Part One

To celebrate the first fifty entries in this blog, I'll write the 50th in two parts, but not because of the incredible amount to write on. I've been lazy and tired and just unable to sit down and write a proper post, and, even now, when the pressure has been increasing for about a week, it is five minutes to 4am and I just had a date for about 9 hours, during which I got drunk and sobered up and walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door, actually, to fall down in my sisters old bed (as my room is a fucking refrigerator).

But, seriously now, my stereomood favorites sometimes surprise me pleasantly indeed.

You know what, fuck it, the entry will be in more parts, because now I want to explore Dark Dark Dark. My future topics will not only include the regular descriptions of the semi-adventurous life, but also the long-planned essay on The Kills, my extended opinion on the "journalists" of the Latvian newspaper Diena and an article that I might just send to Diena just to show them how much more work should be put into their ridiculously flawed pages.

A picture would be nice, I guess.

Well, nothing special, but a picture it is, and I was in Stockholm and we had nightly walks through the city, while I was smoking my life away, while our legs were killing us, while my girlfriend was angry at me for going across the sea even though I sort of told her I wouldn't, when life still made sense, when a "date" would not mean meeting a girl and walking through parks, cafes and icy streets, but rather another day in the living room chair eating noodles and watching cat videos. Yes, I'm nostalgic as fuck tonight, that's what happens in nights like this.

EDITED 01.01.2013.
Fuck the other parts, seriously.

Resolutions

The goals set for longer periods are usually left until the last moment or just cancelled at all. So I'll try to do a sequence of smaller challenges over January:

First week: one article written each day on whatever subject, >200 words;

Second week: >20 pages read each day from a book not read before;

Third week: >1h each day spent on doing either melodica, bass, electronic or percussion.

Fourth week: if all previous resolutions are fulfilled, celebrate it with a date or make a party.

I'm sick but ready to continue the weird adventures that I'll describe at some point.

Wait

Yesterday I wanted to write my thoughts on how unreliable people are, by only making precise appointments a day or two in advance, and always double-check on facebook or by phone, whether it's still on. Or maybe this is my problem specifically, because I tend to do that a lot, and I don't use calendars. 

Today I woke up two minutes before I had to be in the center. Just enough time to call and cancel.

As a first year student, I am obliged to remind you, that Christmas season holidays are commercialized and capitalists leech the money out of everyone, but, honestly, I couldn't really care less, since I've heard enough from the fellows in the course, where half of the people use the not-so-humble Apple computers. These are the hypocritical modern hippies that hardly solve anything. 

I apologize for the raging on a Christmas day. That's probably because the time spent here is so awesome and I can't be angry with anything else.

Here's me singing Christmas songs:

Bring it

So I'm listening to electronic music and getting pumped up just from being comfortable. The bus is incredibly warm with wireless (electricity sockets aren't working though), I have warm clothes, just ate breakfast, lunch and dinner compressed into an apple, chocolate, snickers and water, and it's hard to hold the excitement for going to Riga.

More pictures, because I'm in a good mood.

Can't get this out for weeks.

Did you forget

This time I can't wait. Since living here, in Riga I seem to be exclusive and rare, and people tend to try and meet me, and it's not that weird, since what else I would do in Riga if not meet people - unlike Tallinn.
"Hey, did you do the assignment? You know, the one where you had to work, not invite me to get shitfaced?"
But, yes, with school sort of finished with a passing grade, tomorrow I get back to hometown with a couple of bags and go straight to a concert. On Saturday, I accidentally just booked the whole night for drinking. Another date is waiting to be set, lovely people are waiting to be met, and now I'm doing accidental rhymes, which I couldn't do three hours ago when trying to write a song.

Seriously though, this place starts to bring me down and my plans for January better work the fuck out. Why would I ever assume that friends come easily and automatically to me.

Another worrisome thing would be my DIY solution to the fuse overload problem that might burn the house down.

Let's get personal. In July or August, I had a fantasy of me dancing with a specific girl to a specific song, right before engaging physically. This would have stayed as just another fantasy, just like the ones where I play on stage with The Kissaway Trail, if not for that time a few weeks back, when it happened. Same girl, almost the same setup, and the remix of the fucking song I imagined, purely incidentally. However, the priorities had changed and nothing happened. Fuck you, destiny, fuck you, dreams, I chose what to do and it worked.

Also, fuck everyone who ever mentioned the end of the world, this one is so hyped up, that some people are probably going to hurt others because everyone is batshit crazy.

I wish I could just choose one genre over others and like everything from it.

These are my legs. I'm on a stage.

Late

So, as the title suggests, I am quite late, but there's always time to post pretty pictures, right?

I've ran out of money, and if somebody doesn't like the MS Paint-ing that I do for Christmas for them, they are capitalistic assholes (that's the only defense I have, since I just consumed alcohol 5 days in row last week). Let the most awkward, cold and pretty celebration begin. 

Christmas song.

Picture.

right it

1 2 3 (To the wonderful person, who claimed to listen to all of the songs, the 3rd one was probably posted earlier, don't worry about that one)

And, as James Murphy said: "Oh, I don't know, oh, where to begin".

While checking Wikipedia for the correct name of the guy, I found out that he recorded most of the instruments for albums. And I thought Greenwood and Tiersen were special, haha:

James Murphy – vocals, drums, bass, percussion, claps, organ, programming, drum machine, synths, guitar, effects, keyboards, piano, clavinet, wurlitzer piano, snaps, omnichord, vocoder

Jesus, and he also writes the fucking music.

So, I might begin with the the concert. Or the soundcheck, yes. I go on the stage and realize my amp is a piece of shit, my mic is electrocuting me when I touch it with my lip and there's no power cable to the keyboard that I haven't seen in my life and have no idea how to work with. The soundcheck goes just how good you'd think it can go with these conditions.

So I started to drink the wine early.

And I was not the only one by a long shot, some douchey drunk teen was thrown out half an hour after the guests started to come.

The back stage is filled with a giggling girl-band talking in Estonian about drinking, dope and whatnot, while me and Margus (bass) stand in the fucking darkest corner and eat our Rimi-bought food.

***

First two bands finish playing and some asshole is hyping up Sander (vocals/guitar/organizer of the whole event etc.), even though we are not quite ready. I go on the stage and realize that the shitty amp is silent. what. switch on. no light. what. "SANDER" "What?" "IT'S NOT WORKING" "WHAT". Everything is delayed, while we set up another amp - yet another piece of equipment I've never tried, oh jolly.

Minor errors, but every song flies by, I hardly see the audience and thank god that the songs are so easy. Except for drums, I've no idea what others are doing, since my monitors are sky-high.

"Which is the next one?"
"Jet."
But that's the last one, what the hell? So I take a gulp of wine roughly the size of a small pond and pick up the tambourine.

And while there was nothing new in the performance that I had not experienced in rehearsals, I am now convinced I'll never sing that song again in such setting. Disappointing, honestly. Two years ago, my vocal range was so much narrower, thus the song was actually forced out - not unlike the original. But today I think that my first go at it was so much more valuable than this one, even though this band is on a whole different level.

