[Rista's Scrapbook] That wasn't meant to be

[Rista]

Impressions... Pictures floating around in your mind, brought forth by the little things. The way the light falls upon yellowing leaves, the bite of frost in the air and how the chill nips at your cheeks when you step outside. The way the steam rises from your breath and swirls as you walk by, dancing and breaking the glow of sun that seeps down through barren branches. Voices echo between houses older than your mind cal fully grasp, laughter mingles with dazed murmurs as people step out from the refectory and stroll down the little paths that slither through campus, where naked trees stand on parade and lends a sense of peace and calm, of stability and safety to the area. Once inside, the crisp morning air is replaced by the warm scent of textile as I enter. The hazy dawn is broken here by the sober light from fluorescent lamps that erase the shadows and leaves little room for nonsense - though as I step further in the sound of voices break the barren feel and I breathe out, seeking comfort from the chill that knowledge and learning without humanity sometimes bring. Individuality is what they teach above else, and there are many individuals that mingle through the lecture halls and stroll through the corridors, absorbed in their tasks and processes. Much like a puzzle, ideas fall from eyes and lips and drip onto papers, flow through the air and bounce back from the steady walls that our teachers provide, slowly shaping into something tangible through the scraping of pencils on paper, scissors through fabric and the steady throb of looms that resound like heartbeats. A place of creativity and thinking, where new doors are opened and others created in places you didn't think a door could fit, where change comes slowly and the step onto a new path is celebrated through the slow smile of the ones around you. It's never as hard as it seems. There are ways to do anything, and more than once I have found myself surprised when I stand there, soaked to the elbows in water and with the scent of wool heavy in the air, staring down at a creation that I never would have been able to understand before I tried it. All it took was a nudge, a 'go ahead and try', an encouraging smile and a few words of guidance and there I was, smiling and filled with a sense of achievement as I hugged my first woven piece of cloth to my chest, or with my brow furrowed in concentration as I guide a rod through carefully tied strings, hoping and praying that this way will succeed and save me hours of repetitious work in redoing it all... By the way, I didn't have to saw off the stick that my weave was tied to. A kind janitor helped me change it for a shorter one, and now it doesn't only work, it even helped straighten out my work so that it's even. Believe me, you want to stay on the good side of the janitors because they are the best friends a person can have. How much they know, so many things they can do - and how many simple ways they know of fixing your problems! Honestly, I think janitors are among the nicest, most intelligent people out there. My deepest respect to you all, oh hardworking people. You are so underestimated, and get far too little credit for the things you do. All hail the janitors! *pauses to go eat dinner* To imagine, how easily the mood can be disrupted. Dinner managed to kill the muse and made me loose track on where I was going with this rant. Something about cardamom tea and feelings of tranquility and peace, of good moods and accomplishing things... At the very least it was a nice thought. I really do regret not being able to convey it to you properly. I'll try it again some other day. For now, at least we can celebrate my 90th post in the scrapbook. Hooray, way to go. Today I saw a goshawk strike a dove. It began to tear the feathers off before the bird was dead, and I was amazed at how the hawk could manage to hold the pigeon down even though it was smaller in size. Maybe I should have been reacting differently to the fact that a life was taken right in front of my eyes, but while others wrinkled their noses and made sad grimaces, I found myself smiling and silently complimenting the hawk on the successful hunt. They don't succeed as often as one might think and it was an impressive display to see it swoop down and take the dove, so I'd say it was well earned. I hope that my lack of compassion for the pigeon isn't a bad sign. It's not like I don't feel respect for the life that was given up, I just don't feel saddened that the hawk got to fill its belly and live for a while longer. Victory for the strong, luck for the rest, I suppose. I think I know where I belong in that grouping. On a side note, I really hate when people just disappear. It's easy to say that I shouldn't worry, but when someone poofs for several days without a word and with no hint at all that they were going off or were to get busy, I can't help myself. I do worry, even though it won't help to make them reappear or come back sooner. It's probably nothing to fret over and I know I'll feel silly when they come back, but... Hm, I don't know. Maybe it's my need for control that comes out now and then, or I might just be a worrywart. Who knows, it might even be my fault.. If it's something I did then please tell me... I found this song the other day, and was amazed. I didn't know that they were back... I look forward to finding more new songs ^^

