Donnerstag, Februar 28, 2013

There's no life...

... more amazing than this one. And there is no magic more profound, than singing a song without even realizing it. Just because your heart sings. The universe hums your melody.

Mittwoch, Februar 27, 2013


Entweder werden die Arbeiten, die ich schreiben muss immer einfacher, oder ich werde tatsächlich besser dabei. So ganz sicher bin ich mir noch nicht. Fakt ist aber, dass ich in den letzten 7 Tagen über 20 Seiten zu Papier gebracht habe. Und das ohne am Wochenende irgendetwas zu machen. Ich bin schon so ein bisschen beeindruckt. Morgen noch drüberlesen und schon wars das mit dem Hausarbeiten schreiben! ... nicht, dass ich im Referendariat nicht Stundenplanungen inklusive Sachanalysen anfertigen müsste. Trotzdem. Geschafft ist geschafft.

Samstag, Februar 16, 2013

Am I too full of myself?

There are those rare moments when my own confidence takes me by surprise. I have the urge to run up to your house now and convince you that you want me. You just haven't looked in your heart yet. You want to spend your life with me. And it would be a rollercoaster ride of freak outs and cliché romance. You love me. I just wished, you'd figure it out yourself.

Montag, Februar 11, 2013

Ystävänpäivä cards

Sending these cards today so they reach their destination in time for the 14th. And while we're dwelling on Valentine's day, it might be the perfect time for this Hemingway quote that I found:

"The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too."

Sonntag, Februar 10, 2013

Being nochalant has never gotten anyone very far

"You know, when we first started seeing each other I wasn't sure if I could deliver. He seemed to be into this up to his neck and I was just... I had no guarantees, no plan or even wish on how things should turn out. I felt I might be taking him for a rollercoaster ride of attraction and longing and deception. But he seemed so unfraid, so certain, so... I took the plunge. And I discovered that I could do this. I could take the plunge again and again everyday. I could dare to be commited, to be head over heels, to be hopelessly, madly in love with him. There was nothing deceiving about it. I was in for a lifelong romance made up of day-to-day "I do"s. Even when I was angry with him. Even when I hated him. I still made the decision to be his. I still was certain that he should be part of the mess I come home to.
Funnily though, the more certain I became about my own commitment, the more important was his. What if, one day, he questioned his decision to be with me? What if his life could function just as well without me in it? Where would that leave me? Would I be able to loosen this bond again? I went a little crazy there. And somewhere along those lines, I lost him. I suppose he is not coming back. Ever. Yet, my heart hasn't grown out of choosing him. Each morning, each day, every night. I deliver. I want him to know all the small things about me. Like, how the smell of strawberries makes me so happy, I eat them even though I don't really like the taste. Or that I block the shower with 7 different shower gels that I use according to my mood of the day. I wish he wanted to know that. Because I let him in. And now I cannot seem to get him out again."


"When I married her, I opened my world to her. I made her a part of my life. And along with her came her family, her hometown, her jokes and childhood fairytales, her dreams and adventures, her ambitions and scars, her traditions, friends, her favourite colour on the walls of our living room and her most precious books on my nightstand so I could read her page by page. My favourite music didn't become hers. But she listened to it while doing the dishes and it made her smile because it was a part of me.
When you share a life it is impossible to count all the things that you share. And most of the time, it is only when you try to separate those lives again that you notice that you will get out half a life only, if you take away what you brought in.
Had you told me this morning that I would be without her tonight... I would've had trouble breathing from laughing so hard. Laughing at the absurdity of this incomprehensible half-life. It will be mostly pain for a while now - but after that? Does her hometown become a blank spot on the map? Do I leave behind her hilarious New Year's ritual? Shall I repaint our flat? Abandon it altogether? And if I don't - who would be willing to suffer through this life with me? "


Life doesn't make sense. Either we make sense of it, or it is all just an arbitrary line of actions. I am drawing a black X on my chest. Just in case you needed help identifying the target.

Montag, Februar 04, 2013

Will I ever grow wise?

Do you remember how we wanted to study medicine, you and me? We had a thing for lost causes, for hoping against hope, for crescendos and doing everything in our power to make something happen... We were our own personal superheroes. It was a thing. Our lives were raw and unrestrained and full of fear and joy and giddiness and sometimes nausea. From wanting too much. We subtitled our days in the desperate attempt to make everybody feel this. This. The rush. The wonder and amazement. The pain cutting right down to the bone. We got up in the mornings and we got drunk in the nights, if not on alcohol then on love, the craving for more aching in the backs of our throats. We wanted to study medicine or become rockstars or die really young. We wanted something.

Six years have passed and though I cannot speak for you, I seem to be just as desperate and hungry and full of illusions as I was back then. I cannot imagine that my heartbeat will be drowned out by a white noise. I still believe in forever and that I can make this world stop. I still love the way you used to. You know, the kind of love that makes for graffitis on the walls of your room and songs written in the dead of night. The kind of love that makes you dizzy with fear and recklessly brave. It's the kind of love you are certain nobody else has ever experienced. Gosh, how often we died on platforms faced with leaving trains! ... I heard, you're living the dream with the girl we went all crazy about. I hope it's true. You know how we spoke about marriage, back when it was a far-away concept? When we were so sure that once we could make someone understand, it would last 'til we died? Well, it seems I got married. And you seem to be in there for life as well. So you might want to think about doing her the honour and give her an opportunity to wear an absolutely stunning white dress, obsess over guestlists and cakes and family and make it official. I'm sure, you could pull it off. Because you might not see it, but you are the goddamn prince. All shiny and heroic, with the pathos and the pain. And I wish you all the best.