The day before I got a different, but subtle reminder of where I live.
After classes I had wandered home and was lying on bed, maybe intending to take a nap, maybe listening to the soft hum of people taking a shower and preparing something for their lunches. The building shook for a second. It was nothing out of ordinary, just like a huge truck passing by if you happened to live just next to the street in first floor. Or someone using powertools downstairs, since the house still seems to be sort of in progress. I dismissed the whole thing immediately.
A few hours later a flatmate asked if I had noticed the earthquake. I had no idea what he was on about. When he said that it was around three in the evening, I suddenly remembered. "Oh yeah, it was like a truck driving by your window?" "Yeah, but there's no street under our windows." "Yeah! Yeah. Yeeaaaahhhh, true..." I dissolved into my thoughts. I'm not living on top of the oldest bedrock in the world any longer, but instead on a lot younger and more volatile vulcanic ground. I don't think it's discomforting, but it's something to know. Next time you won't mistake small earthquakes for a truck or something flying way too low.
Yesterday Reykjavík Grapevine or the most important English newspaper/magazine in Iceland invited the exchange students to a party. The invitation said something about a presentation at 21.00, a party afterwards. I had an absolute chuckle at the line "... and by free beverages we mean free bear." Obviously I had to go. I just made the mistake of finding the website of the place before going in. The background music of that site was so damn great I had to listen to it over and over again before leaving! Check out the third track, Aim's Cold Water Music. 'tis awesome.
I arrived late, but since the presentation was also late like everything in Iceland, I didn't miss anything. Sadly there was no Finnish bear-beer to be found, but the folks at Grapevine seemed like great blokes, true top geezers. I talked to the editor for quite awhile after the presentation. If I can't figure out anything else to do for the summer, maybe I'll try to overcome my doubts about my ability to become a journalist and give them a shout.
A few Finns afterwards went to a place where the main appeal is cheap beer. With these prices that's a rather nice appeal, so much can be forgiven. It was still rather interesting to enter. It wasn't packed full, and there were quite a few televisions. A couple were showing taped football, one was showing what looked like one of Sir Richard Attenborough's documents, one was showing gay porn. Hmm.
Oh well, beer was cheap.
lauantai 10. helmikuuta 2007
tiistai 6. helmikuuta 2007
A minor victory
To much of my delight, it's snowy and wintery again, and skies have been favourably cloudless. On Sunday I celebrated this occasion somewhat and went on a little picture tour. The colorfulness you occasionally get here just never ceases to amaze. Pure snow truly lights up at days like these.
I still feel like I'm only progressing in the language with baby steps, but yesterday for the first time I found myself giving an automatic reply to something unusual in Icelandic instead of English. Two guys were going to the pool before me, and the other paid for both by using these popular ten time admission cards. There was also someone behind me in line, so the lady inquired if I wanted to pay for two too. "Tvö?", she asked. "Nei, bara eitt" I answered and was rather pleased with myself for the next hour. I know it's such a small victory, but I'm hoping this could be the first step towards being able to use the language by instinct. In previous occasions I've often been half a second too hasty switching to English, I've missed so many good opportunities to show off my newfound Icelandic proficiency. I remember what I could've said in local language right after finishing saying that in English.
Since I've taken up the habit of posting stuff I've been wasting my time with, I might as well keep doing that whenever I feel so. I've presented visions of this hypermedia (this word makes me digress, but I use it anyway, since it's in the course title) production project to a few of you. I'm starting to believe that I can also craft the background musics and sounds myself. That gives me the liberty of owning all copyrights, so if it happens to become nice enough, I might start using it as a part of my résumé. The concept might be unveiled completely when everything starts coming together, but just to give you a general idea: The "storyline" jumps back and forth between two different but intertwining collections of mysteries, puzzles and demosceneesque animations. The light and happy side will be named Rhino Statist, the dark and gloomy is called I Shot Tristan. Both are anagrams of the actual name for the production, which some of you crafty readers could figure out rather easily. Here's some quick and crude sample tunes for the light side and the dark side.
The more you get into anything, the more there is to be learned.
