… and then I woke up (Real life daydreaming)

Daydreaming is nice, isn’t it?

I just visited Copenhagen. Nice city and even nicer when it’s hot like it was this time. Not so nice when travelling with a bus as we did on one sunny afternoon.

Anyway, daydreaming.

Bus was awfully hot and packed. I found a place to sit, sat down.

Had a quick look around – the usual (meaning a mismatched bunch of Danes and us foreigners), also a cutish brunette.

Did I lay my eyes on her for a second too long?

Don’t know, perhaps.

Talked with my friend, glanced around.

Saw her staring at me. This same cute brunette was looking at me and what did I do?

Lost my nerve, looked away.

Looked back a bit later. She was still looking at me.

Wondered for a brief moment if I had some shit on my face or something. No, I didn’t.

Stared right into her eyes for some time before bus stopped and a new crowd came in.

Lost the eye contact, we moved backwards a few seats at the bus.

When I next time had a look she wasn’t there anymore.

Surprised? No.
Disappointed? Perhaps a bit.

Still.

Daydreaming remains.

Memories (Aren’t Fading)

Today I was again distracted. My sleep was restless, had dreams of Miss M and Miss Cherry.

At first dream I moved in together with Miss M. No, we didn’t date, were just friends. And yes, we moved to same flat at this really high and somehow odd building at some big city somewhere.

What did it mean, then?

Mr. Freud would perhaps tell that all is about missing closure(s), but I don’t know. Or actually I know that it may be that but most likely has something to do about stress.

Anyway, memories.

Went strolling down a narrow path today leading to Miss Cherry.

Why?

I don’t know.

We share, according to my count, one or two mutual friends at Facebook. I’m paranoid about my privacy (at least some parts of it, hi to all readers;)) and don’t share anything but my picture with non-friends at FB. She doesn’t share even that, which is somehow understandable as she works at social sector.

Today I hiked through old pics, neatly zipped to a DVD and titled “with her” (or actually “naisen kanssa” in Finnish which has also some other meanings). It seems that I went through all my pics when we broke up, stuffed all photos reminding of her to a single file and deleted the originals.

Does someone else find that a bit weird?

I was looking for this one particular picture I want printed out.

Why?

At first it was too painful to print it out.

Then came other things.

And sometimes it bothers me that I don’t have a single paper picture of us together.

We lived together for 1,5 years. No single picture.

This picture, it has us at a wedding, at dance floor. Faces pressed together, both smiling. Both looking so happy. And yes, if I recall right, at that particular moment we both were happy. At least for a while.

I found the picture.

It is as beautiful and happy as I remembered.

And being the asshole I am, I’ll print it out and add it to my Photo Album.

I think we deserve it.

New Year, Wonderful

Hmmph. Yet another year has gone by. Lot’s of moments, happy ones, sad ones.

New faces, old faces.

Dreams. Old ones – new ones.

Destination?

Yeah, destination. What could it be? Hmm.
Perhaps I’ll grow fat, just for the sake of it.
Or then, maybe not.

Perhaps I’ll try to graduate this year.
Or not.

Perhaps I’ll settle all old things and get on with my life.
Or not.

Hmmph.

Mind wonders, again. Work related stuff spins in my head although it’s sunday. Still wonder if those dreams last night mean something or not.

Tiesto’s Sweet Misery in my ears.

I yearn for something big.
Perhaps I missed it already.

Blueish. (Small wonders, part 4)

Do you happen to know the feeling? When someone is near you, you know you’re interested and you know she/he is also interested?

…and then neither of you makes anything?

That could’ve been the story of my life some years ago, perhaps 5-10 big Ys in the past.

Anyhoo.

Story begans about same time as my first encounter with 40,5 C ass(-warmer). As already said, camp, yeah. Had to undergo some training and happy-happy-joy-joy education before the camp. Met her there, was at the same team. Quite beautiful (still is!), nice brown eyes (surprisingly still has them;)). Again this stupid little man was sold. (How many times have I been sold? Too many. Nothing left to sell, I’d reckon.)

Hit off with her quite ok, enjoyed each others company.

Well, at the camp I found my (then true) love, she found her own. End of story?

No, not at all.

Some years went by, had these wonderful reunions for the camp once a year. A bit awkward sometimes, as all the once-couples had already split, each one. Anyway, slept on mattressess on the floor, all in the same pile (siskonpeti one would say back at home).

I think it was last one of these small get-togethers. I was actually hanging out with Miss M back then, must’ve been 2001. Yeah, that was it. 2001. Everything didn’t go as smooth as I wanted (we wanted?) with miss M, all the ill omens were already there. Stubborn and fucking stupid I was already then, that I have to say.

We had a wonderful day at the reunion, chatted, went to sauna, ate something, played some games. Night came, everyone went to sleep on the floor. I slept next to her, couldn’t sleep. Heard her breathing, turning around, she was also awake.

