tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72215028144358654672024-02-19T15:57:46.054+01:00Mon Blog TotaleUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-57054644742738284752016-10-26T14:42:00.000+02:002016-10-27T00:03:11.962+02:00Black Dog DaysSo much has happened since I last wrote in this blog. How does one even begin to sum up six years of a life lived, sometimes well, sometimes confusedly? To account for the ins and outs of nearly 2190 days that from here, where I stand today, all seem like a blur, a distant cloud floating away slowly.<br />
<br />
I stopped writing sometime in 2011, but I really did abandon the blog and my writing self the year before; any subsequent posts were mere ceremony.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHXwj_B2xyy_S_JTcd4hnbY4lkiLvBQ2r5_dHCqZZIPwxIOigaNjv0JQRonzVWD4lRY6I00Nso2RYLxqkaPUSQSlho4BLZjBE-IGY1kLJy_zs4Dr7aV1Y3mKnVHwIiJSfPmCMIYTAHM8_/s1600/sally-muir-depression-black-dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHXwj_B2xyy_S_JTcd4hnbY4lkiLvBQ2r5_dHCqZZIPwxIOigaNjv0JQRonzVWD4lRY6I00Nso2RYLxqkaPUSQSlho4BLZjBE-IGY1kLJy_zs4Dr7aV1Y3mKnVHwIiJSfPmCMIYTAHM8_/s640/sally-muir-depression-black-dog.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sallymuir.co.uk/" target="_blank">Painting of Black Dog by artist Sally Muir</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The end of the blog coincided with my escaping a life in London that felt filled with struggle, unrequited (although I later found out that it <i>was</i> indeed requited) love, friends in crisis and an all too frail sense of self. I was a brittle autumn leaf tumbling around in the giant field that is London, and the sense of being directionless got to me in the end. It really got to me. After months of trying to pull strings to make my life come together, I jumped on the opportunity to escape it all and let go of the loose ends.<br />
<br />
I left for another country, to work in an industry (fashion) I would otherwise never have put my foot in. What had felt like an endless uphill in London now seems like a pool of possibility in comparison to what was waiting for me in the new country. Little did I know.<br />
<br />
The rosy tainted new life I had envisioned for myself filled with fierce independence, careless fun and financial freedom quickly proved to be none of that. A series of negative events combined with weak resilience can be an effective recipe for blue moods and hopelessness. The disappointment became palpable, and internalized, very quickly. I fell into depression, a topic that is somehow OK to talk about today, but still felt taboo then, six years ago.<br />
<br />
What followed were nearly four years of a vacuum, where my dreams and hopes felt like they were no more, and I fell deeper and deeper into the maze that depression can be. I need not to fill you in on the details, but I look back at that period as the vacuum years, when it felt like someone had pulled the plug on the light inside of me.<br />
<br />
A few things got me back on track, slowly but steadily: I credit <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0804503/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">Mad Men</a></i> for bringing intelligence and drive back on my radar; sitting in my sofa in my depression PJ's watching Don Draper and Peggy Olsen battle their inner and outer dilemmas through an intelligent and highly emotive script reminded me that there still was a world out there where thoughts and feelings mattered. Where it was acceptable to want things, dream of a life, to own one's desire. But above all, where being human was acceptable, interesting even. It nudged me with its message of that perfection doesn't exist, that imperfection is what makes us and the world go round.<br />
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Reading, mainly self help books, was a godsend. As someone who loves books and literature, I had somehow become allergic to reading during my dark depression years; I couldn't handle the emotions evoked by the words on the page. So I stopped. Luckily, a few books found their way to me eventually, and I started hoping for a life that was different, maybe even joyful, again.<br />
<br />
I have later come to know that I also suffered from PTSD, or post traumatic stress disorder, but that's something I'll save for another time.<br />
<br />
The important thing is that I got out of it, and I later had a massive Aha-moment that made me change my life substantially. I will write about all of that.<br />
<br />
With what felt like tiny steps at the time, I managed to take actions that forced me out of my vacuum and away from the <a href="http://www.blackdoginstitute.org.au/public/depression/depressionexplained/" target="_blank">black dog</a> that is depression. It wasn't easy at first, but it was doable - that's what matters.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Good reading on depression</h3>
<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="https://wordery.com/mindfulness-for-black-dogs-blue-days-richard-gilpin-9781907332920?cTrk=MjYyMzgwNTN8NTgxMDZkYWI4ZDJjODoxOjE6NTgxMDZkYTc5MDk1MTAuMjg0MTY1OTI6MmEzZjRiZTk%3D" target="_blank">Mindfulness for Black Dogs and Blue Days: Finding a Path Through Depression, by Richard Gilpin</a></li>
<li><a href="https://wordery.com/reasons-to-stay-alive-matt-haig-9781782116820?cTrk=MjYyMzg2NzF8NTgxMDZmMmE4OTZhYjoxOjE6NTgxMDZkYTc5MDk1MTAuMjg0MTY1OTI6OTRlOGM4NWY%3D" target="_blank">Reasons to Stay Alive, by Matt Haig</a></li>
</ul>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-37013966292472794852016-10-23T12:31:00.000+02:002016-10-23T12:32:01.450+02:00The Magic of Life.There I was, again engaged in conversation with yet another neuroscientist explaining just exactly what his area of research is, how intrinsic the exploration is in order to explain something that to must of us is fairly obvious. Standing there, feeling torn between my two selves: the enthusiastic listener, intrigued whenever someone is conveying their passion for what they do, and the life embracing dreamer who does not <i>want</i> everything to be explained in minute detail. Who loves the mystery of life, the bits that we cannot pinpoint, the intuition, the kismet, the flow and the otherworldly drive that is such a natural part of our every day lives, if only we choose to listen.<br />
<br />
I smiled politely, nodded my head, sipped my drink. Thought of the next clever question to ask that would prove that yes, I am still listening. But the question I really yearned to ask in that moment was <i>why</i>? Why do we need to know all this? How is it important that we know exactly what happens in the brain when we see movement that we like? And is life long enough for us to constantly be zooming in, and not out?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVxJpJ9rU8GmrWkA_yWqpd3McLX8vtB4tSe6jmRUXk2GaHjb-3LhYZnYZSwIZwSLqY2o9YCG7zYNGe0-zQCfjOJkjnDW53iZqGuCkpbuUMuZkWSEuWQoYkssC9ZGOrqAM6QtODKP3_yyG/s1600/kismet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVxJpJ9rU8GmrWkA_yWqpd3McLX8vtB4tSe6jmRUXk2GaHjb-3LhYZnYZSwIZwSLqY2o9YCG7zYNGe0-zQCfjOJkjnDW53iZqGuCkpbuUMuZkWSEuWQoYkssC9ZGOrqAM6QtODKP3_yyG/s640/kismet.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Torn, because I don't want to sound like a science denying creationist. I too have benefitted from science's many brilliant discoveries. But just as with smartphones and sophisticated apps intended to make our lives easier, I want to turn around and say no, thank you, I know how to live my life without all those added extras. My sleep was fine before the inventions of sleep apps, and it will continue to be fine even when I choose not to have a gadget measure my deep vs. light sleep.<br />
<br />