[Rista]

"We do what we must because we can. For the good of all of us except the ones who are dead." Portal - 'Still Alive' So... The point. Is that there is no point. Simply doing what I want because I want it, because I can do it. There is another line in that song too. "But there's no sense crying over every mistake We just keep on trying 'til we run out of cake" In essence, it doesn't matter if it goes to hell, since I'll just keep going until I can't go any further. No matter the cost or the consequences, I'll just keep on doing what I want to do because I can do it. I wonder, does anyone else feel a similarity to that kind of thinking? There's this attitude of self-assured laziness that pushes the problems on tomorrow, after reaching a conclusion that it's not their problem what will happen because of their actions. It feels selfish, childish even... I hope you know what I'm talking about, because I certainly don't. There are words seething within me, piling up and building the pressure like a wave rushing towards the shore, ready to crash against the rocks. Coming, and building, and going faster and faster... I hope that the crash will be equivalent to a posting spree where I will magically write 24000 words and somehow manage to cross that 50k wordcount. I kind of really want to manage with it, but at the same time I realize that the world won't end if I don't succeed. In fact, staying away from the computer for a while might actually help saving it. Who knows... I have.. what. 9 days to go? Nothing is impossible. I wrote 26k in four days, there's time to spare. I've always been a good procrastinator, and an even better sprint when it come to deadlines. If I get my mind set on doing it... Though I guess that's part of the problem. I don't know where I'm going right now. Not with the writing, not with school, not with anything. Away from the computer, I have two persons I get along with well enough to seek their company and enjoy their conversations. Once school ends, I probably will loose contact with them aside from the sporadic message through Facebook - since neither of us are very talkative, and we don't have a lot in common besides the things we do in school. I hate being at home, but seeing as I have no job I have no other option than returning back to the shitty little house in the shitty little town and try to get by without going mad. There I will have to stay until I find something that can sustain me and a somewhat decent apartment to live in, either through work or if I get in to a school of higher education than this one.. University, I suppose. Meaning, more loans to further studies I don't have a goal with. I should go out more. But it's kind of hard when crowds and strangers make me feel awkward and uncomfortable, and since I don't drink there's little point in going to some pub or club or anything of the sort. Ugh.. I need a hobby. But above else I need some food. Good thing I have some!

[Rista]

Quiet objection... It's a month left to Christmas, but there is no snow. There's only black and wind and rain and green grass, and it doesn't feel like winter at all. Where is the holiday mood? Where is the scent of gingerbread and oranges, where are the expectations and tingling excitements that I used to have? This might be the thing I hate the most about growing up. Apparently it means that all things loose it's glamor and only the bothersome tasks remain. Once, I used to enjoy giving presents to people as much as I liked receiving ones myself. This has changed. now it's just a hassle from both ends, since I don't have anywhere to place my new things. My room is overflowing with random little things that I don't need... I want to move away from home. I want to say no to going home over the holiday, I want to celebrate my birthday by eating sushi and playing tetris, and perhaps get a phonecall from a friend or two. I don't want to make a fuss about things. No more stressed dinners, present hunting in cold sweat or crushed expectations when things don't go the way they were planned. Give me freedom! It's perfectly possible to enjoy the seasons without making a party out of it. and believe me, I would so love this season if I only could have some snow. There's just not winter without snow, and then everyone living in warm places can say whatever they want. Sweden without a white blanket over New Years is unthinkable, it just doesn't happen. How can we be vikings if there's no cold to defy? I'm just asking. This was Scandinavia in March this year. Norway, Sweden and Denmark in a frozen paradise. This is what it's supposed to look like. Gods, how I long for some white fluff to brighten my days... Isn't it beautiful?