I still feel like I'm only progressing in the language with baby steps, but yesterday for the first time I found myself giving an automatic reply to something unusual in Icelandic instead of English. Two guys were going to the pool before me, and the other paid for both by using these popular ten time admission cards. There was also someone behind me in line, so the lady inquired if I wanted to pay for two too. "Tvö?", she asked. "Nei, bara eitt" I answered and was rather pleased with myself for the next hour. I know it's such a small victory, but I'm hoping this could be the first step towards being able to use the language by instinct. In previous occasions I've often been half a second too hasty switching to English, I've missed so many good opportunities to show off my newfound Icelandic proficiency. I remember what I could've said in local language right after finishing saying that in English.
Since I've taken up the habit of posting stuff I've been wasting my time with, I might as well keep doing that whenever I feel so. I've presented visions of this hypermedia (this word makes me digress, but I use it anyway, since it's in the course title) production project to a few of you. I'm starting to believe that I can also craft the background musics and sounds myself. That gives me the liberty of owning all copyrights, so if it happens to become nice enough, I might start using it as a part of my résumé. The concept might be unveiled completely when everything starts coming together, but just to give you a general idea: The "storyline" jumps back and forth between two different but intertwining collections of mysteries, puzzles and demosceneesque animations. The light and happy side will be named Rhino Statist, the dark and gloomy is called I Shot Tristan. Both are anagrams of the actual name for the production, which some of you crafty readers could figure out rather easily. Here's some quick and crude sample tunes for the light side and the dark side.
The more you get into anything, the more there is to be learned.
torstai 1. helmikuuta 2007
Write it back
After finishing classes this morning we were walking away from the campus in a bright blue morning. The sky had a slight hint of gray in most directions, but on the southwest it was completely murky. The cloud masses seem to travel very swiftly, so after ten minutes of walking and watching the cumulonimbus chase us we were hailed from above.
The hailstones make your face feel all tingly and ruthless is their way onto the back of your exposed neck, unless you're clever enough to wear something with a hood. After a brisk and refreshing minute of that it turned, much to our disappointment, into a honest rain. A few minutes after the clouds were all gone again. Such is the weather in Iceland, temperamental and moody like the mind of a humanities student.
Hey, trust me. I'm one.
There's some trouble in our apartment again, since our only washing machine appears to be broken. When you have nearly a dozen tenants in here, you'll quickly have a lot of unhappiness and dirty clothes in a queue if something so crucial is out of order for some time. The other fridge isn't doing a very good job either. There's a growing sense of discontent among us. It doesn't really help liven up the feelings I have towards my living arrangements right now. Besides that, I'm enjoying my life in Reykjavík. Still, wouldn't a comfortable home be a rather essential thing when it comes to everyday happiness?
I try not to write about blogging, since I don't have much experience or knowledge about the subject. Since starting to write here more regularly, I've noticed something different in how I think about certain things. By now my contemplative nature should hardly be a surprise to anyone. I now sometimes find myself asking myself if I could weave the thoughts strings I was just going through into a pattern which could make sense for someone else. It gives me a different kind of view to the things I'm rotating around in my mind. Would this knowledge or experience be useful for someone? Could it be amusing or heartwarming?
I'm not trying to make myself too aware of my thoughts or direct them anywhere just for the sake of making them sound more interesting. Before I had my own blog I remember having a discussion about them with someone. I declared that blogs where people write about themselves are sort of diaries which they conveniently unlocked forget to somewhere public, sort of thinking whether someone will discover and read their thoughts or not. Some days the diary is forgotten somewhere really visible, sometimes it's mostly tucked under the morning paper. Now when I have some actual first hand experience with blogging, I stand by my opinion. It's a nice feeling to know that someone probably discovered what you had on your mind that given day. If they found it somehow significant or curious enough to make them come back some other day, then you must be doing something right. Even if it's the smallest, silliest thoughts, you're giving something to the world.
The hailstones make your face feel all tingly and ruthless is their way onto the back of your exposed neck, unless you're clever enough to wear something with a hood. After a brisk and refreshing minute of that it turned, much to our disappointment, into a honest rain. A few minutes after the clouds were all gone again. Such is the weather in Iceland, temperamental and moody like the mind of a humanities student.
