Alex.

I love it. The whole thing. ..of what I currently have, yes, but it's all wonderful. It's the kind of thing I've always wanted to create but have not known how, have not had the motivation and given up after the first few pages. Little worlds of our own. Kat, you've done it. You're a writer.

What the *@?# is this?

Am I being a horrible person when I just get tired of everybody being so fucking childish? It happens. Dramadramadrama. There are times when I know I'm being unfair, but the same thing has just come again, so many times, it really tests my patience. And it should. Yet another way to learn, I guess. I do find it impossible to stay mad at someone for long, a quality I by no means possessed when I was younger. And, of course, I have my own silly habits and flaws than no doubt infuriate others.
Still, why don't we all just step down from our high places or climb up from our low ones and have a spiffing tea party together, eh? Jolly good, eh? Eh?

oh, Stephen, you clever clogs

From "Moab is my Washpot" -

"The story of a sensitive young weed struggling to grow up in the robust thicket of an english public school is not likely to arouse sympathy is the breasts of every reader."

.. 

I wonder how many of the female readers glanced down on their own bosom after reading this sentence. Well, I did.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA

....which is an appropriate description of how I feel right now.
Apprehensive and nervous, but also absurdly happy, ready to face life, tousle it's hair.
I like my metaphors. ^^
Problem is, there are so many lives to choose.. So, so many ways to kick your own mind's butt, it's nearly impossible to choose. Relying on circumstances is what a most of us do, but that's, well, a bit boring.
So I'll just go and stare at the wall some more. Fascinating.


I don't know.. I just don't know. Sorry. Stop apologizing. Sorry.

Really.

"Ba-donka-donk"  - extremely curvaceous female behind.

(This is very useful information.)

I'm not used to sleeplessness any more. Damn shame, in a way. I'm losing my tolerance for fatigue.
Not good. I have to do more energy-depriving things.
I have to get all my stuff back from the people I lent them to, I have to stop putting too much trust in people and think that they're going to pull through, but see, too many of them just don't care. You can worry, you can help, you can try to make them happy, but they'll just end up leaving you there, sitting in the dirt.
Although, recently I received a true thank you. A sincere appreciation. That meant a lot to me.
I have to do everything. I hate being torn between promises to two different people.. but it happens. A moment of thoughtlessness, and tadaaah!, you end up with two responsibilities that are both very important but cannot both be fulfilled. You have to choose. Fuck.
Also - act on your impulses and inspiration, if you do that one or two things first, it'll be too late.

Don't close those tired eyes of yours.

Oh my.

Well, it's been an interesting evening. Lots of new thoughts, new plans, friendly, intelligent, unorthodox people, etc. Drawing logos and on hands and sitting on pillows and making cottage cheese pie. Or something. That lovely phrase. I use the word "lovely" a lot.
Also, what are the chances of meeting someone with from Australia with a smattering of swedish and memories from two of the schools I went to? Met purely by coincidence. Highly amusing.
Hm, well, it's 02:30 in the morning. If it'd been around well, let's say 04:00, I'd be thinking, "Might as well make it an all-nighter." But I still have a go at getting a decent night's sleep. which I probably should, seeing that I have to teach english tomorrow and the last of my cold would have much less of a chance.
But I'm delving into old memories. Like this - http://www.lackadaisycats.com/index.php
Love her sense of humor. And I'm not really that tired. My brain is being obnoxious and inventing stuff. Not shutting up. Trying to remember too many things. My circulation is weird. There are a few certain people who deserve a sincere hug. And then there are a few I want to have long, sitting-in-the-kitchen-at-dawn kind of talks with, the ones where you talk about all the possible things and have a nice, personal moment.
Mh. And no, it's not wishful thinking. Mandarins.

.

At times I was thinking that I was being a manipulative bitch, that this is just about seeing what happens, little experimentations, wants, and so on. Towards the end, I thought you were. At times I was just enjoying the moment of feeling safe and being hugged or kissed.. being with somebody who had this wonderful little world in their head.
Then, bam, the end. Em, you can blame yourself, you knew this was a possibility, you were supposed to be prepared for this. Mostly, it was ok. I felt fine. Then there were a few moments of hurting a bit.
I felt guilty for messing around, and apparently, making you feel worse as a result. But then, the least I can do is respect your privacy, if you ask for it.
Today. I guess I thought that that's what it would be like from now on. I'd imagined us meeting before, having a reason for getting mad at you, letting it all out, or just subtly ignoring each other. But this is reality. That's how it would, "should" have been.
I don't want to be that starry-eyed person, then one you just don't want to meet. If you still don't want anything to do with me, I'll understand. But see.. when I saw this -

"Shit, shit, shit, you can't do this to me!" My eyes quite abruptly filled with tears, and I alternately laughed and sobbed for a couple minutes. I sort of surprised myself.
Didn't really know that the residue of those feelings would cling so stubbornly.

