DAY 30

Yet another zip of beer, which I solemnly swear to drink. This pathetic dark bottle has stood open in fridge from yesterday evening – it is no longer fizzy, and it is no longer tasty. I consider myself facing a choice: either to make philosophical conclusion about my screwed up childhood and life, take a shot of rum instead or just grab that beer bottle. It seems always this hard – you want simple things, you need them to be simple, but they turn out the other way. Aah, fuck it!

The bottle it is. I poured the dark drink into a glass which just happened to stand on the fridge and having no bigger considerations about that. Hei, that seemed simple enough decision, didn’t it?!

Laying in the bed, I stared at the empty TV. How boring it all seemed to me. They talked about India:

”People usually come here to search for the spirit.” That is true, but if you sincerely need to leave and have no money to actually go, does it really matter if they show it or not.

Of course I could be hopeful that one fair day I will leave and visit all these interesting an fascinating places, but what would be the point of that. I mean, I really love creating my own dreams. But there are very few times when they work out. Go figure…

For example, I was at the airport a week ago. I had a destination – my feet wanted to take me home. In the morning, I packed a suitcase and took my passport. It was a sunny day and I was walking through this small city where all the wheels were echoing from each direction of the streets. I remembered that I was genuinely happy once – no one knew me in here and I felt free as a bird out of the nest. And with same anonymous feelings I flew into the airport strait to the check-in table.

“I would like a ticket to Estonia. Could you please help me?” A naive and hopeful blond girl was asking with her eyes almost in tears. She had no choice – it was her last chance to hope for simple happiness.

The receptionist looked helpful enough and started to search for flights. She was speaking in Danish to another woman sitting next to her. At first glance the other one seemed to be blind, because the only thing she stared at was the screen and my mind was wondering whether she really was. After a while it turned out that she just was helping the first one.

I kept only one thought in my head – leave this place. Even if I have to return --- don’t… What for do you live here and what is the point of all this pain. My tears were kept back – I stood strongly with my back straight. And I just waited…

“The only flight we have is today at 17.40. And it is through København.” Said the woman finally.

“And how much is the flight?” I asked.

“230 Euros.” My heart clinched – I did not breathe for a second. It was reality, who knocked on my heart (Hei, dueh, you have only 100 Euros on your account. Did you really think that people would help you and you could get a really cheap flight away from this God forsaken town?)

“Should we make a reservation?” asked the woman kindly.

“Do you have any cheaper flights, maybe to Helsinki?” I asked with a kind smile on my face, always hoping for the best.

They always say about hope, that it dies last. And then that not so awesome twin called Reality steps in. (That party pooper!)

The woman could not help me anymore, but she suggested me to check in the internet so I would get cheaper tickets. Thanking them both for their help, I left the check-in with my rolling wheels and a serious face. I noticed the people leaving to their planes, while they are showing their luggage to the airport security. They all have serious faces – what I could have done to be at their place. At that point there came sadness over me. I sincerely wished in my heart that I could be one of them.

I sat down in the internet lounge. Four computers stood on concrete tables and some black chairs in the other side of the lounge. I sat to one of the chairs putting my trolley gently next to me. Breathing heavily I started to think, where have I really come with all this. I just wanted to go home and forget everything. It should not matter that it was just 2000 km away. I should call someone and they would help me. No, said my ego. You will not ask for help. Look at yourself, you made this mess, now clean it up.

From big windows to the front of Aalborg Lufthavn a man was smoking a cigarette. My pain knocked on the shoulder. I could have smoked as well – that could have helped so much. Fuck, I care about my health too much, even now. Damn this quitting of smoking. The phone rang.

It was him. “Are you going to come and pick up the table today?”

Too much emotions. Again. No escape from stupidity, people not understanding the situations and me not able to help myself. I did not know what to answer. Somehow faint words about the situation came out.

“I am not at home right now. How can I pick it up?!” I started to defend my beliefs. But there was no point. I knew he was right – it was unthinkably stupid to go to the airport unplanned. Of course my emotions were not so stable in order to understand it completely. Imagining that I will give my loved one the money or drive him myself where he would like, I totally forgot, that this is not the world I or any of us live in.