Where is the world that celebrates beauty for the sake of beauty? Where words are magical and presented in front of an audience in awe? The moment we feel that we have to break that awe down into small processes, measurable and up for analysis, that's the moment where I will retract, into my cabin in the woods of the mind, where nothing else than distilled life, life in its essence, is allowed.<br />
<br />
In the madness that is the online world, with its many media, opinions, tweets, posts, shares and what have you, it's easy to feel like you're the only one who is harboring these thoughts and emotions. But, I subtly know that somewhere, this <i>is</i> the bottomline. All that searching for the perfect life and the perfect experience, it's really about searching for what we already have from the moment we are created. A sense of awe. A moment of admiration. A few minutes of goosebumps because the music is just <i>that</i> beautiful. A flutter in the heart from the gaze that you've dreamed of. The chill from an exquisitely well<br />
composed sentence.<br />
<br />
In those moments, we live, we are complete. And in those moments, there's nothing that is bigger or more important. And that is this thing we call life. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-16727215661839894052016-10-22T09:30:00.000+02:002016-10-22T09:30:12.214+02:00A New Voice.How funny. How very funny. And yet, not funny at all, but moving, emotional and beautiful.<br />
<br />
I rediscovered this blog, my own blog, after over five years of absence. Almost six. I went through posts, scrolled back, clicked 'Older Posts' more times than what is probably healthy in one reading go. As I clicked, I was rediscovering myself, one blog post at a time. My old self, but also my true self.<br />
<br />
There I was, on the page, filled with creativity, beautiful words and above all, thoughts that were just mine. Five years later, a bit wiser, a bit more experienced, but a little bit less naive, I look at what I created back then, and see myself as the girl who just didn't know, or wouldn't accept, that she had it all. Everything that I needed was there for me to grab, but I was afraid to stand up and say 'yes, please - I'll have one of those'.<br />
<br />
How funny too, that I after I gave up blogging those years ago, I also gave up writing. Life became bleak. I felt bleak, even though I clearly can't have been. My five, nearly six, year silence led to all sorts of silences. My soul, crumpled up inside, has been crying and craving that space to be seen, heard and felt. That space on the page reserved just for her.<br />
<br />
When I write, I exist. It's really true. And so, perhaps I'll do something unusual here and start again, with my old friend The Blog. Perhaps she'll get a bit of a revamp. Perhaps not. Perhaps I'll give myself another name. Perhaps I'll take a few of the old posts away, or no - I'll let them stay. No matter what I do, I will write. I will honour the fact that I found my way back to this blog, exactly when I needed it the most. Because that's one thing that I have come to trust, utterly and completely, and that is that things happen for a reason.<br />
<br />
I can't wait to share all the things that have happened, but more than anything, the things that I've learned.<br />
<br />
Until next time, I won't wait too long.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-43302507833218320152011-04-01T08:49:00.000+02:002011-04-01T08:49:31.154+02:00When you run out of words,You can let the images speak. I ran out of words, the well's empty.<br />
<br />
It's a strange feeling, when writing is a part of who you are. Maybe this the beginning of something new?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-81156746653068772932011-01-06T14:35:00.001+01:002011-01-06T14:36:55.921+01:00Oh, how lovely.<iframe frameborder="0" height="338" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/17772908" width="600"></iframe><br />
<br />
Dance, dance, dance... There's nothing like it. I've never seen it quite in this form before, and watchable in 3D? Fantastic!<a href="http://www.pina-bausch.de/en/pina_bausch/index.php"><b> Pina Bausch</b></a> was a great choreographer, and this is a<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1440266/"> tribute film</a> to her. I love the fresh feel of it, the new and funny takes on human situations in every day life. Beautiful!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-178132895508538172010-12-31T20:12:00.000+01:002010-12-31T20:12:10.400+01:00For Twothousandandeleven.Let George do the talking. Happy New Year everyone!!<br />
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<object height="505" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VggAH1dk3Qk?fs=1&hl=it_IT"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VggAH1dk3Qk?fs=1&hl=it_IT" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-10332608909707004752010-12-31T18:58:00.001+01:002010-12-31T19:02:26.371+01:00Can't Wait.To see 'Somewhere', by Sofia Coppola. It just looks so freaking promising. Don't you think? And oh, a perfect film to start off the new year with. There's just something about the worlds she creates that's almost spell binding. Funny thing is, I remember seeing <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001151/">Stephen Dorff</a> at a hotel in New York a couple of years ago, wondering what ever happened to him and his career. The way you often do in New York. Somehow, this seems to be the perfect part for him. Sometimes, things just fall into place, don't they?<br />
<br />
Looking forward to this one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OpCSvF5xypP2DNAYq_1WK6NTAtijnomLT5MPQ14NNWSqHZ9S59UEBoaDjcWgjNiN3kdAWrCUI0B2HSJWnfyHcHbqqOzpSwkZ3xa1N7aSN0J8Upe7aiYqv-VCN8SvV50Rex659o-u0mmJ/s1600/Somewhere-stephen-dorff-15617600-836-426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OpCSvF5xypP2DNAYq_1WK6NTAtijnomLT5MPQ14NNWSqHZ9S59UEBoaDjcWgjNiN3kdAWrCUI0B2HSJWnfyHcHbqqOzpSwkZ3xa1N7aSN0J8Upe7aiYqv-VCN8SvV50Rex659o-u0mmJ/s640/Somewhere-stephen-dorff-15617600-836-426.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV35mfOIkYsLR8xvSMeK11iWB_jR701Y2XmZr3JmYfS31OQYlTmwsENDhnbX6ln4WNAcUuKUrK1TNE2-YwSgflvQGhvIFm4ESdZAzL5wXPHui_7hV1ybjDiYQjVZeoHOR0jUie3kggtuj1/s1600/somewhere1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV35mfOIkYsLR8xvSMeK11iWB_jR701Y2XmZr3JmYfS31OQYlTmwsENDhnbX6ln4WNAcUuKUrK1TNE2-YwSgflvQGhvIFm4ESdZAzL5wXPHui_7hV1ybjDiYQjVZeoHOR0jUie3kggtuj1/s640/somewhere1.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All images copyright Focus Features.</i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-27405883002653259142010-12-30T17:05:00.002+01:002010-12-30T17:12:16.408+01:00I've cleansed.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzXA4tnzLNRRS3R4c2TbqgevzDSYPxZn-8T70hJSXIL1dDECCLHsagExlupiUbYE7TkpI0XoQ0yenkYVES8ixEV4I2CeykMuKhxf4oHml2I9-EsfzWM8QpvdRHffF6an769pSF0tcyGCK/s1600/cluster+ballooons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzXA4tnzLNRRS3R4c2TbqgevzDSYPxZn-8T70hJSXIL1dDECCLHsagExlupiUbYE7TkpI0XoQ0yenkYVES8ixEV4I2CeykMuKhxf4oHml2I9-EsfzWM8QpvdRHffF6an769pSF0tcyGCK/s640/cluster+ballooons.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
And made room for new beginnings. New names, titles, words. Or continuation of beginnings that were new not too long ago. A new year is ahead of us, and it's time to take a deep breath, and dive in. With joy, hope, force, dreams and action. Above all, action. This is how I'm approaching 2011. <i>What about you?</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfzu2XOtpoAaHPHSKAbOTSO1NC7QAHy-vwTxp-FQQnE8UkwzhyphenhyphenqeI5S6iKn2WSZLbos06xMXHlkcVfnN7-fFIEZkAXFJg_Vhv_18-qyl9us5Yrks_lo_j_Wx7jYvsYYUNRaXD4NRhxm_X6/s1600/Butterfly+Drawing+Sony+JPEG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfzu2XOtpoAaHPHSKAbOTSO1NC7QAHy-vwTxp-FQQnE8UkwzhyphenhyphenqeI5S6iKn2WSZLbos06xMXHlkcVfnN7-fFIEZkAXFJg_Vhv_18-qyl9us5Yrks_lo_j_Wx7jYvsYYUNRaXD4NRhxm_X6/s640/Butterfly+Drawing+Sony+JPEG.jpg" width="474" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-79160685985777480482010-12-18T23:52:00.001+01:002010-12-19T00:00:50.167+01:00To be Mailed ASAPChristmas cards are one of the best things about the holidays, don't you think?<br />