[Rista]

My hair is getting longer! It probably shouldn't come as a surprise since it lies within the nature of hair to grow, but I've had short cropped hair for so long that it feels strange to see it reach further than my ears. I couldn't be more delighted. I've made it a goal to let it grow out at least to the shoulders before I do anything with it, which means that currently I have a long page-like hairstyle, with straight cuts everywhere. The bangs are straight, the tips are straight, everything is straight. This is nice. It's even nicer now that I can pull it back in a ponytail and get it away from my face when necessary, instead of constantly pushing it away with my hands or tucking it behind my ears - which is a very ineffective way of holding it back. I look forward to the day when I have enough hair to make a braid. I think that's the whole point with my growing it out, purely aside from not having to go to the hairdresser twice a month to keep it in check - something I never did in the first place, which means that normally I had a decent hairstyle for one week followed with six months of disheveled denial... And now, I, Me and Myself is going to find something else to do, that doesn't involve ranting about hair or spamming the scrapbook or generally hanging around the site when I can't do anything useful. Maybe I can find someone to pester.. This song has been stuck on my mind for over a week now. I'm going to share the plague with you, just because misery loves company.

[Rista]

Maybe its because of the weather. Maybe I just need a break. I haven't had anything good to report in a long time, and between each post in this scrap it feels like nothing has changed. Stagnation... I don't really like the word but I think it's appropriate in this case because I cannot go back, I don't know how to move forward and everything I do is just an endless repetition of yesterday. Knowing what to do and to do it are two separate matters, the first is easier than the second because making an effort to change means that ultimately you will have to take responsibility for the things that won't work out... Not that that is any different from what I'm doing now. It just feels more difficult. Did you ever fill a bottle with clear water and try to peer through it to the other side? If you hold the bottle right in front of your eye and look towards a source of light, the world distorts and becomes something completely different, filled with colors and swirling patterns that doesn't make any sense at all if you simply use your eyes as they are. Like something from a dream, a sensation you cannot touch and can't put words on, it's like holding your breath and feeling a shiver go down your spine, stomach churning and your chest tightening around a longing to understand, to grasp it and make it come true. To walk along a dark road in a snowfilled winter night where your path is lit by nothing but stars, only to turn around the corner and see a cabin up ahead, the roof covered in glittering crystals where light spills out into the night and a thin trail of smoke whispering silent promises of warmth and company... Treasure the little things, they say. Take the day as it comes, make the most of it, because it will never come again. I really wish I could live like that, but I might be too much of an introvert to manage the kind of carefree mindset that would appreciate the small things. It might just be me being greedy. Or perhaps it's due to the fact that I'm too self-centered, that I can't bring myself to see further than to my own pleasures and wants and needs. Many good things have happened to me, many are still happening but I can't help but think '..and then?' It's like nothing is ever good enough, I keep reaching for more even when my hands are full and overflowing, and even when I have more than I know how to appreciate I keep longing for something else, something deeper, more fulfilling, more captivating and enthralling. Perhaps it is something that stems from the fact that I don't know what it means to not have. In my life, my family haven't had a lot of money but even so we aways got by. There were always presents for Christmas, there was always something to eat, we always had clothes and a roof over our heads, and there was always someone to embrace when we wanted to, someone to talk to when we had to get things off our chests. While we knew that life wasn't always easy, we never got to truly taste any hardships; we were spared that, wrapped in cotton and shielded the worst blows. That was the way our parents spoiled us, even though they couldn't in many other ways. They took the blame, they placed the guilt on themselves before we had a chance to, they carried the burdens without even trying to share, and like that we were swept along and safeguarded by thick comforters, gently guided from the sharp corners of life and never asked to do anything that meant we would have to go out of our way or make an effort. Sure there were complaints from time to time that we weren't helping out and didn't do this or that, but we were allowed to shrug it off and continue to go about as if the rest of the world didn't matter. There were never any consequences for disobeying, maybe because we avoided the matter in such a way that punishment seemed unreasonable, even selfish and unjustified. I can't help but wonder, if perhaps our parents did us a favor in protecting us or if they in fact handicapped us, making it difficult if not even impossible to escape this cocoon of safety that was spun around us. Without expectations, without hopes or suggestions or fears being placed upon us, how can we break free and find our own path? I never had that teenage rebellion that seems to be so common. I never actually argued with either my mother or my father, I never complain out loud and never do anything that might hurt either of them. The closest to a protest I have ever made was earlier this fall when I shooed my mother and younger sister out the door and asked them to go home and fight instead of pestering me with the endless bickering. And that took all the courage I had, my hands were shaking for hours afterwards and I still feel a pang of guilt over what I did. It's not like anything even changed because of it. Things are still the same way at home, and the thought of leaving this safe haven of mine and return to that place makes my shoulders tense, my breath catch. I don't want to go home... Do I have to? No, I don't. If it were simply for the sake of my parents then I'd stay here without hesitation, I'd skip the whole part of celebration and just let the days pass like they always do. I don't give much for Christmas anyway, since I'm neither christian nor care much for following traditions for the sake of them being traditions. And my birthday isn't much to celebrate. I just got older, that's all. It happens every day, and if I were to celebrate surviving then I could as well have a party once a week. On the other hand... It's not my sisters fault that things are the way they are at home. I don't have anything against talking to them or visiting them, and by not going home I'd be standing them up as well. I've said that I'm coming home too, so now I have to go through with it. It's just.. Yeah. I just really don't want to go home.

