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This blog is going to be dead very soon. I’m sick of my stupid love affairs. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy all of it, I’m just bored of blogging about it. I mean, I’ve been doing it for 7 years now, and I just want to do something else. When I got into art school, all my work revolved around sex. But I’m sick of that too (not sex, making work about sex). It’s out of my system now, and it’s really not with I want to do with the rest of my life. The last couple of weeks haven’t been so good to me. Mostly it was dealing with myself and my attitude towards sex. I mean, it’s great fun and all, but not everyone is like that. There are jealousies to be had, and other people have their own morality which you have to contend with when you have some kind of affair with them. This has only occurred to me here. I really, really, really want to just say fuck it all and start working properly again. This is all very distracting.And if anyone gives a shit about what’s going on in my life right now, things are working nicely here with the current paramour. We went to Vienna with a friend. It was really good. He’s actually quite a sweetheart and one of the few people I meet and think, “this is someone that’s really going somewhere”. I’m both impressed and intrigued. I feel fine now, in fact, I feel slightly bad that I said and did some things I wish I didn’t. I had the license to, I believe, I was hurt for a good reason. And I don’t feel sorry or apolegetic, but I feel bad. Which just makes it all very confusing for me. So I think my life is a bit complicated now and it’s one of those moments you stick in an unwind protect and just say fuck this shit.  

I hate Chinese New Year. I know, how can I possibly hate it all the way here, but trust me, I hate it.

So I emailed my mom several times to transfer the school fees to the University. But I don’t know what was up, she didn’t. My parents are like that, which is really cool, and really freaky at the same time. They’re just like American parents. You’re 22 now, you can handle your own shit. And I can, and I should have. I won’t bore you with the details, but the gist is:

I woke up today, Wednesday morning, realizing that my mom had not transfered the fees. I also realized it was about 5 in the afternoon, and thet the next 2 days is Chinese New Year. Which means unless I pay in cash (school is not expensive in Budapest, but it is still quite a bit of money!) there was no way I could settles the fees until next week. So I spent pretty much the whole morning being hysterical until the nice international relations officer at the university told me next week was okay.

So. My very exciting morning.

Tango is absolutely delightful. It’s a very engaging dance. No thinking, all feeling. It’s like meditation. I swear to god it is. Only you are meditating on your partner.

I actually watched the first half of the Super Bowl last night. In Budapest, believe it or not. A very nice gentleman has been inviting me out to all sorts of things and giving me an insight into the party flavours of the city. I’m not a serious party person, and it’s cold and I don’t want to be stuck somewhere far away from my place, so it’s mostly been dinners, drinks and chilling out. I didn’t actually make it past the first half. Didn’t even make it for the chocolate cake with “SUPER BOWL XLII” written rather sloppily upon it.

The night before last my flatmate turned up. She’s a rather pleasant Norwegian girl also attending an art school around the corner. Nearer to our place than where I am. Lucky her. We went to Ikea. Herein lies the difference between women and men. Women leaving Ikea, “I love shopping at Ikea, it’s very interesting”. Men, “Thank god it’s over. It’s Hell. It’s an infinite vortex.” Indeed.

Did I mention I wandered into a dance studio a few days ago, and their Tango Pianist gave me his number. Talented boy. We hung out a couple of times. Too young for my taste -still much prefer gentlemen in their mid-thirties to be honest- but anyway I’m not looking for romance unless it hits me in the face in the form of an Alan Rickman/ Adrian Broody look-a-like with a taste for pointless digressions into theories of everything. Anyway, I’m tired of it all. I just want to have normal friends I can chill out with.

Anyway, I invited the pianist over, and we go to the grocers around the corner, get some things to make dinner with, and he sort of teaches me how to make some dish which I can’t remember the name of. It’s a sort of chicken stew with sour cream, jalapeños, cleric, carrots, marjoram a number of other herbs and spices, it was was really good. We stood around the kitchen drinking wine (my flatmate was there), listening to Tango music and talking about music.

So far so good. To the gym and then registration for school now!