Only positive feedback, people considered us to be headliners, encore.
Wine, vodkacoke, conversations, smokes, taxi not coming, cold as fuck, hitchhike to center.

I might have missed some parts, but I think we ended up in Hell Hunt drinking Latvian beer, just my likable hispter Lithuanian and me, then went to this weird place, and I have no clue what was the name or location, because at that point the starts were spinning and, you know how that goes.

So we end up somewhere upstairs, where a 30-something woman approaches me with some great pick-up lines, like: "Your hair is so soft and beautiful and brown," and "What the fuck is with those pimples, your face is so ugly," while her other Estonian friends tell me she's "a fucking nutcase" and tell her to "shut the fuck up". In the midst of all that, I find a 29-year old first grade teacher (maths, Estonian, hand-works, all the bunch), who also plays the flute, so I invite him to a band that is currently in the idea stage. Could be worse.

A dinner at 3 am next to the train station, and I fall down in the bed of a girl who seems rather interesting, even though she is thousands of kilometers away while I make this judgement - the typical student table completely covered with alcohol bottles as if an installation, weird quotes on the wall, a broken bottle as an ashtray, generally strange shit.

And a super fast wrap of this blog entry, since it's only like 7 hours till my lesson and I need to sleep, wash, eat, write an email begging for money, pack and, ah.

I wake up, write a blog post on the only available computer without Latvian characters, edit it through phone, go to a fancy restaurant, have the best lunch since Latvia, buy whisk(e)y, lime, coke, get more drunk with Vytautas, go to pick up my lost glove, have tea with a Finn whose sole wish is to have an insecure eagle, run to the filming location, help people, get a car directly to my house, and I just realized that I still have one uncovered topic - the BFM party. But, seriously, no, let me sleep for once.

Pictures, though:

I know I posted this today in the linked blog entry already, but I love it, so deal with it.

This cat was found in the weird apartment. Oh, and if I figure out what to do about the nonexistent shower, I'll live there as well.

From the set today. We might have played too much with the fog machine. "Why would a women like that just walk calmly in a burning house?"

who

My morality code is twisting: the shared home internet network is clogged by the neighbors, so I decide to have my revenge by downloading 28gb of Doctor Who.

Tomorrow might be great and might be terrible - there's a party for the whole faculty - either super fun or super awkward. I hope I get charmingly drunk but not enough to dance.

sad side notes

Sometimes I see some people on the internet and get desperately sad over them, just because I've met them, they are awesome, but I never got a chance to be friends with them. Either the affection is one-sided or, no, actually, that probably is the only reason.

At least 10 people. I like people too much.

yesssss

Not a single fucking alarm is working for me, what the fuck. I can't shave properly because there is not enough light in the bathroom. Alright, the previous problem only comes once every 10 days.

When I got on the bus and sat down, I was happily listening to Nico Fucking Vega and staring in nothingness right in front of me. Two girls got on the next stop and stood right in front of me. I can't look forward anymore, since they'd think I'm staring them down, I sit on the aisle side of chairs, so can't look outside windows, people everywhere else so I look directly down on my fucking hands as if I were ashamed. Well, I was, since other people don't usually have a problem with riding a full bus. And, as I continue to stare down and listen to music, I don't notice the lady next to me wants to get off.

And in school everything suddenly turned out alright, I enjoyed the sociology class yet again, despite the moment when "The lecturer is married." "Shit."

For some reason, I got overly happy, probably just because I talked to people I like, which is always nice. The coffee was a mistake that made my excitement escalate out of hand, but, no worries, at least I was able to do a homework almost before deadline. 

The happiness has ran out, now even the "happy" stereomood playlist is unhelpful. Seriously, how is this song happy?

A concert tomorrow that seems absolutely unappealing to me. And I have to wear suit pants on the way to school already, but the classy shoes wouldn't survive the snow, so there will be the fugly combination of suit pants and winter boots. I hate being ugly. 

So here's me being all 17 and shit.

title

Lots of wine and rehearsals. Some heartaches, loads of plans, no cash, stereomood is empty, blisters from guitar.

Not dead, but getting tired, will write next week.

Gotta love my receding hairline.

Relief

Since I haven't left my house for a while, except for smoking breaks, real life conversations have slipped by, and I have to substitute them with arguing with an invisible opponent on the interwebs. I found "The Rules of a Gentleman", a heavy list of over 2 hundred entries. This might be the reason I'm down on my luck with women.



No.3  - Never talk about other girls infront of her.
I had a girlfriend who expected this of me, and she was also an unreasonably jealous bitch. Also, if this is still a rule after the age of 30, the relationship is probably fucked up, and both parties are probably cheating on each other.

No.4  - Learn to play the guitar for her.
"Learn to play the one song she likes at the moment for her." Then realize that the performance after one months playing is very awkward, stop learning the guitar and sell it for 10% of the original value a year later.

No.7  - If she can’t sleep, read her a bedtime story.
When I couldn't sleep and wanted sex, you didn't agree, so why don't you just take your sleeping pills.

No.8  - If you get in a fight with her and she starts crying, just stop and hold her.
"If I'm stupid, it's your fault."

No.9  - Never force her to do anything.
How is this not mutual by default?

No.10 - Call her beautiful, especially when she least expects it.
Like, when she poops?

No.13 - Always make the first move.
I love how this list tries to make rules as if women are somehow more special and important than men, yet visualizes them as fucking incompetent of performing basic human interactions.

No.14 - Never lie to her, she’ll find out.
Again, how is this not mutual by default?

No.15 - Kiss her when she’s sleeping.
Rape

No.16 - Sing to her no matter how terrible your voice is. ..she’ll like it.
No, she won't

No.17 - When she’s fighting with someone, defend her even when you don’t think she’s right.
That's how society gets dumb, but whatever, had sex, right?

No.23 - Never go through her messages.
Because she's cheating on you. This rule is just to make it your fault if you find out.
Also, "No.230- Don’t flip out when your girlfriend wonders who you’re with or what you’re doing. It means she cares and she’s actually afraid to lose you to someone else. "

No.26 - Kiss her in the rain.
How did this become romantic, I don't get it, that's one of the most inconvenient times to kiss.

No.28 - Stay on the call with her even if she fell asleep.
What? Why? Well, alright, but you're not getting that birthday gift you wanted, since I don't have any money left.

No.30 - Give her piggyback rides.
The offer alone will cause an outbreak of "Noooo, I'm too fat, yes I am, don't lie to me, you always lie to me."

No.32 - Apologize when you’re wrong.
Also, apologize when you're right, since she'll just start to cry anyway.

No.34 - Boobs or butts doesn’t matter.
Muscles or label clothing don't either.

No.39 - Don’t swear.
Cussing and hitting is a birthright to women, since they're more emotional and hurting guys is between "cute" and "gurl, u so confident!"

No.41 - Always be the stronger one.
Doesn't comply with other rules, but whatever.

No.42 - Pay for dinner.
Because fuck you.

No.44 - Be a good listener.
Shut up, if you want sex.


