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.