Hey, trust me. I'm one.
There's some trouble in our apartment again, since our only washing machine appears to be broken. When you have nearly a dozen tenants in here, you'll quickly have a lot of unhappiness and dirty clothes in a queue if something so crucial is out of order for some time. The other fridge isn't doing a very good job either. There's a growing sense of discontent among us. It doesn't really help liven up the feelings I have towards my living arrangements right now. Besides that, I'm enjoying my life in Reykjavík. Still, wouldn't a comfortable home be a rather essential thing when it comes to everyday happiness?
I try not to write about blogging, since I don't have much experience or knowledge about the subject. Since starting to write here more regularly, I've noticed something different in how I think about certain things. By now my contemplative nature should hardly be a surprise to anyone. I now sometimes find myself asking myself if I could weave the thoughts strings I was just going through into a pattern which could make sense for someone else. It gives me a different kind of view to the things I'm rotating around in my mind. Would this knowledge or experience be useful for someone? Could it be amusing or heartwarming?
I'm not trying to make myself too aware of my thoughts or direct them anywhere just for the sake of making them sound more interesting. Before I had my own blog I remember having a discussion about them with someone. I declared that blogs where people write about themselves are sort of diaries which they conveniently unlocked forget to somewhere public, sort of thinking whether someone will discover and read their thoughts or not. Some days the diary is forgotten somewhere really visible, sometimes it's mostly tucked under the morning paper. Now when I have some actual first hand experience with blogging, I stand by my opinion. It's a nice feeling to know that someone probably discovered what you had on your mind that given day. If they found it somehow significant or curious enough to make them come back some other day, then you must be doing something right. Even if it's the smallest, silliest thoughts, you're giving something to the world.
keskiviikko 31. tammikuuta 2007
This week I 'ave been mostly eating mushrooms
Most of the people I'm dealing with at this point are at least bilingual, and remarkably many even multilingual. Besides enabling you to spice up conversations, it often makes for some unexpected amusement. Many of the students seem nearly fluent with English, but all the other languages bring their own condiments to the communication soup. I know I tend to get German and Swedish words all mixed up, but it's especially funny when some of these influences sneak into our English. Yesterday saw a little bit of such comedy.
After the lessons at Háskóli I was walking just somewhere with a couple of friends, a Finn and a Swede. During the class it had started raining, not very heavily, but none of us seemed to have equipped ourselves against rainfall. The fellow Finn had probably the worst clothing choice of us, wearing a soft cotton jacket. She wailed "Argh, why didn't I take my parachute with me?" It took probably half a second for us others to burst into laughter, and half a second more for her to do the same. We traced very quickly where that word came to her mind, as one of the Swedish words for umbrella is paraply. Nonetheless, we kept bombarding her with all the parachute and umbrella related jokes we just could come up with, and we were rather resourceful. Probably to a point where she just wanted to kick our teeth in.
Even after crossing that border we suggested that Hallgrimskirkja would probably be a great base jump location.
I adore such moments of random silliness. On my way home from the pools I for some reason remembered the Finnish actor-author Reidar Palmgren. Now when I'm using English more, I also tend to look at Finnish a little differently, so I quickly discovered which English word the name resembles. Since I'm an avid supporter of idiocy and complete nonsense, I had to spend a few moments materializing some of the similar oddities I've recently been shaping in my mind. An Unfunny Alert needs to be issued though, since the following is not particularily skillful and you probably won't find the following very amusing if you are
A) not me AND/OR
B) on something.
I'm sorry.
I still got a few chuckles when I was creating it. I probably should start writing bad haikus again too. Nonsense just has too much potential.
After the lessons at Háskóli I was walking just somewhere with a couple of friends, a Finn and a Swede. During the class it had started raining, not very heavily, but none of us seemed to have equipped ourselves against rainfall. The fellow Finn had probably the worst clothing choice of us, wearing a soft cotton jacket. She wailed "Argh, why didn't I take my parachute with me?" It took probably half a second for us others to burst into laughter, and half a second more for her to do the same. We traced very quickly where that word came to her mind, as one of the Swedish words for umbrella is paraply. Nonetheless, we kept bombarding her with all the parachute and umbrella related jokes we just could come up with, and we were rather resourceful. Probably to a point where she just wanted to kick our teeth in.