No.47 - Don’t use her.
But pay for the dinner, if you want to keep the relationship going.

No.52 - Hang out with her friends too, not just yours.
Even though they only think of you as an asshole since that thing that you did last week.

No.54 - She’s more important than videogames.
And he is more important than chick flicks, shitty books and terrible magazines, so what's the point?

No.55 - Don’t make a promise if you’re gonna break it.
Unless you have a vagina. Seriously, why are these rules listed specifically under mans duties?

No.56 - If she slaps you, you probably deserved it.
Because women are always right. If you slap her, I hope you like prison buttsex.

No.58 - Never slap her, even if it’s just in a joking way.
WHAT

No.62 - Never insult her, even if you’re joking around.
Not even a third, and I'm done, sorry.

The mighty internet wins again.

How does it

Just when I thought music had ended.

Not much going on. I finished a rather rewarding job, missed school again, realized that I'm low on money.

And then, what the fuck, I get a message from Latvia, which makes me all funny inside. Seriously, I'm laughing, and I can't do anything about it. I shouldn't be allowed to talk to girls, because I can't stop falling in love with them.

Moar Kills:

super indeed

Stereomood does not have songs tagged with "not shit", and it all sounds like shit tonight.

I spent 8 hours in the studio yesterday, despite being excused after I had  done every part. Another girl had too much as a director and cried.

Then there's this need to express the things and I can't imagine an appropriate presentation here, and I want more friends in Tallinn.

Music starts to piss me off.

Two girls of interest, both connected to the picture of Allison (stolen from The Kills facebook page). One of them is out of my league yet keeps my hopes up, the other one, besides anything else, has a boyfriend.

Croak

Did I share this already?

Some dreams alright, with a personally touching story that's easy to overcome after I wake up. Like the one I had about the one-of-several summer loves the previous night. That was pretty much Skins. But the one before that, where I'm involved with a fucked up cult, I'd only like to know, what triggered that, what the fuck was the brain doing, when it showed me that. Might be on the same level, where I kill a non-existent brother and divide him up in pieces.

Paragraph removed on 12.12.2012. Every time someone new starts reading the blog, I re-read the most recent entries, just in case. Just in case someone is taking my text too seriously, I removed a few sentences, for peaceful purposes.

Working as a director and helping other directors is messy, requires multitasking skills (which I hardly have) and is also very fun, despite panicking over minor details (I mean, I checked the picture two times already, but what if it's the wrong one, then it would fuck everything up and people will hate me) and working with the first broadcast completely unprepared.

My favorite sweater is a few sizes smaller, thanks, laundry lady. Is this a revenge for the odd number of mismatching socks that I always give you to sort?

The costly drum lessons are not what I expected at all, but still seem a lot of fun.

I liked the party, and some people liked my singing. Some French girl was impressed by my French wine, yesss. Also starting to lose hope to make up my mind about relationships.

Three errors

Somewhat hyperactive from the lack of sleep, I talked way too much, creating an inner chaos. While I listen to the advice, I forget it immediately, as in, after five minutes, I just ask too much.

I wrote a story for a homework, but it was in past tense, while it should have been in present tense. The teacher just said that, whatever, read it how it is. So I start to read and somehow automatically switch to present tense after the first paragraph. Then a paranoia makes me believe that the used vocabulary is too complicated and no one understands me, so I also switch to synonyms. Making the whole presentation ear-bleeding bad, with terribly timed pauses and hesitations. I liked the story as it is, coming up with the whole idea and presentation smoothly, and then I ruin it.
Fuck it, will work on it.

Then I, without checking the invitations, ask a couple whether they are coming tonight as well: "Sorry, come where?"
Awkward as fuck.
"I guess we weren't invited."
Fuck fuck fuck.

"You should stop asking."

Yes, I should. Especially, if I made the same mistake two days ago already.

And a few moments later, I see her in the most unsociable mood imaginable, I know she hasn't slept, yet I insist on asking, whether she's fine, if she's obviously not.

"Stop asking so I don't have to answer."

"Yes, sorry."

This all happened within a single hour, and my otherwise high-on-being-busy day has been turned to shit.

Awkward penguin day through and through.

Apparently, I missed the chance to work on my editing homework, as all the Mac's are taken today. Technically, this is my only chance to rest for the next 8 hours or so. Yet, even if I had a chance to lie down, too much stress and, now, guilt. The fucking conscience is driving me crazy for the past years and I can't cope with that.

Choir: 18:30-20:30
Party: 20:00-undefined
Filming: 10:00-15:00
Lecture: 15:00-16:00
Drums: 17:00-18:00
Guaranteed sleep, I think.
School project: 10:00-18:00

And somewhere in the middle, I still have to do the editing.

I hope the wine is good, and, since I think highly of my powers and assume that I ruined my opportunity to share it today completely, the evening should be alright.

Good luck to me and everyone.

oh oh

I love alarms going off as I'm still working.

And I love to be wrong sometimes. Earlier today, sorry, yesterday I was once again being angry at myself for the crippled creativity that's hard to overcome. In the last three hours I wrote a story. A homework for a teacher that I don't want to anger, so much motivation comes from that, but still. 

In less than two hours, my Wednesday will begin and I have no scheduled time for eating or resting at all. School, editing, possible break, choir, party, hopefully some sleep at night, filming interviews, possible break, school, drum lesson. Definitely sleep.

From the dark corners of 4chan.org:

fuck you, chess

Not only I'm imagining arguments, I actually expect and plan them. Thankfully, anger can partly be diverted by winning assholes from India in chess over internet.

While, just as predicted in South Park, students around me start to get angry, or guilty, towards capitalism, I was just disappointed in a different way - it's impossible to make tea with the mass-produced supermarket-provided black currant jam, probably because of the bullshit ingredients that disappear when water is poured over. I realize that the preservatives do something good to the product, but the homemade jam is what I need right now.

Not only I recall all the conversations, but the mere sight of her from about 10 meters away made me feel devastated . Falling for someone in a relationship is alright, but this is just miserable. I even jumped in my seat when I heard her say some remark in a casual tone somewhere behind me, struggled the instinct to turn my head as well, fuck, this was easier three years ago. And if I fuck something up, hardly anyone to turn to, so the inner fight continues. The negative conclusions are more than the positive, or even acceptable ones; there's always risk, when trying for the good outcome, and I've lost major tactical advantage twice now. If this ain't a prime example of an inner drama, I don't know what is.

In other news, I forgot that I've homework to do, should try it now.

what is power, what is responsibility

Yeah, no, I sort of missed out on school too much. However, the newborn band actually seems alright and we're promised free beer, which is a nice thing to look forward to. Oh, and a party day after tomorrow, where I finally get to drink my wine and play the guitar. And maybe I won't fail the assignment where I'm supposed to film with this huge camera and a tripod that's the size of a tree.

I vi III IV
To me, that has to be the most powerful chord sequence that I know. I had heard a song a few times with hardly any emotions, then Fight Club kicked it in completely a year or two ago. The only song I remember with the sequence. I have not heard any cover that diminishes the sound at all.