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I was very pleasantly surprised over my find this year, from the little shop at the <a href="http://www.vandashop.com/">Victoria & Albert Museum</a> here in London. I love museums, I love cards, it's a match made in heaven. Just look at these pretty ones:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UZe11L5ucAWKZBwYibUQYQlFKSs05B0-k80cbs7Zc74xoigZ1OemHP4JipY_XL4RLgL-65PYHaxgU8Xw-C799302FqPOWeBbcVza9AzuiJV8Ea3KkagintH8_4vv9I6LtRR07ag6la9L/s1600/victoriaalbertchristmas+card.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UZe11L5ucAWKZBwYibUQYQlFKSs05B0-k80cbs7Zc74xoigZ1OemHP4JipY_XL4RLgL-65PYHaxgU8Xw-C799302FqPOWeBbcVza9AzuiJV8Ea3KkagintH8_4vv9I6LtRR07ag6la9L/s400/victoriaalbertchristmas+card.gif" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzXu076aLY8QAx1u7o8qSNfacqcpOLSGd5UOSAl02qW_GtKF08A_ToSlUIqXJfAh0gnoFTFNEOrcQP2SflF07cMj02rYmvi9rBXiBLe6egeAgrO5I-CjpnivMf_nFPdGVbs0Q7O7UzVJ6/s1600/victoriaalbertchristmas+card+3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzXu076aLY8QAx1u7o8qSNfacqcpOLSGd5UOSAl02qW_GtKF08A_ToSlUIqXJfAh0gnoFTFNEOrcQP2SflF07cMj02rYmvi9rBXiBLe6egeAgrO5I-CjpnivMf_nFPdGVbs0Q7O7UzVJ6/s400/victoriaalbertchristmas+card+3.gif" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsJk2XWWFzIUSYTnI1d8DiQvjWRei7wPf-Oz8G2HOP49ht9Dc-COyaTS2SNEKGn82KlrQAxa49IlAQcs8SF87eMs-gA96Jr55P5vY3NvQ6SJgD5XVp7zl05MNsXjgWZAZCi9K_L3IUJmkH/s1600/victoriaalbertchristmas+card+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsJk2XWWFzIUSYTnI1d8DiQvjWRei7wPf-Oz8G2HOP49ht9Dc-COyaTS2SNEKGn82KlrQAxa49IlAQcs8SF87eMs-gA96Jr55P5vY3NvQ6SJgD5XVp7zl05MNsXjgWZAZCi9K_L3IUJmkH/s400/victoriaalbertchristmas+card+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-ihP8OoC-O9V6Z0vaDKAWlWe6KiuegVnJfjfXJ53jKItYVIkNpqJSscUZCf_MqSoGKFsPBpL7iLtT08TBuMhKi7cgwVfz0PwQkuoTT1XnsT2zQnwAg8lKbZw-rT24JFg8LepHb0MGwr6/s1600/victoriaalbertchristmas+card+2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-ihP8OoC-O9V6Z0vaDKAWlWe6KiuegVnJfjfXJ53jKItYVIkNpqJSscUZCf_MqSoGKFsPBpL7iLtT08TBuMhKi7cgwVfz0PwQkuoTT1XnsT2zQnwAg8lKbZw-rT24JFg8LepHb0MGwr6/s400/victoriaalbertchristmas+card+2.gif" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-50801478202249910862010-12-10T04:07:00.001+01:002010-12-10T04:08:55.219+01:00Insomnia at it's bestSometimes I can't sleep. Tonight is one of those nights. No matter how hard a try, or how many sheep I count while forcing my eyes to stay closed, I can't sleep.<br />
<br />
Instead, I start thinking about things that at the moment seem to weigh heavier in importance than my precious hours of sleep. Such things as say, oh I don't know, the future. I think and I think, I turn dilemmas inside out, I dream whilst awake, and it's not an altogether unpleasurable experience. But it is not helping me sleep.<br />
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There are however, I notice, a few beneficial things about not sleeping:<br />
<br />
1. Getting things done. Whatever they may be.<br />
2. Getting those little moments of clarity which are not seldom brought on by insomnia, let's call them nightly aha moments if you will. Suddenly, actions that need to be taken following morning are very clear.<br />
3. Surfing without guilt. It's not like you have anywhere to be at 3 in the morning. I hope.<br />
4. There really isn't a fourth point, but there could be. I'm sure you can think of one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-1306176155851879072010-11-26T21:15:00.003+01:002010-11-28T10:14:38.513+01:00It's All in the Neighborhood<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OUVL8F07NqOx86krfRZQe76ac6KbYZcgXVr2_p2djmDaY8D9d15YkzGIahr9WXYTG8cBFUgLJ07rHpOFSAfy1JOMUgVlSmJWAT0vAYU5KbLNHtV9ashKZB_0S-pk4wVIdO4NUeZwiMz3/s1600/P9160184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OUVL8F07NqOx86krfRZQe76ac6KbYZcgXVr2_p2djmDaY8D9d15YkzGIahr9WXYTG8cBFUgLJ07rHpOFSAfy1JOMUgVlSmJWAT0vAYU5KbLNHtV9ashKZB_0S-pk4wVIdO4NUeZwiMz3/s640/P9160184.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect names for perfect little roads.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>When I lived in New York, <b>the best days were the ones where I didn't have to leave my neighborhood.</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Time spent living in a huge city today is pretty much divided into two parts, not always in an equal measure: </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> The part where you work, make use of the hectic subway system at what feels like a gazillion miles an hour, carry your heavy load of bags onto the next destination as you're swooshing through the tunnels, diligently pressing as many to dos' into your busy hours as possible. That's <i>hectic </i>part, the busy big city one that makes people crave the country side and chirping birds after a while. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then there's the other part. The one where you don't have to <i>leave </i>your neighborhood. Those days when you don't have a single bus or train to get on, but you're actually able to do everything that you need to do locally, in your own little assembly of blocks and high street or two. I do think those are the best days. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>In New York, I lived in Brooklyn</b>. Now, anyone who's ever made the bridge crossing over to this fantastic borough knows that this is one of the places where <i>real</i> life takes place in New York. The life of families with children growing up, struggling artists and people just arrived in the city. Those who are fortunate enough to be in New York but not yet able to enjoy views of Central Park from their living room. Brooklyn is charming, real, old and carries a history that would inspire anyone to write a novel or two. And it feels just like home, to anyone. Some days, I miss Brooklyn so very much.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In <b>London</b>, I'm experiencing the same phenomenon as in New York: The days when I'm liberated from riding the oh so claustrophobic metro system are the best days. The days that I get to spend watching the leaves turn yellow then brown in a park somewhere are the ones I keep looking forward to. I'm yet to find my Brooklyn, my hood here, but I know it's out there waiting for me, ready to embrace me and my local days. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Things that I've taken a liking to so far about London: </i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpYWBlB8oJC6EdJ82CQ_ggHLhsHdj4BrjO3npmZKawphn2XLjZNIhM3n1HDE1Z08Bxbz29Yn38ROgG49TI6GQsBBqjzXEjb4i4pcT9MULtelVvSp_VRAC9rEoN5Yd1SF_1rzhv1vxAQJq/s1600/P9190209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpYWBlB8oJC6EdJ82CQ_ggHLhsHdj4BrjO3npmZKawphn2XLjZNIhM3n1HDE1Z08Bxbz29Yn38ROgG49TI6GQsBBqjzXEjb4i4pcT9MULtelVvSp_VRAC9rEoN5Yd1SF_1rzhv1vxAQJq/s640/P9190209.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely brick apartment buildings. Oh to have a room of one's own in that one!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA-V60WeoNJqxKIPs52wFf4iDclZ2RHxFSOdYATyMXqU9XOYXJU9B3rq1tS6iS75QOo0QfoFUiNNjzF_HbWgT_g463jp_5prqilQUbW4Y9FxW7u8w12fR1HRABd_xejSSH0lIZU3x_qa5/s1600/P9190214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA-V60WeoNJqxKIPs52wFf4iDclZ2RHxFSOdYATyMXqU9XOYXJU9B3rq1tS6iS75QOo0QfoFUiNNjzF_HbWgT_g463jp_5prqilQUbW4Y9FxW7u8w12fR1HRABd_xejSSH0lIZU3x_qa5/s640/P9190214.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quirky shops with quirky shop windows.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VB2eatKLpuL39eBxDXHBL8fLH4QLQlkcKTbSsv1GV3kRQYctPQjjekwx3LKvMgUzor5s_RNqpI172QX8uF2jXl1loavwWQ5PQj-xHC_eC0FmAT-ntr5O2-suy0uMn_eiHhhUI_8JbLKT/s1600/P9190212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VB2eatKLpuL39eBxDXHBL8fLH4QLQlkcKTbSsv1GV3kRQYctPQjjekwx3LKvMgUzor5s_RNqpI172QX8uF2jXl1loavwWQ5PQj-xHC_eC0FmAT-ntr5O2-suy0uMn_eiHhhUI_8JbLKT/s640/P9190212.