That one time I must confess I didn’t have to courage to do anything. I wanted to reach to her, take her hand and then kiss her.

Just didn’t have the courage. Told myself nothing good would come if I made the move. And yes, was with miss M, not to forget that one.

And if would’ve reached my hand to hers, what would’ve happened?

Nothing?
Something?
Everything?

If cows had wings one would need umbrellas walking at countryside.

Having broken up with miss Cherry few years from that one sleepless night,  I was with my mate at the local bar, drinking quite heavily in the middle of the week (woe those times when I could do just that!). Went to get some beer, someone called my name. Turned – there she was, again. As beautiful as earlier, a bit older but still.

Greeted her, we hugged, asked what was she doing in my home town, made some plans to meet her the next day.

… and now writing this, why didn’t I ask her to come by at my place?
Why didn’t I do that all those times she called me to say she was at my home town for this rock festival?

If cows had wings…

Anyway, had the coffee with her, she had a tight little schedule as she was leaving to Spain the very same day (to live there). Isn’t that ironic?

Small wonders.

Well, enter the time of every child’s -  ahem -  adult’s favourite playground, the Facebook!
There she is, as beautiful as ever. Now she’s my pal, again.

Nothing more, nothing less.
“Eiavauduta added you as a friend on Facebook“!

Phee.

Two Figure Skaters, That’s What We Are.

Tired as hell, hangover, long nail marks at my back and shoulders, headache and yes, my parents visiting.

What a lovely morning that was, then, long time ago. (Feels even longer time now than it actually was.)

Brewed some coffee for my dad, fetched biscuits and after all the idle chit-chat  went for a quick dinner with them, still feeling nauseated. And tired, really tired.

Why was I tired, why the hangover? Why the scratches all over my upper torso?

Hmm.

It all began the day before.

This restaurant located at downtown, about 10 people or so. Dinner, beer, fun. End of the season party, as the winter was over. Good friends, nice atmosphere.

After dinner to smallish night club quite near (too bad that place doesn’t exist anymore), first some more beers, dancing and so on. At some point all the other guys went somewhere (home? don’t know), I stayed with a dear mate of many years. Both skaters.

Anyhoo.

I can’t even remember who started the conversation, doesn’t matter. Could’ve been her, too. She sat alone at table, nice looking, glasses, brownish hair, tight black leather pants. Shirt was, if I recall right, some awful leopard-pattern, really tacky. All in all, quite fine.

“- What are you doing here today?
- We had this end of season party…
- So are you two athletes or something then?
- Yes, skaters we are.
- Aww, figure skaters! Nice!
- ….. (followed by meaningful glances between me and my mate) ….
- Yes, that’s right. Were just praticising our triple-salkows!
- Really? Those are quite difficult, aren’t they?”

… and so the story went on and on. I was, for that one night, a figure skater. Or at least so I told I was and she didn’t question it…

Fast forward couple of hours. She stayed to help her friend when the bar closed, I didn’t have anything better to do so waited outside (fcking cold that night, about -15 or something). She came, we chatted for a while and I said that I had to go home. Decided to walk together part of the way. Walked together, was fun, said that this is my street here, “mine, too”.

Jolly good, we were almost neighbours.

She asked if I wanted some coffee. Well, wanted, that’s for sure, ’cause coffee at 4.30 am makes one always feel better, doesn’t it? Went to her place, nice little studio, leather couch and everything. Drank the coffee, chatted this and that about work and studies.

Can remember the creaking of her leather pants as she sat at my lap.

Can remember the going-to-sleep-part which both knew was something else.

Can remember her nails at my back.

Can remember her lying naked at my bed. (Yes, my bed. Somewhere inbetween address had changed (at about 8.00 am bloody sunday morning!)).

And yes, the shower, too.

Can also remember her leaving, kiss of goodbye.

Next time I saw her she rode a bike at our home street, next summer. Either didn’t recognize me or was too ashamed to.

Can always remember that for that one particular night I was a figure skater.

Quest for Personal Happiness.

Hmmph.

My quest for personal happiness has been a long and winding road. Have I ever found it?

Once in a while I think so.

Once in a while I am happy.

And once in a while I’m not.

Which one is greater, happiness or unhappiness (is that even a real word?)?

Hmmph. Good question.

I had this wonderful conversation with someone a while ago. Went something like:
- What do you want?
- I want to be happy.
- What does that mean?

Yep, that’s the question.

What is happiness and where can I find it?

When I was younger, I suppose I was happy. Well, at least I wasn’t that miserable ’cause I didn’t know what it really was to be miserable.

Quite soon I learned, thanks to certain wonderful events in my family.

Oh, was happy then, too. Skating, running, being with family, first contacts with the opposite sex… Was also unhappy, quite often.