Last night was weird. I was a little bit drunk and pissed -planning to limit it to the weekends when school starts- and I started feeling extremely homesick at 5 in the morning. It was awful. I’m really stuck here now. I know it’ll get better once I start attending school -my flatmate, who is a rather charming Norwegian girl, was there a few years ago. She says it’s a really cool place filled with extremely beautiful, cool people. That’s a bit scary sounding to me. Although Zara and my new gym membership will be a great help.
At 5 a.m. I started crying. Well, sort of, what would be crying in any other normal individual. There were maybe 2 drops of tears. I find it difficult to cry.  It’s so throughly ridiculous, I started missing Drake, and normally I have good sense. But it’s not about sense, I guess. I just missed him, and I think I know why. The way he treated me probably triggered my possessive switches, and you know, we are all fools, meat marinated in hormones, chemicals that make you feel things you have no control over. I also started missing Phil, the quiet evenings spent sitting around and talking.

I think a lot of the strongest things I feel have to do with a place I can say I mine, and do whatever I want in it, and feel happy and comfortable in. And I guess the people that are attached to that end up becoming part of that nesting consciousness which makes you feel comfortable, warm and fuzzy.

I went back to this cafe I really liked on the above named street. It was chilly today, 3 degrees. But sunny, so I could walk around all day and it was fine. They were playing down beat chilled out tango music at this place, it was lovely. The waiters were all ever so friendly as usual.

The winter wind is still,

And my heart does not bleed.

All that comes is a pleasant chill,

And the shades of washed out, coloured grey,

That paint the town,

A bittersweet reckoning.

.

And I wish,

The street,

With its barren trees of silver bark,

Would line you on either side,
As you come,

Walking towards me.
And smile.

When you see me.
And pull me close.

As you touch me.
And kiss,

So briefly.
Then take my hand,

Bare and biting, in the cold.

And put it in your pocket.

I can’t quite remember where this place was. It was near the parliament building.

Fuck I am scared. Okay, not scared, just really freaked. For fuck’s sake I’m alone in a foreign country and I’m still trying to work my head around the currency conversion to make sure I don’t over spend. I’ll have to go to Ikea tomorrow to get some bean bags and remember to change the lightbulbs and figure out where the hell to get things like detergent and bags for the vacuum cleaner. Things I don’t have to think about living at the GHQ. And it’s cold, and I’m hungry. But it’s a dry sort of cold, and I have nice things to wear, so it’s toleratable.

Budapest so far is incredibly cool.

I am now going to hang out at this cafe 500 m away from my plac. Looks cool.

There’s a line in Waking Life that comes to mind right now “The trick is to remain in a constant state of departure. Saves you on introductions and goodbyes”. I’m not going to be gone for long, but it’ll be the longest I’d be out of the country, and it’s funny. All of a sudden I’m thinking about the few people I’d miss. Although I know even before I’ll actually miss them, I’ll be back. I’m terrible like that. I know some friends from high school that have gone, and I see them once a year or something, and it’s like I didn’t even know they’d left. I keep busy. I guess.

Am I supposed to get more cynical as I get older? Because I’m certainly not. I think people have proven to be far more lovely than I expected. People want to help you. I think. And, they want to be nice. If they aren’t I think it’s just because they don’t knwo any better. Or they’re trying to protect themselves from getting hurt. I don’t quite understand that. Jealousy, vengefulness, envy. Nah. I realize the best thing to be is yourself.

Like, no one is forcing you to do anything you don’t want to. Remember the Phillip Larkin poem, “They fuck you up, your mom and dad”. And parents do that, which sucks. People grow up feeling like the world is pressuring them to do this or that, and really. No one is. You shouldn’t have to do things you don’t want to do. I think that is the source of plenty of problems in the world. Of course we weigh our options and decide what we have or need to do, but knowing that you can opt out if you wish, I think, is really important.

I’m flying off on Tuesday. I’m really anxious. It’s funny. It’s only 6 months, that’s not a long time, but I think about the last 6 months that have gone by since the breakup, and it is quite awhile. I’ve had a great time, gotten to know some really wonderful people.