[Rista]

Officially taking a break I'm still alive, and somewhat alright. The muse however has gone awol, and I don't see it returning anytime soon. To all of you that I'm threading with; I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging, keeping you waiting and not keeping in touch. I will try to manage replies in reasonable amounts of time, but if I poof then at least now you know that I haven't forgotten about you. I'm still here, and I'll respond to PM's, but I just can't get myself to write anything that resembles a decent post. So, I'm placing myself on an indefinite hiatus until I can honestly say that roleplaying is fun again.

[Tatiam]

I... hum. Don't know where to start. I'm keeping your Scrapbook for fun-reading time, I will savor it slowly, hoping I never reach its end.

Why?

Among what would look like everyday talk and random thoughts, I feel like I caught a glimpse of something more profound. It's how the sentences flow, the emotions and energy... I read a few things that really touched me closely. Like they were my own words. You can't imagine how magnificent it feels to read and feel something like that. I'm used to loneliness. Being misunderstood was a fear I had as a teenager. I don't fear it anymore. I'll probably always be It's fine. That's how it is. I don't find that words convey an idea perfectly (though it's probably just me, I don't express myself very well), everything I think has a structure based on so many levels of feelings, past experiences, thoughts, that it just feels too complex to hope anyone would relate anymore. I try to make it simple, though, but it isn't.

Then there are times when everything feels, in contrast, utterly simple. Can't explain why. I think it's got to do with details and the big picture. Can't appreciate something if you look into it deeply, right? But I love details... it's what makes the picture interesting. Hahaha. I'm silly, nevermind. Still I feel like simplicity is what makes things enjoyable. Stop worrying and thinking and just being there, now, perfectly in the present time.

I remember one person I connected with, we'd complete each other's sentences, we'd say the same things, write a sentence with the same words, it was like... How could she know how I formulated my thoughts?

But we were as much on the same wavelength as we had very different foundations, which clashed with the friendship we had. Don't be scared, I'm not gonna ask you to be my best friend It's just a thing that doesn't happen often. To me anyway. I think you remind me of who/how I used to be when I was a few years younger. I don't open up much anymore, I don't feel like I'm interesting and that people would bother with me. (You made me make an exception ) But I care nonetheless, and it's been a real pleasure finding out about you.

I hope, whatever you do, be it on Mizahar when you find your muse again, or other kinds of writing, or drawing, singing, dancing, appreciating music and arts, that life treats you well.

Thank you for this thread...