The Dark Side Of The Moon And Other Tales

April 2, 2007 · Filed under Life, School, Silliness, Tales

Of course I ought to applaud Chance and Fate for their brilliant irony. Just before the very holidays of my life, I am home with a petty fever, a sore throat and a very runny nose. In fact at the moment I’m completely dependent upon my household paper roll (apparently we haven’t got any napkins or handkerchiefs) and carry it around everywhere I go in case of a sudden tsunami emerging. My first roll seems to be coming to an end though, and my nose is starting to feel increasingly harassed by the sandpaper touch of each new nose-blowing.

Naturally, as any reasonable being would, I am skipping school because of this, in genuine hope I might be fully recovered by Thursday. I do indeed not wish to see my depression when I discover I’ll have to see the Land of My Dreams through the lens of an aching throat and head. But I’m hopeful and they say it helps one recover. Besides, I’m getting an unusual amount of reading done. Ah yes, I finally finished the Name of the Rose and only then discovered the genius of it. It is a curious phenomenon, I must say…

Then, of course, there are the money troubles too. I guess I ought to be used to it, but that doesn’t mean I can bear having minimal to no spending money while in England, probably not even for a proper lunch at a pub, without some whining. The two opposing sides are: “It’s bloody England, that little bit can’t ruin it and you should be happy you’re even going” vs “But I want it to be perfect… And the fullest experience I could get… *puppy do eyes*”. But then I realise I ought to just accept the fact I can do nothing more about it and make the most of the part I do get. Not make a fuss, you know. And yes, I have been reading my Watching the English book again.

And I do love cats. I remember writing a post a long while ago speaking of a mysterious cat appearing on our balcony, scaring me half to death a few times. Well (s)he has been visiting again the last two days. Fancying I knew something of cat psyche, I decided to take a slow approach to befriending the cat and for the first day just stared at her/him a little. A beautiful one this cat is, huge and furry and soft (I reckon)! We did a bit of the ‘mustn’t blink’ game, but (s)he gave up first and ran away. Today (s)he didn’t mind me watching and I think actually showed her/his benevolence towards myself by rolling about the floor for a bit.

So far all of our interaction had taken place through the solid glass of my balcony window. Today, though, the cat couldn’t get out properly and I had to open the door to free an escape route way for it. The surprise was that it didn’t hiss or ready itself for an immediate attack, but instead moved towards me in a very sweet fashion and actually emitted a lovely, possibly pleading ‘Meow’. I was delighted, but foolishly didn’t take advantage and freed the path for it. My heart skipped a fair amount of beats as she (oh, bugger, doesn’t really make a difference, does it?) balanced on the edge of a fifth floor balcony in the hastiness of her escape, but of course we, humans, know nothing of the ways of cats.

It was still very satisfactory to imagine I might be letting a cat tame myself.

And where does all the ick in my nose come from? I think there’s been a fair few buckets of it already…

Comments (1) »

Alice Is Going To Wonderland

March 26, 2007 · Filed under Fun, Life, Silliness, Thoughts, Weather

It hasn’t been as sunny as today for a long time. I haven’t smiled as wide for quite as long. And it’s a wonderful, wonderful world where falling asleep at 2am and waking up at 6 does not leave you dazed and stunted and grumpy, and where there is excitement and waiting and some things that go right. And good, brilliant books that are just written for the very day.

Through miracle, good chance or heroic efforts on my mum’s part, I shall be going to England in no more than a week and three days. Is that a long while for my longing heart and fancy? I wouldn’t really say so (I seem to be nearly there in my mind), if it wasn’t for fear of many more a late night excitement. I cannot possibly imagine what I shall do, although I once hazarded a guess. There are so many places to visit and fall in love with, old books to be bought and a certain DVD it’s impossible to procure here, and rolling hills, little towns, old castles and a true land of gardens. I am becoming increasingly psychotic in my ramblings and squealings, looking out of the windows and being quite elsewhere.

My flow of consciousness is unordered. There’s a million things to be done. Flight terms, luggage problems, itineraries, clothes, gifts, souvenirs, white rabbits drinking tea, books, castles, lawns, shops, pubs, streets… Gosh, I have forgotten already half of what was persistently buzzing inside my head last night. I shall equip myself with a pen and notebook this time. Sherlock Holmes. Murder Mysteries.

The charm is in the idiosyncrasy and insanity of it.

And then there’s the glorious image of a morning-sun lit white street, with people and just me, there, alone.

Can you get into your own head?

No comment »

There Are No Easy Questions

March 16, 2007 · Filed under Feelings, Life, Rants, School

Balls are generally not something I am used to being successful. There’s never the quite right dress, the haircut, the shoes, the make-up. Those are trifles and if I was a greater person, I wouldn’t mind, but I’m still just a girl.

