Naivety? Perhaps.

Once.
I didn't know you
But I saw your trash on the curb
Once.
I'd sit there and watch it
But I couldn't find any words
Now.
I think I found them
Turns out you've got some words of your own
Now.
Let's try to hide them for
Once.
This story
This story

Why do I do this to myself? I let myself get emotionally entangled in something I knew not to be emotionally entangled with. Then turning around from that moment of frailty just to be hit in the face by the whiplash of reality.

Once.
You name the questions and
Ill try to hum back the words
Once.
They'll see it our way when
We promise no one gets hurt
Now.
Let's visualize it again
We'll write it right off the page
Now.
Feels so imaginary
Once.
This story
This story

Things getting too far out of hand isn't always a bad thing. But having it bloat up to something not entirely intended at first can be an emotional typhoon.

Once.
You look so happy together
Once.
You seem so happy together
Now.
This story's falling
It's falling
Now.
This story
Once.
keeps falling down

It's a shame feelings can't be shut off. I've previously taken distance from people I don't get along with. And that's easy. Rarely have I had to cut contact with someone I like to hang around with, so as not to misunderstand their intentions again.

Once.
You look so happy together
Once.
You seem so happy together
Now.
This story's over
It's over
Now.
This story
Once.
keeps falling down

Perhaps look at her as a friend again someday.

Lyrics to Once by OSI

Relativity

Yesterday I played a videogame called Grand Theft Auto. I enjoyed running over people, kids especially, and I made a point to specialize in extremely gruesome deaths. With baseball bats. I sometimes confuse reality with videogames, and I find myself using the super-option at the carwash quite often, since I can't seem to get the blood stains off the hood of my cab.

I listen to heavy metal music, death metal and melodic death metal in particular, because I need to unleash my otherwise uncontrollable and vile feeling of hate. It is a commonly known fact that heavy metal listeners have anger management problems. And we also worship Satan.

I also have repressed feelings of anxiety, panic and depression. To portray my overall feelings of horribleness, I write a blog, focused on insulting people I'm too scared to face. And being purposefully angstful while at it.

All clear signs of a manic-depressive youth with a passive-aggressive personality, the perfect candidate to be the next headlined psychopath.

Or not.

I'd spell out why, but I think my readers deserve to be insulted in more creative ways than telling them that perhaps stuff written on the Internet isn't always to be taken literally.

Walkabout

Wikipedia: Walkabout is an Australian pidgin (or perhaps quasi-pidgin) term referring to the belief that Australian Aborigines "go walkabout" at the age of thirteen in the wilderness for six months as a rite of passage. They then trace the path of the ceremonial ancestors of their tribe, following the exact route that those ancestors took, and imitating in a fashion, their heroic deeds. These paths are known as the Songlines.

After an enlightening meeting with our new bosses, I found myself downtown at noon with nothing to do. Turning my soon to be illegal mp3-player to the illegally downloaded track of Opeth's Ghost Reveries, I realized I had so much shit cluttering up my head, that I needed to give myself a minute.

So, instead of taking the first bus towards home, I walked past the bus station. And the next few bus stops. Nope, still no answers.

I walked past Lauttasaari. Nothing. Opeth changed to Nevermore.

Past Hanasaari, past Keilalahti, past Tapiola. Nothing. I began to wonder if there was any point in this hike, this Finnish summer is fucking freezing.

At my doorstep I realized something. Not in that epiphany type of way, but enough to make me stop in my steps. First of all, I think too much. Secondly, the instant one lowers their Berlin wall of cynicism, they become vulnerable emotionally. How easy it would be to just crawl back into that shell and not give a damn. Too bad I can't afford that luxury. Someone once said not to stop feeling is not the real answer. Letting the feeling emerge, while at the same time distancing yourself from the reaction, is the only real way to handle situations. I hate knowing stuff at times like this.

The sound of inevitability

Doing 110kph on a busy highway with the onboard computer showing 0 km and fuel gauge flashing red is normally considered to be a dumb idea. Acknowledging this, I promptly hammered on. Surely, there'd have to be a reserve tank that would get me to the next gas station, right? Surely, I would not, for instance, end up on the hard shoulder, hazard lights flashing, with huge trucks showering me with muddy snow? Fate must've had an open ear for the sound of inevitability, 'cause that's bloody well exactly what happened.

After walking for what seemed like forever (after which I hitched a ride from a humane trucker), I got some extra gas from the nearest gas station. I never realized hitchhiking would be so tough, as it was near impossible to catch a ride back to my car. Does it really take a brain larger than a monkey's to do the math when there's a hitchhiker dressed up properly with a gas can in his hand? People even had the audacity to give me a fuckoff-face and thumbs up. Good thing I caught a cab. My own laziness had cost me two hours and over 30€ extra.

The trip was a rather lost cause, as I didn't even close the deal on selling the Peugeot. So to say the least, I was tired, and in no mood to give out random favours. What I needed was an ice-cold alcohol-derived fruit drink and some episode of Scrubs in front of me. The problem with being a car-addict though, is that people expect you to drive and be happy with it. I could hear the roaring sound of inevitability miles away.

Beep beep. I received a text from a couple of ladies to "hurry up, we need a ride". Giving out an annoyed grunt, I thought I'd solve the problem once and for all. Not to be straight up rude, but make an absurd request in exchange for the ride. So the rather quick answer went as follows: "Take you there, that's a shag. Take you there and back, that'll be a shag with both of you." I almost laughed at my own ingenuity and figured I'd be at peace for the rest of the night for such arrogance. I never took the lady at the other end of the line for a poker player, though. My phone rang almost immediately and a bright voice said "Ok, that'll work! When are we leaving." I'm not one to give up my bluffs easily, so I went along with it. I'm hoping to create some awkward situation some time soon, where I'd pop the question of "repayment".

I arranged a surprise trip to Mikkeli on Saturday. What a crap town. Regained my confidence though.

Oh yeah, concerning blogs. I noticed the commenting wasn't available for everyone. Should be fixed now.

Steal this film!

Please. Do yourself a favour and check these out:

http://www.stealthisfilm.com/Part1/

http://www.stealthisfilm.com/Part2/