Reptile

"On this night, thin is the veil, at Darkest hour I see most clear. Warmth of the candle light on my face, cold of the night against my back. I roam with the spirits of this land. Both worlds I seek, and see as one. What I will I now become."

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

Everyday I am at work, I think about something I want to write about, yet I forget it right after I get home. Hunger, thirst, uncomfortable feeling and tiredness seem to dull my mind in the evening.

One realization I've made and remembered was that my energy or motivation to paint or draw hasn't been low because all this time I have just been lazy, but I've been just depressed enough that I've felt tired all the time unable to do what I wanted. Now that I'm feeling better my head is forming ideas and I'm dreaming of my summer-vacation when I could hopefully paint and finish all the unfinished projects. Now I'm still studying in the hope of getting a high school- diploma. Well, I think it's not exactly "high school", but since the education systems are different in every country, and I can't figure out any other word quite as fitting, I'll use that one.

*

When I was a kid, I saw this scary looking book in the local library, the book was called "Noidan käsikirja"/"Witches handbook". I think after looking into those pages of mysterious, odd and frightening in the eyes of a kid about 6-8 year old, I was the most afraid of vampires.

It sounds ridiculous to think, that some child would be scared of vampires out of all the supernatural monsters, but that amusement comes from the ruined image of vampires. The biggest causes for this were the TV-shows "Buffy the vampire slayer", "Twilight"-franchise and "True blood". Of course the Anne Rice's books - or most likely the movie-adaptations - have had some of the fault too, although I did like the "Interview with the Vampire". Probably because it was a book with desperate mood and the most unique descriptions of the vampiric-vision. I was impressed the way everything was described. Yet I feel that it too was at fault with damaging what the vampires used to mean in different folklore's. Now a days vampires are beautiful teenagers - or adults - who seem to walk around in the daylight and lack all the average weaknesses of the vampires in mythologies. No crosses, no garlic, no holy water and you can do whatever you want with them and they won't die.
And even when all the typical vampiristic characteristics fit, like in the "True Blood", which is great, but the supernatural aspects are lacking and the unique mind they supposedly have, like the book "Dracula" by Bram Stoker suggest as well as the "Interview with the vampire", is not there. Not to mention the icky-romance crap. I cannot understand the female-need to fantasize about being a human with supernatural hunks chasing after you. Its the main reason why vampires have lost their glamour - vampire-pun intended.
Vampires are supposedly mystic beings with their own hidden agendas, which include most of all draining blood from the humans. The mystical quality in them lies also in the fact that their true natures are hidden. They are the wolves in the sheep's-clothing. And all of this I have mentioned qualifies especially when thinking about the supernatural blood-thirsty vampires, who are nothing like human beings, yet they still have the knowledge of what it is like to act human, and they look the part to some degree. I even like the idea of the human in the new-born, "embraced" vampire-fledgling is gone, and only the shell of it remains yet it's inhabited by this monstrous creature.

One specific exception that almost has all the qualities I enjoy is the game (bear with me nongamers): "Vampire Masquerade - Bloodlines". Previous part "Redemption" is unknown to me for it's difficult attainability.

(Images belong to Troika Games)

It's now an old game, easy to find for example in Steam (google it if you don't understand), yet I still am in love with that game. It gives everything a vampire/horror-enthusiastic could desire for: you can only play the nights - and it really is a never-ending, beautiful night. The music entraps you into the sinister mood, that makes you feel like you're high from the blood you drink:

"I suddenly have the desire to walk down that dark and foreboding alley over there! ...Care to join me?"

There's a lot to tell, yet I won't make this a long story. The curious ones can read about it themselves or even better; just buy it from Steam and try it.

(Images belong to Troika Games)

A Grangel - my first clan. Ah, the nostalgia...

 (Images belong to Troika Games)

"Real terror is not the sight of death, it is the fear of death. What is the fear of death? Terror of the unknown. Is it these eyes you peer into? No, I am not the unknown; You and I are closer kin than you and it were."

--Pisha

(Images belong to Troika Games)

"I'm over here, boss! Wait, maybe I'm over here! Or maybe I'm behind you with a hatchet in my hand... or did you ever stop to think that your fear, if given a voice, would sound... like... this." - Gary

*

The amount of details the game developers have put in the game is astonishing. I - for example - love the nightly radio-broadcast "Deb of Night":

These still make me laugh.

*

Perhaps, for closure; for me, the real vampires are pretty much the folklore-ones. They are the undead monsters that drink human blood. Of course the specifics varies between different mythologies, but they are monsters.