This, being the rugged truth, will probably hurt a few people. I've been foolish, very foolish, and I really can't express how sorry I am for playing around with you. I deserve to be tortured and thrown into a hole.

In a way, I'm also sorry for this. Not smoothing it all out, not pretending nothing has happened, not letting it all subside. Because it's a confrontation. But I had to.

02:10

You know those moments, when you type your goodbyes, you log off.. You quite this program, then just watch the last video..then another..  then you decide to write a bit in your blog.. then you turn of the computer, and then you start writing in your notebook, maybe doodling, or perhaps reading a few chapters in a book, or organizing your desktop, or something. Suddenly another 30 minutes have passed, and you really should sleep. Hm, I must remember to do this, I should make a reminder. And I still have to brush my teeth. Mh, I don't want to go out into the dark corridor. I should probably take that teacup down to the kitchen. And so on.

Pic unrelated.

Smaids.

"Kā jums liekas? Tā - Pavasara rīta miniatūra."

Es biju tik laimīga, savā istabā, lasot kriminālromānu, ēdot "gotiņas" saldējumu no Mumintrollīšu krūzes, un dzirdot, kā fonā Mikus Straume ieraksta savu brīnišķīgi trauslo dziesmu. Viens no momentiem, kad neko citu nevajag. 

Pēc tam, sēžot studijā, nedaudz apmāti klausījos ģitāras skaņās un dejojošajā balsī. 

Tik gaiša persona. Viņš bija paņēmis līdz pats savas čības, un no piedāvātajām tējām izvēlējās kumelīšu- kaut kā raksturīgi šiem mierīgajiem cilvēkiem. Mugurā viņam bija tā ārkārtīgi draudzīgā, dzeltenā jaciņa, bez kuras viņu līdz šim neesmu redzējusi.

Uzzināju arī to, ka viņam ir vāja alerģija pret kaķiem. Nezinu, kādēļ gribas atcerēries šo faktu.

Kā arī, nospriedām, ka sakot, ka ir auksti, mēs varam glaimot ziemu. Viņa to ir pelnījusi. 

Bija nepeiciešama vīna glāze, lai pievienotu dziesmai to skaņu, kura rodas, velkot samitrinātu pirkstu pa tās malu. Es atradu vienu ideāli piemērotu uz ledusskapja. 

Pēc tam, kad vannasistabā bija ielējis, izlējis, un atkal pielējis ūdeni, lai atrastu pareizo noti, viņš atnāca atpakaļ uz istabu un tad stāvēja tur, rokās turēdams vīna glāzi, kurā bija ieliets ūdens. Nevarēju nepadomāt - kā tāds Jēzus.

No visām ierakstītajām reizēm izvēlējāmies pirmo, tā parasti arī ir vispatiesākā. Kā arī, tajā bija maza kļūda, pēdējā nots, kurai bija jābūt visskaņai, nenoskanēja tā, un tad nācās to atkārtot. Tas savukārt pamainīja to ritma uztveri, un, kā mēdza teikt mana 5. klases mājturības skolotāja, defekts pārvērtās par efektu.

Viņš pie vārtiņiem apstājās, domādams, ka ir kaut ko aizmirsis, bet konstatējot, ka tomēr viss ir līdz, turpināja ceļu. 

I still owe you

...that poem. The one I promised you, sitting on a park bench. I hate breaking my promises, whether they're still relevant or not.

There may have been an incident where we were both involved..

Perhaps a lovely murder, one they will never solve,

Or maybe I taught you how to fly, swiftly, through the sea,

Or made a well-kept secret, just so it could be.

Perhaps you travelled through the lands of an unknown mind

Although, before this you had seen skeptics of that kind.

We also could have gotten lost in a blooming maze,

Wandered there for centuries, past lives all a haze.

Or simply walked another round, trying to forget,

Passing the first snow that settled, gently, on your cigarette.

We showed each other tangled thoughts, impossible to see through,

Between them, hanging in the air - a drop of nonexistent dew. 

Seems it could have been a story of a childish deed,

But I cannot choose what I want, unless everyone is free.

Forgive me for my bumbling mind, and my naiveté, 

It never was a scam, a joke, or simple irony.

Would that thought have been content to have been left behind,

Spinning 'round in circles, in the back of our minds?

A message for the stardust girl.

Sunshine.

This.

(Bill Withers - "Ain't no sunshine")

This is suddenly the best song I have ever heard. Suddenly it just becomes genius. Suddenly it fits everything. Suddenly.. it is everything.

