorbells and sometimes without locks (you are supposed to knock once, walk in and yell for attention. The people inside are supposed to yell back "come on in!" and automatically reach for the coffee pot).
* Mosquitoes, the bane of June.
* An old house (with mod cons) that creaks and sighs at night.
I am my normal cityself, an outsider. The kind that views this as an exotic adventure rather than a way to live. With large ear-rings, nail polish, too-bright-red shirts, and a laptop that plays Gotye, Swedish House Mafia and U2. With late habits and internet addictions and wine bottles. With impossible dreams but also a desire to settle down and revel in this beauty for a little while.
Monday, May 28, 2012
paradise can't be good for me
During the lovely summer month of June, I'm going to borrow a cute little dog and a quaint little cottage in a picturesque little village.
I can see myself sipping lemonade in a lush garden while birds are singing and a dog is attempting to lick my ear.
In the evenings I will light a single lamp and read blogs and thick novels - and occasionally fall for the temptation of a DVD box set, watched on my laptop - at a white kitchen table. In the mornings, I will walk barefoot in dewy grass.
Have to get some white lace to fit into this fairytale. (And mosquito repellent.)
Oh my God, I'm going to go MAD.
I can see myself sipping lemonade in a lush garden while birds are singing and a dog is attempting to lick my ear.
In the evenings I will light a single lamp and read blogs and thick novels - and occasionally fall for the temptation of a DVD box set, watched on my laptop - at a white kitchen table. In the mornings, I will walk barefoot in dewy grass.
Have to get some white lace to fit into this fairytale. (And mosquito repellent.)
Oh my God, I'm going to go MAD.
midnight, damn right, we're wound up too tight
Mornings are painful and days drag on. But evenings never have enough hours in them and nights push in all too soon.
I never want to go to sleep and I never want to wake up. Who invented this world order and why did they put time in all the wrong places?
I never want to go to sleep and I never want to wake up. Who invented this world order and why did they put time in all the wrong places?
Friday, May 25, 2012
it's only dark if you close your eyes
The light breezes in over Northern Europe, much like the joyful migrant birds eager to celebrate spring. It started about a month ago as I was up well past midnight, listening to music and feeling creative - I noticed the sky was not completely dark. A faint turquoise glow, in the north corner of it. A week or so later, the glow was all over the night sky and only the brighter stars could be seen. And now, there are the midnights without stars. Never darker than twilight. The white nights of the north.
I welcome them. But I still light candles in the late evenings.
I welcome them. But I still light candles in the late evenings.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
the night I met a demon in the club
"I can't believe it! I never thought I'd see you in a place like this."
The place is a club. I'm taking a break from dancing with my friends and sitting in a dark corner, content to just study the night life for a while. When the man who says this sits down next to me, hesitantly, I stare at him for a while. A face I used to avoid at all costs. A name I wanted to forget forever, but now it slips out of me unbidden. He brightens.
We get started on the usual small talk ("it's been years"; "just out celebrating a friend's birthday"; "so where are you nowadays") in the usual way - friendly interest towards someone I last saw half a lifetime ago, polite distance to signal I'm not interested in getting picked up by a drunk guy in a club. And I'm doing it on autopilot because I'm kind of in shock. Trying to sort out how I feel about having him near me, talking to me, smiling.
Twenty-three years ago, in school, I was terrified of him and much of my day was spent thinking up strategies to avoid him. Thirteen years ago, at a class reunion, I was secretly triumphant and smug when I realised I had done so much more with my life than he ever would with his. Three years ago, at another reunion, I judged him a hopeless case, shrugged and didn't give him a second thought.
And now. I can hardly believe my own feelings. There is no trace of fear, anger, bitterness, smugness or contempt. No love either. I feel slightly sorry for him, even concerned. He says I'm pretty (he used to call me ugly). He talks respectfully about my faith (he used to mock it without mercy). And the utterly unbelievable, other-wordly thing, he actually apologizes for terrorizing me in school - in the rather rambling way of the slightly drunk, but with genuine remorse.