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOhR8nCy7ZrlHUwR4_43RS7amr3_FOvShKavkT6Ne7KIR78_IPHSTcm1MejcapoSf6q3jtW47zMeGcsXw6GLYZOjJLGngs1UVyRAbC3JM2e2VZPm0iCaxFak5y3_pjrcyaz-LatH90IUjs/s1600/P9190215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOhR8nCy7ZrlHUwR4_43RS7amr3_FOvShKavkT6Ne7KIR78_IPHSTcm1MejcapoSf6q3jtW47zMeGcsXw6GLYZOjJLGngs1UVyRAbC3JM2e2VZPm0iCaxFak5y3_pjrcyaz-LatH90IUjs/s640/P9190215.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL66lVtCJA2fr6OqK9l_L-dAvB80_655a0LEiCnhMXRcOCoSncoiqqM9AVdJ9Sx_NxR-2ECHXnuVUJJY4Vf2oxYak78TW8LjzmRh0RSG80ggbWxvXLI94GDiCUKubYm66Z0Xxre62i7-wl/s1600/P9160178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL66lVtCJA2fr6OqK9l_L-dAvB80_655a0LEiCnhMXRcOCoSncoiqqM9AVdJ9Sx_NxR-2ECHXnuVUJJY4Vf2oxYak78TW8LjzmRh0RSG80ggbWxvXLI94GDiCUKubYm66Z0Xxre62i7-wl/s640/P9160178.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hampstead Heath, the one and only.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LKZ1_6ieHg1hjMBYzAeOFhnjRcEL2nJY_9GumXSvhDxY_ywxswJFE1XYjqc3a1KKzK_A6DjJmWQ-U2Yp6t-QIs3f3eFtgqYiQBNAJavBSL79CDey_lsmZwi2xPji-bz5h-kL3gkXQAnr/s1600/P9150175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LKZ1_6ieHg1hjMBYzAeOFhnjRcEL2nJY_9GumXSvhDxY_ywxswJFE1XYjqc3a1KKzK_A6DjJmWQ-U2Yp6t-QIs3f3eFtgqYiQBNAJavBSL79CDey_lsmZwi2xPji-bz5h-kL3gkXQAnr/s640/P9150175.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last but certainly not least, the perfect front door.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">PS, take a look at <a href="http://www.designspongeonline.com/2010/11/sneak-peek-mike-and-emma-of-me.html">this </a>inspiring Brooklyn Brownstone, found via <a href="http://joannagoddard.blogspot.com/">A Cup of Jo. </a></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-67862590742189572072010-11-18T17:31:00.001+01:002010-11-21T19:38:48.462+01:00Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Those are the words of Albert Einstein. </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If there's one thing I've promised myself here in life, it's to live with no regrets. I do not ever want to be wondering what would have happened had I only done this thing here, and said yes to that other one there.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So far, I've been pretty good about my determined philosophy of life. There are times when I have let my fears take the better part of me, and I have run away from things that were new, and therefore frightening. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Do I regret it? You bet. That's why I keep reminding myself every day to say yes to the unknown, to forgive myself for my mistakes and realize that they are the ones who made and continue to make me who I am. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>What are your thoughts on mistakes?</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-4387039684363681852010-11-08T22:04:00.001+01:002010-11-08T22:05:30.157+01:00I Knew the Way you Know About a Good Melon.<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/guinBnWWuKE?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/guinBnWWuKE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098635/">From when Harry met Sally.</a> Get's me every time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-23052643112411545962010-11-04T23:41:00.005+01:002010-11-21T19:37:45.891+01:00Crossroads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0Gz6wBQ5aBYJT5qLSDy3kEECMFvU4Epj4a76XamuI2TcKtyhpCw0J5lgBMHT79rq9iWhS1mW04Ro3m0wx6W5HFFmwwi5ozVVktHk147UOsDOU4sEhcNPuYIo_hth2mjIo0pMO0S9gh5I/s1600/crossroad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0Gz6wBQ5aBYJT5qLSDy3kEECMFvU4Epj4a76XamuI2TcKtyhpCw0J5lgBMHT79rq9iWhS1mW04Ro3m0wx6W5HFFmwwi5ozVVktHk147UOsDOU4sEhcNPuYIo_hth2mjIo0pMO0S9gh5I/s400/crossroad.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sometimes the universe doesn't whisper, it shouts. As if it would have taken a cue from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PECnzN8P6KQ">Thom Yorke and Radiohead</a>, it blasts its message out for you to stop, turn around and listen. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Today was one of those days.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At work, a woman looked me in the eye and said: I don't see you working here. You shouldn't be working here. She went on to ask me: Where do you see yourself in five years?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Baffled, I was completely caught off guard. At the same time I felt immensely grateful for having been seen, so effortlessly, instinctively, so accurately, by a complete stranger. Sometimes when we think we're invisible, masters of disguise even, we're as transparent and translucent as the clearest body of water. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I immediately knew what she was talking about, and we started a conversation. She then went on and quoted something that I will never forget, something that I from this day on always will carry with me:<br />
</div><div style="color: #444444; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="color: black; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Never better said. Never better heard. Just at the right moment.<br />
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So when the speakers are on, we better pay attention. And listen. <br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chrysti/galleries/72157622301072169/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo </span></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-53394764812221910002010-11-03T10:51:00.005+01:002016-10-26T12:58:06.044+02:00Super Duper Genius ReadEven though I get the feeling no one is really reading this blog anymore, I will be brave and continue to produce my (however sporadic) posts. Let's face it, I could totally be more ambitious and hard working here. I could be spending my hours making comments on my fellow blogger's blogs, in order so that they can comment on mine, and we would all be one happy blog family. But I don't. Lately, I've chosen the egotistical path, the path of only posting, and not commenting. Hence my echoing, empty commentary fields. I'm so sorry, precious readers!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuOMhpOuJFAGFgWM5foEnjMf8LzK9-D533uuXHU5RYzUGGfO2-J7WeeVlBv0Q-B8DbyR18psU9Lq6tahYr7wxcbvIJ516QdlSZGkcfzPSzGVFbO3SSaLISUaDPp3BanRUxG4qvOaxGCAe/s1600/super_sad_true_love_story_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuOMhpOuJFAGFgWM5foEnjMf8LzK9-D533uuXHU5RYzUGGfO2-J7WeeVlBv0Q-B8DbyR18psU9Lq6tahYr7wxcbvIJ516QdlSZGkcfzPSzGVFbO3SSaLISUaDPp3BanRUxG4qvOaxGCAe/s400/super_sad_true_love_story_large.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<br />
Anyway, I have a very special read to recommend. <b>Super Sad True Love Story</b>. It's by this New York writer<b> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Super-Sad-True-Love-Story/dp/1400066409/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288776590&sr=8-1">Gary Shteyngart</a>.</b> He's kind of a genius, and also a professor at Columbia University. Watch the video below to see him teach James Franco, among others. He encompasses today's western culture perfectly by twisting us into this absurd yet truthful, media obsessed crowd in a future not too distant from here. Where we're all constantly attached to our '<i>äppäräts</i>', little devices not much unlike today's iPhones or Blackberrys, only you can get ALL your information from them. About anything, and anyone.<br />
<br />
This novel has already been widely acclaimed, hyped, über-reviewed and I bet half of New York has already read it, but I can't stop myself from sharing. It's that good. And it's kind of a love story.<br />
