A day with Damedo

I might regret this later, but here goes.

Welcome to my life! A photographic documentary about my day 25th April 2012. (I apologize the quality of the photos, crap, I do need a new phone!)

Morning. Waking up late. Not work today. The first thing I need… Yes. Coffee. After a mug or a couple I’m ready to behave like a human being.

Ok. The next thing should be getting to look as a human being as well. And for that I’m going to need some stuff. Yeah.

 

We are heading out after breakfast, me, my husband A and my daughter E. There is a some kind of a fair in the marketplace in the town center. Though, we live in a small town, so the happening can’t be that big. Couple of stands only, but I still manage to bump into an old friend mine and have a little chat about “how the time flies”. I also have a chat with a salesman about Peru and travelling. Nice.

 

Back home I enjoy the greenness (is that a word??) of the trees. I so wish that the summer was here already. I’m so tired of this winter that is never going to end. I envy you guys who live somewhere warm! By the way, I need some more coffee at this point.

 

 

The great Finnish holiday is approaching (Vappu), the Finnish labour day (the official reason to get drunk, obiviously, to some people). Anyway, in that day we are allowed to behave ourselves “un-Finnish”-way (noisy, happy and dress funny). So, I need to make some masks for E (or myself, but it’s great to be able to use child as a excuse, right?).

 

The next thing: nap time for E – and for mom as well. After pretending to be sleeping I find myself doing all kinds of Very Important Stuff (emailing, facebooking, blogging…)

 

 

 

Time flies. It’s time to wake E up. Poor thing. I can’t let her sleep as long as she would like, because I’d like to sleep my nights as well… I give E some snacks and enjoy myself a cup of tea.

 

 

At the same time I decide to read good old Donald, but E decides otherwise. “Come to play, mom! Look at this, mom! Mommy!” Right. I might have to finish the story later – like never. And oh. This is always funny. The unemployment form. Uh. Me and part time job is definately not a good combination!

 

I have an argument with my dear husband about whatever (can’t really remember what it was all about) and end up locked in the bathroom looking like this. I try to cheer me up with some jewelry. Always helps.

 

 

So, we are off again, me & E. We are going to visit library and do some shopping. The weather is brightening and I love to drive, so I’m not sulking anymore.

 

 

E is happy and charming as usual and complete strangers stop by just saying hi to her and smiling. I’m one of a proud mother! E demonstrates her architechtural skills with blocks. Could you believe this was made by 2 year-old? After lending a pile of books we’re out. I notice that I have parked in the correct place after all! (I did park on the not-customer places – but, hey, the correct ones were taken!) But see? There’s my initials (RA)!

 

Driving back home. On our backyard I see something that grabs my attention: a weird pile of snow. Hey, that must be Mr. Snowman! He has been a bit, umm, deformed.

 

 

 

Finally, the sun! The mom is exhausted after all that shopping and telling E so and so. She is very initiative, active and independent (meaning that mom is ripping her hair off when E is running around, taking things from the shop shelves, eating candy and running again…). But it’s not yet time to relax. E wants to finish the masks.

 

After giving E something to eat it’s time to have some calories burned. My Mp3 gives me strength to go on and I’m loudly singing along (Ricky Martin, Poets of the Fall, Zen Cafe and Justin Timberlake this time), even if it might be a bit disturbing for the audience. The husband is not complaining, though.

 

The shower is heavenly! It really is. Afterwards it’s time to give some evening snack for E and put her to sleep. Maybe even something to eat to mom as well. The rest of the evening goes pretty much in the internet. Blogging. I spend 2 hours writing and after publishing I notice that only the very first paragraph has been saved. Crap!

I end up sleeping pretty pissed.

So. That was a day of my very interesting life. I hope you enjoyed being me. A special thanks goes to my niece who gave me this idea “a day with me”-thing, or actually I kinda stole her concept, sorry…

(All of this was written twice. Have your symphaties for me, please.)