So today was funny in the sense that for quite the first time I was actually pretty and felt so as well. It’s a lovely one, that. But it was all to little avail, however, because I nevertheless spent most of the time sulking, watching others dance.  It’s just the kind of thing to happen at a ball. And my luck was fully spent elsewhere.

I wouldn’t mind it all that much, if it wasn’t for the ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s. The likelihood that I will manage such an aesthetically pleasing combination again is rather dubious and it’s quite sad to think that the star moment was unfortunately wasted.. Oh, bugger the fancy words - I’m just pissed I couldn’t have a perfect evening, and scared that there might not be another chance in the next 10 years.

And of course there are questions, and doubts and wonderings; and regrettings and a sore throat.

By the way, although oranges are sacred, shit happens even to them.

No comment »

Potpourri

March 10, 2007 · Filed under Feelings, Friends, Life, Oddments, Tales

To fall asleep in expectation, wonder and harmony.

To wake up, in the quiet, go through the routinous that is not quite so. To be greeted by fog and drizzle, instead of sunshine, but to smile, as the hair limps and looses its designated form. To smell spring, in the muddy earth and thick air, in the strange wind and the restless waves.

To doubt. To wait. To smile, at the first one to remember and know. To be summoned, all mysteriously and foreshadowingly. To be given a book of love poetry, in Estonian. To loose every time I should like to read it. To sit in class, anxious. To get cryptic parcels, tea and tulips, with endless buds, and a card and the smiles. To have half of the world hugging and congratulating you. To be sung the birthday song, in front of class and to laugh at the name dilemma. To offer candy. To reply with the same to birthday wishes, in forgetfulness. ‘Three’. To blush. To remember the the birthyear of a long-dead poet, but not the second type of language logic.

To eat candy for lunch and fail a test of Maths. To worry and eat freshly-baked carrot-bread. To be late for Biology and bask in the sun. To confuse denaturation and denaturalisation, for what is the difference between proteins and citizenship? To constantly smile and skip French, because ‘it’s all mine to skip’. To pack up the tulips and be off to the centre. To have a dedication written on top of a friend’s head. To have a tick in the ‘Daily Deed Of Good’ box. To joke about the thingummies that give out cash and to see when the last trolley home leaves.

To laugh, mishear and be silly. To dispute about the perfect way of trying not to miss a bus. To sing Batman-songs. To comment about dining-places and be blown away by the wind. To sit in the most unlikely pub/restaurant, in the middle of a round table, on a red couch. To be packed full after no more than some nachos and three slices of pizza. To be manic, psychotic and in every manner crazy. To talk, to friends and not worry any more. To drink banana-strawberry milkshakes and leave a proper tip.

To go about circles in the Old Town, searching for some place to stop at. To find lots, but to be picky and whiny and walk some more. To walk and walk and walk in the darkness. And laugh. To try to be reasonable, while your friends are singing ethnic-sounding songs of rhythm, dancing salsa on the central street of the Old Town. To decide upon a groceries’ store instead, to stand between the energy drinks and beer section, in a circle of five, discussing the world and a wedge of cheese (in a manner of speaking). To buy three Dr. Peppers and to walk through the city, searching again. To stop in a lounge with very loud music, stalks of cotton buds as decorations and green light. To buy the first legal glass of white wine. To discuss it, and students and siblings, the rituals of drinking vodka and to grow a little more quiet.

To walk through the gleaming streets for a late ride home. To stand and still talk, now of life and goals and people. To be tired and muddled, but to still talk. To carry hefty mattresses, light candles, drink champagne from a miniature bottle and read Stardust aloud in turns. To fall asleep in the wee hours of the First Day of Being Eighteen.

To known that all of the friends are little wonders.

No comment »

Colour Of The Corn

February 26, 2007 · Filed under Friends, Life, School, Weather

“So you have gained nothing from it at all!”
“Yes, I have gained something,” said the fox, “because of the colour of the corn.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

As you can see, I’ve become quite the fan of a certain French writer. It’s just that I managed to read The Little Prince. Which was brilliant. Now the author’s a bit of an obsession of mine and the vibes of the book seem to be floating about everywhere. Speaking of new obsessions, I’ve broadened my circle of loved music, adding to it Travis, VAST and some singles from various artists.

First day of school was controversial. What else is new, you ask? It was a little magical as always, offered plenty of excitement about seeing people and witnessing our class acting most immature in Biology (and we haven’t even reached the regenerative system, or what’s-it-called). Of course I managed to pull off a silly act of taking offence and spent most of the evening talking on the good old topics that never seem to stop offering reason for discourse.

