In My Father’s Hand

Turning the page

Isn’t it weird how an assignment always evolves really slowly up until the point where your text grows over to the second page – when everything suddenly just glides, and you take over page after page, just to get you stuck with a lot of rewriting and shortening in the end? The only problem is that to get into that flow, and eventual process of rewriting, you have to get past the first page. And that, my friend, exactly in the last line before a new page is opening, is where I am stuck at the moment…

The Book of Lost Things

…is a book written by John Connolly that is sitting on a shelf in this room, waiting to be read. I usually find, however, that there are a lot of things waiting to be read around here – for example vast amounts of paperwork made up from days without a computer to write on, but with a need to express myself somehow. Oh, how many thoughts have I got on scraps and bits of paper, hidden as book-marks, in between serious notes from the university and loaded up in heaps with other not-so-interesting thoughts that needed somewhere other than my little head to stay the night… I have friends who’ll have poems bubbling up inside them when they’re sitting on a plane and have nothing but the bags we all know to write on. For my part, I am usually not blessed with such high-cultural inspiration, and will therefore bore the world with the freaky and not-so-freaky ongoings in my mind. But – if only to prove myself a tiny bit of kindness – I will spare you of a rewrite of all my vacation- and train-wonderings. I have lots of them, but I really believe their view should mostly be limited to the inside of a drawer… And then, since I don’t really keep a diary or a journal, in a couple of years I will have a whole Drawer of Lost Things, that will take me to some (I imagine) quite different places than Connolly can =)

Urges

What is this strange urge that sometimes surfaces during a ride on the bus, to press the stop-button just to make the bus stop without someone wanting to get on or off? It doesn’t serve any purpose other than being a mildly interesting way of testing the bus driver’s temper (or anger-limit). Perhaps it connects, somehow, to the feeling I sometimes had in cars as a child, wondering what would happen if I pushed the door open on the highway. I sometimes even felt I had to lock the door (and I did it most of the times), just to make sure some strange power didn’t made me act on the impulse, throwing the door open and I for some reason (though I always wore my seat belt) would be sucked or thrown out of the opened door.

I think I may have had a number of weird ideas like that one. And the one with the stop-buttons. I have also wondered about what would happen if I actually dared to pull an emergency brake, but then again I have never actually acted on any such crazy idea, no matter how innocent pressing a little red button would be.

But where did the imagination go? Or the fear? For couldn’t it really be just some absurd fear of falling from a moving object that made my subconsciousness try to act it’s way through such an incident? I mean, we’ve heard a lot of arguments on why violent computer games are good, because they allow their players to act out fantasies without damaging anything (or anyone!) in “the real world” – didn’t someone say the same about fantasies? Surely there have been less of these urges as I’ve grown older? I no longer have a strange “need” to open the door in a moving car, I no longer feel like jumping over some gap or other just to show someone (or myself) that I can. Or have there really been less? Perhaps they have just changed their nature, stopped concerning material things and decided to care more about the results on tests and exams, or the number in rankings? Maybe what was once a child wondering what would happen and who would react most if a door was thrown open, is now a (so-called) adult, trying to figure out what happens or who would react to this or that road in life taken, or results achieved?

Summer

Summer has usually been a time of relaxation for me – up until now. All of a sudden I’m supposed to be this grown-up student who needs to work (almost) all summer just to afford my rent, and who has to decide which parent / summer house to visit in the limited amount of vacation I eventually got. What a change from earlier years, when I could stay for weeks in one place and then go on to spend another couple of weeks somewhere else! But well. I guess I’ll have to grow up one day, and realize that the endless summer holiday is for little people only…

Hello world!

I guess I’m supposed to write something about why I believe my thoughts belong on the Internet and why people ought to read them, however I don’t think that a long post regarding why people should read my blog would make that big a difference. If you want to read it, that’s great, if not: thanks for stopping by!