So we talk for half an hour. I promise to stay in touch, and mean it. I don't know which one of us is more surprised. I touch his arm and smile as we finally say "see you around" and I go back to my friends.
The place is a club. I'm taking a break from dancing with my friends and sitting in a dark corner, content to just study the night life for a while. When the man who says this sits down next to me, hesitantly, I stare at him for a while. A face I used to avoid at all costs. A name I wanted to forget forever, but now it slips out of me unbidden. He brightens.
We get started on the usual small talk ("it's been years"; "just out celebrating a friend's birthday"; "so where are you nowadays") in the usual way - friendly interest towards someone I last saw half a lifetime ago, polite distance to signal I'm not interested in getting picked up by a drunk guy in a club. And I'm doing it on autopilot because I'm kind of in shock. Trying to sort out how I feel about having him near me, talking to me, smiling.
Twenty-three years ago, in school, I was terrified of him and much of my day was spent thinking up strategies to avoid him. Thirteen years ago, at a class reunion, I was secretly triumphant and smug when I realised I had done so much more with my life than he ever would with his. Three years ago, at another reunion, I judged him a hopeless case, shrugged and didn't give him a second thought.
And now. I can hardly believe my own feelings. There is no trace of fear, anger, bitterness, smugness or contempt. No love either. I feel slightly sorry for him, even concerned. He says I'm pretty (he used to call me ugly). He talks respectfully about my faith (he used to mock it without mercy). And the utterly unbelievable, other-wordly thing, he actually apologizes for terrorizing me in school - in the rather rambling way of the slightly drunk, but with genuine remorse.
So we talk for half an hour. I promise to stay in touch, and mean it. I don't know which one of us is more surprised. I touch his arm and smile as we finally say "see you around" and I go back to my friends.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
the woman who had a view but no perspective
Well, I'm out of bed. Not even a novel by Patrick Rothfuss had the power to keep me there longer than about mid-morning. Thoughts of breakfast and the balcony teased me out of it.
How lovely to lounge on a balcony overlooking the water, even when it's a tad too chilly still to survive without a sweater. The fragrances of spring are overwhelming - wet soil, new leaves and budding flowers - and I can watch the crows build their nest in the linden tree. Time to brew some café à l'Elettaria Cardamomum.
The revelation hit me today: there is no need to feel like a failure because I haven't chosen life here. Because I HAVE chosen life here - if you look at it from the other perspective. Why have I never realised that there are always at least two perspectives? Even the crows in the linden tree know that.
How lovely to lounge on a balcony overlooking the water, even when it's a tad too chilly still to survive without a sweater. The fragrances of spring are overwhelming - wet soil, new leaves and budding flowers - and I can watch the crows build their nest in the linden tree. Time to brew some café à l'Elettaria Cardamomum.
The revelation hit me today: there is no need to feel like a failure because I haven't chosen life here. Because I HAVE chosen life here - if you look at it from the other perspective. Why have I never realised that there are always at least two perspectives? Even the crows in the linden tree know that.
in bed with the fight club boys
I should go to bed. So I can wake up early tomorrow and revel in the fact that I can stay in bed all day.
Later this week I'm going to visit a friend who recently moved to a cottage in the country and bought a cat. She wants to get into the whole farm life thing. What fascinates me the most is that she claims the inspiration for this came out of watching Fight Club. So my back-up plan for tomorrow (if I fail to stay in bed) includes watching that same film and see what it does to me.
Later this week I'm going to visit a friend who recently moved to a cottage in the country and bought a cat. She wants to get into the whole farm life thing. What fascinates me the most is that she claims the inspiration for this came out of watching Fight Club. So my back-up plan for tomorrow (if I fail to stay in bed) includes watching that same film and see what it does to me.
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| Picture courtesy of IMDb |
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