But I also do not like the monster-movies versions of the vampires, like in the movie "30 days of night". But that was mostly because the plot and storyline didn't really deliver.

This is just the top of the iceberg. There's tons of bad and good examples. And this little blabber wasn't really an introduction to vampires in entertainment, but just a small ranting about my own views, what I like. Quite as boring as it seems.

Ye Dark winged ones - Come to me, my Friends, Land on my feet and tell Me with Your dark voices Your stories of the Deep Dark Woods

(Copyrights belong to me)

I was wondering about my last writing. I think it might give the wrong kind of impression. I'm a lousy writer. My world consists of images, not words. I'm bad expressing myself using words.
I'm equally bad at analyzing my own writings yet I started to think that people who do not know or understand what I mean with the talk of hating humans, might think of me as some kind of psychopath or something, I decided to emphasize what I meant by saying that I care for most people - in some way and at least sometimes. Also I would not wish harm to anyone, that's why a world wide catastrophe would erase whoever were in its way without judgement. It would be more clean than wars between nations. 
Wishing for something like that means also that I'm willing to accept that it would be the end of all things I've grown fond of yet I know things will never get any better with the way they are now. Not without some kind of impact that would change every person's mind.

What I desire is a new beginning - probably not for mankind, since we are incapable of changing, but for all life on this Earth. The life mankind is about to erase as insignificant.
And that's something I've been carrying in my mind for many years. Unable to do anything but observe - as seems to be my role in life; observer.

That is what I meant with this lacking "tongue" of mine.

*

I've been quite tired lately. Yet I'm not worried yet. It might be the aftermath of my trip and also some of the wine I drank back then might taken some of the effects of the antidepressants back. So it hasn't affected as well for couple of days.

The medication has done nothing harmful for me to complain about but I miss drinking wine. Even two glasses of it might be too much. You get an odd feeling if you try to drink more than possible, and you know then that you must seize drinking. Any mild alcohol-drinks are allowed, like beer or two, but nothing strong.

*

Since I re-found and rekindled my affection to music, I got some flashbacks from Type O Negative albums and last late spring.

I've been doing quite well since the break-up, and the only good thing about it was the fact that it ended. I cannot revisit the emotional anguish I was put through at that time since I have nothing left to feel for that person, but I was somehow remembering the whole affair with some kind of a amusement. Perhaps I was amused by my own foolish mistake, the grave yet hard-to-believe misjudgment of character. How could I've been so blind as to believe her lies, that's something I still cannot believe. Also the way I - who have always dread carefully with affections - threw myself for her to rip to shreds. Like I was a puppet without my own will, eagerly handing her my heart and mind, which were of course abused and crushed and finally stomped on. I've never let anyone use me like that. Even with the people whose affection was already false or questionable I was able to refrain myself from ever getting too close. The only people I've given myself with trust are my few friends and siblings. And for my siblings I would be willing to go through all sorts of hellish mental agony, but to think a person who thought and felt almost absolutely nothing for me was able to twist me into this shapeless form, I'm at loss, trying to comprehend the way things happened. I am in no means exaggerating the torment I was put through. I had never felt such pain and didn't think there was a pain like that to begin with.

I guess I feel humiliated by the way she used and hurt me. That is exactly why I don't give chances to people who already don't seem to care for me, like my father. But usually those people can't hide it. And since I've at times wondered about the last summer and spring, I think I might have even seen the signs in her eyes. But like a child she kept playing and I wanted her love bad enough to ignore those cold eyes and the obvious fact how she kept tormenting me that it was a miracle I didn't break down; I was an exhausted, emotional wreck. I wish I had the words to describe how it felt. Perhaps someday I will be able to portray it somehow, since I can't shape it into words.

Perhaps part of the continuing hatred is the feeling of humiliation. It's also one of the strengths that pull inward the intense hatred which allows me to forget - yet not forgive. Never forgive. I remember all the kindness I've been given, that is why I have been civilized since I remember the kindness of her family, but I also remember all the viciousness I've suffered, and her name is in the top of the list for everything she did was personal, unlike many other insults and physiological violence.

Perhaps some wise person might consider hatred the wrong way of reacting, but that's how I've dealt with all the people who have hurt me. I cannot forgive something I haven't fully confronted yet. And my future stretches out to the next minute and not farther than that. I still despise the idea of forgiveness.

What you reap - you sow.

