Exposure
Some things had become an involuntary verbal tic. She looked at him with a puzzled expression, trying to figure out what he was thinking, because that is what she does; always looking for a hint of exposure in peoples eyes. At least in some level.
Why is that, she asked, foolishly blaming herself for doing it all over again, however not too surprised by own her behavior.
The unmistakable signs
Half drunk, half confused, acting too childish we were sitting there laughing, my best friend and I.
It snowed all day yesterday, but I do not have a hard time pretending it is spring. I can smell it. I can hear it. I can feel it. Like so many springs before I engage myself to dreams I cannot define, yet they make me feel so much more alive. And there is this song that makes me go back and forth, back and forth in my mind – without really being aware of why I do such a thing. It awakens me in a way I thought was not possible anymore, but the signs are unmistakable; I am letting myself go back in time, back to the dreams I simply cannot escape from.
Spring feels good, doesn’t it?
Being offensive – a way of being defensive?
Have you ever thought about how you defend yourself? I have. And I have some sort of a compulsion for analyzing everyone I meet. Well, analyzing may not be the correct word for it, but I often find myself asking questions about why people act the way they act and say the things they say, maybe in order to find out how their defense mechanism work. Or what kind of substitutes they have gained. I don’t know.
Everyone has their own way of running away from something. Anything.
My friend lied to her date the other day, telling him that she is patient, which is quite the opposite of how we, her friends, would describe her. I had a good laugh when I heard about it, but the truth is that she really likes this guy and wants him to like her back. It is just as simple as that. And it is kind of cute when you think about it, because she would never lie about anything else.
I, on the other hand, might come off as a bit offensive sometimes. My usually hidden shyness could be a reason for acting like that, because I feel a need to defend myself, even when there is nothing to defend myself from. So, I tend to either speak too much or not at all, act out in an unexpected way or not act at all; opposite feelings have become a part of who I am and whether I like it or not, I have learned to live with it. To me, being offensive is a way of being defensive. Does that make sense?
I’m done
We were just walking around the city, photographing everything, when we came upon a large circle of people. Curious as ever, we found our way elbowing into the crowd to see what was going on. There was a man, dressed up as an old man, and a boy, also dressed up as an old man and so adorable that just looking at him made my heart melt. In total amusement I followed their actions from behind and laughed while lighting up my cigarette. My friend was taking photos from the other side of the street. And then, all of a sudden, I felt a firm grip around my wrist dragging me out of the crowd and into the circle. I was pulling myself back, saying ‘no, no, no!’ over and over again, afraid that the man, dressed up as an old man, was going to make me take part in one of his tricks. No, that was not it. He had another intention. When I came to senses and looked the man his eyes, I noticed a penetrating anger. He grabbed the cigarette out of my hand, threw it on the ground and made a huge deal out of stamping his feet on it.
Saturday night one of my friends asked ‘Don’t you smoke anymore?’ I smiled and said ‘I went to a party with a pack of cigarettes last night and didn’t even think of taking it out of my purse. So, I’m done.’ The truth is that I stopped loving the taste of cigarettes when I realized I had become a smoker. And I am not a smoker. I enjoy having a few once in a while, in special occasions. Or shall I say, that’s how it used to be.
“You are Norwegian, but your hair is Turkish!”
Oh, there is the other Turkish girl, my friend said and pointed at me in the dark. We shook hands and I laughed. And I had to spell my name, of course I did. The guy from Manchester looked at my feet and complained a bit about how mainstream Converse has become and told me that he used to wear them when he was a punk back in the old days, bragged about being at the Arctic Monkeys concert at Garage before their first album came out and said “You are Norwegian, but your hair is Turkish!”. He was fun to talk to until one of my friends dragged me away.
Things just happen
Explain death and I will become an atheist, I remarked, very certain in my case. And I remember saying that if I ever get so lucky to become a mother, I do not want my children to be brought up in a religion. He laughed. At least I think he did. And he seemed to be amused in a way I didn’t understand. There was too much alcohol in my veins to discuss religion, but as it appeared that we share the same values it can’t really be much big of a deal. After all, there are people who defend every aspect of an organized religion just by saying “because it is so”, which cannot exactly be considered a satisfying answer, especially not in Norway. It is so much easier to get along with atheists and agnostics.
Hm. Anyway. It was a great weekend.
Last night a friend of mine asked why I haven’t written any posts lately. The truth is, like I have mentioned before, I usually write about incidents, thoughts and feelings that don’t have an impact on my or my friends’ private affairs, although it often may seem like I share the depth of my stories. That is not to say that I haven’t revealed or will not reveal anything from conversations, thoughts and feelings I have had the past few weeks, or days for that sake, but my words will most likely not be immediate and impulsive. They rarely are when blogging. Well, the bottom line is that the conversations with old friends made me think about the things that just happen, to anyone at any time. There is a profound truth to it, because it has everything to do with how life is supposed to evolve.
In strange reminiscence of what used to be thought of as the perfect life, I am glad there is enough room (at least in most parts of the Western world) for people who want things that are not within a certain set of boundaries. I truly believe that everyone must find their own version of happiness. That is what I told my friend the other day. I hope it helped.
anything, anyone, any time…
I know now that anything can happen to anyone at any time.
There is a story behind my statement above, there always is, but I do not think it is wise to share it with you.
bensé – buvons
As you may have noticed; I am into French pop these days. Feel free to send me links!
Here is another song I’ve been listening to lately:
