The Two Trees

Christmas tree is all about light, they say. I must say I agree; I’m not a big fan of overdone, glitter-and-elf-faces-all-over -type decorations but I do love the lights. My perspective, however, is slightly different – in my opinion trees are not light-bearers only but also producers of it. Does anyone sense a Tolkien-leap coming? Yes, I know I’m very predictable.

Laurelin and Telperion. The Two Trees of Valinor, light-makers, followers of the Lamps, predecessors of Sun and Moon. It was the dew of Telperion, the silver tree, that Varda used to create stars that once were so beloved by the Eldar. The myth of the Trees in Tolkien’s legendarium has always been one of my favourites and I find it remarkably fascinating. It is a story of great beauty but also very sad: it tells how the fairest and most treasured things on earth were destroyed, and how their light vanished beyond recall and never again was seen in its full glory if not in the Silmarils of Fëanor. The light of the Trees was drunk by Ungoliant the Gloomweaver, mother of all spiders, whose presence was darkness itself.

Picture: Ralph Damiani, http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Category:Images_by_Ralph_Damiani

Since I love (or nearly worship) stars I find the silvery flowers of Telperion even fairer than the golden fruits of Laurelin. But both Trees are dear to me and somehow I find them (and their story) unbelievably inspiring. It is not seldom that I find myself indulging in stories about things that are lost or perished: somehow I believe that utter beauty and goodness are always to be beyond our reach, brought to existence in words but not in life. Some may say it’s a sad thought. I find it comforting: even in the fictional universe of Arda ultimate fairness is unreachable.

Tomorrow it’s time to decorate a beautiful spruce (I have to admit that I always feel somehow bad cutting them down). I must say I rather enjoy it – but still my number one tree will always be Telperion.

Winter solstice

You know it's dark when there is no light to cast shadows. Winter solstice took place on 22.12. and we were able to enjoy twilight at daytime for several hours. From tomorrow on the bright hours will slowly grow longer again.

Silence

Silence.

Oh how I love it. One doesn’t even notice all the noises when surrounded by them all the time. The same goes for lights as well; again I got so used to the town’s light pollution I nearly wept last night, seeing the sky clearly after such a long time. Gloomy or not, I love polar nights. And it’s finally cold again. Cold is good (not when it comes to vehicles, of course, poor old car).

P.S. I took our (‘our’ meaning my parents’ to be exact) cat to the vet today. I came back alone. What a shitty way to start a holiday.

The Embarrassment List

I most definitely should not be writing this but I think I’ll do it anyway. In Finland losing one’s dignity is practically criminalized or at least strongly disapproved. In fact I’m not particularly bothered with that, shame and humiliation are much more effective when coming from inside rather than outside. However, lately I’ve been learning to blurt embarrassing things just so that I could see it’s not necessarily the end of the world. (It did not work, just so you know.)

However, here’s a little list about things I find more or less embarrassing.

1) I talk to myself all the time…

Well, not when there are others present. Otherwise I’m babbling all the time. I can spend a long time learning completely useless things by heart and reciting them for no good reason. That includes poems, monologues and paragraphs from my favourite books. And then there is of course the nonsense talk I also daily engage in. The talking itself isn’t the thing I find embarrassing: rather it’s the fact that I’m incapable of finding anything more substantial to do.

2) … even though I hate my voice

I hate talking in public, mostly because of my voice. Poor people.

3) I’ve never been in a relationship

That’s right. I’ve never been romantically involved with anyone. Why? I’m not the kind of person others find interesting. I’m not witty or attractive and my level of awkwardness is off the charts. Point 1 might also have something to do with this. I find weird things interesting (including inspiring people that most likely have been dead for decades if not centuries [and then there are the fictional ones that have never even been alive, of course]). Perhaps this is a good thing: there is a chance I could never love a man as much as I love, well, for instance, The Lord of the Rings (note: the book, not Sauron).

4) My lack of mathematical skills would be enough to disgrace all mankind.