It's our last song, but what a song!
Glowbug
Trampled by Turtles

Trying to be strong and neutral about people, but, come on, this is getting ridiculous. Thank you, 16-year old me, for learning the guitar, at least some hopes to make friends this way.

Also, my tobacco rationing is worse than in fucking 1984. The only tobacco is with the humidity of dusty cookies from last era, the best rolling papers are still receipts. In fact, I did not go for a smoke tonight, because an article in BBC suddenly revealed that, what the shit, smoking does cause damage to the brain activity. And I thought I was safe.

clever ain't wise

My new meaning of desperation is frantically going through old plastic bags in hopes to find a check, after the terrible realization there are no rolling papers. Not sure if it's very safe to smoke a check, but it has to be better than other paper I have here. Well, my notebook brags about the recycled paper used for sheets, but it is noticeably thicker.

Trust nobody. I trusted myself a week ago, when someone asked me for a rolling paper and I gave the whole package, since I thought there's more at the apartment. Nope.

Edit.

Not good at all, oh my.

You're so clever but you're not very nice

I am sick and I am talking to myself.

Most of the day was spent considering whether or not to drink the wine I was planning to invest in establishing deeper relationships with others, the rest of the day was the realization that I don't have a bottle opener. 

Yesterday we drank wine in university's cafe, and we talked about whether it's better to make rational or spontaneous decisions. I just stopped to care at the point where they sort of beat me with arguments. Sort of, because my original opinion sort of blended in with theirs, all was blurred and the only thoughts coming to my mind were "fuck it, this ain't a discussion anymore".

Nothing else for now, but I suppose there's gonna be a lot after the band practices start.

shit, what

So, more or less officially, I got a band, probably short term, but alright. And now the drummer and bassist are discussing covering The Rasmus. They have been in my "bands that you liked 5 years ago" category, so I immediately started to get suspicious. Someone said "No Fear". (Remember the 4 chords?) I immediately objected by saying it's too depressive, but was argued against with "the lyrics maybe, but the overall sound is perfect" what the fuck, I'm listening it now, and there's nothing magical, the same 4 powerchords and a lot of boring. Take the lyrics away and fucking nothing.

And I was so excited.

I want wine and I don't want the exam and I want to be healthy and finish the song and I want people to not be assholes. Too much to ask, right, right.

New York I love you but you're bringing me down

I've had the most extensive range of different encounters with girls in the last few days. And one of them is a very special case because I've given up all my objective arguments just to try in helping her, because of how much I've fallen for her as a friend. Not sure if she considers me a friend, but she drank (too much) with me and danced away to a terrible dj.

Fuck, no, can't type, next time.

Buses and denials

Eight days ago I was going to Riga from Tallinn with a bus. So was another gentleman, who was about 40 and Russian.

Interruption. I happened to glance through the window to a green field just in time to see a handsome cat hunting. White with ginger spots. 

This fellow passenger was on the bus for about 4 hours. Got on sober, got drunk, disturbed nearly every other person personally, yelled, listened "quality" music on his phone's speakers, fell asleep to a song, snored, woke up, barfed in a plastic bag some three rows behind me and went to smoke in the toilet.

Four fucking hours this guy was being the worst asshole in the world, and he seemed to have much experience in the field.

Current bus is boringly good. The stewardess is polite and speaks Latvian with the cutest accent. There's wifi and a power socket, not usual for this company. Half the seats are empty, and I bought the two-way ticket for less than what one-way ticket costs. 

However, the fact that I have this much bus experience lately is hardly acceptable. Torn between two cities, I have spent incomprehensible amounts of money, wasted the time I should have been studying, fucked my health up completely, and only developed social life in Riga, even though my close future is revolving around Estonia. Yesterday I was told not to worry about the social, educational and financial aspects, and I wish I could be that guy who doesn't. 

In fact, I'd love not to analyse every single aspect of the daily life, it would be great to listen to music without picturing the performance or  predicting every note, while dancing the way I feel and not worrying about stance, bending knees, decreasing the distance between my elbow and torso, occasional spinning and so on. And I'm quite sure that relationships with other people is hardly decipherable to the detail, but I just don't have the magical ability to do so. This might have been caused by the lonesome period until I was about 15.

A few weeks ago, I was 1.5h late to a party. I see people already eating and drinking and playing a game, not a single free space in the circle, so I sit outside like an asshole, completely sober and drinking sangria as fast as I can afford without looking like a fucking bum. The hostess comes up to me and asks, if I like weed. As we're doing that in the bathroom, I'm thinking, whether it's normal, trying to figure out the link between us, the reason I was tripping for a couple of hours. 

So now I'm just hoping that the instinctive conversations, interactions and dickjokes I got away with in my Latvian clique will somehow transfer to the new environment, this is too hard to do consciously.

***

Yesterday a celebration of Latvian independence day was held in Nõmme, and I managed not to fuck up too much while singing. Then I tried to get drunk to stop the negativity towards other people. It really hurt my nerves when I was trying to keep the comments on some people inside of my head. Honestly, that would be my truthful and reasonable opinion, but would still ruin the evening (since the unnameable subject always claims I said something in a wrong way). Hard to believe I actually stayed polite most of the time. 

***

I am afraid of the moment when my heart breaks. Realistically, I've abandoned hope, yet I feel a connection and see a clear pattern of matching values. And, emotionally, she has never given a clear "no" (not that I've asked, haha). 

And in the likely scenario, I'll get drunk and make a move and will be rejected as fuck. How do you win in this case.

Lovestory

Misfits

I think I shouldn't have stayed here for so long, and the, quite precisely, 100 euros spent in less than a week, excluding food, are worrying me. I have less than that to survive on for two weeks.

This guy makes me happy tonight.

However, the TV series Misfits fuck me up. Some characters are too lovable. And then they die in the same fucking episode, well, fuck you too.

I got a date yesterday. I like to imagine that as a date despite the "nothing" that happened or could have happened. It's nice to talk to people, especially if they are pretty and can give sensible answers, and agree to drink and smoke with me.

And I was stood up today by another date. Whatever, I still made the soup, just as intended, and it was fucking awesome, so not even mad.

YES I AM THE GUY WHO TAKES PICTURES OF FOOD NOW

NO EXCUSE NO CAUSE

shift is hard to reach, pressing caps lock on specific letters takes time.

9h ago i ventured in the old town with some friends, one ultimate goal - to take pretty pictures so i seem cool to the fellow students in estonia. somehow, my proposal to "fuck it, let's drink" worked flawlessly, and at about 11pm we ended up in a small flat  drinking wine and playing guitar and this:

and that was incredible. an honest night with conversations, music playback, playing and recording, backrubs, smokes and drinks, oh. then i ask for a final cigarette, since i've ran out of mine 5h earlier and leave. the matches don't fucking work. let me just say that my mom bought a house in the countryside, it is nowhere near finished, therefore, for the past 5 years we've been practicing to make food on a fireplace. if i can make a fire in wind with a single match, i should be able to light a fag on a calm latvian autumn night. i wasn't, every match broke.

i make it home, open my facebook application and see a picture and it breaks my heart. three days grace is a terrible thing to quote, so i won't.

human interaction is hard. why do i fall in love with an outer league, why doesn't it stop, why did i built up a character i am not able to use to be happy? convincing myself for almost 4 years now that music is my passion and then it hardly means anything, because it is not exactly her field.

i am just drunk enough to roll out of the bed, that's great.

and if you assholes submit another university homework without capital letters or with through-out whining about not understanding, i will
do nothing, because that's how weak i am tonight.

one of my favorite readers said she has listened to every single song i've posted in blogs. that fills my heart with sunshine.