This is THE REALITY.

After talking to him for some minutes, he made himself very clear that he does not want me to leave and he needs to know if I return, ever. And that he will take the table out if I will not return.

I wanted to scream at him, that I really do not care about the idiotic table and it was his anyways. But I stayed put. I accepted every word he said as this illuminatingly reasonable and considerable person I should be. With all my strength and respect I managed to make an ending conclusion, that perhaps another day would be better. And he agreed. At one point we both were at one mind – there was no point for me to leave. And live in a dream somewhere else. Besides, I always run when things get too hard.

It is much harder to stay. I hung up. I really wished to go. I needed to go away and run.

Still, fuck the table.

I smiled to myself. The realization of what am I actually doing and how it might look to the people in check it brought me back to earth. And I prepared to leave from the airport.

I sat at the bus stop outside. It had been a sunny and bright morning. And yet, the wind wanted to blow the bus stop away. I sat still. I was myself – it did not matter what happen now.

And it was freakishly cold that day. Shining sun did not do its job and the spring weather was not much to praise for. And I was just sitting at the stop. There was a Danish girl next to me, who had probably roots in some Asian country. She put her legs on the blue-colored bench as I had done earlier. I kept making up a story of her being a student and visiting her relatives somewhere in China or Japan. The wind kept mixing up my stories – it was the hardest wind I have witnessed in many months here in Denmark. The bus came. The Chinese girl, one elderly man and I – we all went home from our journey no matter how long or short it might have been. And we were all smiling… For me more about the stupidity…

This is how I fought my dreams. Without any passion and willingness to cooperate with my soul, I gave up to reality.

And still I drink the beer. The refreshing cold taste gets better and better with every mouthful. Its bitter aftertaste makes me enjoy this one thing… this one fulfillment for a moment.

It was here for a while – the feeling for alcohol, so precious and perfect in its existence. The taste of sweetness and bitterness at one time – the secret of craving for something which you have tasted before but could not remember. The unreality and dream of having everything and being able to be happy for a second had possessed my every sense. The knowing and exploring pleasure of each molecule. And then the taste of the beer disappeared. The aftertaste faded from my tongue. And the senses became dull. I need another one –

could it be possible to hate the concept of one-day-old beer and at the same moment enjoy it the fullest with every sense you have been given.

Seeing the bottom of the glass has made me realize – it was passion towards the flavor, the enjoyment towards a simple thing like alcohol, which will make people addicted and act like they have never acted before. But how far will this drunkenness go?!

Are we able to cooperate better with reality the next day? Or do we crave for another sweet bottle the next morning? I should have another one, even though I have school tomorrow.
My conscious says: “No”

Fuck it, I have to do something with my life. It can be drinking or being in reality – at least I will make it to the next day. And HOPEFULLY through it … and I know how far that got me ;)

Welcome to reality, baby!!!

STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT YOUR LIFE – IF YOU STILL HAVE YOUR ARMS AND LEGS AND YOU ARE ABLE TO THINK, LOVE AND ACCOMPLISH GREAT THINGS, YOU ARE STILL OK!

Remark: Blogger did not allow me to write too long title, so it is actually supposed to say good instead of okei. And I would like to dedicate this blog to Martin, the one who has always supported me. Okei, here we go !

We have no right to complain over our simple lives. Yes, they get hard every once in a while, but every person is going through many things through one lifetime. And why do we presume that we are special, when there are still people who suffer more because they are hungry or do not have fresh drinking water (and no way it is going to change with this attitude!).

When I was younger, I used to complain about everything. If my sister took my shoes, or if the school system was against me, or if I had to do things I did not like. If something was not right, I simply was not happy. Maybe I am a spoiled brat, but in the end, I changed something. And that was because I knew that I was complaining too much and had to get rid of it, if I wish to live as a normal human being. And besides, my parents did not appreciate me being winey all the time. And in the end I had to respect myself and them. So, that is why I removed myself from my society and country, my parents and friends. At first, I was complaining even more, but in the end I got used to the new situation. I saw a world with a new pair of eyes – through realistic and a little bit pinkish glasses J I had a widened view of the world and I started to realize that there is not only me in the center of everything.