IIi can't decide..

... whether you should live or die,
oh, you'll prob'ly go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry..
pam pam pa-dam.. .

Yeah, another one of those last ramblings before going to bed at about quarter to two in the morning.
I haven't slept in my own bed for two nights. One of them I spent in an office, having fun talking about trains, 9gag, and fiddling with the radio, running up the stairs in my socks because I can. And those are some of the details.
The other was after a coffee evening with "the girls", which was fun, even thought I don't drink coffee. Yeugh. It included a failed piercing, singing a bit too loudly, trying to make a caramel macchiato, and too little of the water pipe. Also, staying the night, because the outside was anything but welcoming.
And now I'm back at home, telling myself to go to bed, and it won't take much convincing, because I am tired. See, but I wonder why these times are so good for pondering. Your head's all filled up with information about your day, you're tired, and mostly dysfunctional. Makes you think deep thoughts. O.o
I've been fooling around too much. Em, it's seldom a good idea to fool around too much.
I wonder if my alarm clock is set. Not that I need it, but I'd like to get up at a more or less acceptable time. Geez. I don't really want to sound like that.

oooh, rumor has it, oooh, rumor has it, oo - okgoodnightbabye.

I feel the need to write.

And it's quite a lovely feeling, I must say, I've missed it. This is inspiration with out inspiration. See, I have an urge to write, but what I'm is just writing down my train of thought, just the slightly modified words that enter my head. Or exit it. I'm not really sure about that. It's also rather cold at the moment. (Again, for too many people.) My hands have acquired that odd, yet amusing slightly-purple-ish-but-still-skin-coloured shade.
The autobiography of Stephen Fry is on my table, but I'm not going to read it until I finish the previous book. The reason for this is making the latter task easier. Knowing Stephen, (I really don't), I'd get too submerged in his humor to pay a respectable amount of attention to M.S.H.K., for short. Betcha won't guess what. &.&
I've also promised to make an Angel Food Cake with someone, and I sincerely intend to keep this promise. I think it was to myself. It might have been to him, too, but I'm not that sure about that, either.
There. A sweater. Much better.
Here I must go, but I seem to keep returning and adding or changing bits of this.
Let's see if I can find you guys something visually or musically pleasing while being worthy of this thought. ...hum. I Didn't want to choose this one, but then I decided that not to could possibly be unfair. Besides, I found almost exactly the kind of version I wanted. (-except for the missing end.)
And, it's a beautiful song.

(Crash Test Dummies - "Mmm Mmm Mmm")

Hehe..

Life is just as confusing as always. Things are looking up, thought, in a very general way.
Hilarious people are hilarious. Be careful so you don't become one of my victims, that wouldn't bode well for you.. or would it? Who are you, anyway?

Pink Floyd - Echoes Part 1 (Live At Pompeii)

Love.

Jā, diezgan banāli. Bet es sāku apdomāt mīlēstību un dažādus tās aspektus.. pie vainas dziesmas fragments "sells love to another man.." and me, being me, thought of the literal part of it. If you could actually sell love. If you could persuade someone into falling in love with you. Kāpēc ne? I mean, you develop feelings towards someone you've lived with for an extended period of time, and people also tend to feel closer to someone they've experienced meaningful things with. No šāda skatpunkta tas pat izskatās iespējams. This is worth pondering about.

***

Yeah.. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love
Much to take into consideration.
It kind of works with arranged marriages, in some cases. But that's not what I'm talking about.
I'm talking the irreplaceable, can't-live-without-you, sexy, but stable relationship between two people. (I'm probably just reinventing some old cliche here, but bear with me.)

And with the arranged stuff you don't get to experience the delicious (yay for accurate description) nervousness when you have a crush. Smiling like an idiot, sweaty palms, heart beating quickly, endless fidgeting, and all because you've caught sight of him/her. Lovely reason to make a fool of yourself.
But actual love - you have to trust each other, well, it depends on the combination, but at least somewhat. You have to get yourself to mean enough to that other person.. Some have tried outlasting the other's memory. But those are usually sad stories.
There's that situation when you're both in complete awe of each other and can't believe that "he/she is actually mine!" A beautiful, perfect someone, you're completely in love, and they love you back.

And the there's the little stuff - personal jokes, and the little details that trap you completely. Movie quote - "It was her wrists. They were beautiful." Things like that.

Meh, nevaru pabeigt domu. Might continue on this later.

(And I had the second part just written down, phrased much better than this one, and then safari decided to quit on me, and I lost the goddamn thing. Nearly brought me to tears, a bit of a dramatic reaction, but well, it did. What you see now is what I remembered. Don't know if it's all of it, but I guess the idea's there.)