Even after crossing that border we suggested that Hallgrimskirkja would probably be a great base jump location.
I adore such moments of random silliness. On my way home from the pools I for some reason remembered the Finnish actor-author Reidar Palmgren. Now when I'm using English more, I also tend to look at Finnish a little differently, so I quickly discovered which English word the name resembles. Since I'm an avid supporter of idiocy and complete nonsense, I had to spend a few moments materializing some of the similar oddities I've recently been shaping in my mind. An Unfunny Alert needs to be issued though, since the following is not particularily skillful and you probably won't find the following very amusing if you are
A) not me AND/OR
B) on something.
I'm sorry.
I still got a few chuckles when I was creating it. I probably should start writing bad haikus again too. Nonsense just has too much potential.
sunnuntai 28. tammikuuta 2007
What I thought today, or the chapter in which a multitude of baffling subjects is discussed
I adore the pools more and more every single time I visit one. They make me feel good in many different ways. There's the knowledge that in addition to walking everywhere I'm doing some very good regular exercise, I'm moving a lot more and also more efficiently than I used to. Some of them apparently have saunas. I've yet to visit one, since you'd apparently have to pay a bit more. Nevertheless, it's comforting to know that I can get to one if I start having withdrawals. They also offer some very good means for relaxation.
I had been swimming laps for maybe an hour and a quarter and was thinking about having a break. I went to the hottest of hot pots, and sat there for maybe 15 minutes. That already was rather nice and unwinding, but I didn't realize what I was about to do when I jumped into the colder swimming pool again. My limbs instantly turned into well boiled spaghetti. It caught me by complete surprise. In theory I could've kept swimming very slowly, but I had absolutely no strength left in my body. I just ditched the thought of doing more laps and went to the showers, embracing the feeling I had gotten. I don't think my body has ever felt so relaxed.
The pooltime thoughts have also been quite interesting. I find myself either watching how the waves travel or overlap each other and rebound from the walls, or then thinking in English. I noticed the latter last time at the pools. Of course English is my main language of communication at the moment, but I don't seem to be thinking in English anywhere else at this point. When I noticed it, I could also recall that I had been doing it on my previous pool visits as well. With some of you readers I've been discussing how I always get the best ideas when taking a shower. This observation seems like a logical continuum for my vague theories of how water seems to affect thought processes. Or something.
A few days back I was craving for some whisky, so visited the liquor store for the first time. I suppose I couldn't have done a better job at looking a poor, dubious student if I tried, with my backpack and everything. There were like six people working at the store at the time filling shelves and unpacking boxes, and also a dedicated guard. I was the only customer at the time, so upon entering the store ALL eyes turned on me. The unpacking of boxes slowed down a bit, conversations dampened. The guard followed me as I took a round trip around the small store. I felt like I had entered Fort Knox. Hardly surprising though I suppose, seeing how the goods stored seem to be of similar value in both. I just stayed as far from the shelves I could while retaining the ability to read prices, and didn't touch anything before I had made my decision about what to buy. The price was naturally outrageous, but I felt relieved that I got out of the store without hearing blaring sirens and having all the workers jump on me, swearing in Icelandic.
I've never been good at scheduling. To think, I've never really liked it or seen it as a necessity. I don't keep a calendar. When I was working at the grocery store in Finland, I would just memorize my next shift, not copy the whole chart somewhere. I always knew when I'm supposed to be at work for the next time, which was enough. I don't have schedules in my travels either. Maybe I'll miss many of the tourist attractions wherever I happen to be, but I think my way of just wandering wherever I feel like gives me a lot more interesting view of the current location. I'd hate to leave something curious just because according to my timetable I should be already going somewhere else. I think that most things you can possibly do are more fun when you do them spontaneously.