This is something I truly regret. I’ve always been incredibly bad at mathematics, or more likely anything that is somehow based on mathematical structures or ideas. No, no, no, no. Just can’t. Been there, tried that. For eleven years.

5) I’m awfully bad with public transportation.

“How the hell did I end up here?” As weird as it may be, that doesn’t apply to airports. Flying to Svalbard went easily with the connection flights and all that (I rather like airports). Problems only arose after landing. There were two buses leaving from the airport and I took the wrong one. Luckily the kind driver told me about this and I managed to change just in time.

Thank God I love driving.

I might continue this list at some point. There is so much more...

Doomsday on Monday

I'm attending a very interesting class about fantasy and science fiction. Basically it is a good thing: the lectures have been fascinating and thought-provoking. However, on Monday a course mate and I are going to have a presentation which, as usual, makes me panic and nearly lose my mind (ironically, at the moment my biggest concern is that I’m not panicking enough which means everything will go horribly wrong). We’ve been preparing the presentation for weeks already and I don’t know what to do now – everything is ready but I’m sure I’ve forgotten something. Of course I could (and should) practice but that just makes me panic even more.

So, I decided to do something useful instead.

I learned to say Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Almost.

It won’t help me on Monday, though.

Condolences

Even if there is much to say it's best to remain silent if the right words cannot be found. If you can't say anything, don't - or turn to someone who can.

'But for long years we healers have only sought to patch the rents made by the men of swords. Though we should still have enough to do without them: the world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them.'

'It may be that only a few days are left ere darkness falls upon our world, and when it comes I hope to face it steadily; but it would ease my heart, if while the Sun yet shines, I could see you still.'

'Let us not speak at all! I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.'

'Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom,' said Faramir. And they said no more; and it seemed to them as they stood upon the wall that the wind died, and the light failed, and the Sun was bleared, and all the sounds in the City or in the lands about were hushed: neither wind, nor voice, nor bird-call, nor rustle of leaf, nor their own breath could be heard; the very beating of their hearts was stilled.

This is the ending. Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fears pass away!

- J.R.R. Tolkien: The Lord of the Rings (The Return of the King)

Deep and dark are the fears now yet not invincible. What has been done is done. What matters is what we choose to do next.

My condolences.

Nordic noir

It is November and that alone is reason enough to treasure certain things we in Nordic countries share. There are several things we have in common and not all of them can be reduced to our location far up here in the north wherefrom all light has fled by this time of year. I’m very fond of our neighbors and love to be a part of Fennoscandia both culturally and geographically. (By the way, my feeling of unity is sometimes compromised by the fact that Finnish language greatly differs from the others and belongs to a different language family. But since I love our language I can cope with that – and thank God all us Finns learn Swedish at school!)

Now let’s get to the point.

There is one thing about Nordic culture that I greatly enjoy and admire – and it’s also a thing we in Finland cannot take part in. What I mean, of course, is Nordic noir. If you’re familiar with Beck, The Bridge or at least the Millennium trilogy, you know what I mean. It’s really fascinating and gripping and I’d love to have something like that in Finland too. But for some reason we just can’t do it. It simply doesn’t work. The attempts are awkward. They’re hard to take seriously. I don’t mean to offend those who write these books or make these films and series; I’m just wondering why this genre is unreachable to us. I don’t read crime fiction much (and if I do I prefer the old style such as Agatha Christie’s) so there isn’t much I dare say about that, fearing that I might misjudge something. However, I love especially Stieg Larsson’s books and Bridge-series and as far as I know there is nothing in Finland that compares. We should be on the top of our game when it comes to the themes Nordic noir usually handles but no… We are masters of all that in real life but not in fiction.

P.S. Today, November 6^th, is the official Swedish Day in Finland. Heja!

Night's Plutonian Shore

If I knew why this came to my mind right now I’d tell you. But I know not.

For some reason I started to ponder my weirdest dreams and the top three list I came up with is the following.

