out there

i ran outside this morning for the first time in about two months. i got the same feeling i always get at this time of year -- after running on the treadmill for a while i have always been able to convince myself that it is fine, not so dull really and much more convenient than venturing out to the mercy of wind, cold and slippery roads. 
and then i run outside and it is nothing but magnificent, the fresh air and the living, changing light and the feel of the ground under your feet. it makes me happy, and grateful, to be able to experience the mornings like this and get such satisfaction out of it. the way it feels to be out there, in movement and in sync with your surroundings as they come to an awakening after the night -- it really is something i never tire of.


already now you can see that the winter is starting to ease its grip; the color and the amount of light is drastically different than it was two months ago. i can't wait for the spring to properly set in, not to talk of summer, and to see the change in the seasons through the light of the mornings and get to feel it in the air. i'm looking forward to the long runs and  the smell of spring, and the warm summer mornings when you get up obscenely early and the sun already beat you to it.


it's always the same and yet it always changes. who ever said running is boring?

that was wisconsin that was yesterday
now I have nothing that i can keep
cause every place i go i take another place with me

love is loves critique

bon iver - wisconsin

epilogue

sometimes, just as it can be too cold to snow, you can be too tired to give up.

so he tried. he did everything he could think of to make things work between them - pulling back, being there, loving him, hating him. giving him space, holding him down, anything he could think of. and still it always seemed that nothing was ever quite right, that something always triggered a tension or a fight. made him anxious. the good moments they shared slowly became contaminated by the bad.

in truth it must be said that S probably tried, too. but he couldn't pull it off, couldn't overcome his own obstacles and resentment and incapability for meaningful human relationships; couldn't control his too fast a mind and contain the anxiety caused by the situation he had placed himself in. he tried, for he needed H, really; but the restlessness grew, and even if he tried to tackle it, smother it, be better - because he wanted to care, he needed to care, but it suffocated him. he withered. and H watched him as he did, as he went through it all, and he didn't  know which would be more painful - never to have S or watch him suffer like he did.

so as hard as they may have both tried, eventually it became evident that it just wasn't enough.

what they had, what they were - it was beyond categorization as well as it was beyond possible.

so they parted.

plus minus zero

one of the most difficult things to achieve -- well, at least for me -- is balance. it doesn't matter what area of life we are talking about here -- that steady state of things being just right is always hard to find. what is too little and what is too much; when should you yield and when should you stand your ground. when to ask for extra, and when to say thank you, this is enough, i do not need any more. how is one supposed to know?


i reckon the finding of that elusive feeling might have quite a lot do with happiness, or satisfaction at least -- when you feel that you are either not deprived of anything or being overdosed with something. the problem here seems to be that it can be rather difficult to know what you really want, and therefore what is the proper level of the thing in question. do you do the things you do because you think you should, or because you really want to? are you in a situation in which you chose to be or in a one that you just ended up in?


and if you do find a balance, do you recognize it? 

because

every now and then you start to question things -- fundamental things, such as what are you, what makes you you and whether what you are doing is right for you after all. whatever the cause of these doubts or questions may be -- a big life change, age crisis, something else -- i reckon the mere existence of them is a sign of something in itself. perhaps you need to re-evaluate your goals; perhaps it is time to let go dreams planted on you by someone else. or perhaps it is time to change something in your life, or perhaps you don't need to do anything at all, just recognize the state of things and adjust yourself accordingly.


during the past year or so i have been wondering whether or not i am on a right field of profession. this is mostly because the passion and enthusiasm i  felt towards my occupation is no longer there, but has dimmed down to a steady, even relationship with it. in other words, something that i considered to be a part of my personality, a way of defining myself is no longer that but only a job -- a good one at that, one i still like very much and am ok with doing -- but still; it's not the same. what i have been trying to figure out is that should i be ok with this; should i accept the change (a one that was perhaps inevitable) or should i seek out to do something else? and if i do so, how am i to know that the same won't happen with that as well?


thinking of these things has led me to think about the other aspects, or cornerstones, of my personality; what makes me me. it would seem to me that running is one of these; i find it extremely hard to believe i would willingly ever stop doing it. today, when i was on the treadmill staring at the dull morning tv without the sound on i was thinking why this is so, and one of the reasons i came up with is this: there is too many words in the world. running, for me, is a way to shut my ears from them -- and that is not something i would give up.

(not from helsinki, obviously. waiting for summer.)

but...

i read a quote from somewhere -- don't remember by whom -- that said something along the lines "excuses are just lies we tell ourselves; nobody else really cares."

this is painfully true. we are so good at explaining things so as to make ourselves look good, or at least less bad, that the effort it takes directed towards something that would be actually beneficial -- like doing the things you should have or correcting the fuck-ups resulting from something you shouldn't have -- it would probably be a lot less easier for all of us. and in the end, it is completely unnecessary; because in actual fact, it does not matter whether you have a "reason" for doing or not doing something -- the state of things that would have followed had you done something otherwise does not exist, it is hypothetical at best-- therefore, it does not matter in the reality that we currently experience.

so why resort to excuses and explanations? indolence, i would imagine is the primary reason; fear maybe another one, depending on what the situation at hand is. it takes guts to admit that you don't live up to the standard  --which again leads us to the question of standards and so forth --but the truth of the matter is that the only thing that shapes the reality, and therefore has any significance, is what takes place. should have, would have, could have -- nobody really cares about that.

(obviously that picture is not taken when running. i'm on a treadmill these days, bear with me.)

blank

i started writing a few different kinds of texts but nothing came out right. i just don't have it in me today. it's one of those days when you wake up in the morning and sort of hope it would be evening already -- not necessarily because you are on a bad mood, or sad, or whatever -- but because you just don't have the energy to get through the choreography that is the day ahead. 

it's the kind of day when you really don't want to hear that you should live your every day like it were your last -- if this would be my last day, well, that would just suck. that said, i don't need the guilt trip of not living to the fullest --  not today. 

pull a face and it will stay like that

no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite grasp the exact moment when he had started to feel odd. and how could he have, really, when the spirit of the time screamed peculiarity as the new black and being ordinary was considered as the eighth sin. somehow, in the midst of it all, he had slipped; the wind had changed and the mask that he had so well worn had became his real face. he didn't recognize himself anymore and even breathing seemed to require a conscious effort -- like the body he inhabited was no longer his but that he had been put in it to keep it alive.