Which brings me to how much I love the randomness of living here. Part of the fascination may become from actually living in a lively city for the first time in my life. Vaasa is a rather quiet and small town by Finnish standards, with not all that many things to do. I've began to understand the frustration some of my friends there have had for the town - they've either already lived in livelier cities or wanted to end up in one. The evening before I went to the Nordic House, where we had a free concert from a Finnish trio which had composed songs from Edith Södergran's poems. In three languages too, Finnish, Swedish and English. Afterwards I found myself talking to the Swedish ambassador couple about Icelandic, I apparently knew more than the lady did. Again slightly afterwards I found myself sitting in Tapasbarinn with the ensemble and mostly older Finnish ladies. This is what you get for speaking Finnish in public, I guess. It was fun nevertheless, although I think we were served too few bread baskets! Not sure if I'd go again, but you've got to try everything, right? Afterwards everybody else crammed into a taxi and I waded slowly home, past most of the hot spots in Icelandic nightlife.
Yesterday's randomness led me to have a fun surprise lunch downtown. Afterwards I went to see Reykjavík Museum of Photography. The current exhibition of photos from Greenland was rather good, even though I think there were a couple too many shots of fish drying racks. And yes, they also had postcards of mr. Kjarval drinking Brennivín. Both seemed very photogenic. I also went to enjoy my Saturday evening brew to a very honest looking pub, The Dubliner. Guinness was surprisingly not-overpriced at 600 krónur. Soon after I had sat down the table next to me was occupied by a Swedish group of three men and three young ladies who were discussing some rather personal matters, and making some relatively crude jokes. I tried to smile inwards, not wanting to make them aware of the fact that I understood most of the things they were saying. They left rather swiftly, after drinking just one quick round. Slightly after I was halfway into my second pint and feeling very contemplative, I was smiling openly by myself. I was happy I hadn't had a schedule for that day.
I had been swimming laps for maybe an hour and a quarter and was thinking about having a break. I went to the hottest of hot pots, and sat there for maybe 15 minutes. That already was rather nice and unwinding, but I didn't realize what I was about to do when I jumped into the colder swimming pool again. My limbs instantly turned into well boiled spaghetti. It caught me by complete surprise. In theory I could've kept swimming very slowly, but I had absolutely no strength left in my body. I just ditched the thought of doing more laps and went to the showers, embracing the feeling I had gotten. I don't think my body has ever felt so relaxed.
The pooltime thoughts have also been quite interesting. I find myself either watching how the waves travel or overlap each other and rebound from the walls, or then thinking in English. I noticed the latter last time at the pools. Of course English is my main language of communication at the moment, but I don't seem to be thinking in English anywhere else at this point. When I noticed it, I could also recall that I had been doing it on my previous pool visits as well. With some of you readers I've been discussing how I always get the best ideas when taking a shower. This observation seems like a logical continuum for my vague theories of how water seems to affect thought processes. Or something.
A few days back I was craving for some whisky, so visited the liquor store for the first time. I suppose I couldn't have done a better job at looking a poor, dubious student if I tried, with my backpack and everything. There were like six people working at the store at the time filling shelves and unpacking boxes, and also a dedicated guard. I was the only customer at the time, so upon entering the store ALL eyes turned on me. The unpacking of boxes slowed down a bit, conversations dampened. The guard followed me as I took a round trip around the small store. I felt like I had entered Fort Knox. Hardly surprising though I suppose, seeing how the goods stored seem to be of similar value in both. I just stayed as far from the shelves I could while retaining the ability to read prices, and didn't touch anything before I had made my decision about what to buy. The price was naturally outrageous, but I felt relieved that I got out of the store without hearing blaring sirens and having all the workers jump on me, swearing in Icelandic.
I've never been good at scheduling. To think, I've never really liked it or seen it as a necessity. I don't keep a calendar. When I was working at the grocery store in Finland, I would just memorize my next shift, not copy the whole chart somewhere. I always knew when I'm supposed to be at work for the next time, which was enough. I don't have schedules in my travels either. Maybe I'll miss many of the tourist attractions wherever I happen to be, but I think my way of just wandering wherever I feel like gives me a lot more interesting view of the current location. I'd hate to leave something curious just because according to my timetable I should be already going somewhere else. I think that most things you can possibly do are more fun when you do them spontaneously.