The reason, why I wanted to write about this topic, is the fact that the point when I realized that I really am blessed, then why can’t I contribute something to the world. There are many people nowadays, who have the brains to do something more with what they have been given, instead of complaining even more. Many famous examples are The Venus project and Jacque Fresco, the Zeitgeist project. A few days ago I saw a short movie KONY, which turns the world into a new direction of making good by making Joseph Kony famous (so go watch the movie and write KONY everywhere. Seriously!!!). It is amazing what people can do – all we have to realize is that WE HAVE THE POWER TO DO EVERYTHING.

So why do we still keep hiding in our dark room and think that the world has done all the bad things, and simply don’t want any part in it? Are we seriously complaining more than taking action into our own hands? And the KONY project is done by young people, how come us, older people think that our life is hard? We need to start growing up…

And we need to start seeing the bigger picture.

I guess there will come a point in everyone’s life, when we need to make a decision. For me it was by coming to a foreign country and learning everything by myself. By the way, I even didn’t know how to cook back then. And now I can make a number of dishes, but I know I have still a lot to learn. It was hard at first, but I have managed so far and I refuse to give up on cooking and on life. Who knows, if I continue, I might do something good instead of crying about hard shit happening to me all the time. It all depends whether I hide from life or take it with every possible sense I had been given.

But I have learned the most valuable lesson in life, which I can say to anyone who dares to complain and remind myself this all the time: it does not matter where you come from. We are all so called “victims” of different cultures, society, environment and life itself. What really matters is what you can do about it and how you choose to live. And one day you have to crawl out of the den anyway and see that there is much more to the world than shit. Yes, there is shit too every once in a while. But if you survive coming out of the shit which just happened to be at your way, you can manage anything… absolutely anything. (Then you already know ;)

So, if you are a healthy human being and just complaining about simple things, you might want to rethink your values in life.

Successful examples:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEzJnheUIXc
http://vimeo.com/37119711 – KONY
http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com
http://www.thevenusproject.com
http://thesecret.tv – for a new start
http://www.deepakchopra.com

Oh, and you have to be interested in things – genuinely!
Love you all!

Everything driven by passion has greater value... it just depends what are your values.

just another writing...

What is in common with a smoothie and article writing?

Me... Too easy and selfish? Okei. Let me try to explain this in a different way.

Firstly, I would like to point out, that both of these processes demand patience and carefully considering what are you adding and what not to do. When we make a smoothie, it is more for the delight of the taste. Therefore, we mostly take sweet things like fruits and some juice or milk. But we are able to do it with everything else. And why don’t we do it.

I personally never liked tomato juice and I would never add it in a drink. That is why I have not tried to make one with tomatoes or other vegetables. It could very well be that I might do it in the future with other vegetables like carrots, but never tomatoes. Now, writing an article is like making a smoothie. Not all people like the same topics. So, a writer has to take a topic which she or he is good at and can make a story about. As with tomatoes, ships or car technology is not my area, since I do not like it that much.

Overall, everything depends on the content. An article must have technological aspects combined with opinion, but that all has to make sense to a reads. A smoothie also has to be approved by the person who makes and tastes it. So, there you go, similarities between writing an article and a smoothie.

Probably not one of my highlights, but I am on the edge of finding out, what I really want. And right now I want a nice cold smoothie with fruits and orange juice.

The Strange Breeze

A woman is sitting on a bench by the sea. She is looking into the distance and like looking for something. She has a thin dress on and is with a bicycle next to her.
A man is walking by. She spots her and asks kindly, what might she be looking for. The woman answers that there is always some beauty in the leaving ships. And that her husband was on one of them. She talked about him and his work on the ship. She used to go along with him, but not anymore. She gets easily sea sick and does not have so much patience to be on the sea all the time.
The man listens to her carefully, while he thinks about her wife.
"Are you married?" asked the woman.
"I was. She passed away not long ago. She had a heavy disease." said the man.
"I am sorry. You must miss her." said the woman kindly.
"Yes, but I have learned to cope with it and live on."
And they both had some sadness in their eyes - both for the absence of a loved one who can not be replaced. They watched quietly to the sea where the red sun was setting. It was a mild weather and the wind gently touched them. It was like a breeze for something new, perhaps a long lasting friendship.
"I will come here tomorrow. Will you be here?" asked the man.
And the woman nodded. They both looked into each others kind eyes and saw some strange warmness. Like they had know each other for more than these five minutes.
"I will see you tomorrow." said the woman and kept on watching the sea while the man was walking away. And the mild breeze was even milder.