Funnily, it’s holidays in three weeks’ time again. Comfortable, yes, at first. But not when we’ve got to go all the way to the final exams without a single break. D’you know what those holidays also mean? The teeny, tiny possibility of me going to *drumroll* England! How shocking! Betting on whether I shall have a nervous breakdown or not will start in a week’s time.

In the mean time - two more major events spark excitement. Chronologically the first is my 18th birthday. A little appalling, if you ask me, but I shall survive. I cannot possibly imagine the awkwardness of the moment when certain things are all of a sudden legal and quite allowed. Weird. And then, in ten days’ time, the Spring Ball’s coming up. Which is a pile of headache. Probably. At least the dress part of it - everything else I might blatantly ignore or pretend to ignore. But then, on the other hand, it might be a lot of fun if it’s half a good as I imagine it to be. Shall see, shall see - miracles aren’t that impossible.

The weather’s brilliant. In the mornings, when you go to school and it’s not nighttime anymore and the great glowing orange of a sun is rising, you feel a little prone to soar. And the sun makes me smile. When it’s not too intruding upon my privacy. Whatever. I guess I’m in an odd mood. Strange thoughts, strange progresses, strange plans.

No comment »

Flowers In The Window

February 24, 2007 · Filed under Feelings, Life, Oddments, Tales

“What does ‘tame’ mean?”
“Something that is frequently neglected,” said the fox. “It means ‘to create ties’.”

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Can you imagine how lasting some ties may be? Time doesn’t matter - it’s been almost two years. Mutuality doesn’t either - it was all one-sided. Yet, it is miraculously hard to end, let go and forget. But I can do more than imagine.

For once in an eternity, there is something that needs to be written. And there’s no doubt as to its necessity and sincerity. It’s only a matter of courage and finding the perfect form.

Bittersweet symphony this life…

No comment »

The Holidays When I Didn’t Ski

February 16, 2007 · Filed under Friends, Fun, Life, Silliness

Don’t blame me. Blame school, for example. Or nasty demons. Or too much thinking. Honestly, it has not been by any conscious and purposeful design that I’ve not posted for such a long while. Partly thanks to Belinda tagging me, partly to the fact I’ll be leaving for the Sunny City of Somnambulism (alright, the last one was there for the purpose of alliteration) also known as St. Petersburg, I was forced to behave and actually post something.

The rules are as follows:

The game: Each player of this game starts off with ten weird things or habits or little known facts about yourself. People who get tagged must write in a blog of their own ten weird things or habits or little known facts as well as state this rule clearly. At the end you must choose six people to be tagged and list their names. No tag backs!

  1. Patriotism and me have always had a controversial relationship. Having two home countries makes the feeling of national pride a little complicated. The ironic twist is that the two have always displayed a fair share of animosity towards each other (understatements, understatements!). So there’s no AND option, only OR. I can’t do that. I love them both, but I’ve been deprived of such experiences as crying during the singing of the national anthem. It also makes me feel a little schizophrenic.
  2. A fair seven or so years ago, I was accepted to a Greek Gymnasium. Nope, not one in Greece - Greek as in Classic. I’ve managed to forget all about it and am always mildly surprised when my mum reminisces of those days. Didn’t attend it, but it makes me wonder what would have happened if I had nevertheless…
  3. Red’s probably my current colour fetish, black and white the shy runner-ups. In reality (that’s when I’m not making lists or trying to sum myself up), there’s lots of colours I like - raspberry, antique rose, purple, blue. It’s all a matter of presentation.
  4. I’ve got a really shitty computer, excuse the vulgarity. At the time of writing this, the cooler (that’s the propeller-like thingummy, yes?) is emitting headache-inducing sounds. One open window of Firefox is a decent encumbrance to the poor piece of metal. God forbid me opening some other program simultaneously - twenty minutes of intense crackling and freezing is guaranteed.
  5. My long-time best friend lives in another country. Ten point to anyone who guesses where.
  6. My persona is the constant battlefield of the rational and irrational. I’m often critical and doubtful, but have an immense capacity for believing and envisioning whatever I please at the same time. I debate but also disprove of completely dry and bare rationality.
  7. I’ve been a part of a class that had the grand total of 13 students. Class not as in lesson, but as in year. Let me tell you, it was bliss. Honestly. The current educational system is simply terrible and not understanding the dangers of the masses is one of the key factors everyone tends to overlook.
  8. When I see a film that’s emotionally charged, sad or melancholic, I feel the outright duty to cry. I remember seeing The Return of the King for the second time in cinema and worrying before it that I might not actually be as moved as the first time. It might have, of course, been my tendency to lament the loss of the meagre amounts of passion I seem to possess.
  9. I can never really define my attitude towards music. I’m not one of those people whose heart stops beating when their mp3 player switches off (and that’s a quote!) and I haven’t even been listening to anything in more than a week (mostly due to my mother taking my player along when she was off to Israel). But when I do listen… I’m usually in love with it. Music can change my moods, my thoughts, my states of being and the whole world around me. We’re like lovers who meet rarely, but are all the more passionate when they do.
  10. I’ve got a terrible handwriting, they say. My deskmate tells me it’s awful, but she’s a handwriting Nazi anyway. I find it illegible a lot of the time, true, but I really don’t care. Not the least bit. It makes me laugh to think it should matter. At the same time, I’d love to learn calligraphy. Go figure.