Which brings me to how much I love the randomness of living here. Part of the fascination may become from actually living in a lively city for the first time in my life. Vaasa is a rather quiet and small town by Finnish standards, with not all that many things to do. I've began to understand the frustration some of my friends there have had for the town - they've either already lived in livelier cities or wanted to end up in one. The evening before I went to the Nordic House, where we had a free concert from a Finnish trio which had composed songs from Edith Södergran's poems. In three languages too, Finnish, Swedish and English. Afterwards I found myself talking to the Swedish ambassador couple about Icelandic, I apparently knew more than the lady did. Again slightly afterwards I found myself sitting in Tapasbarinn with the ensemble and mostly older Finnish ladies. This is what you get for speaking Finnish in public, I guess. It was fun nevertheless, although I think we were served too few bread baskets! Not sure if I'd go again, but you've got to try everything, right? Afterwards everybody else crammed into a taxi and I waded slowly home, past most of the hot spots in Icelandic nightlife.
Yesterday's randomness led me to have a fun surprise lunch downtown. Afterwards I went to see Reykjavík Museum of Photography. The current exhibition of photos from Greenland was rather good, even though I think there were a couple too many shots of fish drying racks. And yes, they also had postcards of mr. Kjarval drinking Brennivín. Both seemed very photogenic. I also went to enjoy my Saturday evening brew to a very honest looking pub, The Dubliner. Guinness was surprisingly not-overpriced at 600 krónur. Soon after I had sat down the table next to me was occupied by a Swedish group of three men and three young ladies who were discussing some rather personal matters, and making some relatively crude jokes. I tried to smile inwards, not wanting to make them aware of the fact that I understood most of the things they were saying. They left rather swiftly, after drinking just one quick round. Slightly after I was halfway into my second pint and feeling very contemplative, I was smiling openly by myself. I was happy I hadn't had a schedule for that day.
keskiviikko 24. tammikuuta 2007
Je t'aime tant
One of the reasons why I came here was to know better how to live in the moment, how to seize the day. Soon I've spent here four weeks, and I find that Iceland has instead been emphasizing my dreamer nature. In theory it sounds like a step in completely wrong direction, but at the moment it doesn't feel like one.
In the past I've thought quite extensively about what I dare to write in here and what not. Here I'm about to throw all those contemplations out of the window. I love people who can tell exactly how they think or feel, and I think I've reached a point where I can do that myself. I don't feel vulnerable about it any longer. I've been vulnerable for long enough already. For the people who've wandered to experience Iceland via my eyes, I apologize for writing just about myself again. This strange country will not be the object of this post, but instead a catalyst.
I'm being very sentimental today for two reasons. The first was a rather casual lunch table conversation with a couple of the other tenants in our home away from home, which sneakily led me to tell them about my genetical eye condition and some of the pain I've gone through because of it. The other was a long overdue movie experience. A friend had urged me to watch Before Sunrise and Before Sunset for quite awhile.
I'm not going to unfold the story of my life completely in here, since I think there would be way too much grief for a mere blog post. For those who don't know me well, I think I had to grow up way too early, because of many things. There were times in my (at that time already broken) family when I had to be the grown up in house at the age of 12 or 13. The event that shaped my future the most happened when I was 18 years old, about to graduate from high school, and wanting to be an air traffic controller. Around that time I was told that I might be blind in 20 years.
As you can imagine, that's kind of hard to hear as a teenager who had been spending quite a lot of time contemplating their future in the past years. I guess my initial thoughts were along the lines "so, what the **** am I going to do when I'm blind?" I don't think I'm exaggerating too much if I say in the following couple of months I was way closer to certain boundaries that I can comfortably be. Obviously, it's not set in the stones that it'll happen. Since the rod cells of my eyes aren't working properly, I'll most likely eventually lose most of my field of vision, but will retain the central reading ability of the cone cells. The science today has no cure for this, but maybe it eventually will. And most importantly, I've been able to move on. Even if it'll eventually happen, I won't spend my remaining years with vision just by worrying that I'm losing it someday. I opened some wounds today, but it gave me a lot of thoughts worth thinking.