*

With the threat of writing too much I wanted to shed a bit more light into this bitter head of mine. We all have reasons for our actions and reactions.

I was an easy target to use, since my previous yet short "romance" with someone ended up with me suspecting of being used for some agenda; most likely to cause jealousy in the previous partner.
And before I would've gotten too involved and done things I would regret - as I am now regretting with the previous catastrophe of a relationship - I ended it. 

After that I seemed to have created feelings for a person who wasn't interested in me, perhaps just to have someone safe to like. At that time, it was painful as well, yet now I can almost reminisce with happiness, that my childlike heart was still so innocent and foolish with naivety. 
My short, disappointing and extremely painful disappointments in love-life - or more specifically; my one-sided love-lives - have left me exhausted and ready to give up that kind of life. I've been an observer as long as I can recall. I have few friends and my siblings. I have the forests, my dark winged friends and all the other occupants of the forests, so perhaps I should stick to my role in life instead of keep trying to achieve things I cannot seem to have. While I write this I feel content about it. As if I'm agreeing with myself to something I've known. I have no objections. 

*

  
I'm too old-school for posting Youtube-links, but old habits die hard - if ever. And this song is most likely going to disappear a month or couple of weeks after I've posted it here leaving only a blank frame:

Ah, the torments of the summer. Yet my memory is leaving me with the more affectionate memories of the job I had, the foods and drinks I had and the way the rising sun climbed behind my back to warm the cool mornings with its light. Those aren't unpleasant memories.

Bitter Wine

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

I've become cynical. Perhaps even bitter. I'm sure all that is obvious from my previous post. I feel like a doomsday preacher and it's easier to write how much I detest humanity than to tell it. Forming that into words gives a wrong impression. I just don't see any hope for the future. I'm sure some people had these thoughts even centuries ago, and nothing bad happened. I cannot help feeling that this generation is part of the end - whatever that will be.

And I'm also quite sure my own disappointing relationships with people have had their part in this cynical hopelessness and the disability to see almost any good in humanity. I'm aware how selfish that sounds, yet I can't help the way I feel.

After a while the wine of all earthly pleasures turn into dust in your mouth.

Opus Nigrum

Hostis Humani Generis

(Copyrights belong to me)

Enemy of the Mankind.

If I had one wish; met a genie, wished upon a flying star or met some strange god whom to pray to, I'd wish for the end of Mankind.

I have a soft heart. Sometimes I think it's too soft for anyone to bear. I have a soft heart for children, for women, for the elderly, for men who are like my brothers and yet there are often thoughts if not realizations, that all things I love will die because of men. Even there are times I look upon my family and friends - even my own reflection in the mirror - and I feel sad, tired, disappointed.

For me, this Earth is hell. There can be no other hell to go to. And if there is, it must feel like a vacation after this life here.

I'm not the only one who has seen the end of our days. I feel such grief already. Perhaps ever since I was a child and I begin to understand things. Now I look at the things I love with adoring gaze, apologetic, and I wish the end of Mankind would come soon. And I wish I could carry this disappointment and turn this resentment into something more bearable. And I wish to all the gods and all the stars that I could bear this grief over my loved ones, that continue to wither and die. My own death is inevitable as is all the natural deaths, so I will continue to live, continue to suffer as long as I can take it. I will gather every last bitter drop of it, take a pencil, a brush and a chisel and form it into a mirror. I hope you would see your reflection. I hope it would make you love the unloved ones once more. That I could see humanity in your eyes instead of that blank, hollow shell without a soul.

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

*

I'm sure some of the readers wonder who is this melodramatic writer, but I have the advantage to write whatever I wish since I do not have to please anyone. Even these recurring thoughts or feelings about humanity. I do not think there's a cure for this although my mood otherwise has improved with medicine and therapy. There's no cure for the human nature.

"The Bad Luck Bird - He has a Dagger for a beak and pecks Your eyes out as You Sleep"

(Copyrights belongs to yours truly)

The trip was a pleasant one, although I am quite tired at the moment.
I took my camera with me, though I didn't think there would be any time to take pictures - luckily I did.

There's something so comforting in the knowledge of going home and viewing familiar scenery's. The desire of going home seemed to have grown more and more by every minute and by every sign of familiarity in the surroundings, whether it's the buildings or forests or lakes.

My winter-music.