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If you've read it, let me know what you think!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-76484638179019488672010-10-31T20:44:00.000+01:002010-10-31T20:44:10.804+01:00Don't Wait<h6 class="western" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Now is the accepted time, not tomorrow, not some more convenient season. It is today that our best work can be done and not some future day or future year. It is today that we fit ourselves for the greater usefulness of tomorrow. Today is the seed time, now are the hours of work, and tomorrow comes the harvest and the playtime.” </span></h6><h6 class="western" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">W. E. B. Du Bois quote</span></h6>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-51912728279204132872010-10-31T11:43:00.003+01:002010-11-07T16:32:59.058+01:00London Fest<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a way, <b>London is like this giant house party where the hosts never intended or expected for so many people to show up</b>. You know one of those late night parties where you enter the hallway and are met by a mountain of shoes, coats and a big, tipsy crowd trying to make their way through a slightly too small apartment?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I don’t think it’s just me. London needs to man up a little bit. It needs to revamp itself, get ready and get on it. On moving here, I keep seeing situations that remind me of this.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZOgNjunqjBZ2A73lPwdLRmzrvHF01PDscsDlup762ulVtKDhn8szPYfOEYsTFW9szjG4yCw-PiE8Jbp9ryHtqXy4MDiFxaR8AjQilxOphY50ATHn1sihlHqyMQejNwHgiwD3FZKNzgCr/s1600/overcrowded-london-tube-777093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZOgNjunqjBZ2A73lPwdLRmzrvHF01PDscsDlup762ulVtKDhn8szPYfOEYsTFW9szjG4yCw-PiE8Jbp9ryHtqXy4MDiFxaR8AjQilxOphY50ATHn1sihlHqyMQejNwHgiwD3FZKNzgCr/s400/overcrowded-london-tube-777093.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Some things never change. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This is a huge city. It’s a city of roughly eight million people, and yet it feels like it’s only ever prepared room for about half its’ faithful inhabitants. If even. Wake up London, you’re a metropolis! This is a territory that normally comes with some responsibility. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Whatever coffee shop you may find yourself in here in town, whatever tube car you may be riding, chances are big (read: huge) there’s just not going to be any room for you. <i>Nothing personal.</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I’m yet to walk in to one of this city's many Starbucks (just don’t ask me why) to find a table waiting or even just a chair for me, even though the place may have fifteen or twenty of them. Mac Donald’s? Forget about it. Not that that’s a place you would want to spend any considerable amount of time hanging out at anyway, but you get the picture. If I’m going to have fries, I’d like to have them sitting down.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8vIGdTDX08hxlFa34hl20mfytc5UIYyXCv8WNxdOLulvlRyIBEwjlaplZAfw4QuLoZommhi3uSPA_SrXit57y7FdVeH7LtuZbo4gKSNHluQ7uzFS867DypnNlAcEHzOrSoy7a65sYzRS/s1600/starbucks+new+york.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8vIGdTDX08hxlFa34hl20mfytc5UIYyXCv8WNxdOLulvlRyIBEwjlaplZAfw4QuLoZommhi3uSPA_SrXit57y7FdVeH7LtuZbo4gKSNHluQ7uzFS867DypnNlAcEHzOrSoy7a65sYzRS/s400/starbucks+new+york.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7221502814435865467&postID=5191272827920413287" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Wishful thinking. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There’s just too much people in relation to space in this city, and London is yet to match the demand with some decent supply. If New York can do it, then so can you, London. So please stop talking about your big cousin in the west and how amazing it is and realize that your sitting on a <b>gem </b>here, and it’s a gem that needs your attention. Get your ass moving. It would be a shame to let this wonderfully quirky and ancient city fall behind just because some public school trained politicians who never actually stepped inside a tube car in their life wouldn’t get the big picture. Because let’s face it. It’s big. It’s huge. And it’s not going to get any smaller, so I think it’s time to do something about it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Ideas, anyone?</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-79679412521264449462010-09-28T14:42:00.005+02:002010-11-28T09:50:54.962+01:00On London and Wellies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDggKNE5efKyR6ZyAnpAotQ4uSjbCrJiZjA8GqM3H7UUw-6UCMrFz3-HsL5lGdkXfcsqWFhmNWBksASRszhzE-uokYe5FbrtMGZWI4LME-IbtG5in3fhYf5CUrF5bQsaBcgpArPkkzmToL/s1600/IMG00025-20101013-1201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDggKNE5efKyR6ZyAnpAotQ4uSjbCrJiZjA8GqM3H7UUw-6UCMrFz3-HsL5lGdkXfcsqWFhmNWBksASRszhzE-uokYe5FbrtMGZWI4LME-IbtG5in3fhYf5CUrF5bQsaBcgpArPkkzmToL/s640/IMG00025-20101013-1201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
The forecast said rain today, and so I put on my wellies. As a newcomer, I thought it was the right thing to do. (Yes, I've learned to call<i> rain boots</i> by their proper British nickname). The forecast says rain most days here, but I don't put on my wellies every day. But today was a day when I did, and well, I discovered something. People don't wear wellies here in London. If you're over the glorious age of seven, you don't wear rain boots. Doesn't matter that the wellies keep getting trendier and trendier, you can only wear them if not wearing them means you'll be swimming home instead.<br />
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The prospect of rain hangs like a permanent giant cloud over London, and so I guess people just get tired of being bothered by it. Instead they just pop out their umbrellas if they have one, or walk unprotected through the raindrops happy as ever, should it really start raining.<b> </b><br />
<b>I also suspect that it's not cool to wear wellies in the city.</b> I suspect that's why I felt like people were looking at me not much different as if I had been a hiker from outer space trying to navigate the (perfectly dry) streets of a cloudy London.<br />
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Lesson learned. Wellies are cool on rock festivals. In the forest. When hunting rabbits at some estate (and I would never).<b> Not in the city. </b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_wkq0d_lRm6D_NBM1bgYBqhyphenhyphen2Fyo6ST20dF-EITXVwIA0lPIaa4sBVwqc6wVygjkS_C9cmf3SWwqSGastvmNeFvUuC6nlDoptY7dFxm1DGkKqB7d-q6X6w8pLHtXrMmD-xoEp5u1Tfi2/s1600/London+Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_wkq0d_lRm6D_NBM1bgYBqhyphenhyphen2Fyo6ST20dF-EITXVwIA0lPIaa4sBVwqc6wVygjkS_C9cmf3SWwqSGastvmNeFvUuC6nlDoptY7dFxm1DGkKqB7d-q6X6w8pLHtXrMmD-xoEp5u1Tfi2/s400/London+Rain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic from stylebakery.com<b>, </b><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pnoid00/">and flickr.com</a></span><b>.</b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-89324130421354527672010-09-27T22:01:00.002+02:002010-09-28T14:45:42.572+02:00For New Beginnings and Shades of GreyBecause sometimes, life can't wait. Because sometimes, you have to move on. And you have to do it now, in this very moment.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so, I did. I moved on. I moved to <b>London</b>. And it feels amazing!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I took a leap of faith and just did it. Like Nike says how to do it. And so I hope you'll forgive my long absence here on the blog and come with me on this new journey instead.<b> </b>Because you're cordially and lovingly invited<b>.