You'll die, don't die

The ambassadors masturbating in each other's faces was terrible. The event, supposedly celebrating Latvian independence, was just fancy standing around, president calling the museum a library, French ambassador singing so very off without realizing, shitty jokes all around.

Seriously, the Latvian president, who only performs about 3 useful functions maybe 5 times during his term, a representative figure of a country, should be able to give just a little bit better speeches than what he did today. Nevertheless, the next guy comes to the microphone and says "thank you, we are all definitely encouraged by your kind words" what the fuck, ambassador, you stand for a state, not for my opinion of a mediocre speech. 

And then assaulted verbally by another old lady, who was incredibly nice and very typically overtalkative. I'd love it in other cases, but if I'm saying that I could not care less for "cosmic energies" and how am I affected by "yellow" because I'm born in 1993, then old people should take the hint as well. I wish her all the best, but next time I'll leave 30 minutes earlier than I did today. 

There was a "jam" at the nice Living Room cafe today, rather disappointing. The band, I heard they're from a music school, started off by playing covers. Everybody performed professionally, but the song choices were absolutely not my taste. And female vocal (great voice, of course) is unbearable for my ears in this light jazz genre. 

A sudden realization. I'm not going to school tomorrow, because I can't bear to wake up and feel shitty and not have any food and my lips have exploded in the cold and I'm too tired to wash the dishes for 2,5 days now and no money at all. As I am able to type with my eyes closed, there's a chance I'll fall asleep while talking, that'd be great.

Bye

It is all the fucking same

Many people, actually, millions, have seen and heard how The Axis of Awesome perform dozens of songs to the same combination of 4 chords. I noticed the significantly often used pattern about two months before seeing the video, while actively learning songs on my acoustic guitar. Of course, at that point (16 years, I think), I'd rather learn songs people would like to sing with me in parties, and coincidentally, the people I drunk with wanted Zombie, Numb, It's My Life and some other junk. Same chords, alright, but how many are there like that? Lauzto Siržu Dziesma, Christian, 9 Crimes, Crawling, alright, what the fuck. Then I saw The Axis of Awesome doing this and now I'm cursed. The same chords everywhere, every genre, in every key and every rhythm, and I notice every time.

If all the cases were transposed to one key (I will use C major or the parallel key of A minor), the sequence is C-G-Am-F or Am-F-C-G. Now, it doesn't really matter, which chord is the first, because the overall sequence is the same and the same effect is achieved.

Technical details aside, I went through my phone playlist, which contains about 300 songs, and came up with a list of pieces, that I currently listen to, that have the 4 chords hidden somewhere:


Holiday 
Little Talks
Motion Picture Soundtrack (In the chorus)
Scenic World (2nd version)
Sinepes (Par Raimi)
Prom Uz Siltajām Salām (Partly - there's an 8 chord sequence: C-Am-Am-F-C-G-Am-F)
Tavas Mājas Manā Azotē (In the chorus)
Friday I'm In Love (8 chord sequence: C-F-C-G-Am-F-C-G)

Okay, not that bad. However, there is a very similar structure, that replaces the G chord (V) with E or Em (VII or vii). G and Em are very related to each other, 2/3 of the notes for the two chords are the same. Replacing G with Em sounds similar, but creates a rather sad feeling (because it is a minor and minors do that). If it is replaced by E (major), there is one additional note added - G#, forcing the Am to become a harmonic minor.

So, there are 2 new sequences:

C-Em-Am-F = Am-F-C-Em
C-E-Am-F = Am-F-C-E

Of course, this is a stretch of the original idea, but in reality, it is quite possible to replace the G with the Em and vice versa in many cases. If you're thinking "But you can't replace the chords, that's changing the song", that's exactly what my hypocritical guitar teacher once said and I can argue about this for a long time before getting tired.

Here's a list of songs in my phone playlist, that correspond to the new structures:

Covergirl (The instrumental parts in beginning and after chorus)
Empathy
Jeanne (Chorus)
La Redécouverte
Untrust Us
Blue-eyed Matador
Ashes (parts)
Crimewave (8 chord sequence: Am-F-Dm-Em-Am-F-C-Em)
I Belong To You (chorus, starts with E, but the sequence is the same: E-Am-F-C-E-Am-F-C-E)

Of course, there are hundreds of songs like these, RHCP alone have at least 5 of them: Snow, Under The Bridge, Otherside, Dosed, Don't Forget Me. Muse has occasional sequences hidden in New Born and Map Of Your Head. Many techno and electro songs have it as well. Pete Doherty is Fucking Forever to the same background.

Rob Paravonian explored another sequence. Chorus of Hush and Hey Joe use the same chords.

There is not a single problem about this. The trouble starts, when all your songs sound the same, despite varied chord progression, rhythm and tonality. But it is still better than not writing songs at all, which is currently my case. Two songs. What the fuck am I supposed to do with 2 songs.

I am terrible

First of all, why the fuck do people change the profile picture daily, in a social portal, where every slightest change is presented with a public notification to everyone. And there are only like five pictures shifting around. Boredom? Concern about how well the online profile looks like? A call for attention? Alright, the profile has to be decent looking, but choosing the best recent one should not be that fucking difficult.

It is again well over midnight and I am again raging about fucking facebook.

A girl from my class just sent me a message, asking about tomorrows lessons. I would not be able to recognize her on the street. That goes for another third of our class. And I don't even know the names for the majority, that should just not happen. There is going to be at least one case, where this leaves me in an incredibly awkward situation.

I need a fucking drummer right now, my electric guitar has been unplugged since early September and sounds quite sad without an amplifier. Speaking of drums, I might get a drum teacher. From San Francisco. Usually he plays jazz. How cool is that, I am not able to comprehend.

I also drew a comic I'm proud of, but it was a gift and I forgot to take a decent picture of it, so there's only the shitty quality, a cut from a large picture.

TRANSCRIPT: Adventures of a swan.
Duck: Nobody fucking likes you, swan.
THE END

Headache, sociology and collective shame

I was emotionally torn for most of the party yesterday. Shitty sangria, strong weed and likable company made it better, but the evening ended by walking alone for hours and considering the same problem over and over again. An apartment (or at least a safehouse) in the center starts to become a pressing need. I'm thankful to my new Lithuanian friend, who is ready to share a flat next to the university. Oh, and he plays chess, that's a game-changing aspect already.