Moved to city with the family. Happy? Yes, everything was so close, so uncomplicated. Work with no responsibility, bars, drinking, skating… Unhappy? That, too.

Then the army. Sucks ass big time (sucked then, too)  but still, was happy.  Or quite happy. Routines, weekends at home, drinking, bars, training. Quite happy.

After that?

Why am I happy if I’m happy?
What gives me pleasure?

No, sick perverts, we don’t go there.

Skating is always fun, even when it’s not. Happy about that.
Running makes me happy especially when everything goes ok.
My work makes me happy, most of the time.
Seeing the smile on my son‘s face makes my day. Happy!

I most certainly like chatting and debating with people, makes me happy. (Or at least most of the time)

And as Al Pacino said in the “Scent of a woman“:
“Women! What can you say? Who made ‘em? God must have been a fuckin’ genius“.
Women have made me happy in quite many ways starting from the bottom (was that a good metaphor? Perhaps not;)) and going all the way to top.

Unhappy, too.

Question still remains, what makes me happy?

Combination of all the above? Perhaps.
None of the above? Perhaps.

Everything doesn’t make me happy.
Nothing does not make me unhappy.

My quest goes on.

“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know. “
- Ernest Hemingway, author and journalist, Nobel laureate (1899-1961)

Small Wonders, part 3.

Years and years ago she was mine for a brief period of time. (Or was I her’s? Or was anyone anyone’s? Anyway…)

Very brief, but sweet.

Was a small boy, she was even younger. Skated a lot, goal was to be in the olympics at a certain point. Well, wasn’t, watched the guys skate at my own sofa. Sad, isn’t it?

She, on the other hand, was an actress. Still is. Quite good at what she does, could say.

Anyway, met at this camp. How groovy is that?

She was a happy camper, I was part of the staff, so to say.

Cute as a button she was. Still is.

I? I was perhaps as fit as I can ever be, but a young boy. Let’s leave that alone, shall we?

We were hiking up north, was quite cold sometimes (summer – still!). She had this wonderful portable seat warmer (or ass warmer, whatever;) that said at big, chunky ad-letters: “Your seat is always 40,5 C“. One day I asked her nonchalantly if I could try her 40,5 C ass. Wondered why she looked me funny and all the other laughed – before I realised what I just said. Perhaps blushed, perhaps not. can’t remember. She said yes, if I recall right, but also said that it wasn’t 40 yet. Oh well, this one small guy was sold.

What then? Few days went, then came the last day. Were up all night, looking at the nightless night and sun that didn’t set. I was awake and so was she, others were perhaps discreet (or asleep). Sat by her at the campfire when she suddenly said “Now it’s 40,5, you should try it!“. And I tried.

Was it really 40,5? Perhaps. It was hot, that I have to say.

Several things led to some other things and some time went by (not that much, mind you). Next thing I was at her room throwing teddy bears off the bed.

Yep, teddy bears.

Also some other cuddly stuffed animals.

Why?

‘Cause we were afraid her mother would come home and find us from the sofa where we earlier were.
Quite cute, eh?

Teddy bears were only a hoax, I think. Or so I got to know…

Fast forward four to five years, same room, her graduation party (high school). Right from the beginning everything was fucking weird. Went in with another mate, saw her mother for the first time in five years. Greeted with my name. What the hell? Saw some of her relatives (which I hadn’t seen ever) – they greeted me and asked if I was *****? Sure, yes I was.

Went to greet her at her room. She sat there, on the same bed, with two other actresses (quite famous, too).

No teddy bears to be seen.

Small Wonders?

Hi, New Reader!

Seems you found the blog without further guidance;)

Sleepless Nights.

Sleepless nights, sometimes good and sometimes bad.

Like last sunday morning.

Was a bit drunk, went to sleep at hotel room I shared with my mate at about 3:30 am, couldn’t sleep that well. Had some nightmares about failing at work and so on (surprise!).

Oh well, managed to get to sleep.

What then?

Door opens, mate comes in with some not-that-foxy lady.

Fuck.

Yes, they did fuck. I didn’t.

Didn’t sleep, either.

Fuck.

Firm my Ass.

“You are so firm“, she said. Yeah, and then? What the hell?

Hmm. Perhaps I’m a bit grumpy today. And cynical, as always.

Well, then: “They say I shouldn’t say this to a man because then they become too proud and eventually assholes. But I want to say it to you.” Jolly good. Am I an asshole?

Perhaps.
Certainly.
Do I care?

Hmmph.

Men should be polite to women, say nice things like “you’re pretty today” or “you smell nice” or whatever, no-one says they’ll become assholes. Oh well.

This one firm-assed asshole now rethinks what to write, as this posting became something else than I intended. (Look ma, I created a monster!)