<br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Today, the color <span style="color: #444444;">grey </span>never looked better. </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-emmPRobj8_Q8_TH_KZPkfwwN_B_NqJ-xBCWbleINmB_GAIyLiqIVMWwhaQrYZqKKF2wc7hus5OxKh17N_uIaOeRM1h04a3QDW2BvmMGq-CroJshxnDhCI6ZlYB86BWxur6Fq-rSf2HVe/s1600/P9210225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-emmPRobj8_Q8_TH_KZPkfwwN_B_NqJ-xBCWbleINmB_GAIyLiqIVMWwhaQrYZqKKF2wc7hus5OxKh17N_uIaOeRM1h04a3QDW2BvmMGq-CroJshxnDhCI6ZlYB86BWxur6Fq-rSf2HVe/s400/P9210225.JPG" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBpofnRUNphQHyyuTg_PCbxuzkxvpCaKgsQLMva7KL6HHeG4dVU3EH01kdI_ZFdCi-8dJiQ74qNiz-usUq4EUod0CBIt4haEZtMN7bggL75DhQQJf7KLvai6fTlbSzHuz3AHYyX2cE7sp/s1600/P9210220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBpofnRUNphQHyyuTg_PCbxuzkxvpCaKgsQLMva7KL6HHeG4dVU3EH01kdI_ZFdCi-8dJiQ74qNiz-usUq4EUod0CBIt4haEZtMN7bggL75DhQQJf7KLvai6fTlbSzHuz3AHYyX2cE7sp/s400/P9210220.JPG" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeb1IpsAzVvGwwsIB94JK8d3rUebrxnV6LFA9Y5iSp9Rv1EpzI9sLW2LtdRK13h8RiLrtSVVZLI5fn1itynMjvgYpeDEdB4fTNghO1YoxwWothlaLUzsD4HdYa2hazadCWU5dQx7Mhq3s/s1600/P9210232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeb1IpsAzVvGwwsIB94JK8d3rUebrxnV6LFA9Y5iSp9Rv1EpzI9sLW2LtdRK13h8RiLrtSVVZLI5fn1itynMjvgYpeDEdB4fTNghO1YoxwWothlaLUzsD4HdYa2hazadCWU5dQx7Mhq3s/s640/P9210232.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1Xmle3-qVxMMIJWUdKe05zFTB5FjwV2Odi8IB3x9d2y4UMaiJrs5GooZ1bwFJSEvq2Y3vmLBF_ILwlFBfNxNXn70UPEez3DgM-2ntk8KOPaHxk4avUis4gZur9DCV5Fr2QSZVA25334T/s1600/P9210233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1Xmle3-qVxMMIJWUdKe05zFTB5FjwV2Odi8IB3x9d2y4UMaiJrs5GooZ1bwFJSEvq2Y3vmLBF_ILwlFBfNxNXn70UPEez3DgM-2ntk8KOPaHxk4avUis4gZur9DCV5Fr2QSZVA25334T/s640/P9210233.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSP5F6Rh_jlwOGhcy_D0Bb7DrxeDfPcNQ3FWBxdz3tpQ-7wBYqFa74jjhO12qxFO6D2gX9LRAkfwtzQ1Cy0s53_n_Mv3F3ebvB57TVIpwuk8Pg9zS4YhwP8VTnqwGAXkE7uMUKOJyFQ8s/s1600/P9210234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSP5F6Rh_jlwOGhcy_D0Bb7DrxeDfPcNQ3FWBxdz3tpQ-7wBYqFa74jjhO12qxFO6D2gX9LRAkfwtzQ1Cy0s53_n_Mv3F3ebvB57TVIpwuk8Pg9zS4YhwP8VTnqwGAXkE7uMUKOJyFQ8s/s400/P9210234.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-50145411655119538492010-09-26T21:19:00.002+02:002010-09-26T21:42:55.276+02:00Hermione's Stockholm, Part 1<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When it comes down to it, it's not so easy to pick what should be in this Stockholm guide of mine. With knowing something truly well also comes a certain blindness - so forgive me if I've left something out. <b>Here are some of Stockholm's main attractions, a more personal take on the city will come soon!</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div lang="sv-SE" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Djurgården</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I start with a park. A green park. A huge park. If Central Park are the lungs of New York City, then <span lang="sv-SE">Djurgården must</span><span lang="en-US"> well qualify as the lungs and heart of Stockholm. </span><span lang="sv-SE">Not</span> really a park in the traditional sense, but a perfectly landscaped area consisting of islands, surrounded by water and filled with masses of green. <span lang="sv-SE">Djurgården</span> is what I would like to call the crown jewel of Stockholm, home to royal geese and one of Europe's finest running paths (at least according to many enthusiastic joggers). This area is not to be missed. It can be crowded on the weekends, but so worth the visit. Once there, don't miss the <a href="http://www.rosendalstradgard.se/section.php?id=0000000073">Rosendal Botanical</a> Garden, or the equally pink and charming <a href="http://www.royalcourt.se/ovrigt/lattlast/besokdekungligaslotten/rosendalsslott.4.1a2467a10ad032dc26800015415.html">Rosendal Castle</a>. Why not even rent a canoe and make the round the water way? On a sunny day, this is an unbeatable little outing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<a href="http://www.skansen.se/"><b>Skansen</b></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Located on Djurgården, this is a must see if you like zoo animals, old buildings and movie like sets - this is truly worth a visit. For a historical and fun view of Sweden, you've come to the right place. I can also recommend the fun activities they have for kids and grown ups alike, specially the mini car tracks!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<a href="http://www.berns.se/"><b>Berns</b></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Hotel and restaurant, and legendary hangout of equally legendary Swedish writer and artist <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/August_Strindberg">August Strindberg</a>. The "Röda Rummet" (The Red Room) has changed little during the last hundred years, and it's as great going there for burch as well as an intimate dinner. Enjoy!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://www.svenskttenn.se/en-us/default.aspx"><b>Svenskt Tenn</b></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Visitors and locals interested in Scandinavian design tend to end up here. Fun fabrics (with elephants on!) and sleek furniture, it's a nice visit. Carl Malmsten and Josef Frank are some of the main designers behind.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><a href="http://www.konstnarsbaren.se/valkommen.htm">Konstnärsbaren</a> </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Excellent food, excellent service, and a long history of artistic visitors. This has always been a low key place attracting local artists and restaurant goers alike. Quite a must, try the Toast Skagen, you won't regret it!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<a href="http://lrk.lsh.se/default.asp?id=3032&refid=0"><b>Livrustkammaren</b></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fun museum where you can see old, original costumes and knight gear (for real!) of the royals of Sweden's historical past. Located inside the Royal Palace, this is quite fascinating, and definitely worth it if you're into costumes and fashion. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<a href="http://www.modernamuseet.se/en/Stockholm/"><b>Moderna Museet</b></a><br />
The best museum in Stockholm, it boasts a small but great collection of modern art. Located on the beautiful little island of Skeppsholmen, this is a place to wander around and absorb the great atmosphere created by the buildings architecture. Just make sure to stay away from the restaurant, as it's quite awful:).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-11099316179078487282010-09-14T23:23:00.000+02:002010-09-14T23:23:36.098+02:00From Stockholm With Love<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fall is here, and I'm preparing to leave. As I get ready to say good bye to my one year stint in Stockholm, I thought it appropriate to give a grand salute and honor this city that admittedly has grown on me this last year. It may be the gorgeous un-Scandinavian summer that blessed us this year, it may be the fact that it seems to be the place in Europe to travel right now, or it may just be that it can be quite breathtakingly beautiful at times. Often times. Whatever it is, it's a place that deserves some proper attention. Just ask <a href="http://www.ft.com/arts/columnists/tylerbrule">Tyler Brule</a>. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssExMSS_XrtLZ8aHXnAjBO9yHQ-DjNRDfI3Z0xIH6_02ypqGG4pjIpNeZ0gFvxdtvaBc3ZVwjRVny0y-xBwDnnJ41tHsd4rdxSwHFz-1GatQM06iZfZb648RnQJTeRVIyP6V4nxR3Bm57/s1600/P9080170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssExMSS_XrtLZ8aHXnAjBO9yHQ-DjNRDfI3Z0xIH6_02ypqGG4pjIpNeZ0gFvxdtvaBc3ZVwjRVny0y-xBwDnnJ41tHsd4rdxSwHFz-1GatQM06iZfZb648RnQJTeRVIyP6V4nxR3Bm57/s400/P9080170.