A remark just for clarification: I'm not writing this because I want people to have pity on me. Please don't. There are people who've been through completely different things and suffer every day more than I've ever done. Furthermore, I'm not bitter about it for my parents, even though I know it comes from their genes. I won't waste my life on bitterness. I don't think I've ever felt it.
Some time after the aforementioned discussion I took up the films. After the first one I was dazzled. I know that at least one of you readers will frown upon the premise of Before Sunrise, but, well. I didn't, and I won't. It could've been one of my daydreams. Meeting a stranger by coincidence in a train, slowly realizing that this stranger might be the person to leave the biggest imprint in your soul, and at the same time knowing that by next morning it'd all be gone. To me it couldn't get much more romantic than that. Now, I also love Lost in Translation. I think LiT's appeal is based on beautiful visuals, where in Before Sunrise it came from the fantastic dialogue, what the protagonists say to each other. At the same time I could relate with many things that were said, but also felt like it gave me new perspective. Ordinary people having occasional great conversations. I'm lucky to have friends with whom I've talked about many things in the same enthusiastic manner as the couple is doing in the film. When it feels like you can't stop talking just because you're gaining so much even from the smallest words and thoughts.
And I saw myself. I am the very naive, idealistic fool in my early 20's who believes in love and such beautiful moments like those in the film. I come to think it's probably because I've been dealing with almost no relationships in my life so far. I've just been dreaming. When a dream ends, it doesn't leave you scarred, frustrated or cold. I can still believe in the kind of spontaneusness these two people get to feel in a movie. I haven't experienced enough to turn cynical. In Before Sunset the protagonists have been through just that.
After finishing the second movie I thought quite a lot about the cynicism, and how well all this seemed to blend with my life. I've had my share of misfortune in this life already, and while it has certainly made me introverted, it has not made me cynical. Our personality, our view of the world is nothing more and nothing less than a collection of fragments, of moments, events and feelings from the past. We are the sum, the output of what we've lived through. Most of mine are not very beautiful, yet still I can believe in happiness. I can still believe good will of the people. I can still hope that one day I get to feel the same kind of connection as the couple does in those movies, probably where I'd least expect it. I can still believe in dreams.
Of course I'm not completely content living only with my imagination. I could never say I don't feel the need to love and be loved. The thought of that stings me a bit almost every day. Just that I'm starting to be very good at living in my solitude, and I've been for so long. I'm not desperate either, I rather keep living alone than be in a relationship with someone who I don't truly want to be with.
Maybe it isn't so that to be able to enjoy the moments I should dream less. Maybe it goes the other way round as I previously thought it would. Maybe if I instead am able to keep this naive outlook on life, I'll end up loving the moments even more. Maybe to truly seize the days you need to keep yourself as open as possible. Maybe to keep your mind open you're not supposed to stop dreaming, but instead embrace and nurture it. Maybe to be able to grasp things you should not forbid yourself to dream about them. Maybe dreams are the fuel that keeps your soul burning when you have nothing else.
I think I'm lucky. I love being the naive fool that I am.
In the past I've thought quite extensively about what I dare to write in here and what not. Here I'm about to throw all those contemplations out of the window. I love people who can tell exactly how they think or feel, and I think I've reached a point where I can do that myself. I don't feel vulnerable about it any longer. I've been vulnerable for long enough already. For the people who've wandered to experience Iceland via my eyes, I apologize for writing just about myself again. This strange country will not be the object of this post, but instead a catalyst.
I'm being very sentimental today for two reasons. The first was a rather casual lunch table conversation with a couple of the other tenants in our home away from home, which sneakily led me to tell them about my genetical eye condition and some of the pain I've gone through because of it. The other was a long overdue movie experience. A friend had urged me to watch Before Sunrise and Before Sunset for quite awhile.