It’s not a long time, I’m just abit nervous, that’s all. As is natural

I read this book: The Left Hand Turn Around of the World. In it, David Wolpert presents some interesting thesis for why some people are Southpaw. My favorite one is that most left handers are mixed handers while most right handers and strong handers. So left handers and right handers are not lefties and righties per se (we have been categorizing it sub-optimally) but rather mixed handed or strong handed. Mixed handers tend to have a larger corpus callosum  (the bundle of axons that connects the two hemispheres of the brain). One conclusion is that the larger the corpus callosum, and faster the brain updates itself about the world. Since left handers are mostly mixed handed, and mixed handed people tend to have a larger corpus collosum -inferred from their ability to use both hands well for different tasks -right handers used their left hemisphere when they move their right hands, vice versa for left handers- they update their brains more often and are more adaptable.

Mixed handers are good at things like the violin, cello, guitar, french horn, things that require both hands to synchronize. Strong handers are good with instruments like the piano. Which require both hands to perform different tasks.

The whole point of that digression is that I am right handed and definitely strong handed, and I play the piano with a certain amount of proficiency (it still remains a hobby however), the only problem being that Pianos are not portable. Which is a pain. I don’t like playing the electronic keyboards, grossness. And also that my view of the world doesn’t update itself coherently. I think I understand a lot of things intellectually, but it doesn’t translate into how I feel about things emotionally. And at some point I developed the guys are bastards view of the world, and it has never really left me. And sometimes I think it translates into them treating me not like they are bastards, but certainly like how I expect to be treated. Which is in generally very good, but you know. Just no crazy love thing. But I guess I ask for it. I’m just too scared of of being responsible for anyone feelings.

I feel myself descending down  the infinite rabbit hole of pointless psychoanalysis, so I’ll stop here

I think I won’t do anything with that brokerage account, I don’t think it’s all ‘just gambling’ but I should probably think about how I’m going to manage my money first. If anything, at least I’m starting to think about these things. I feel at 21 it’s a bit late in life, I should have started thinking about these things the moment I entered varsity. But since my parents pay for my tuition, insurance, rent, food and men pay for my entertainment (or are they the entertainment) I’ve never really had to think about how to make money, or how to properly manage it. Student loan? Interest? Well, I know how to write for grants… …

I was watching ‘Blood Diamond’ with Phil a couple of days ago. Not the movie, the documentary. It had a lot of people with their limbs amputated, it was pretty awful. I don’t think I ever want to own anything with diamonds on them, I think rocks are tacky. And if they promote mono-culture type of societies, then I have even less desire for any such thing. Although I must admit my stance wavers whenever I hear Nicole Kidman sing “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend” (it has got to be Kidman singing it). But what can we do. It’s the Red Queen Race. There will always be poor people. Actually, I don’t quite believe in that. If people get smart enough then indeed there will be people who are ‘better off’ and people that are ‘not as well off’ but not the sort of poverty we are familiar with (in a very distanced sense).

So anyway, there were all these amputees. And I though, “My god, what would I do if I got an arm chopped off”. The first horrible thing would be that you’re not going to be as attractive to the opposite sex. Okay, the first horrible thing would be the immediate pain and other physiological complications, but in the slightly longer term, it will be the former. Then I thought, you know, I actually think if a hot chick had a titanium prosthetic arm, that would be really cool. Like Rose Mc Gowan in PlanetX, with her machine gun leg.

You could have all sorts of things on that titanium arm. Like a claws, and a corkscrew, a vibrator, etc. It would be quite useful. Now I have decided that men can be divided into two categories. Guys that would fuck a girl with a titanium prosthetic, and guys that won’t.

Beware, random musing with possibly bad theory coming up:

I was thinking about the rules of desire. There is a perfectly valid reason for wanting someone that doesn’t seem to want us all that much. It’s natural to want the thing we think we don’t deserve (and is therefore not ours) because it is better than what we deserve. The logic goes like this. She doesn’t want me because she wants someone else, because that someone else is better, and because she is good enough for that person but too good for me. Therefore she’s fantastic and I want her. Which might not be true (that she is fantastic and more than we deserve), but I think that’s one way we approach this love/lust thing.

Also, we can see it as ourselves being in love with our imaginations and our fancies, and the more someone fiction and less reality, the more we love them. Because you know, you just have to unload everything you think would make a good partner onto this never there individual.