Sorry for being a party pooper, but I’m afraid it’d be too great a feat for me to tag anyone else. I’ll do better next time, though.

Comments (1) »

The Forecast Predicts Ice Melting

February 8, 2007 · Filed under Life, School

Funnily, it’s already been a week. And it seems like it’s been February for ages already. School’s all crazy and challenging, but often terribly tiring. You couldn’t really expect anything but that from the last two weeks of term. This week’s almost over, the mad studying over the weekend exempt and the backbone of the next one will be broken by Tuesday. And then I’ll be free and off to St. Petersburg, with a friend (!) this time, mind you. I simply can’t hide the anticipation.

Meanwhile, I’ve managed to attend another of those film marathons, this time with lots of yummy goodies and the compulsory Equilibrium, and have survived choir. We’ve got a new English teacher yet again, an alumnus of Trinity College, Ireland, and apparently an experienced traveller with 91 countries on the ‘visited’ list. The funkiest part however is that I’ve been sitting in on three French (which I do not comprehend beyond the Bonjour and Au revoire) lessons already, instead of whiling away the boredom in Russian (which I can speak effortlessly most of the time). Amusing, I should think, that learning French and the piano, as well as acquiring a violin have all been bound together in my mind and that’s just how it’s turning out - both the violin and the piano business seem to be nearing a solution just as well.

All’d be well that ends well, if not for Mum going away again on Tuesday.

Comments (3) »

“You Say You’re Sorry,”

January 31, 2007 · Filed under Feelings, Friends, Life

There we were, seventeen the both of us, lying on the floor, surrounded by pots of gouache and six different brushes, painting. And music was playing, a wild assortment of Dido, Travist, Coldplay, U2 and Enya. I haven’t felt as good about doing something as today for a long while. Of all the pointless business I conduct every day, every week, every month, this was a single shining moment that said with infinite certainty it was worth being spent. In the long, endless-universe run. And in the one where you live for your heart.

Old things, dear things, big things have been coming back at me, teasing and bringing muted heart-ache and uneasiness. But when you’re holding a brush full of red paint and someone’s singing of love, it all starts to overwhelm.

Comments (4) »

Never Judge A Day By Its Start

January 29, 2007 · Filed under Fun, Life, Oddments, School, Silliness, Tales

I think I acquired an experience today that I shall forever be remembering as ‘the funnies thing to picture myself doing’. Complicated, I know. But envision this: I wake up. I am terrified, because I can remember fiddling with the time on the alarm clock, thus meaning I’ve ignored it and fallen back asleep for an unknown amount of time. I check the time and realise it’s half to eight, instead of quarter past six - the normal time to wake up. I rush up, cursing, because the day you’re supposed to perform in front of your school is just not the day to be late. I storm into my mother’s room and very vocally announce that I’m late. I run for the shower, hoping I’ll get to wash my hair, dismissing the vague wonder of how I’m going to dry it within ten minutes.

My mother gets up and I yell to see if she knows what the time is. She looks at the clock, sleepily and announces it’s half to six. I laugh, because I know how the hallway’s dark and she’s probably too sleepy to comprehend. She assures me that it is indeed half to six. I check. It is. Meaning not only that I wasn’t late, but that there was also 45 minutes of sweet sleep left.

Now, if I was a house-elf sitting in my bedroom, watching, I’d get quite a laugh to see myself suddenly jumping up and manically imagining I was late. I’d find it pretty hilarious. Especially since I’ve no idea what makes you do such things.

So you’d think I was a loonatic for the rest of the day? Not at all. In fact I managed to pull off a decent act, get complimented about it and my chemistry test and answer a few questions in the Lesson of Doom (still Estonian). But then, having come home, I realised I’d forgotten to take my Philosophy book off of (most likely) my locker or a cloakroom seat.

No comment »

« Previous entries