Toughest job ever - being a good teacher

Somewhere between the lecture about moisture not going through the building if the pressure is too big inside and the group work of finding the perfect plan layout for a factory, I had my doubts about the perfect model for a teacher. Is it really that difficult to teach and prepare for lectures, that a teacher is not able to do that? Or are there just people who are not suitable for teaching?
In a student life we meet a lot of teachers. Some we like and the others tend to be not so pleasant. And if another person next to us has the chance to express his or her feelings, then one might like the teacher that I have no common language at all. But that does not make anyone more unintelligent.
A friend of mine said golden words that we can not like all people. We are not obligated to like or even care for everyone. But we must be able to work with them, so students and teachers both need to have a level of humanity and tolerance. So, why do some teachers refuse or ignore the ethics of humanity?
Let me describe the situation happening in the classroom. The teacher is explaining the same thing again, but not the necessary information, but minor details blowing into a really big air bubble. And then during his lecture he gets confused many times, like he has never seen his power point presentations before. Yes, they say that a power point is not the best way of making these things. But nevertheless, every teacher should know their field and what the heck did they write in the slides. Students can make mistakes, teachers can not allow themselves to let go so easily.
And that was not it. The teacher was laughing at remarks, which made the students look like they have no idea what he is talking about. Like that we have to understand some information about calculating and he would just laugh because it seemed likely that we can not handle it. Talk about being rude.
So, how can other people take him as an example or a teacher. I know, that in nowadays world students have even worse cases of teachers. Why does a teacher want that job anyway, if one can not handle it and is more of a bad role model? Is it because of the money or because no one else wanted it. Or is it a calling...
You know, I do not consider myself wise in this case, that I need to become a teacher. A teacher is someone, who is capable of arts and has many sides. The one who has been trough pedagogical education and who is also humain and moral.
The teacher who I have encountered does not have these qualities, but I am not the judge in this. As I have my own opinion, then I believe that not anyone should qualify as one. Then again there are all kinds of people in this world. Me being one of them... and not everyone likes me. And that is only fair.
There is a famous saying from Tao Te Ching that says if there is not a proper teacher, the student will fail. I hope that will not be the case in my situation, because I would really hate to spend my time unwisely.
But I admire the teachers, especially the good ones. As my grandmother is one excellent teacher liked by all her students, which is worth more than all the stupidity on this planet.

To Oscar and the free will of writers...

I made a promise - I will write every day something. I have doubts about what is my area of topics and what should I concentrate in overall.
Many of my previous works have been either really fictional and artistic, you know like Kafka and fairy tales or something in the middle (if that even exists ;). And some teachers have also said that I have talent in writing. As well as my reports seem to have positive grades... it could be my personality as well :D. Okei, enough with the ego.
But seriously, for the next month I will write and write and write ... I heard that the trick is not to go to sleep until you have written your words for the day.
So, that was what I wanted to write about today.
You know the feeling, that you need to get something out of you, and writing seems to be one of those ways of doing it. And whatever you put on the paper, it will still make sense, because you created it. At least, that is on the good times... on the bad times, there is so much self-criticism and it is impossible to quiet the mind for correcting all the mistakes.
But for a writer it is the same as for the artist (painter) - if the work needs editing, then it should be done until it is ready. But sometimes, the creation is overwhelming that there is nothing needed to add or take away. In my opinion, that is what art and self expression is all about - to find the inner balance between reality and self-criticism.
Before I end, I would like to quote my favorite writer Oscar Wilde: "Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." (1905)
It is not that we are fake, which might be in some cases. But we tend to loan or take thoughts from someone else unconsciously. So if you think you are genuine, then it is not so. I remember all the words and habits, which I have inherited from the world and other people.
Thank you for the experience for making me who I am today!