I also found a great book about the language of Karjala (Karelia). It's a very rare type of Finnish-dialect, which is only spoken in the Karjala that has belong to Russia from the year 1944 onward. My roots are in that area - as are most of the Finnish people - so for example at least couple of my grandparents spoke the language yet they didn't teach it to their children. Now I'm finding myself curious about the language. Some of the words and sentences are similar to the Finnish equivalents yet there's a lot of unknown meanings and familiar sounding words which I cannot figure out.

I do not know if many other languages have developed in such way, that there's a huge amount of words forgotten or replaced with other words, so that the map has countless of place-names which sound odd and unfamiliar. I could take two for example: "Leppävirta" = "Alder-stream". But in Finnish the word "leppä" also means "blood". And there's another odd place-name: "Kouvola" - no direct translation there. Even for a Finnish-people that word sounds like gibberish, nonsense, but the word "kouvo" seem to mean at least two things "a bear" and "a louse". I've always wondered these unknown words. Why does the word "vaara" mean "a hill"? Why are there so many words of our history spread everywhere, yet we are left to wonder without knowing who we were. 

Perhaps that's why I'm so drawn to our old "pagan"-ways. 

I want to carve the faces of those gods no one seems to have been able to save from the Christian-missionaries.

(Copyrights belongs to me and only me - thank you)

My dark Feathered Friends; Come rest on my Shoulders and sing Your song to Me

(Copyrights belong to yours truly - so, no copying ladies and gentlemen)

I'm been reading every night now, which is amazing achievement. I've been quite busy with all kinds of things - mostly studying, so I don't have time to read a lot at once, but still I feel good. I got one of my old hobbies back. And I have a lot of "new" old books, that I want to read. At the moment I am slowly reading through the Stephen King's "The Shining", which I probably have already mentioned here. But I must add, that although the Stanley Kubrick's film-version was his vision and probably had his own ulterior motives, I like to think the two of them as separate stories - especially now that I am learning the King's version, which is already a lot different in many ways.

I feel relieved that my medication is working. I can tolerate so many things again.
For example last night I saw a dream, where was something I was able to recollect - even though I usually forget the dreams from the second my eyes open.

In that dream, I kissed my ex, who had a breath that tasted like death.

It was fine. I feel quite fine about it all now. I mean, that it's soon going to be a full year since we broke up, and since the way things ended and also because I'm feeling a lot stronger again, I can tolerate the thought (or a dream) about the ex. It probably was triggered by the developed film, which had had couple of pictures of her. It's kind of horrible to be reminded about her appearances when I've managed to forget so much. Yet I feel alright. She doesn't deserve to take up any time or space in my mind. Looking at her face just reminds me of how much pain and suffering she caused me, so I don't get sad. I only get angry.

Anyway, I woke up from the dream, remembered her and her breath of death. I then, at one point, took one of my two cats into my lap, and he affectionately tried to swipe his runny nose all over my face, when I smelled the familiar scent of death coming from his mouth. I dare say; mystery solved.

*

I'm glad I am feeling as well as I am. Even just over a week ago I was feeling cautious about my health, but now I feel more hopeful again. I'm still unable to think far ahead, make plans or anything like that, but I just do what feels natural and good. If I don't want to do something, I won't do it. Not thinking about the future, possible failures and setbacks, are also partly the reason I am able to stay this good. Ignorance really is a bliss.

*

Tomorrow is going to be a very long day, since I am on the move - surprisingly enough. I am traveling to visit a friend. It's my first time in her new hometown. It's a trip long over due. A part of me is glad about this trip, and yet I'm also feeling exhausted just by thinking about it. It's probably going to be good for me. Even though it swallows all my weekend-resting time, I don't get out often, so this is most likely healthy for me... I think.

Song from the System of a Down played by the talented Vika <--

*

It was a long, long, long, long, long time Lie - and I am glad I am rid of it all

The song "Long time lie" from Depeche mode was fitting at this time, when I was still trying to come terms with the fact that my relationship was a lie. Unfortunately songs, copyrights and time do not match together, so for the lonely blank page I put this little picture:

(Copyrights mine)

La Crudeltà ha Cuore Umano

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

Developing film, especially black and white, is way too expensive. But perhaps I can do this once a year. It feels more special that way too.

(Copyrights belong to yours truly)

*

And in case you happened to be wondering about those paintings in this video; they are made by William Blake. I recommend to see his artwork if you're not already familiar with it. He is amazing artist. I especially admire his colour-work and the themes he uses.

The Duality of the Human nature

Chaostar; one of my favourite bands.

When the beauty is the beast, and the beast is the beauty, I'm infatuated.