The complaints about sociology are starting to get unbearable. If you don't understand the text that you're supposed to read and comment on, there's no need for acknowledging it in every other sentence, funny jokes or apologies. Yes, it is difficult, but this is university, you are supposed to work if you want perfect grades. I didn't put that much effort in the homework, submitted it 9 minutes after the deadline, but I did my best, using my past experience and a simple dictionary. I expect an average grade in sociology and I find it sufficient for my self-esteem. Don't blame the teacher, who is very reasonably moved by the subject while still understanding how it is not appreciated by her large audience.

Edited on 5.11.12.

Seven out of thirty-something homework blog posts had whining in the fucking title, like "I have no idea what I wrote about", "How do you analyse it if you don't understand it" and so on. That is not how you do homework for university. The loose "blog entry" form was most probably chosen for you because teacher knew the subject is difficult for you and you don't necessarily have to construct an accurate essay.

Fucking Nõmme, man

I just walked two hours home. I don't know if I could have made it without music and smokes. There was a great party with great people and great conversations. Too bad I'll wake up broken hearted and with sociology to do.

Living rooms

I am still surprised by how I manage to be dull, lazy and apathetic, while actually doing most of the duties I need to.

Listen.

After a hardly satisfying lecture of 20 minutes that we had today, I was introduced to The Bar I was looking for all the time. The atmosphere, location, prices and quality of food and drinks are great and there are guitars lying around for sale. The Living Room Student Cafe. That's where all my money will disappear from now on.

I've triggered the idea about at least 4 separate music projects already. That's too much, but at least I'm busy.

Here is a very dramatic me.

I allow it to get to me

Why the fuck do people claim to "fucking love science", if all they do is post pictures of galaxies, puns and quotes by a)pseudo-scientists or b)scientists who have done work way beyond comprehension of the teen readers. The only "science" part of the fucking facebook page is high school level knowledge, jokes from a sitcom and news articles posted on 9gag. Why would anyone be smug about it? That's not loving science, that is loving to brag about something you never did. I get the joke with "sign sounds like sine", hahahahaha, that makes me better than the others. Never mind that this is basic knowledge everyone was supposed to learn six years before university. You are not special if you do what is required, even if you sort of do it better than others.

If there wasn't an exam in 8 hours, I would really love to argue with myself. The first paragraph was just me trying to get rid of nasty emotions, but, as usual with the cases, it was rather emotional. One facebook page is probably not responsible for the degradation of society and I shouldn't care if people enjoy sharing the posts.

The music is killing me.

War of the worlds

Today I remembered why drinking alone was appealing, I don't really make an ass out of myself in front of others. Hopefully, no permanent damage is done, but you never know.

Somehow I managed to end up stuck with a Russian lady while waiting for the bus, and throughout the bus ride. The music on my playlist seemed incredibly appealing, but I was forced to try to communicate in a language I really don't fucking know well enough. Arguing with my grandmother about whether I'm cold or not is difficult in Latvian, yet alone with a stranger in Russian. Jesus.

Now I've got lots of homework. And I somehow don't care at all. Wish me luck.

Here's another picture of my district, in case you missed the proud presentation on facebook.

you don't fucking say

This morning people woke up to snow, both in Tallinn and Riga. By the time I got out of the bed, others had posted galleries of snow all over facebook and I haven't had breakfast yet.

I went to the shop to find that Latvian cookies "Selga" cost 0.55 euros a package, so I bought 4 of them. That's actually terrible - I did not need them and I don't have a lot of money left, but they were cheap and had Latvian letters on them. Irresponsible as fuck. 

And then I finally went out to take pictures with my tripod, which is nice. I can't understand my urge to be productive after 2am.

This is Riga.

And this is Tallinn.

How am I even so affected

So, apparently this was one of those evenings. Completely sober and I wrote a song, that I'll probably sing when I get drunk, probably to all the people I shouldn't. The dreams messed me up again and now I can't get the problems out of music as well - even without the newborn lyrics, every other phrase in every other song is fucking getting to me.

There's one good thing about today. Somehow I managed a 14 hour sleep, and with my clothes on. I should really meet other people.

If cities were people, Tallinn is an asshole

I was sitting in the bus and translating some marketing text for some extra money, when a thought came to mind: you know, going back to Tallinn does not feel bad at all - I basically got a small job, I'm being responsible enough to come back for a choir class, life is decent and so on.

Then the bus stopped at the terminal, I politely waited for the others to clear the way and went out in the rain, to find my bag in a puddle. The bus driver had the balls to preach in Russian to me about how I should have come sooner (than the fucking 20 seconds that had passed since full stop) and I'm afraid he didn't even understand what I called him in Latvian.

The ATM said I only have 20 euros now, for the rest of the week.

Despite the continuous rain, I took my suitcase, my shoulder bag and the tripod and went off to my bus stop. That's only 30 minutes, I'll be fine with my music in earphones, hood, scarf and a good mood, right? And then every single puddle on the street was the size of an ocean and every single car fucking splashed me head to toe and that was somehow not what I expected.

Now I'm hungry, wet and I missed the fucking choir, which was the whole point of coming here so early.

Inspiration has never gone

If it wasn't for all the various new and interesting things to learn in Tallinn, there are a few reasons for me to live there instead of Riga. I came for about three days and the bus, leaving in 12h, doesn't seem appealing. The autumn here is nice, there are clearly more cats in my district than in Nõmme, the university here doesn't make wine, but is sort of responsible for creating two of my favorite bars of the city, the people fucking get my jokes, there's fussball, my family is feeding me all the time with incredible food (probably, the incredibility is due to a comparison to my "potatoes with salad" "potatoes with sour cream" " pasta with this nice sauce I found" and so on). 

Of course, I think spending time away just increases my joy to return, and there's no reason to consider leaving the school, come on. And I just started to feel socially comfortable there.

Something tells me that even the old Riga looks better than Tallinn. While not as actually old, more rational, more precise, more colorfully thought through (at least the parliament building isn't fucking pink). And why haven't I seen parks in Tallinn? There's this one next to Viru Keskus, which is hardly anything special, then there's the flatland to the north of the old town, is that even a park, there are some in my district, but who has the urge to even come to my fucking district. Parks are awesome and they should be all over the city, as in Riga, or at least more discoverable than in Tallinn.

No time for writing means interesting things to do, so the less, the better for me. 

The Deal

I had a nice acoustic jam with some classmates today. Unfortunately, differing tastes made it all very awkward at times when we couldn't decide what to play. Somebody said "coldplay" and I could not afford to be bitchy at the time. As we sang the song, I was reading the lyrics and hating myself for fucking identifying with them.

There was a party yesterday and that was a great party. I like people and I like to touch them, even if I have to develop awesome back massages as an excuse to. A distressing factor: the previous sentence is actually the least creepy or secret thing I could say when talking about the fucking party.

And then there was the previous night with chess, filming, doing actual homework (not mine, of course), drinking, talking, messing around and just being with people I sort of want to be around with.

And I got a dinosaur.