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I don't know what's changed more - me or Stockholm. Maybe it's my being more accepting of imperfection, or maybe it's this city's growth into something that looks and feels more and more like a cosmopolitan city. There are people everywhere, at all times. Buses are full, there are lines to get in to museums. Restaurants with (or without) a reputation are hard to get into unless you book a table well in advance. I'm talking days. Journalists from all over the world are here to write about this Scandinavian capital with all it's sleek design, fresh faced inhabitants and clean water. Normal for a capital, no?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But you see, Stockholm didn't use to be like this. This is a city in transformation. As a native Stockholmer, I witness it all and am not sure what to think. It's always been a quaint, beautiful and relatively <i>empty</i> city. Like a well kept secret. On the verge of being boring. Beautiful and boring.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">What is it then, that has caused this boom? Well, I don't think there's a simple answer. It may be the Scandinavian everlasting summer sun and sleek design. Maybe Mr. Brule's regular upwritings of Sweden has something to do with it. It may also be the immense popularity of crime novel writer <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Stieg-Larssons-Millennium-Trilogy-Bundle/dp/0307594777/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1284498351&sr=8-3">Stieg Larsson's Millenium heroes</a>, Salander and Blomqvist (the latter now to be portrayed by<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1568346/"> Mr. Daniel Craig)</a>. But no matter what the cause, it's clear that it's a changed city. Take it from someone who was born here. Who's left and come back. And who's leaving again.<b> So from me to you, up next comes my Stockholm.</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvgfB1l5MaZALALaUopn1Ich1aAO_QxCqyoTGXfEXe7pT2bW3tkLc3S3PLqWKHWetDYcZ_n05jDpPDFPL__YvlkZ6VryAR_1NygZkW4l8LdioPhNQTkt1_aE5x1tKN8e88uO93h7otO2T/s1600/Stockholm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvgfB1l5MaZALALaUopn1Ich1aAO_QxCqyoTGXfEXe7pT2bW3tkLc3S3PLqWKHWetDYcZ_n05jDpPDFPL__YvlkZ6VryAR_1NygZkW4l8LdioPhNQTkt1_aE5x1tKN8e88uO93h7otO2T/s640/Stockholm.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Picture by Chad Ehlers/TIPS Images/National Geographic</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-7210405556438730182010-06-09T19:45:00.002+02:002010-06-09T23:20:50.043+02:00Summer Reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxtEK5I8FcU0eA2hypcM2sQ_vg2Lpbtez0jQiiKNPQ_Bqmru5bOMTeWojk0u49CFC9ii9rayvdHz7df4pCskhb9kHlvVsam-D29gMqghSEN6E7eVzww5S7SBOzQZrtxSnakE_yYWU0CJ7/s1600/brooklyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxtEK5I8FcU0eA2hypcM2sQ_vg2Lpbtez0jQiiKNPQ_Bqmru5bOMTeWojk0u49CFC9ii9rayvdHz7df4pCskhb9kHlvVsam-D29gMqghSEN6E7eVzww5S7SBOzQZrtxSnakE_yYWU0CJ7/s400/brooklyn.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><br />
Following the sometimes <i>Brooklynesque </i>(don't you just love/hate when people add -esque to the end of a word?) theme here on the blog, I want to share a book called just that, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Brooklyn-Novel-Colm-Toibin/dp/1439148953/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1276104294&sr=8-1"><b>Brooklyn</b></a>.<br />
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Written by the Irish author Colm Tóibín, it tells the story of a young woman crossing the Atlantic from Ireland by herself and arriving in Brooklyn in the fifties. I mean, it was still the fifties when she left Ireland. You get the picture. It takes place in the fifties. (So much easier just saying it that way from the beginning, right? If time traveling was involved, it would be a very different book, I believe). Anyhow, it gives great insight in how it must have been for thousands and thousands of young people starting a new life in and around New York in the post war times, or starting anew in general anywhere in the world really.<br />
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At first I found the book quite simple on the surface, with a story that could seem almost ordinary, interesting nonetheless. But the more you understand about the characters and their choices, the more grand and heart breaking is this story. I thought it was a great, great read, and the simple language and style in which it is written is almost seamless - you barely notice that you're reading. <br />
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I'd say this little piece of book is definitely worth your time. <br />
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What are you reading this summer?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVls6QXpluXgzxZzPjoEXTPPVZcio-wPaDJx9HjRD1b1DTADlz70eCUymnj8vt-003JLeVGrjZz3PTpFmiMq0cj4LABNmwuFInoTiYstBIuhFnLz95hFh3zgny5U6u65mNf6XuA-A3y8P/s1600/coney+island.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVls6QXpluXgzxZzPjoEXTPPVZcio-wPaDJx9HjRD1b1DTADlz70eCUymnj8vt-003JLeVGrjZz3PTpFmiMq0cj4LABNmwuFInoTiYstBIuhFnLz95hFh3zgny5U6u65mNf6XuA-A3y8P/s400/coney+island.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Coney Island way back in the day, way pre-fifties time. <a href="http://www.brooklynpubliclibrary.org/brooklyncollection/photo-collections.jsp">Picture from Brooklyn Public Library Online Catalog. </a></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-66675432513909780222010-06-08T11:54:00.012+02:002016-10-22T09:43:29.596+02:00A Clean Slate Full of DetailsWhat better way to start anew and afresh than painting a wall or two at home?<br />
That's exactly what I just did, and guess what? It makes a huge difference. I chose the symbolic color of white (but, with dashes of all the color of the rainbow) to change the mood of my favorite room. After too much time spent with this un-describable green (I mean, what was I thinking?), the walls are now representative of how I feel. <b>Micro step for mankind, huge step for Hermione. </b><br />
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Some details of what makes me happy at home:<br />
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<i>Good paint is essential when painting, and </i><i><a href="http://www.firedearth.com/index.asp">Fired Earth</a> create impeccable shades.</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #444444; font-size: medium; text-align: start;">A map of the world is crucial in order not to get lost.</i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yXBgz9lU0rG6ouZA2vdd4lNDoqujm8W7_TR6M9N8gzP5wKxyKQTeSTMpCrMKsuEL34XepWhpNpIOSgjLJ0cJFSNzQSYtfD8GWCc9RxBGHz2Zehxe_9mQgOaQlOy3CI5hWzw4sRImHjps/s1600/P5240057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yXBgz9lU0rG6ouZA2vdd4lNDoqujm8W7_TR6M9N8gzP5wKxyKQTeSTMpCrMKsuEL34XepWhpNpIOSgjLJ0cJFSNzQSYtfD8GWCc9RxBGHz2Zehxe_9mQgOaQlOy3CI5hWzw4sRImHjps/s640/P5240057.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><i>If you can't go to Paris, bring Paris to you. I got this lamp in one of Brooklyn's thrift shops.</i></span></div>
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<i>Bathing is a lot more fun in French. </i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #444444; font-size: medium; text-align: start;">All good things come in threes.</i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSHBQdQ4W-BgQVZgS1JAyvgF7QDxya1wxe1uZg9tl54YEE22OPfylLFUFx6gPnQsMaIa0M9sTPHRuV1Lj9YQXX373h1QZbP0af-gBAe4ozZBBMqE1mdse6PvzMbNnTTlON42InSFpOLwL/s1600/elefant+ljus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSHBQdQ4W-BgQVZgS1JAyvgF7QDxya1wxe1uZg9tl54YEE22OPfylLFUFx6gPnQsMaIa0M9sTPHRuV1Lj9YQXX373h1QZbP0af-gBAe4ozZBBMqE1mdse6PvzMbNnTTlON42InSFpOLwL/s640/elefant+ljus.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All images copyright Mon Blog Totale. Please don't use without mentioning.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-58555325187918407082010-05-13T10:14:00.000+02:002010-05-13T10:14:59.832+02:00Official Summer AnthemIn the interim.. Love!<br />