My Dark Friends spread their Black Wings to Greet Me

 (Copyrights belong to yours truly so no copying thank you)

I went for a walk today. I brought my camera with me too. It was amazing walk, since I finally got to see the forest which next to I'm living in. I mean, that living in a city doesn't allow me to go to forests. But now I can go there. And it was purifying experience. Almost ecstatic experience. There was other people walking some of the same paths, which wasn't so bad since I was just happy to be there. I cannot wait till the summer comes, and I can go even deeper into the wild. Now there's a lot of snow and it's tiring to walk there. Good for the health, but skiing would be easier.

In any case it was purifying experience. It reminded me of all those days I roamed my childhood forests. It felt like I was feeding up the energy around me. It's in my mind, that feeling, but that doesn't change the fact, how walking in a forest impacts me. I cannot seem to find the right words to describe it.

There's a night and day- difference between my photographs and people who are actually professionals, have great equipment or have gone through several courses to learn photographing. I just do it because it's fun and quick. I've also planned to paint paintings from my photographs, but that's a project that has been hanging in the air for quite some time. Two years ago I started to make few paintings, but all of them were more or less unfinished.
The good thing is that I'm feeling more energetic so I have faith that I will be able to continue working with those paintings at some point. 

  (Copyrights belong to yours truly so no copying thank you)


It was a day for black and white photographs, but I decided to add colour-versions here just because there's nice shades of blue in the picture.

On the same topic; in the next week I'm going to go get my first developed films, that have been waiting in my drawer for a year. I do not even know if the film-camera worked - or if I managed to keep the film in good condition, like it wasn't exposed to high temperature-changes or nothing like that. I just took pictures and waited until I had some extra-money to get the pictures developed. So the moment of truth is close.

If there's any film-camera enthusiastic's reading this, I must say, that developing films in a store is very expensive. The best solution would be to develop the film yourself, if you have the space for it and you can fund the equipment and the liquids. You could develop several dozen films before you would need more liquids for it. And films, and film-camera's - probably film-objects too - aren't expensive anymore. That's something I wish I could do someday, but now I do not have the space nor the funding.

Film-photographing is nice since the pictures look good no matter how lousy of a photographer you are. Well, perhaps you need to have the eye for it at least, but I really enjoyed it. I recommend it for everyone who haven't tried it.

(Copyrights belong to me)

*

This sack of Meat I inhabit is nothing but a Vessel

I listened to this song after years had passed from the last time. It's funny how memories are so quickly activated by certain smells and sounds. I remember listening to this song whenever I was going to a hospital or leaving from one. For me the song was kind of supposed to encourage. It's hard to go through surgeries and the after-math by yourself. There's never been anyone there to visit me or to take care of me when I'm healing.

That's perhaps the third thing that has caused my depression. The last surgery was really difficult and painful. All that pain and fear have put me into a lot of strain. For instance after one operation couple of the stitches came off, so I started bleeding like leaky faucet. It was a drop after every heartbeat. Of course I called the hospital while scared shitless, since I don't mind blood but I do mind when it's dripping out of me when it's not supposed to. But the person in the phone said that I could come in the morning, that it's not an emergency. I thought I could never get any sleep knowing that while I sleep there's a leaky vein in me. Of course the doctor fixed it the next day, but that's just one example. Not to mention all the humiliations I've gone through. I'm so used to just giving my body to the medical staff, as if it was a broken tool for them to fix, and it didn't belong to me. But nowadays I refuse to give my surgical information to any new doctors especially since a routine check-up doesn't need that information.

My body is just as tired as my mind is.

That song also reminds me of my older brother, so older Metallica will have a special meaning for me in that sense too.

*

I have found the joy of listening to music after a long, long time. It was a lot over a year ago, when I didn't really know what to listen, nothing really interested me, but now, I'm bit by bit more interested.
But I can't exhaust myself even though I've been doing a little bit of past-time reading. It's not going very fast, but it's a change for the better.

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

Today's thoughts were circling around religion. Perhaps because I have been thinking about Buddhism lately.
Last time I was depressed was when I was a teenager and I read a lot back then, bumping into Buddhism at one point. I read a lot about it. As much literature as I could get my hands on. I really believed, that to live a joyful, content life the answer was in there. 
Now I'm thinking about going back to it, if it helps me to heal.
Why I - partly - left it was a thought, that with suffering I have inspiration for art, without it I can't make anything because I have nothing to tell. Happiness doesn't really inspire me. But perhaps I am in too deep with my suffering, that I could try anyway possible, to ease it.

