I try to be honest when I'm writing my blog, but I can think of two areas where it's next to impossible not to fail miserably.
1.) Selfishness. I admit, I'm a fairly selfish person. Who isn't? But I can't help but think I come off as more so on my blog. And actually, it's out of respect for others. If I want to put choice segments of my life on cyberspace for everyone to read, that's alright and fine. But the moment I involve other people, and I find myself hesitating even to write good news. You see on the news all the time where people get hurt or angry or whatever about other people talking about them online, sort of forgetting that everyone can see it. It's safer just to write mostly about yourself.
2.) Angst Fest and Randomness - When I have the most time to blog, I have the least to blog about. Thus many of the more random posts. When I have things to blog about, I tend to have less time. Thus many of the posts which are basically lists of everything that's eating my soul. And somehow you have more time to write about discontent. It's the same reason few people fill out the 'restaurant experience surveys' unless they've had a wretched time, I imagine. :P
Today, for example. All the spring flowers are in bloom and the colours are magnificent. I'm not even having bad allergies now, due to a late frost. A few deer were in our backyard, which was fun. I had some fun with Lucia at the Washu library despite the stress and discomfort of it all. And on the way home, listening to Il Divo, the last rays of sunlight made the tender green leaves seem like the most beautiful things in the world.
But who writes about things like that? :D
April 20, 2008
The First of the Lasts
It's not that I'm happy with everything in my current high school - library life, and I certainly couldn't bear for it to go on for eternity. I'm even madly excited about what is to come in the immediate and intermediate future. This summer might well be the best of my life, and college promises to be amazing.
But the first of the lasts came yesterday, when I worked my last Saturday. I realize that I never expected the library to become to obvious and expected. I realized that it would be my last time working with Jim, and it would be my last book drop, that it would be my last time coming in the morning before all the people and opening the doors - in short, I focused obsessively on the lasts, just as I did as a little third grader. (This is the last morning bus ride on a monday in third grade for the rest of my life!!!!)
Strange, isn't it? I even felt a brief moment of panic when I realized that I had just attended my last NHS meeting. NHS? :P And you'd think that would be one of those things I could easily live without.
In other words, looking ahead - I find myself viewing college through a sort of haze. It's not real yet, and I think two things are to blame. The first is just the sheer immensity of the transition. Leave my parents? Sure. I can imagine it for a month. For a year, even, no problem. Even a longer, yawning stretch of time. But it's hard to fully realize that it will be FOREVER. I'll never come home at the end of it.
Whoa. :P And it's not as though I'm unhappy about it! It's just... whoa...
The second reason is my summer plans. "Miranda, aren't you EXCITED?" "Oh yeah! I can't wait to see Finland! And Costa Rica! And Norway!" "... I meant college." "Oh, yeah, that... That'll be fun too!"
But the first of the lasts came yesterday, when I worked my last Saturday. I realize that I never expected the library to become to obvious and expected. I realized that it would be my last time working with Jim, and it would be my last book drop, that it would be my last time coming in the morning before all the people and opening the doors - in short, I focused obsessively on the lasts, just as I did as a little third grader. (This is the last morning bus ride on a monday in third grade for the rest of my life!!!!)
Strange, isn't it? I even felt a brief moment of panic when I realized that I had just attended my last NHS meeting. NHS? :P And you'd think that would be one of those things I could easily live without.
In other words, looking ahead - I find myself viewing college through a sort of haze. It's not real yet, and I think two things are to blame. The first is just the sheer immensity of the transition. Leave my parents? Sure. I can imagine it for a month. For a year, even, no problem. Even a longer, yawning stretch of time. But it's hard to fully realize that it will be FOREVER. I'll never come home at the end of it.
Whoa. :P And it's not as though I'm unhappy about it! It's just... whoa...
The second reason is my summer plans. "Miranda, aren't you EXCITED?" "Oh yeah! I can't wait to see Finland! And Costa Rica! And Norway!" "... I meant college." "Oh, yeah, that... That'll be fun too!"
April 19, 2008
Happy Finnish
Since I might go to Finland in time for Ruisrock, I looked up the bands that will be performing then and have listened to a bit of their music on youtube. Not surprisingly, much of it is in Finnish. :)
Comments on youtube, as always, are amusing. First a myriad of arguments as to whether Finland is in Scandinavia...