I'm not going to unfold the story of my life completely in here, since I think there would be way too much grief for a mere blog post. For those who don't know me well, I think I had to grow up way too early, because of many things. There were times in my (at that time already broken) family when I had to be the grown up in house at the age of 12 or 13. The event that shaped my future the most happened when I was 18 years old, about to graduate from high school, and wanting to be an air traffic controller. Around that time I was told that I might be blind in 20 years.
As you can imagine, that's kind of hard to hear as a teenager who had been spending quite a lot of time contemplating their future in the past years. I guess my initial thoughts were along the lines "so, what the **** am I going to do when I'm blind?" I don't think I'm exaggerating too much if I say in the following couple of months I was way closer to certain boundaries that I can comfortably be. Obviously, it's not set in the stones that it'll happen. Since the rod cells of my eyes aren't working properly, I'll most likely eventually lose most of my field of vision, but will retain the central reading ability of the cone cells. The science today has no cure for this, but maybe it eventually will. And most importantly, I've been able to move on. Even if it'll eventually happen, I won't spend my remaining years with vision just by worrying that I'm losing it someday. I opened some wounds today, but it gave me a lot of thoughts worth thinking.
A remark just for clarification: I'm not writing this because I want people to have pity on me. Please don't. There are people who've been through completely different things and suffer every day more than I've ever done. Furthermore, I'm not bitter about it for my parents, even though I know it comes from their genes. I won't waste my life on bitterness. I don't think I've ever felt it.
Some time after the aforementioned discussion I took up the films. After the first one I was dazzled. I know that at least one of you readers will frown upon the premise of Before Sunrise, but, well. I didn't, and I won't. It could've been one of my daydreams. Meeting a stranger by coincidence in a train, slowly realizing that this stranger might be the person to leave the biggest imprint in your soul, and at the same time knowing that by next morning it'd all be gone. To me it couldn't get much more romantic than that. Now, I also love Lost in Translation. I think LiT's appeal is based on beautiful visuals, where in Before Sunrise it came from the fantastic dialogue, what the protagonists say to each other. At the same time I could relate with many things that were said, but also felt like it gave me new perspective. Ordinary people having occasional great conversations. I'm lucky to have friends with whom I've talked about many things in the same enthusiastic manner as the couple is doing in the film. When it feels like you can't stop talking just because you're gaining so much even from the smallest words and thoughts.
And I saw myself. I am the very naive, idealistic fool in my early 20's who believes in love and such beautiful moments like those in the film. I come to think it's probably because I've been dealing with almost no relationships in my life so far. I've just been dreaming. When a dream ends, it doesn't leave you scarred, frustrated or cold. I can still believe in the kind of spontaneusness these two people get to feel in a movie. I haven't experienced enough to turn cynical. In Before Sunset the protagonists have been through just that.
After finishing the second movie I thought quite a lot about the cynicism, and how well all this seemed to blend with my life. I've had my share of misfortune in this life already, and while it has certainly made me introverted, it has not made me cynical. Our personality, our view of the world is nothing more and nothing less than a collection of fragments, of moments, events and feelings from the past. We are the sum, the output of what we've lived through. Most of mine are not very beautiful, yet still I can believe in happiness. I can still believe good will of the people. I can still hope that one day I get to feel the same kind of connection as the couple does in those movies, probably where I'd least expect it. I can still believe in dreams.
Of course I'm not completely content living only with my imagination. I could never say I don't feel the need to love and be loved. The thought of that stings me a bit almost every day. Just that I'm starting to be very good at living in my solitude, and I've been for so long. I'm not desperate either, I rather keep living alone than be in a relationship with someone who I don't truly want to be with.
Maybe it isn't so that to be able to enjoy the moments I should dream less. Maybe it goes the other way round as I previously thought it would. Maybe if I instead am able to keep this naive outlook on life, I'll end up loving the moments even more. Maybe to truly seize the days you need to keep yourself as open as possible. Maybe to keep your mind open you're not supposed to stop dreaming, but instead embrace and nurture it. Maybe to be able to grasp things you should not forbid yourself to dream about them. Maybe dreams are the fuel that keeps your soul burning when you have nothing else.
I think I'm lucky. I love being the naive fool that I am.
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