When I was a child I was taught to be a Christian. And I was that in my own way, but when I noticed that the god I worshiped was very different from the god teachers and bible was teaching, I gave the god up and have been searching something philosophical or spiritual to rely in. Being an agnostic or atheist didn't fit right with me either. Being just vague with my spirituality through my life doesn't suit me and I also cannot deny any godlike-forces like atheist. And most atheists are quite aggressive people, who think all religion is stupid and religious people are stupidest people around, so I do not want to be in that group. I respect other people's free will to believe in whatever they want, although that point of view isn't fashionable now a days. Faith can be a powerful tool, but most fruitful tool when it is used by yourself to yourself. When life is a mystery, our existence a burden, a little bit of faith can give us a bit more strength.

I also acknowledge the impacts that for example Christianity has had to art. Art and science do not go well together, so in modern day artistic intuition is not appreciated.

For a child the existence of devil is more real than the existence of god. It's easy to believe in something, when not believing would mean that you are going to go to hell where demons tear you apart. Especially children are easily scared into believing anything frightening. A being supposedly kind and giving is not quite as real as monsters.

I never felt Christianity to be right for me. It's unfamiliar and strange, like many other religions. It has traveled here from far-away lands. Ever since I was a child all I could understand and love was the lands, forests and lakes around me and the animals that dwell within them. That's all. 

*

Had to add: I've been daydreaming about my own cottage/house a lot. Planning what I will do with it, what colour I will paint it, how many apple-tree's to grow in the yard and if I would buy an average wooden boat. The way sun and moon will shine there, how the mist gathers on the lake or a pond when it's autumn. Gods, this dream keeps getting more vivid and intense with each passing day. It's good to have something to dream, but some say that dreams are meant to be just dreams, to never achieve them. I get distressed when I think about never achieving this vision I have. It is tormenting.

“Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.”

Mornings are particularly difficult. It seems that my mind is more affected by any negative thoughts in the first hours of the awakening. For instance, this morning I thought to myself how pointless life is and especially how disgusted I am with the human-race. It's an old issues that I thought I had made my peace with a long time ago. This hate and disgust toward humanity started with my first depression when I was a teenager. It stopped with the depression, I think. I started to read about Buddhism at that point and all the disappointments and anger stopped - until last year it resurfaced. 

Ever since I was a kid, I loved the nature. The animals, the plants - everything in it. When I grew up I had to learn about the human history, and what our race has done to each other, to ourselves and to the planet. And still continue to keep on doing harm to everything around it. The reality of it and the human-nature is a hard thing to accept. Especially when your influenced by it everyday.

Before I understood that I could do all I can as a one person. The way I treat people, treat environment, but I can't save the world all by myself. That thought comforted me, but now it doesn't help me anymore. I just want to quit this game and go in to the wilderness and disappear.

When I was carrying on doing my chores with this dark cloud over my head I suddenly heard a song, that turned this sick feeling into serenity and after that into euphoria. It was from the opera from Léo Delibes called "Lakmé", the song is called "The Flower Duet", "Duo des fleurs". I got this feeling that I want to listen to more opera, since I enjoy classical music besides rock and metal-music. 

For a moment there, I thought to myself, that as long as there's art in this world, something that looks and sounds divine, it's a proof that the mankind has few people in it, with a soul that can produce immortal beauty.

But that soul has been partly tainted by the other part. For many of you readers that song might be more familiar from commercials, which have slaughtered many of the eternal classic-songs, that have the kind of rare light in them, that can lift our spirits, just as it did to me. I can never forgive the advertising industry for the way they exploit beauty. Yet they cannot soil its soul no matter how hard they seem to be trying to do that.

*

"The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something." ― Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country.

“Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.”

(Copyrights belong to me)

I'm a collector of several things, for example: literature. I especially collect classical literature works - even if I hadn't read some of it before. Dostojevski, Shakespeare, Orwell, Wilde and many others, who have been considered to be one of the great authors of all time. 
I also collect books that interest me and books that qualify those both criteria's but also on top of the previous criteria's books that are old and perhaps even aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. 
I most likely do not have any books that would be considered to be of any financial value, and even if I did, I would never sell anything I have. Oddly enough, I've grown very tight emotional bonds to my books. If there would be a fire in my home, it would mean a catastrophe. No kind of compensation would ever be enough to bring back what I would lose. So I sometimes fear that something bad might happen. I cannot think of any ways to prevent catastrophes with my budget so I try not to think about it too much. 