And I'm sorry, I just can't help but laugh at this one. :D
Comments on youtube, as always, are amusing. First a myriad of arguments as to whether Finland is in Scandinavia...
assssssskicker (3 months ago) Show Hide
+1 
Marked as spam Reply | Spam
Why would the Finns want anything to do with you guys, i travelled through 'SCANDANAVIA' and the only good thing in Denmark was the hot dogs in copenhagen airport, i was bored to tears, oslo weren't much better things picked up in stockholm (good night life) and the party really started in Helsinki, Made some great friends and stayed a while, so overall you can shove Your boring Scandanavian moaning denmark up your arse SIDEWAYS.
During the world war II (that big one)there were only two european capital cities (being country at war), which were not occupied by foreign nation. And those were LONDON in England and HELSINKI in Finland. And by the way Finland has the best scooling system in the world (Pisa survey 2006). You should go there and have some knowledge.
Yours sincerelly
And even,
Yours sincerelly
And even,
Where can i listen to Finish Language?
... Right here, maybe? :P Finnish is seriously fun, especially with the music. It's got that same sort of simple syllable structure that Japanese has, that makes it sound light and happy... but it's somehow has this springy sound to it too. And then the rolled r's really set it apart. :D I heart them.
... Right here, maybe? :P Finnish is seriously fun, especially with the music. It's got that same sort of simple syllable structure that Japanese has, that makes it sound light and happy... but it's somehow has this springy sound to it too. And then the rolled r's really set it apart. :D I heart them.
And I'm sorry, I just can't help but laugh at this one. :D
April 06, 2008
25 Days Left...
25 school days left, and that's far too many. Perhaps it's classic Senioritis, perhaps it's the fact that I spent last summer working 40 hours weeks and haven't had a summer break in a long time. Never mind the fact that adults don't get those. I'm not an adult yet. :P
I don't want to do anything, but finally I do end up doing it, which makes me stay up too late. A little later even than I would have to, and the half hour-hour differences add up and become crucial. Lately I can't relax. Last night I was determined too since I skipped Arabic church due to exhaustion.
I stretched out on the couch and ate twix and read Fruits Basket #19, then I took a very long, very hot shower in my parent's huge shower, and then I went to bed. It helped, I felt a little better. What's funny though, is that even though I didn't go to bed THAT early (9:30) I couldn't sleep in. And I HAVE to sleep in on Sundays, it's a rule because that's the only day I can sleep in.
Anyhow, that helped but I'm back to being tense and panicky. It's gotten really awful. The other night I watched an hour of some TV program with my mom because I could tell she wanted it. I spent the whole program glancing frantically at the clock and then reminding myself that I had nowhere else to go that night. I find myself seized with ridiculous impulses to snatch at things before they vanish - a bit of that is good, I'm sure, to those who never see these things done. But every night at dusk the blooming magnolia tree out my window is so lovely that I am possessed by a mad urge to sprint downstairs, grab my camera, and take pictures of it before the darkness well and truly falls.
Time is passing quickly and in attempt to control it I want to stop it all together, spend all my time documenting whatever I can snatch at... and running out of time.
I don't want to do anything, but finally I do end up doing it, which makes me stay up too late. A little later even than I would have to, and the half hour-hour differences add up and become crucial. Lately I can't relax. Last night I was determined too since I skipped Arabic church due to exhaustion.
I stretched out on the couch and ate twix and read Fruits Basket #19, then I took a very long, very hot shower in my parent's huge shower, and then I went to bed. It helped, I felt a little better. What's funny though, is that even though I didn't go to bed THAT early (9:30) I couldn't sleep in. And I HAVE to sleep in on Sundays, it's a rule because that's the only day I can sleep in.
Anyhow, that helped but I'm back to being tense and panicky. It's gotten really awful. The other night I watched an hour of some TV program with my mom because I could tell she wanted it. I spent the whole program glancing frantically at the clock and then reminding myself that I had nowhere else to go that night. I find myself seized with ridiculous impulses to snatch at things before they vanish - a bit of that is good, I'm sure, to those who never see these things done. But every night at dusk the blooming magnolia tree out my window is so lovely that I am possessed by a mad urge to sprint downstairs, grab my camera, and take pictures of it before the darkness well and truly falls.