3. The scary dream

This dream is probably the most awful one I’ve ever had and yet nothing really happens in it – as far as I know anyway. It is either morning or midday, a very nice and bright one too. I go for a walk as I usually do; there is one very narrow and silent walkway (part of which is almost like a path) that I like especially much. This is the road I head to. The next thing I remember is coming home in the middle of the night, it is pitch dark – and I have no idea where I’ve been all that time and what has happened. Usually that walk takes about 1.5 hours but now the whole day has gone by and I have no memory of it. I feel awful and scared. I know something hideous has happened but I don’t know what it is.

2. The horse dream

I’ve always loved horses and I used to take riding lessons, take care of horses and help at stables – it was my dearest pastime for seven years but then school started to take too much time and I had to quit. Anyway, a couple of years ago I had a dream where I rode in a forest where I had often ridden before. Even though the forest was the same it was somehow not the same – you know the way familiar things and places sometimes become strangely unfamiliar when we dream. The mare I rode was the eldest of the stable and very dear to me. I rode without a saddle, it was a fresh morning and the forest was peaceful. The mare stopped all of a sudden. I dismounted and stroke the horse. Then I took off her bridle, kissed her and watched her walk deeper into the woods. I stood there for a while the bridle in my hands and then walked back alone. It was a beautiful dream though a sad one.

1. The swan dream

The strangest of all my dreams took place in a cave deep under mountains. There was a serene, subterranean lake and everything in the cave was bluish, even the light. I had a little boat and I was rowing. It was rather cold and the walls were covered in ice crystals. I kept rowing until I saw two swans, snow white with a touch of silvery shimmer. They were fair to look at but seemed to be frozen; I am not sure because a flow under the surface was stirring my boat and I could not stop. The swans were left behind and the stream took me on, where, I do not know.

Atalantë

One day last week, October 7^th to be precise, yet another religious community announced that we’d better enjoy our five o’clock tea a bit earlier than normally since the day’s schedule also includes the end of our world. Despite the undeniable authority of the prophets the universe didn’t cease to exist (assuming I’d notice if it did – I wouldn’t encourage anyone to count on my level of attentiveness). Here we are and the world passes on. Tellus’ next planned best before -date (or one of them; this topic seems to have an exceptional tendency to produce prophecies) is supposed to be 2020. Let’s see what happens then.

Right now my attitude and mood are quite suitable for welcoming the apocalypse but since it got cancelled I must find some other entertainment. The themes of apocalypse and eschatology still seem very appealing so I’m watching Comet in Moominland. I’m rather fond of the film though I love Jansson’s novels and short stories more than the adaptations. Well, both books and films will do as long as the Muskrat is included. His words are the ones I need right now. What I’m planning to do is to curl up on the sofa, drink lots of coffee and listen to Muskrat preaching about doomsday.

A couple of quotes concerning the end of the world or destruction of cultures in general (there might be mistakes in the Swedish one taken from the film Kometen kommer; I’m not sure if I managed to catch the right form of all words):

”Och då kan ni förstå hur lite det betyder om jorden drabbas av en katastrof eller inte.”
”Nej, hör nu kära Bisamråttan, de där andra solsystemen bryr vi oss faktiskt inte alls om.”
”Så där säger en som aldrig har studerat filosofi och som dessutom tror att han betyder någongting.”

– Kometen kommer: Moominpappa and Muskrat on the arriving comet.

'Yes,' said Faramir, 'of the land of Westernesse that foundered, and of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable. I often dream of it.'
'Then you think that the Darkness is coming?' said Éowyn. 'Darkness Unescapable?' And suddenly she drew close to him.
 'No,' said Faramir, looking into her face. 'It was but a picture in the mind. I do not know what is happening. The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me that no reason can deny. Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan, in this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!'

– The Lord of the Rings; The Steward and the King (Faramir and Éowyn on the fall of Númenor)

This is probably one of my favourite Tolkien-quotes of all time. I don’t quite know why; it just happens to fascinate me.

Spamming my face here for no good reason. Just trying

to adapt to this century. Doesn't seem to work so far.

