How I failed to write my term paper today.

.

Had I been able to sleep last night, I wouldn’t have seen the beautiful lightening.

Had I not seen the lightening, I would have had more sleep and possibly beautiful dreams.

It seems that one is always losing something and gaining in return.

The cold heart will burst
If mistrusted first
And a calm heart will break
When given a shake

The rain the rain making me cry

Then the wind comes
Fanning my yellow eye

The waves wave the waves wave

This is how my heart behaves’

One of the phenomena at the university is its professors. You can fool them around, laugh at them, treat them with less respect than the present government, but they still walk around the place with their heads held up high. Yesterday university celebrated its 90th anniversary, students and teachers alike were given a day off. I wouldn’t put my money on betting that the celebration was anything more than a dolorous event. Their wages are 2 times less the amount they were last year, they didn’t get paid any money for July and August. Many have left because their pensions are greater than their wages, even more since the pensions of working seniors have been decreased.

I was told that there has always been a tradition to treat professors to opera, theatre or concert on the university’s anniversary. How many tickets do you think they received this year? Four. Four to be shared among all the teachers from the faculty of modern languages. So much for treating teachers with respect.  Save me all the talks about economic situation and everyone having their share of misery. This entry is not about being miserable, but prevailing. Not bending, not giving up one’s  principles. They are supposed to be the guides and enlighteners of our youth; they hardly ever complain.

Lately I can’t bring myself to stop wondering about one thing or another. In this moment I wonder whether Latvians have been capable of enduring so much because we hardly ever complain and resist. Or is it exactly the reason why we have to endure in the first place?

Covering hands in sticky, sweat juice while cutting pears into small pieces, then laughing with mouthfull of apple cake and stumbling over  unknown objects, invisible in the autumn night, when taking a washbasin full of unfinished  pear-red bilberry’s jam to the fridge in our house. That is what I love about autumn.

My fingers are trying to move as quietly as they can, while there is filming in progress just behind the door. It is left half-closed so that the light from the camera dances in my eyes. There is no word cuter than Latvian ‘’sauleszaķis” (Latvian for light reflection), well, with the exception being only ”bunny hug” , which, as I learned yesterday means nothing more than an ordinary hoodie. Does calling one’s sweatshirt a bunny hug makes it feel more warm and less lonely? Probably.

People. They laugh, they cry, they are being bitchy, lovely, saints and sinners and occasionally one can’t seem to have enough solitude. Inside we are all the same, craving to be above ordinary, to have meaning, to be the best. I wonder, on days like this, what it would be like to live in a world where everyone is as they see themselves. Superheroes. Villains. Drop-dead gorgeous drama queens.  Cool beyond words and Hollywood movies.

Would it feel different?

You can walk into a room and spot them. They seem fine when you talk to them but every now and again, across the room, you catch them looking off into the distance at an invisible point that maybe, they once reached. They laugh a little different. They hesitate a little more. Now they know what it feels like. And something about their eyes when they listen to music says

“Turn it up until my ears bleed. Let it be the last thing I hear.”

… and i am writing here mostly because i feel the need to let you know that i am ok (that is, if you are worrying, which i hope you were not). i know i am quiet and all, but it is jut because i am dead busy (never understood how can dead be busy, but what do i know. never tried to make business with one).

it is hilarious how one  can be running against time already in their second academic week. oh, well, could have been worse. i think.

in the mean time, be sure to visit chai’s page,  she should have some interesting stuff from uk. and i will let you know when you can congratulate me for becoming an expert of snicket’s mock-gothic works.

enjoy fresh apples and be thankful, kids, none of this is permanent.

Now I understand why I can’t stand cute talks about ponies, love and raspberry jam. It runs in the family.

You might remember my very unfortunate attempt to make myself a beautiful jewelery box. Well, I did manage to organize my stuff all the same and finishing the box in question wasn’t as hard and painful as I thought it to be. Lovely, isn’t it?

And the lamp below is not my idea altogether.  I found a reference on tumblr and here is the original designer. So all the credits goes to her together with my thanks for finding a purpose for the useless heap of cassettes I had in my room. Originally I was very much in thought of putting it up in place of my orange ceiling lamp, but my  family persuaded me otherwise by convincing me that it looked rather boyish (Oh, well, my manly side must have a say time after time ), so I put it on my desk with a candle in it.

What have you been up to lately?

I never liked any of my cosmetic bags, so I decided to make a storage box instead. This is the inside of my very beautiful box (I used the one where my funny Chinese phone was delivered in).

And this is the outside (you can see from the way I am holding it that some parts are still wet). I love it. The plastic leafs were originally white, but nitro lacquer (or whatever it is called in English) makes tricks with colors, and this time I am very pleased. Golden leafs are much better than plain white.

Then I decided needed new storage box for my jewelry. So I put some 3 shoe boxes together, and ….

Fail.

“I am becoming a vegetable,” he said after 2 minutes of talking about his almost dead father, sick nephew and exams. “I don’t feel anything anymore.”

“That’s because you are becoming stronger,” I really didn’t know how to answer my ex-brother. He just described my emotions, though we hadn’t met for months. And I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about him.

Are we supposed to feel or is it a luxury nobody can afford anymore?

It was a Sunday morning; rain slowly soaked my clothes and washed away my face.  When I started to walk home, bag with CookieCrisps clattered in perfect unisone with the dripping rain.

Just walk away from it.

polariod by emilie