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Writer´s block

Gosh. Sometimes it’s just hard to get something on the paper. Or on the screen. Do you know what I’m talking about? It’s not just that writing would be uninspiring or that I would have doubts in my skills. It’s more like the difficulty in beginnig. Usually I don’t have that kind of problem either. I’m pretty good in starting things, but to keep them going or reaching the end. I have noticed that the greatest problems arise when I’m somehow blocking the flow myself. The flow of creativity. The other case might be me trying to interfere too much in the strory. I do not command the words, but they do command me. When they tell me to do, I will obey. Usually. And the hard times begin when I don’t.

Let me explain. Usually I trust my intuition to carry me or my story through. I don’t plan ahead what will be happening on the page 89 before starting. Some might call it stupidity, I call it intuition. To me writing is an adventure itself. I’m kind of reading the story when writing, I don’t usually know anything more that anybody reading would know. It might sound crazy, but it works. It really does. I have always found the ways out of the dead ends.

Sometimies it harder, though. It’s when I start thinking instead of feeling. When I start to think I will think about the others, and what would they think, what would they want to happen, what should happen if the story was a great one. Or then I’m starting to try to figure out what will happen next. That doesn’t work. Not at all. I get the feeling that I have just no idea about my whole story and I just can’t make it. There will be no solution of the knots I’ve made in my foolishness. And so I can’t get it going. Too much thinking will destroy the creativity.

Stephen King has said that when the writing is really good, he can see through the paper. That is absolutely true. When I trust my intuition, I let it to guide my steps, show me a great movie in my head or behind the paper. The only thing left me to do is to put it down. In a way I could call myself a documentarist.

The problems will occure also when I don’t want the story take the direction it wants to take. When I decide that my new ideas are too strange, too difficult me to handle or too dangerous, too alive, too strong. I try to calm the story down, I try to make it to take more conventional path, stay on the safe ground. But the story knows what it wants and the really good ones don’t follow the marked paths. They want to break free, they want me to be shocked, amazed, overwhelmed by their power. And sometimes I am.

Today I was a moment afraid to put the words down that the story wanted me to. I put them anyway. I have learned my lesson. Only the safe steps will fail. The unintended, unconventional, surprising ones will stand and more. They will make me fly. And hopefully someone else, too.

What do I do then, when the block strikes back? I need to forget what I was thinking when I made that block for me. I need to start all over again. Let the words come. Sometimes they are very cautious, they don’t want to be catched. Sometimes they just want me to do some extra work with them, they might be playing with me. Sometimes they give me a clue that feels good and when proceeding it reveals to be wrong. (In that case they will give me a new one, if I dare to listen.) Sometimes they give me a clue that feels scary, wrong, odd, bizarre, anything but fitting in the context. However, if I do proceed with it, it will, with no doubt, be the most brilliant idea ever. On the other hand, if I don’t… well. There it is. The wall blocking my way, my storys way to move on.

Sometimes the words need to be distracted. If I’m having difficulties, I could try to write something completely different, or jump ahead or backwards in time of the story. I could let myself think that I can always delete the wrong clues I’m getting, but in the end I never will. Sometimes all the wall needs is one word. One word that is different than I planned. Or on other case another way around: one word that needs to be removed because it would have made the story to turn in the fields when aiming to mountains.

So, what can I say. I just need to have faith. It all will fall into its place. Eventually.

Bite me!

Vampires? Bats?Oh yes. I promised to write something about vampires. People are always interested in sex, power and danger as someone said. I think that was much about it what makes vampires so popular. I think they are so popular that it is almost non-popular to write about them anymore. But I have always followed the hypes some time behind…

LestatHow did I familiarize myself with vampires at the first place? I think the very first contact with them must have been the movie “Interview with a vampire” with Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, ooh… That was the first time I thought that hey, vampires can be something else too than just scary boogeymans. They were sensual, attractive and ohmygod sexy. I had to read the books of Anne Rice couple of times after that. I wrote to my diary after reading the Interview that it was more real and close to me although the movie was visually more powerful (what an objective observation, right?).

After that there was a long time without them. I read “Count Dracula” by Bram Stroker uuh, scary...with high hopes, but it let me a bit down. I thought it was full of cliches and somehow naive touch of the story. I did enjoy it, though. It was educational and gave me a glimpse of the past. It wasn’t really scary or even sexy or dangerous to me. Still I’m a bit proud to be able to tell people I have read it.

That book kind of turned me down. Then later, I heard people fussing about Twilight and my reaction was very typical for me.I don’t care. Let them fuss all they like. What is that story anyway? A girl having a vampire and a werewolf as her boyfriend?? That was just stupid for me. Then, by an accident, I happened to change TV channel just to see the beginning of the movie “Twilight”. Because I’m just a little (a tiny-winy bit) curious, I decided to watch the beginning. I never thought I would watch the whole thing trough.

But so I did. The next day I went to library and searched the books. Yeah. I had totally changed my opinion about it. That was sexy. That was powerful, that was even dangerous. I felt just a bit dum for not being a teenager, but I didn’t care. I had a plan: if someone acquaintance of mine would see me, I would say I lended the books for someone else (good work, way to go, me!). Nobody saw me. Luckily. I’m not very good in lying.

And oh. WhEddieat can I say. Edward Cullen. My definition of him was the safe fear. Meaning that even he could be dangerous and with no doubt was, he was very traditionally polite and kind at the same time. I had dreamed about a man (a long time before all this) who could see my thoughts without saying, being strong and confident, overwhelming in a way. Well, you know, Edward was all of that. So who can blame me?

Suddenly I was very much interested in vampires. I searched them from the internet, Damonfacebook, all kinds of place. I wanted to feel intoxicated, and I did. I found a game from facebook that was placed in Mystic Falls, based on “The Vampire Diaries” -series that I had never heard of. But I played the game, because there was vampires. Soon that thing took over again. What was Edward Cullen compared to Damon Salvatore? Oh boy. He was just one a sexy beast.

Edward made me write. I started my own story. (For your information: I consider myself as a writer, kind of, having experience from couple of newspapers and short stories and stuff – and I’m holding hopes high to publish a real book one day.) That story has 135 pages at the moment and more to come. I have enjoyed a lot when writing it. And it is all about power, danger and sex. I mean. Not in that way. I’m reading at the moment “A Discovery of Witches” by Deborah Harkness. It’s a story where a witch and a vampire fall in love. There has been said seduction is hard to discern from hunting. I felt that was much about it as I felt it when writing. And really; isn’t flirting hunting in a way?

Intense power struggles, steamy sexiness, living in the shadows of death. Every moment could be the last. The basics of life, actually. And still far away from the everyday life. Why wouldn’t that interest people?

Are your thoughts really yours?

Somebody had sticked a little picture on the bus stop I waited this morning. The picture said: “Have you ever considered are your thoughts really yours?”  That was funny, cause I just had the same thing in my mind. So I have been pondering are my thoughts just a reflection of something or somebody else. How could I know?

I know that I’m pretty easily convinced by witty words. It seems that if somebody knows better, I might just believe. But does he actually? I’m also pretty easily deluded to act as I believed. I want to believe in things. I think that everybody does want to believe. And I don’t mean just believe in God or some religion; I believe we need to know somebody cares about us, that somebody does know better.

When I get excited about things, I’m absolutely one hundred percent sure that I’m born to think the same way as the persons/organizations/teachers/gurus/whatever I’m excited about. And I deeply believe  that I’m thinking that because I do think that way. Do you get it? Hard to explain. I mean. I believe in myself in those kind of moments.

When the time passes, though, I tend to forget what was it that was so great about that whatever. Does anybody want to confess the same behaviour? Or is everybody else different from me? I seem to live my life in cycles (haha, recycling!), I mean it goes like I get excited, become intoxicated, believe in me/thing/person, try to act it out, realize it’s not worth it or never going to happen and then reluctantly letting go. Right. I get it. It’s just me.

But are your thoughts really yours? How could I discern what is me and what is just clever manipulation? Or unintended one? Somehow I tend to think that we are connected to each other, in some way, that it would be impossible to live without others, without them affecting our lives somehow. I think that the greatest wisdom is to believe in yourself but also compromize. Not needlessly, no. But for a good cause.

And it’s enriching to share thoughts, to learn new ones, see things on the other persons point of view as well.