One out of Seven

Should I choose one of the capital vices to represent the very core of my soul it would be envy. (Yes, the capital vices are a proper thing to ponder at this hour in the morning.) I’m rather an envious person – not that I’d like that too much, it just happens to be that way. That’s me and that’s how I’ll most likely remain happily ever after.

A few words concerning things I tend to envy.

Being envious of someone’s property or material things in general is something I find hard to understand. I don’t see the point of it; one doesn’t become worth envy merely by gaining wealth. What I envy is what comes before the status and its symbols. The skill. The hard work. The intelligence. The persistence. The courage. All these I value though skill above others. Luck is not included in this list. Luck is not worth envying. Luck is not deserved.

Oh how I envy those who truly are smart and skillful. Those who actually make things happen and deserve everything they’ve got. This is the very point: I’d never envy someone who succeeded in life by chance of being aided by luck. That kind of success is meaningless to me. Then again I could very well (and do, in fact) envy people that don’t necessarily seem successful but possess the intelligence and skills that are needed to gain something in life. That’s what I envy. The potential, not the outcome.

The nighttime frost finally came. I love these cool, bright autumn mornings. (It is both natural and perfectly understandable to move from the bitterness of capital vices to something as mundane as weather. Not giving a damn about how awkward the transition is, of course.)

Eclipse Hiding

Nice job, clouds! The one night you should have stayed away. Not that I’d mind getting up before six o’clock, I am a morning person so that’s fine. But come on, do I really have to wait another 33 years till the next chance to see that eclipse? Well, at least I had the chance to feel as if I was taking part in the phenomenon. Standing outside with binoculars, staring at the sky unblinking, almost literally trying to blow the clouds away…

I wouldn’t be half this pissed if the clouds didn’t pull the exact same trick earlier this autumn when the Perseids came.

An Apology

I’ve never felt ashamed about being Finnish. I love my country, I love my language and this tiny spit of land far up in the north is rather dear to me. During the past few weeks something has changed. I’ve seen this country – or its inhabitants, in fact – do things that make me feel sick, ashamed and sad.

I’m not good at talking politics, never have been. Besides, the situation being as it is, there isn’t much left to say: everything worth saying has already been said and simultaneously all kinds of crap worth neither saying nor hearing has unfortunately been said as well. What this is about is, of course, the refugees of the Syrian Civil War (and the refugee crisis in general).

I’m ashamed. I’m deeply, deeply ashamed because of the way we’ve handled things here in Finland. We’re such bullies in the EU… At first people just said disgusting things but now they’re doing disgusting things too. Writing loads of racist crap on the Internet is bad enough and yet the situation is getting worse all the time. In my opinion the saddest thing is that we’re talking about people that have either lost their homes or can no longer stay safe there even if they still have one. Then they come here and face all that hate, all that hostility and prejudice. A few days ago there was an incident with a bus that was taking refugees to a reception center. There was an illegal protest, people gathered together throwing things at the bus, launching fireworks and shouting things that could easily be understood without knowing the language at all. How cruel is that? All those noises, screaming and explosives probably remind the refugees of the things they’re trying to get away from. It’s disgusting. It’s wrong.

Now I’m ashamed.

I’m apologizing. I’m sorry we’ve handled things so badly here. I’m sorry we’re not doing more. I’m sorry our attitude is that of a narrow-minded middle-school bully. I’m sorry we’re so bound to our own perspective it’s all we can see.

Dear Finland. Please, open your eyes. And your mind as well.

Ha! I didn’t panic for nothing! I knew it!

And yet I was kind of hoping for a miracle (the kind of miracle that occurs when everything goes as planned, life is nice and smooth and I don’t constantly find myself messing things up and both causing and experiencing misunderstandings). So, let’s go back to my well-earned, honorable position as both the king and the jester of the mighty and vast realm of chaos, disarray and follies.

(I’d give an explanation for the preceding paragraph if I wasn’t this confused. But it is [mostly] studying-related.)