Theories

Incredibly, the choir practice every week gives me an actual meaning to life or something. I'm doing my part, others do the same and there's some good result to that. I get to do something I like, I can also talk with people, this almost replaces a relationship. Maybe this is what people meant with "move on and learn to live without a girlfriend", but, on the other hand, in days without the choir, I still feel shitty, so that's not really a result. 

The film watching plan did not work out, so I'll just postpone that to a time when I actually don't have anything to do. Somehow my schedule is full and I like that a lot - tomorrow chess, filming, helping others with English homework, Friday - party and preparation for it, Saturday - jamming with the classmates and maybe coming to Riga too. That's like three days without loneliness, holy shit. 

I had just turned 16 and I was quite alright then.

Wild bells rang in a wild sky

I just love the accidental moments of sleep that happen right after I decide to start doing my homework. While just 5 hours ago I was eager to do more work, after the 30 minutes I spent in beautiful dream-free sleep, the motivation and energy is gone completely.

What I really need, though, is the feeling of company. Walking back to the bus stop after school was terrible, since school was the only 1,5h of society around me since Saturday. And then I realized that I have only 4 phone numbers of people in Tallinn, which is fucking shitty.

Below: nice company, shitty alcohol and great time spent.

This once was an island

After I forced myself to partly organize my films and pictures, something ridiculous popped up. An album by Beirut is somehow magically internally shifted. I was looking for a song called "The Penalty", should be number 7, but it is renamed after the next song, the next song is renamed after the next one and so on. The last song is renamed as "Track 13". I almost got angry for the 10 minutes wasted before the realization that I watched not one but two "Resident Evil" movies today. While still way better than the latest "Transformers", there's this urge I should start watching the "good" films.

The plan: science fiction Monday, drama Tuesday, "highest ratings on IMDB that I haven't seen" Wednesday, "suggestions by smart classmates" Thursday, "you should be out partying" Friday (aka, nothing).

Still baffled about the dreams creating a long-lasting effects. The images I saw a few nights ago are more concerning than my living above means and the personal bankruptcy.

I am fucking close to start listening to shitty overemotional music.

insane and insecure

I am actually quite happy, despite the regular bitching that I do here. It is comforting, that somebody actually gets concerned, but otherwise, studying, sort of, abroad is nice.

Hard to say, what would have happened if I stayed in Latvia. The most likely case would be this really awkward alienation from my ex-mates and so on because of the shitty things I did in summer. On the other hand, if I had known that I will have to make a decent living in Latvia, maybe I wouldn't have done the things I did. In either case, I can still see myself here for a while.

For some reason, Rage Against The Machine is back into my playlist, a guilty pleasure.

While the first paragraph stays true, today was actually incredibly empty, despite the class showcase event thingy. I got drunk, what a surprise, I failed to be productive, I got home hungry, ate fucking everything and now I am tired.

Habits

This summer, when being drunk in public became more dangerous due to various circumstances, I developed a tradition of getting high and dancing to dubstep alone. This usually took time after others were asleep, after midnight. I live alone now and somehow it is just as fun without the drugs. Still way after midnight.

I also decided that for too long I have made impression of a keen reader without reading new books. However, there is not a single book I took from home that I haven't read. So much for the determination. I mean, I could always go for educational books, audiobooks or stare at a screen, but I'm not there yet.

With several years of experience writing in Latvian, tendency to use "I" and "me" was consciously diminished, not quite there with this language I suppose.

Part Two

This is my excuse. Could have sworn (haha, get it?) there was another, more specific study, but couldn't find that one.

But no curse words were relieving when I woke up this morning, realizing I have the worst headache, hardly any money and that I was only dreaming. All my dreams are like that - either something so desirable that I wake up incredibly disappointed, or me killing my brother, dividing the body in pieces and hiding through the house and losing the head somehow. Or the one where I was drowning in a maze, which apparently was so good that I saw it three times. And let's not forget about the classic: an old lady breaks into my apartment, crawls under a chair and comes out on the other side as a horse walking on two legs. I don't care that I was 12, when I had it, that was probably the dumbest thing I've thought in my life.

And now the fucking dreams are partially overlapping with reality and I have no idea what to do or what is going on. 

This is a view that I saw almost every day for almost three years. I would get drunk there, I would sit alone with nothing but a boring book and cigarettes hopelessly waiting for people to show up, I would hang out with some of the brightest minds I knew back there and do awkward conversations with others. Once I went inside to see my ex sitting next to a girl I slept with some time after the breakup. I went to their table to say hi, they looked at me and started to cry, so I went back outside. That is a bar that defines the recent 10% (time-wise) of my life.

i hate blogging from mobile

Hanging around in Tallinn is actually worse than hanging around Riga. The evening began fine but now I'm all alone waiting for people to pick me up. Fucking Tallinn.

Edit:

I just got home and realized that drinking alone feels better than drinking with other people tonight. I paid 11 euros for the taxi home, I could have bought food for 4 days, alcohol for 3 days or tobacco for at least a week for that money. Add another 2.4 euros for the wine and 2.5 euros (really?) for the shitty beer. I have to get used to the fucking city.

And it feels so great to swear in Latvian about the people around you.

4:07 is the title

I honestly thought that I had escaped the people overly obsessed with their studies.

The IB syndrome, that has ended almost completely, included facebook posts about loads of homework, shitty jokes about some idea of a typical student and information on how many allnighters are planned. Allnighters, seriously? One girl had the nerve to brag about how much work she has to do and how she is going to stay up all night and at fucking 3am she went to bed. At this point it doesn't matter whether she finished her homework essays or not, she basically lied just to fit in this symbolic bullshit that was the International Baccalaureate students. It was all propelled by the teachers. "Yeah, you are all going to think in English in a few months" <- that alone was unbearable to hear. If the people claim to think in English, I expect them to construct a decent opinion in English, which some of them couldn't do sometimes. And I'm not even mentioning the vocabulary levels and overall ratio of languages used.
And all the fucking references to the fact that "I AM SPECIAL BECAUSE I PAY FOR SECONDARY EDUCATION. I HAVE A SUBJECT CALLED THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE AND IT IS CONFUSING HAHAHA LAUGH WITH ME. NO LIFE, #HASHTAGS, OH AND I AM BETTER BECAUSE THIS IS NOT WHAT OTHERS GET." I think I misunderstood the whole "making the world a better place" idea. Or maybe there wasn't such an idea in the program.

Holy shit, and now, putting behind the terrible attempts at humor I had to scroll through on facebook, I get people who don't seem to post anything besides BFM related issues. Am I lonely because I don't belong in the group who apparently understands the fucking joke, or are they lonely because they have nothing else to talk about?

Of spirals and results

If I ever go to heaven, my angels would be playing accordions.
The title of the song - La Noyée - has something to do with drowning. As the piece was featured in Amélie, you can sort of make connections with some characters or something - but, as I know, this song was not written for the film, so the author might have a completely different idea.
I can only connect the title with the song if the drowning meant drowning in alcohol. Music this beautiful does not create an image of somebody fighting for his life in water, rather a struggle to stay afloat in some other depressing conditions, and for me, unfortunately, it is drinking. Mom always warned me, that, through the fathers line, the risk of addictions is higher in my family.