People who are unable to motivate themselves must be content with mediocrity ~ Andrew Carnegie

I’m not content. And still I search for motivation from others. I wrote some thought down today at work, let me tell you: i always think / some other should give me his vigor / the vampire is me, i guess.

Vampires. Yeah. But that’s another story.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this…

Not really, no. It just. Well. Me and my brother used to laugh at this line from StarWars for some time ago. And I was going to write something about having this odd feeling. Oh, I’m not very clear with my words today. Let’s try again.

Today, or actually recently, I have been having this feeling like I’m getting close. That the mystery of my life, or particularly the mystery of the purpose of my life, would be coming clear. I can’t really explain it. I just feel, I sense that I’m close. I just need to keep going and in time it will happen. Mystical? Naive? Just stupid?

I have always thought I’m a realistic person. I do have imagination, of course, how could I write otherwise? And I do have pretty interesting ideas sometimes, ideas that I need to buckle up so they won’t explode. And take me with them. Flying. Above. Never coming back.

I need to be seen. Well, who wouldn’t?

I found an old writing of mine where I had thought the purpose of life. I’m going to read to you a part of it.

Why do I excist? What is my purpose? Why anybody excists? What is the purpose of one human being? Why have we been invented, made, created, why do we have thoughts? I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t even care. Sometimes I can’t get sleep from these thoughts. Questions. Secrecies of life.

If I make some bread, I make it for it to be eaten. Does the bread know that it’s purpose is to be eaten and is it happy when it happens? Or does a bread dream about being some butter that is spreaded on other breads; or a knife that cuts the bread? Does it ever question it’s being, that why it is just a bread and why can’t it ever cut some breads? Does a bread know it is a bread?

Haha. I mean. I don’t actually think breads could think. But it simplifies the thought. Do I know what I am or am I just dreaming about something just as bizarre than a bread cutting another? Does anybody?

Some people do, I believe. Those who have accomplished something they believed in. Those who had the courage and the strength to change things. Make a move. I look up to those people. You’re great. Keep going! And maybe I will someday know am I a bread or a knife.

My personal life

That is the most intriguing question. My life. Above all others. I’m pretty convinced everyone agrees. So why not start with it.

Sometimes I’m just devastated when I don’t know what am I doing with my life. Just hanging around? Wasting the day for another day to come? Sometimes I feel very strongly that there must be something else. More. Something important. And I can’t get it. Like it’s lurking somewhere behind me, beside me, somewhere so close I could almost catch it. But never will. It’s frustrating!

It wasn’t long time ago I wrote to my notebook: If there was just me to think I knew exactly what to do. The truth is, there is not just me. Somedays I wish I was alone. Just me and my thoughts. My words. I love words by the way. I look up to people who know how to use them. Anyway, there are others. Always. I’m not sure am I happy about it or not. It’s hard for me to think about me when I could think about others. It’s not funny. It’s pretty sad, really.

Some wise man told me once that truly unselfish actions are those we make for ourselves. He justified it well but I can’t remember it anymore. I guess it had something to do with that when we are allowed to do the things that truly matter to us, we are happy, and when we are happy, we treat others better. It took some time for me to understand. I’m learning it, but not yet there. There is really nobody taking care of me if I don’t do it. Scary. In a way.

Oh well. What would I do then, if it was just me. Travel. Study. See things. Change. Move to foreign countries just to see how is life there. Anything else than this blandness of my life. My husband told me today when we were arguing, that I should do things, make myself happy and not wait him to help me with it. I agree, again, in a way. On the other hand I feel like he could do something as well. What should I do? Am I happy? Am I even contented? Am I alive?

Sometimes I feel the only option left is to start anew. Somewhere else. With somebody else. Then again I do feel that all the problems I have I have them in me. Inside. It’s quite possible that I wouldn’t be any happier with anybody. Even with some long lasted crush of mine. I do have those, who wouldn’t? If it was the One, still? I would be me, anyway. It wouldn’t change. So, I’m getting to a conclusion, the only thing I can change is myself. My thoughts. My ways of seeing things, doing things, dreaming of things. How to settle in everyday life when all I need is a change? I think the change has begun. I need to take responsibility of me. Stop being there for everybody else.

Do you agree?