Anyway, the weekend was nice (for honesty’s sake I probably shouldn’t use the word ‘nice’ since I attended my grandmother’s funeral but that’s not the point here). To be more precise, the night between Saturday and Sunday was nice – or great, in fact. I couldn’t sleep so I went outside (due to the funeral I was on the countryside over the weekend) and enjoyed the magical-looking sky. It was rather cold and the fields were all covered in fog. Earlier I had borrowed an SLR-camera from my uncle and now tried to take pictures of the sky (fair warning: I’m not really a good photographer and I haven’t been using SLRs much before). At least some of the pictures were rather nice.

Such a fair autumn, both days and nights.

Cassiopeia; Andromeda (constellation + galaxy); Pegasus

The Pleiades (a crappy picture but still)

Delphinus

Panic!

Autumn is officially here – and so is the panic. Studying is great, studying is fun and approximately 95 % of the meaningfulness of my life is based on it but it doesn’t mean it´s completely trouble-free. I’m always either thrilled and overly-excited or right about to pack my bags and flee. Quite often I’m both which is rather confusing. At the moment I’m dead sure nothing is going to work this semester and I’ll mess up pretty much everything that possibly can be messed up. Looking forward to that.

Panic.

The word of the week. Or this part of year. Or just my life generally.

Far away next door

I couldn’t love this time of year more.

Autumn is simply perfect. I love the cool, misty mornings, the bright yet darkening nights and wonderful smelling forests. This time is and has always been very meaningful to me. I remember reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time as a myth-obsessed nine-year-old feeling so connected to Frodo and Bilbo – also for them autumn was the time of adventure, travelling and unexpected things. Not that I’d have that kind of excitement and adventure in my life; I just feel I can very well relate to the atmosphere and mood that fills the Shire every autumn.

Something similar I feel when reading Tove Jansson’s Moominvalley in November. In that book autumn nearly seems to be one of the actual characters (a personification of some sort, perhaps), creating such a strong feel of being not only on the threshold of winter but also being very alone, very disconnected and very isolated both from others and from yourself. And yet, hidden deep behind all that loneliness and anxiety the characters feel in the empty and desolate Moominhouse, there is something utterly comforting about the book and the way it presents autumn – a combination created by a true genius in my opinion.

As much as I’d love to keep rambling about books there was something else I was planning to say.

When it comes to my amateur star observing hobby I’d say August and September are probably my favourite months to watch the sky and get my neck sore. It is dark enough but not too cold; the evenings are darkening slowly so that it is easy to see and recognize the brightest stars that appear first; the ground isn’t yet white and bright with snow. I’ve spent several evenings with my poor man’s backyard astronomy which basically means I’m either sitting or walking outside with binoculars around midnight, trying to recognize stars, constellations, galaxies and star clusters. There isn’t much I know yet; at the moment there are 24 objects I recognize (some of them only partially, though – for instance Hercules is for some mysterious reason lacking his left leg, poor guy). That is to say, there is very little I recognize and even less that I understand about the things I see.

Arcturus. It's a bit dim but perhaps you can see it.

About two weeks ago I finally managed to see Andromeda galaxy. I know it’s actually very easy to find but this far I’ve only been spotting constellations and clusters. Looking at that small, foggy yet bright thing felt unbelievable. Theoretically it is next door but from the very limited perspective of a simple human child it’s incomprehensibly far. My understanding simply doesn’t extend to that kind of distances. Seeing something like that is one of those moments when you stop thinking and keep looking – and when you manage to tear your eyes away you’ve gained a bit more perspective, a bit more understanding, a bit more unity.

Break thy pen, thou fool!

Right.

I took an exam today. Nothing special about that, it just felt strange. Or crap, actually.

