on becoming an adult.

I wrote this to answer a question that popped up in a forum discussion:
When did you realize you where an adult?

I’m 30 and I guess it is the moment when most of the stuff you do already has memories attached to it. It simply is getting harder to do something completely new. Sure, skydiving is still on the todo list, but in terms of everyday things?

The worst part, for me, are memories of people, events, things that are gone, forever. From my love now being pregnant by her new man up to certain actors or musicians simply dying away.

When you’re young those memories are just a few. Adulthood means when those memories catch up and begin to shape reality. I know what it feels like to crash a car, a motorcycle. I drive those differently now. I know exactly how painful the end of an relationship can be and behave differently.

UP summed it up nicely, now that I think of it.
/Grumpy young man

this.

I saw this, this, my current life as temporary, as a phase, as a bad dream. My current flat was a stop gap, everything would move back into place, neat, orderly, safe, nice, warm and cosy.

Coming into my flat after work now feels different.

This is it, all there is, all there will be.

And you open the door and you step inside
Were inside our hearts
Now imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light
That’s right your pain, the pain itself is a white ball of healing light

I don’t think so

This is your life
Good to the last drop
Doesn’t get any better then this
This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time.

memories.

I guess what drives me insane is that my head is full of memories that pop up all the time, without any control over it. I have a very good memory, remember lots of mundane crap.

What am I supposed to do with all my memories, pointing nowhere?

game over.

Hey you,

Great news, I am really happy for you. Your plan has always been to have a baby before you turn thirty, congrats on accomplishing it.

I hope you understand the way I mean it, I really am happy for you, you. Just you.

I couldn’t care less about the surroundings, but they are your life, your reality, your happiness. They make me sad, but that is ok, as it is irrelevant, out of scope, forever.

Your message provides me closure, in a way, my fantasies, my dreams of getting together again, romantically, are dead, gone. All those mind-numbing fantasies of chance encounters, sudden realizations of wrong doings will stay there, here, in my heart, in my head.

It is my personal cancer, eating, gnawing at me.

Fuck reality, fuck life, fuck chance, fuck me.

No happy endings, ever, just phases. They all end, in pain. And death. I hate you all, your happiness, your existence, your ability to live, to cope, to have a future, a family, a life.

I will keep looking at our pictures, cherishing regret, pain and shame.
At least some feelings.

oh well, creeping along.

Back from two adventures, the Kazakh/Kyrgyz trip being the far more bigger one. WRC rally in Finland was my second time, so no surprises there.

Lessons learned:
1., I am fat and out of shape.
2., I love to travel.
3., Issyk Kul lake is one of the most beautiful spots in the world
4., Advanced hiking gear is worth every cent
5., Bakshish rules the world

No surprises there too.

Everything was great, now I am back and lonely. While being in a relationship. Which I don’t have the guts to end cause I don’t know what’s next. Facebook tells me about the successful life of others and their happiness, which really feels a bit like a kick in the nuts. “Others” being my past. Soon it will be three fucking years. Fucking hell.

summer.

My life progresses at a fast pace, still also it feels like nothing. ever. happens. The past months I saw myself climbing along the Great Wall, strolling through Beijing, getting absolutely hammered in Seoul, feeling uneasy in Bucharest, seeing cool bands during St. Petersburg’s white nights.

Next week I’ll be hiking from Kazakhstan to Kyrgyzstan, from Almaty to the Issyk Kul Lake.

I have turned 30.

I don’t like my current relationship.

I like being alone.

I miss my girl. I miss being able to think about the past without feeling hurt. Without feeling like an amputee.

Sometimes its like someone took a knife baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
Through the middle of my soul

Great post.

the gentle art of getting older.

I left my Facebook profile alone for a while. Spent a weekend in Zurich, went to a lot of clubs, danced like a madman. I really enjoy dancing. A bit of a strange thought for me. A girl called me party-boy. Oh well.