My dads father, while an incredibly educated and passionate man, ended up as a drunk, smoking by the fireplace - going outside was above his powers. And he became too weak or unwilling to think at all. I remember long walks through Riga with him, when I was not even school age, I remember him as my chess teacher who I could never beat (unlike my grandmother or dad), I remember him for the short, witty poems he wrote for birthdays, I remember him teaching me the classical Greek alphabet, I remember how he cried when I told him my pet rat had died, even though he hadn't seen it at all.

And then I remember him as the weird vegetable he was, not speaking or muttering nonsense, forgetting all logic as whole. This summer grandmother told me that he had to make a choice between a university of physics and mathematics or a conservatory. If he had not chosen science, he would have been a composer.* One of the things I took from home was a book on harmony that he used to own.

He smelled like cigarettes, always, that was his scent. There is a slight chance that I like the way my hair and hands smell after smoking because that's what I inhaled a lot in my childhood. Unlikely, but there is some comfort in believing this, a ridiculously useless addiction passed from granddad to grandchild.

One of the things I really fucking hate is forgetting, which I coincidentally do a lot. Why can't I recall more about the people I try to look up to? Why were the good memories of a grandparent I knew for 14 years summarized in two short paragraphs?

Coming back to alcohol, a paranoia overwhelms me. I have started to talk about drinking so much that there's a feeling it is actually a cry for help. Not a conscious one, but I never really bragged about it before, hinting that maybe this is too much for me. Technically, I am on the road to becoming an alcoholic, I drink alone, I drink often, and I really enjoy the process and results of doing so. Shit. This will spiral out of control and I will end up brain-dead, completely unsuccessful or just dead. And I can't even take this seriously, because the whole trip to the endpoints is summarized too beautifully in La Noyée.

Well, fuck you, I just made myself unhappy. Unfortunately, the sadness will be gone in a few hours without long term effects or any motivation to change a thing in the destructive lifestyle.

This is a birthday card I received from my grandfather. I was 9.

*Did he ever regret the decision as much as I regret my choice not to study music?

Great Expectations

The expectations of May 2012 were to enjoy the sudden space I had in private life. It seemed like a great time to try out all the things I was not allowed to even think about during the previous 2,5 years (spent with J). I mean, I apparently was able to get nice girls before and now, since I am single, I can do fucking everything, all over again, right?

A few weeks later I wrote that "relationships finally start to fall into places" and that might have been my worst observation ever. What I did predict alright was that there were going to be enough connections, but somehow none of them turned out alright.

1st girl, L
Drunk, in a shitty bar, and she initiated everything. I broke down two days later, crying over the phone to my best friend how I was used as a revenge to a fucking boyfriend (or three of them, I'm still not sure about it). That was also the first wave of regret about breaking up with J, however, I still managed to fall in love with L for months. This was probably due to the need for replacement, as my conservative body refused to adapt to being alone.
2nd girl, D
This was just a repetition of events 3 years ago, not surprising at all. Actually, we continued throughout the whole summer, and while I though that was acceptable, it created a storm of shit when J and some others found out. Honestly, the drama that developed over this was the most interesting thing to happen to me the whole summer. It sparked a creative genius in me that I'm still trying to follow up. Otherwise, surprisingly little feelings over it.
3rd girl, S
This was weird, still not sure how to feel about it. I really tried to find a phrase describing the mind-fuck that was happening, but no luck. "Mind-fuck" will have to do. We were taunting each other for a week or so, and I lost the track of reality. Hopefully, she did too, but that will never be known, since she's a great actress (or a liar, same thing here). Still, valuable experience. And, of course, I fell in love again, so for some weeks I had three girls I dreamed about.
4th girl, E
I was drunk and I wanted something funny to happen. While regrettable, it was funny and I'm not taking it back. Another reason for initiating sex was the challenge to convince her. Honestly, easier than I thought. And actually, less shitstorm than over D. Puzzled about that, but, oh well, experience.
5th girl, G
Most regrettable of all, firstly because I felt she didn't want to speak to me for quite some time after that. The second thing was the responsibility. While always admiring the looks and personality, I never really seriously develop a thought of us together in any way. She was unstable in several ways and it seemed she always had too many men trying to get to her. I shouldn't even fucking try to analyse this, as I just realized I never met her since the middle of July, and that might be the shittiest mistake I've made.

The natural conclusion is that I never did anything right in the summer, regarding girls. Oh, and of course, there were two other ones that I fell in love with immediately after meeting them. I made the worst impression by being drunk, high and/or miserable in front of them. As I said, I never did anything right in the summer, regarding girls.

The summer was mostly spent drinking the heartache away and singing "Somebody to Love" (both Queen and Jefferson Airplane, because I am so fucking musically educated).

And that was not expected at all.

Another expectation was that if I got hungry enough, I'd be able to wash the fucking dishes and make myself some decent food, but instead I downed a pack of grapefruit juice and ate too much fucking bread. Good one.

Explanation

Since the English classes at the university turned out to be rather degrading if compared to last years' experience, I am left with hardly any practical writing. Another aspect of doing this is the arrogant need to explain myself to my current classmates.

Honestly, it's a bit naive to believe that the 'success' of my personal blogging experience will be repeated. The results of blogs in Latvian are as follows: 7287 views since July 2008, 35% of the views accumulated since June 2012. Over 30 'official' followers (nonobjective, hardly any views from the Google Reader), about 20 views per day since this summer. 217 published posts, over 140 posts deleted some time ago and restored in form of a private blog, resulting in over 350 posts. About 25% of all the written posts in blogger have been published since June 2012.

A factor I like to remember is that the address of the blog was hardly ever published on the internet or otherwise. As far as I recall, I posted it on colourlovers.com and stereomood.com personal profiles (English speaking communities, who couldn't care less, even if the profiles were popular). To be fair, there was another type of advertisement: a tendency to talk about the blog until the other person asked for the link. Otherwise, word of mouth and random hits have generated me a nice and stable audience.

I have been writing diary-type material since January 2008. Otherwise, my portfolio consists of academic works for school. As much as I'd like to say that I wrote more than the average teenager of the country, I could have done more. An extra bonus experience would be creative writing courses, that I attended this spring, initiated by "Rīgas Laiks", an intellectual and philosophical magazine that I have personally set as an excellent example of writing and journalism as whole.

The real reason for creating a separate blog written in English is the fear of not being understood, an effort to preserve the memories and opinions I've come across, an effort to reduce the pressure of amassed negative emotions, an effort to explain myself.

The following is a translation of a text I published in Latvian recently:

The current frequency of my posts is five times of the combined articles written by the 36 blogs that I follow. One of the last posts of a blog usually is "I haven't written here for a long time". The blogs that have ended this way look fucking sad. I panic over the thought my blog will end in such way. Most likely, in an event of apocalypse, I'll save my posts in one file and delete the blog from the internet entirely. But, hopefully, there's still a long way before that.

The idea will stand for this blog too.