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<object height="225" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=11691174&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=ffffff&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=11691174&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=ffffff&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/11691174">Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros "Home"</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user2100960">Edward Sharpe</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7221502814435865467.post-84832258046793883542010-04-23T22:14:00.008+02:002010-06-09T13:15:59.108+02:00The Spilling Beans<div style="padding: 3px; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92XVnkPyrt0XbIW8YGmH0xfQI19uWjtNjS7hq0JX3uXgNEDDUtPTHOAEsWgH8txseECJwWdLK13GyjMycMdF8pSRwtUrvzSKXAPkvR6taAQw64zltjNgBH73Ela6NDLPkcjMHsQfD7r3u/s1600/coffe+beans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/guido-musch/3953458280/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="photo sharing"><img alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2627/3953458280_80d1616af1.jpg" style="border: 2px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/guido-musch/3953458280/">Cookie Splash II</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/guido-musch/">Guido Musch</a>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<b>So, ok, I'll spill the beans.</b> They simply have to be spilled, and I'm the one who needs to do it, so here we go. Even if it means I'll get my hands dirty, I'll go ahead with it.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://monblogtotale.blogspot.com/2009/12/brief-encounters.html">We met</a>, and well.. It was a huge disappointment.<br />
<br />
I know.<br />
<br />
<b>It sucks.</b> I wish I was writing very different sentences in this very moment, but alas, I'm not.<br />
<br />
I could build this up gradually, and let it sink in just slowly that it was not at all what I thought it was going to be. Or I could just spit it out, like I just did. See, here's what happened:<br />
<br />
It started out great. I was nervous. He was nervous. Being nervous is a good sign. Being nervous together is a great sign.<br />
<br />
Then I fell off a chair. <i>Literally</i>. During our very first meeting over coffee, as we were taking each other in, one of the legs supporting the chair that I happened to be sitting on during this very crucial first-impressions-last meeting decided to give in, cave, and make the chair tip over, and me with it. Gah!<br />
<br />
In a way it was good. Quite the<b> ice breaker</b>, let me tell you that much. We both laughed, and it was a good laugh. In other words, I survived.<br />
<br />
What followed after was not as fun. <br />
<br />
See, to begin with, I lost my head. It went away, and I still don't know where. I could not find my way around the city anymore, let alone the nearest subway entrance. It was all together very confusing as I'm used to having a pretty well functioning head on my shoulders. It was gone. Maybe it decided to stay with the chair at the coffee house, I don't know.<br />
<br />
Anyway, so I was doing my best to act according to the confident and self respecting person as I know myself to be, but to no avail. I was gone. I think he picked up on it. I think he may have made use of it. <br />
<br />
This is when I started noticing that things were not going in the direction I had hoped for. The direction that had actually made me get on a plane to NY to meet him half way. <i>(Oh, ladies: If a man doesn't offer to go ALL the way to see you over where you are (should you happen to be geographically apart), but instead insists on meeting half way, please do forget about it. If he's serious, he'll come see you. Trust me. I learned my lesson. Feel free to disagree, but I'm going to stick to this one hard learned lesson. Maybe it's because it meant a transatlantic flight for me, a domestic for him. Hmm.).</i><br />
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I don't know <b>why</b>. I don't know <b>how</b>. But I do know that I ended up feeling really, really misled, and most probably my dear reader, I believe this fantastic thing called human imagination played a big part in the whole story.<br />
<br />
See, he seemed so great. Funny. Bright. Spot on. Admirable. <i>Too good to be true.</i><br />
<br />
Just like most of you probably would have, I too would have wished that he was the One. Now I'm more reverting to the thought of One being a song by U2 and nothing more. Rendered to greatness but Johnny Cash nonetheless, but still,<b> just a song.</b><br />
<br />
There's no real point in digging too much into the details of the whole thing as that is not going to benefit anyone. But if I mention severe communication problems, bills for two left to be payed by me(!), not once, but numerous times, lack of interest in actually getting to know me, bringing friends on<b> each and every one</b> of our supposed dates and so on, I think you get the picture. I mean, have you ever had dinner with someone so generally rude that even the other restaurant goers around you react? It was a first for me, but amazingly enough, it's possible. And then I haven't even mentioned the worst parts, so you go ahead and do the math.<br />
<br />
We parted as friends. Mainly because he wouldn't understand what I was going on about when I said that this was going nowhere and that I had expected something different. I gave up and ended up hanging out out of a sense of obligation. Shame on me. We were both in NY after all, and my part-catholic-related guilt made itself known and fully present.<br />
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But inside, I knew I should have acted my own hero and told him off for all those things that made my heart and head churn a little bit for each little dismal move he made. I didn't. <b>I let myself down</b>. And that's actually the biggest regret I have about this whole episode. Not the 'failing' of a possible romance of the centuries, not the mismatch, not the not having great news to share with friends and blog readers. None of that. But that I didn't stand up for myself in a moment I really, really should have, that's what I regret. For some mysterious reason, I felt powerless and fell silent. A crime.<br />
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But you know, never mind then risk taking. Never mind the failing and making mistakes. I'm all for that. In fact, I think without that,<i> </i><b>life is like a one sided coin</b>. It's worth it. Totally worth it. Because one day, it might actually not be a frog standing there laughing as you just fell off a chair, but a real prince. Or at least someone who's going to pay for your coffee. <b>And that's kind of cool, don't you think?</b><br />
<br />
I learned a huge amount of tidbits from this episode: <br />
<b><br />
1) I am not perfect and will not ever strive to be.<br />
</b><br />
<b>2) Scratch that, I am perfect, and so are you. We are all perfect, just the way we are.<br />
</b><br />
<b>3) I will not ever try to be something else than what I am, for anyone.<br />
</b><br />
<b>4) I'm never again paying for <i>oysters </i>I did not order. Ever.</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHput6wmYlV50nftGRpWLV2cOd1F3cZtrd5-epA4ADR2U8v8HGjwhEmLQoa-p0MBsIZVV_ATXlEffwLAPzaEMavCUiCkaGSXXHbAJFHah57oUPJ26BNfsM7WypiLaNWqyOumKmHFLhb9uF/s1600/coffe+beans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHput6wmYlV50nftGRpWLV2cOd1F3cZtrd5-epA4ADR2U8v8HGjwhEmLQoa-p0MBsIZVV_ATXlEffwLAPzaEMavCUiCkaGSXXHbAJFHah57oUPJ26BNfsM7WypiLaNWqyOumKmHFLhb9uF/s640/coffe+beans.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: black;"><i>Now, any words of encouragement are obviously really welcome here, so please, do get going in the commentary section, be my guests!</i></div><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/seandreilinger/1196913601/">Flickr Beans </a></span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11