I’ve been studying political philosophy this summer, just one course but I didn’t have time to do more since I can study properly only on weekends (otherwise I’m working 8.30–16.30; in Finland we have ridiculously long summer breaks during which I usually work). Today I took the exam and it was horrible, for heaven’s sake! No, wait… I got that reversed, the exam was fine but I was horrible. I sucked and the grade I’ll have will just determine how much. The things I forgot were so obvious, so self-evident. My head is like a sieve, everything I put there goes through. For instance, I forgot to define freedom when writing about Alexis de Tocqueville’s liberalism and theories concerning democracy. Freedom. A word that most likely is in the top three when listing important concepts and ideas the book presents. Summer well spent, I’d say. I hate Fridays right now.

Another thing came to my mind. Being in the classroom felt very odd, the entire campus area did. I haven’t been there during the summer break, perhaps that’s the reason. Be that as it may, I’m scared. I’m actually scared. I love our university but somehow I feel I don’t actually belong there anymore. It’s frightening since school and learning environments in general have always been the only places I feel home at – apart from nature and Scotland of course. I’ve never truly felt deep connection, most of the time I feel sort of disconnected. Studying has always been my anchor and pride, what if I’ll lose it? What if I don’t deserve to study at the university anymore?

Yep. I hate Fridays. Begone, thou foul day!

They're back!

Oh yes, they are - finally. The stars. A few nights ago I saw them properly for the first time in months. I guess the nights have been dim enough for some time already but it's been a bit too cloudy for a good stargazing marathon. But there they were again, just the way they've always been. Only Cassiopeia and both Dippers were bright enough for my untrained amateur eyes but I was thrilled to see them after such a long break. The downside is that that sight made me even more reluctant to return to the city in September... Of course it's a nice city, I love the university and so on but I can't turn myself into a city-dweller. I simply can't manipulate myself like that. I can't stand the light pollution, the noise, the traffic jam... And only we Finns refer to it as a city, to all others it would probably be a village (223 238 inhabitants at the moment). I hate that I can't see the stars properly - not that I'd even enjoy wandering in the streets at night.

I got distracted. Well, that happens all the time. (Even in the middle of a conversation. It's embarrassing.)

Anyway. The stars make me feel at home more than anything else. They're so familiar, so beautiful, so friendly. Two nights ago I also saw a shooting star, haven't seen one since winter. Did I make a wish? Of course. Call me stupid if you like. Naturally I don't actually believe it works. Just hope it does.

P.S.  I tried to make a necklace that looks like the night sky, Milky way or something like that. It is in fact quite nice but then I of course dropped it (the phrase 'all thumbs' is a ridiculous understatement in my sad case). It's not completely shattered but unfortunately I can't wear it since the chain-holder-thingy is broken. Damn. Well, I'll try to make a new one now that I'm smart enough to use steel. Or a rock. Or osmium.

Magic made visible

Yesterday I was in Porvoo, a small coastal town in Souther Finland, founded in the 14th century. It is one of our biggest tourist attractions and I definitely understand why; the historical parts of the city are very beautiful and well-preserved (despite the city being burned down a few times, both by accident and on purpose); the church is one of Finland’s finest; the little villages around are very attractive as well as the nature just outside the city centre. To me Porvoo is much more than that – I spent there a lot of time as a child since my grandmother lives there and my family from her side is from that area. Grandmother’s place was basically my second home for a few years when my mother had a three-shift job in Helsinki. We still visit granny and the lovely Porvoo frequently and I’m always more than happy to go there.

Enough with the introduction.

Yesterday we spent most of the time walking around the old town, dropping by little shops and booths in the marketplace. Right next to the river running through the city there was a wonderful shop located in an old shed. It was something in between a museum and a second-hand shop and the things in there were fantastic: old furniture, paintings, tableware, books, everything. Many amazing things there were that caught my attention but one item I really fell in love with. It was a small painting that sort of seemed to be made of gypsum or something like that but I’m not sure – shamefully I know nothing about art nor materials used to create it. However, the surface of the painting was rough, three-dimensional-looking and very lively. In the picture there was a girl sitting in fetal position facing right, her head bowed, her face buried in her hands. It seemed as if she was sitting on water, her robe becoming one with the waves, her hair flying in the wind. The picture was white with the palest touch of blue in the water, slightest blush in her skin. How beautiful it was! It was utterly ethereal, delicate and enchanting, when I first saw it I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Had it been just a little cheaper I would have bought it without hesitation. Luckily the kind shop owner told me I could take a picture of it which I gladly did – a picture I won’t post here. It would feel unfair, not knowing who the artist was and so on. I’ve described that wonderful thing as well as I can and yet I feel I’ve said nothing at all. Perhaps that is the very core of beauty.