I used to be a complete opposite of someone who collected anything. I didn't have much, and I didn't want much either. But after some time I started to crave for something to do with the moments I had and since I used to read a lot and I watched a lot of movies, it seemed smart to get back to those old hobbies. I guess that happened when I got my first long time period apartment and I had undergone some surgery - which is something I won't write about but will mention that besides my head my body has been also poked and cut through many times like it was a needle-cushion. 
When I was recovering from the surgery's I wanted something to do, since going to school or work wasn't possible at first. I started by buying some old used DVD's of my favourite movies and TV-shows. And then I started to buy books too, since I used to be a very enthusiastic reader. Book by book, DVD by DVD I collected until I grew too fond of my collection that I just wanted it to keep on growing. Now I wanted a larger collection to also be able to share some of it with my friends and family. Like a personal library - although yet a significantly smaller version of that.

(Copyrights belong to me)

Later purchases have been two big book shelf's since the older ones were getting crowded. Now I can keep on collecting these small pieces of art to enjoy over and over again.

I have to mention too, that I almost never buy any new books. And most of my DVD's are used ones too. It's mostly for financial reasons but even if I could afford to buy anything I would ever want, I'd buy them used. Just because a book has had previous owners and some of them might be a bit rugged doesn't mean that they wouldn't last forever if you treat them well in your own lifetime. And since consumerism creates a flood of material things that keep coming, keep getting bought and thrown away, it's a never-ending cycle we must prevent with our choices or we will drown into thrash or we will use more and more resources to make more new things even if the previous things have been thrown away. 

Just because you can afford to buy everything new, you shouldn't. There are thousands and hundreds of thousands of homeless books and movies getting thrown into trash if we don't buy them for ourselves - into a home that would value them as they should be valued.

And if you get your hands to some free and exceptionally cheap books you do not care for nor you cannot get them sold you should think of other options to do with those books.

And I must mention that there are blogs and bloggers that create exceptionally amazing mythic cult-books out of old ones, and here's a link to a forum with pictures of what you can make. It seems that the original blog has been deleted for who knows for what reasons, but here's pictures of the amazing books that blogger had done:

Click to go to that forum <-

Yet perhaps you can find other instructions from anywhere in the internet. Propnomicon has many links to many places with people who are prop-experts sharing happily their knowledge and know-how's.

And here's a book-suggestion to all of you who are interested in oddities and occult, mysterious books: The Voynich Manuscript. It can be found free to see and "read" in many places all over the internet - or bought copies of it from many bookstores. It's an old book that has been written in unknown language and filled with drawings of non-existing or bizarre things like plants, that do not exist anywhere in the world.

Here's a news column of the Manuscript to the curious ones -> Link to The New Yorker.

“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.”

Association with human beings lures one into self-observation.

- Franz Kafka

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Out of curiosity I looked at some of the blogs I found, that told about single-life. First impression was amazement. It was like looking at a strange civilization. I could not understand any of it. One night stands, fuck-buddies, all the relationship drama and whatnot. It was puzzling. Almost fascinating. Like I was peeking through some unknown alien-species, that had their own strange customs I couldn't relate to, couldn't understand it in any form, to compare it to my life, since it was so different. Like a mirror-image of my life. It was bizarre.

But I do have this almost perverted curiosity towards that world. I say "perverted" since I have gone through such degree of curiosity, that I have even peeked at some of the TV-programs that are planned for those bizarre group of people and I find that perverted. I mean, who in their right mind finds that entertainment? I cannot understand any of it. I cannot even explain what it's like. It's like going into a zoo to watch the animals. Or perhaps it's like meeting an alien-race with new strange customs you're trying to understand by comparing to your own traditional customs. I do not know. I'm a bit doubtful if my own life would seem as bizarre to those people as their lives seem bizarre to me. I probably come of as a loser or failure in life.

*

Although I wrote that the romantic idealist in me has died, I did for fun, a personality test. It seems I sometimes get fed up with studying and I want to do just about anything else except that:


My result: INFP (introversion, intuition, feeling, perception) is an abbreviation used in the publications of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) to refer to one of sixteen personality types.

Short version to those, who do not want to read the whole thing is: 

 
- "I – Introversion preferred to extroversion: INFP's tend to be quiet and reserved. They generally prefer interacting with a few close friends rather than a wide circle of acquaintances, and they expend energy in social situations (whereas extroverts gain energy).
- N – Intuition preferred to sensing: INFPs tend to be more abstract than concrete. They focus their attention on the big picture rather than the details, and on future possibilities rather than immediate realities.
- F – Feeling preferred to thinking: INFPs tend to value personal considerations above objective criteria. When making decisions, they often give more weight to social implications than to logic.
- P – Perception preferred to judgment: INFPs tend to withhold judgment and delay important decisions, preferring to "keep their options open" should circumstances change."