Time is passing quickly and in attempt to control it I want to stop it all together, spend all my time documenting whatever I can snatch at... and running out of time.
April 02, 2008
A Good Talk
Despite it's age and former extreme popularity, I rather liked Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On, so I couldn't resist when I saw the Titanic soundtrack on sale for pennies at the outlet mall. I watched the sunset out my window today, eating raspberry yoghurt and listening to the song. As always to my overly analysis driven mind the lyrics seemed filled with parallels, although they often flew sideways at the original meaning of the words.
Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you,
That is how I know you go on
Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And youre here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on
And then I thought - it's been two months since I had a rather important talk with a good friend of mine, and I haven't written a word about it. To severely paraphrase a rambling discussion that tumbled in and out of seriousness for the better part of three hours, and to occasionally fill in the gaps between the lines myself, Stian told me that the happiest days of his life were when we were going out together, and that afterwards he had sometimes regretted the split, but that he didn't want to go back to those times either, mostly because he couldn't.
He has few emotions at all nowadays, even moving past the depression he had off and on for years, partly due to his relative lack of other emotional responses. He's cold, calculated, logical... he told me this himself. It's not surprising either, he told me, everyone on his dad's side of the family is like that. It's a dominant trait, he fears. And that's why, though he'd always wanted children, he recently decided that he doesn't want to give children that. He wants it to stop with him. It made him sad at first, he said, but then he stopped caring.
Then he told me about his parents, and I began to understand. His mother has tried to leave his father before, frustrated by his insensitivity. But she finds that she can't live with him or without him. She always comes back. I knew that part of this was true, and something began to change. Seeing a similar situation from the outside, the answer seems obvious. It so often does. And at last I understood why he always thought it was a poor match, that I had the worse deal, though few would think so from a distance.
I... still wish him well in every regard. He's still brilliant, and genuinely good. I'll be happy to hear that he's happy, when he manages it. I still dream of him at times, but I no longer wake up with regret. For two months now, I've felt free as a bird.
He didn't have to tell me any of these things, but he chose to. He came to me voluntarily and became 'nothing more than a lovely memory', as I've always wanted. And for that I love him, one last time.
Såååå.... Ha det på badet, din gamle sjokolade! ;)
Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you,
That is how I know you go on
Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And youre here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on
And then I thought - it's been two months since I had a rather important talk with a good friend of mine, and I haven't written a word about it. To severely paraphrase a rambling discussion that tumbled in and out of seriousness for the better part of three hours, and to occasionally fill in the gaps between the lines myself, Stian told me that the happiest days of his life were when we were going out together, and that afterwards he had sometimes regretted the split, but that he didn't want to go back to those times either, mostly because he couldn't.
He has few emotions at all nowadays, even moving past the depression he had off and on for years, partly due to his relative lack of other emotional responses. He's cold, calculated, logical... he told me this himself. It's not surprising either, he told me, everyone on his dad's side of the family is like that. It's a dominant trait, he fears. And that's why, though he'd always wanted children, he recently decided that he doesn't want to give children that. He wants it to stop with him. It made him sad at first, he said, but then he stopped caring.
Then he told me about his parents, and I began to understand. His mother has tried to leave his father before, frustrated by his insensitivity. But she finds that she can't live with him or without him. She always comes back. I knew that part of this was true, and something began to change. Seeing a similar situation from the outside, the answer seems obvious. It so often does. And at last I understood why he always thought it was a poor match, that I had the worse deal, though few would think so from a distance.
I... still wish him well in every regard. He's still brilliant, and genuinely good. I'll be happy to hear that he's happy, when he manages it. I still dream of him at times, but I no longer wake up with regret. For two months now, I've felt free as a bird.
He didn't have to tell me any of these things, but he chose to. He came to me voluntarily and became 'nothing more than a lovely memory', as I've always wanted. And for that I love him, one last time.
Såååå.... Ha det på badet, din gamle sjokolade! ;)
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