Ash and flow

Yesterday we (’we’ being my mother, my aunt and I) spent the entire day cleaning up the ruins of our summer house. Basically that meant sifting through a huge pile of coal and ash trying to separate all the metal, combustible waste and asbestos (it was an old house, thus the asbestos). In some very odd way I rather enjoyed the work; the weather was nice, the lake was beautiful and I didn’t even mind all the ash eating into my skin, clothes and lungs.  However, the best part of the day followed after the scouring. (Yes, I’m using the word ’scour’ intentionally.)

Swimming. That was the one thing that really made my day and actually was the very best thing about the whole summer thus far. Yesterday was the first time I’ve been to the lake this year and despite the sentimental undertone I swear there is no other lake like that one. There is something deeply soothing and enchanting about that place and it always gives me an extraordinary feeling I’ve never felt in any other place. I’m not really capable of explaining how I feel when rowing or swimming in that lake or just sitting on the rocks and looking over the water. It’s a weird mixture of happiness, tranquility, energy, wistfulness and something I have no word for.

I reached that feeling again yesterday evening as I was floating with my eyes closed and arms stretched, just listening to the water. All of a sudden I felt as if there were no thoughts left in my head, something that is really alien to me. I was either perfectly aware or not aware at all. (Even though the logical impossibility of that slightly annoys me; sometimes I have odd feelings that are complete opposites and yet precisely similar at the same time, I have no idea how to make that understandable. It sort of feels like having two things so far from each other that they actually start to seem close. I don’t know, I guess I’m not making any sense – and perhaps it’s not even necessary to.)

I think I'll add some pictures later once I manage to get them out of my camera (which not playing nicely with the computer at the moment).

Fear to fail

The text you’re about to read is neither more nor less than a pointless lamentation about things that don’t really matter. That is to say, I recommend you to find some other activity than reading my ramblings to spend this fabulous Sunday afternoon.

I have a bad habit of clinging to all kinds of things that tend to be essentially impossible or the very least improbable to ever happen in this beautiful universe of ours. Frankly there are not too many things I want; moneywise I have enough to get by and I’m happy with that, I don’t need more. When it comes to other things such as my inevitable future as a lonely wolf or a mad cat lady – well, that image grew roots in my nervous system so long ago that I accepted it and even learned to like it in some curious way. I don’t really care to bother my brain with such things. There are other things far more puzzling – and frustrating.

My greatest – and probably silliest – fear is that I’ll never get things done. I tend to be slightly ambitious whether it is about studying or other things I wish to be good at. I hate to do things sloppily and superficially, whatever it is I’m doing I want to do it properly. The frustration arises when I realise that my mere will to do things well is not enough to actually make things happen. Perhaps the fear is first and foremost about not being good enough, something I really can’t stand. It’s not just about studying and learning; it’s also about certain silly dreams (or actually one particular dream) I’ve had since I was little and can’t let go despite being totally incapable of making them real. The very point is that the things I want are the kind of things that don’t depend on luck, circumstances or other variables. Therefore this rambling comes down to one conclusion I’m about to face once again:

I suck. Majorly. Again.

Did I make any sense? Guess I didn’t.

A few words about something much more fascinating than the self-pity-oriented whining above: last week I took a late night walk and enjoyed a wonderful, foggy midnight moment. The air was really fresh and clear and to my great pleasure I saw several bats flying back and forth, probably trying to find dinner (or perhaps it was breakfast for them). I find bats really cool and cute with their beautifully shaped wings and furry bodies, such fascinating creatures of the night they are.

I know the picture is crappy but believe me, it is a bat.