"The Idealist"

"As an INFP, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit into your personal value system. Your secondary mode is external, where you take things in primarily via your intuition.

INFPs, more than other iNtuitive Feeling types, are focused on making the world a better place for people. Their primary goal is to find out their meaning in life. What is their purpose? How can they best serve humanity in their lives? They are idealists and perfectionists, who drive themselves hard in their quest for achieving the goals they have identified for themselves

INFPs are highly intuitive about people. They rely heavily on their intuitions to guide them, and use their discoveries to constantly search for value in life. They are on a continuous mission to find the truth and meaning underlying things. Every encounter and every piece of knowledge gained gets sifted through the INFP's value system, and is evaluated to see if it has any potential to help the INFP define or refine their own path in life. The goal at the end of the path is always the same - the INFP is driven to help people and make the world a better place.

Generally thoughtful and considerate, INFPs are good listeners and put people at ease. Although they may be reserved in expressing emotion, they have a very deep well of caring and are genuinely interested in understanding people. This sincerity is sensed by others, making the INFP a valued friend and confidante. An INFP can be quite warm with people he or she knows well.

INFPs do not like conflict, and go to great lengths to avoid it. If they must face it, they will always approach it from the perspective of their feelings. In conflict situations, INFPs place little importance on who is right and who is wrong. They focus on the way that the conflict makes them feel, and indeed don't really care whether or not they're right. They don't want to feel badly. This trait sometimes makes them appear irrational and illogical in conflict situations. On the other hand, INFPs make very good mediators, and are typically good at solving other people's conflicts, because they intuitively understand people's perspectives and feelings, and genuinely want to help them.

INFPs are flexible and laid-back, until one of their values is violated. In the face of their value system being threatened, INFPs can become aggressive defenders, fighting passionately for their cause. When an INFP has adopted a project or job which they're interested in, it usually becomes a "cause" for them. Although they are not detail-oriented individuals, they will cover every possible detail with determination and vigor when working for their "cause".

When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things. They might go for long periods without noticing a stain on the carpet, but carefully and meticulously brush a speck of dust off of their project booklet. - And for personal note: I sometimes forget to eat and drink when I'm concentrating on something I'm doing.

INFPs do not like to deal with hard facts and logic. Their focus on their feelings and the Human Condition makes it difficult for them to deal with impersonal judgment. They don't understand or believe in the validity of impersonal judgment, which makes them naturally rather ineffective at using it. Most INFPs will avoid impersonal analysis, although some have developed this ability and are able to be quite logical. Under stress, it's not uncommon for INFPs to mis-use hard logic in the heat of anger, throwing out fact after (often inaccurate) fact in an emotional outburst.

INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don't give themselves enough credit. INFPs may have problems working on a project in a group, because their standards are likely to be higher than other members' of the group. In group situations, they may have a "control" problem. The INFP needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living. Without resolving this conflict, they will never be happy with themselves, and they may become confused and paralyzed about what to do with their lives.

INFPs are usually talented writers. They may be awkard and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper. INFPs also appear frequently in social service professions, such as counselling or teaching. They are at their best in situations where they're working towards the public good, and in which they don't need to use hard logic.

INFPs who function in their well-developed sides can accomplish great and wonderful things, which they will rarely give themselves credit for. Some of the great, humanistic catalysts in the world have been INFPs."

Jungian functional preference ordering:

Dominant: Introverted Feeling

Auxiliary: Extraverted Intuition

Tertiary: Introverted Sensing

Inferior: Extraverted Thinking

*

Although this is a psychological theory about personality-types I agree with the results. I am an introvert, that's no surprise. And I tend to think and act more on a feeling than on logical thinking. This is one reason that some people might think that I'm a fool, an idiot, incapable to perceive things logically.

Yet some of the details varies, what is expected from a the reality, where a human psyche is built on several different factors like genes, environment and upbringing. What I do like is being aware of different personalities. Since many of the extroverts cannot understand that for introverts socializing is tiring, it is good to explain that. 

*

And now I must get ready to go photographing the city. I have some errands to do there, so I decided to try and photograph too. The opportunities have been few, so I must seize this one before I'm too tired.