Coming back a friend request awaited me, a girl from way back, we were in the same class in grammar school. Married, two kids. I accepted. Soon after I got two more requests, more people from that time. Again, a girl, a pretty one, I always thought she had a crush on me, back in the days. Married, one kid.

Fucking hell. I am getting thirty in July. I feel like 25, I live like 25, I don’t even know what happened between 25 and now. 5 years of my life have simply vanished. Pretty much the period of my serious working life. Somewhere my life took a bad turn, it really did. Of course, it could be simple peer pressure, all of them getting married and starting families. But seriously, I want that too.

I always thought I could never have a relationship with a mother. Having the kid of someone else around isn’t a joyful perspective for me. But still, right now I am seriously interested in a single mother. Russian, smart, open minded, pretty, tight body. I just don’t know if I can stomach that kid of hers. I want my own kids, my own blood. I am old fashioned, conservative, reactionary in that regard.

The shitty thing about being a single family guy is that you can’t run around searching for a wife. You have to play the game, invest quite some time (a year min) to be sure. Again and again. And slowly, ever so slowly, this makes me nervous. I don’t want to be a dad with 40 (if ever).

a fire inside.

Deleted some files of her I found on my PC. For a while we shared this machine, living together. Found some old photos, showing us young, together. 2003, 2004. She had cats, twice, always a couple. Both times they got sick and died. I remember putting on plastic gloves and pulling the stiff body of one them from behind the TV where it had lay itself down to die.

Photos of me in her flat, having a cat cradled in my arm. Us in Croatia, Krakow. A list of hers, describing the years, one note per month. Describing our life.

I deleted that folder.

Still I can’t get over it. The sense of loss is as big as it ever was. Like looking at pictures of dead people. Our life wasn’t perfect, still, I miss it. I felt safe. For a long time I had resisted being part of her family, taking part in their activities. After 3, 4 years I felt safe and comfortable.

Betrayal.

It’s mourning now.
I mourn.
And go numb.

stuck.

I have a few profiles out there – linkedin, xing and facebook (that orkut page doesn’t count). While linkedin and xing are purely professional, facebook is more. This irks me. I’ve spent some time there, added things to my profile like music, books, tastes, etc. This is all nice and dandy, but the networking aspect makes me uncomfortable.

I not only take action, but am informed about the actions of the people in my friends list. And this is getting way too personal as you can browse from profile to profile through those lists. People I haven’t seen for years and where never close to begin with now ’share’ information about their life with me, unknowingly. Of course, if you post it on the net, it is public, but how many people REALLY realize what this means? And as long as I have to actively search for and find this stuff it is somehow ok. But being alerted about this stuff? Push instead of pull? I don’t even WANT to know about their personal life.

And now, the neurotic kicker: I cannot remove anybody. What an awkward situation, not having thought about adding a ‘friend’ and now being forced to live with her more closely than you want, again. It really fucks me up. At the same moment I cannot stay away from facebook as I initiated contact with a girl through it – and it hasn’t gone to the next step yet.

Sunday will clear that up, but until then I’ll check my social inbox and see things I don’t want to see and be reminded why separation might get REALLY hard in the future.

yipikaye, motherfucker.

The slightest thing can shake me, one moment I am on my way to a new mental state, the next second a message reaches me. A fucking facebook friend’s request, hm?, requesting me? I stop and stare, too much thinking, too much stupid images flashing through my mind. I accept, of course, of fucking course. Shall I write a message? Something like a question, something polite, a polite question maybe? No, fuck that. She has no picture yet, it takes me seconds to locate the perfect one, Barcelona, long time ago, perfect perfect perfect. It is resized, cropped, ready, what a gesture, grand, irresistible. Don’t send it, just don’t. It stays.

I browse away, browse back, read her profile, notice people addressing a couple, of course, whatever, my fucking mind, fantasy, insane stupidity. Nobody noticed it, just me, still I feel ashamed. Of myself. Angry about my weakness, my naivety, cluelessness.

On Sunday, a new try, a new game. I am just tired of it. I really liked the ‘Hopeless Emptiness’ bit in Revolutionary Road. I really did.