Annika's Diary
While we work
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So, this is what I get to look at while I work. And for some reason it’s not very motivating to see your beautiful puppy take a nap in your favourite chair while you try to actually make the money to feed her.
But she is amazing. Even though it is a little annoying to have someone snoring at you when you work, it also reminds you of why you work. I paid for her with the money I got from working.
But she loves her naps. One night she was asleep on the balcony, and I was sort of playing with her ball. Well, of course I dropped it and she woke up (which isn’t good, because when she sleeps at night, I get to sleep too). But instead of getting all worked up and playfull, she just walked past me, gave me a look that could kill, took the ball in her mouth and carried it past me to the balcony, gave me another look that really said “just leave the ball alone, I’m trying to sleep here” and went back to sleep with the ball in her mouth.
And I had to really work to not burst out laughing.
But I knew better!
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You have to appreciate that this was written in the middle of the night (or in the morning), after I slapped someone in the face, and really really felt bad about it and thought the world was going to end, and that I’d never find ever selfrespect anymore after resorting to something as stupid as a slap.
What if it means something?
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I am quite certain that something went a little wrong last night. I know, something happened that shouldn’t have happened, even if it just for fun, and lasted for a second. Some things shouldn’t happen. Because if they do, they mess other things up.
Especially if something was said before. Even if that something is not very important or meaningful.
Shit. I don’t like liking it.
Pleasure
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I know I’ve written about this at some point. I just don’t remember when.
The perfect moments of happiness.
A few days ago I was sitting in the car. I looked at the road past my toes, smoked, which I shouldn’t have been doing in that car.Saw something that might have been from a movie. Waited to be allowed to go past the construction bit. Talked about having wild sex on the hood of the car, in front of everyone. But didn’t do it. Had an argument about the air conditioning and the funky smell in the car. Laughed at funny road signs. Ate candy and nothing else.
And all of a sudden, I felt completely happy. In that small moment in time I felt I had everything I could ever want. Weird. It still feels like nothing can change the fact that I had that moment. Although I know that at any moment, someone could come and tarnish my moment.
I’ll hold on to it.
Just as I’ll hold on to the moment this morning, drinking coffee in the sun. Or last night, watching the bats fly about. Or the taste of the strawberry cake I made today.
It’ll all be well in the end (even though I know that it won’t be a happy ending, you see, I’ve read this book before too).
Definately busy.
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Well, this week I can’t call myself lazy. I’m working two jobs (at the same time) and trying to keep the dog from chewing up everything in the shop. I just keep hoping that we get no customers (they’ve been flocking here for the past two days and I don’t want them to, I’ve got my other job to do).
Kind of nice to have to have some sort of a rhythm for a while.
Once again I am faced with the same problem of leaving things too late. I should have done this stuff like three weeks ago, but no, and now I’m trying to get stuff done in record time (for me, anyway).
Thank god Saturday isn’t too far away!
Busy? (or lazy)
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I’m beginning to feel like a single mom. I never seem to have the time to do my hair or put on make-up. Most of my time goest to hanging out with the pup or sleeping!
But I don’t mind. She’s finally figuring out that sometimes I need to work, and she needs to do stuff on her own. Or sleep.
Other than that my life doesn’t seem to have changed. Next week I’ll be regressing a bit. I’ll go and work at a shop where I haven’t worked for over a year. Its a favor sort of thing. Plus I’ll get paid for being there, even though I’ll just be translating just as I would at home, not many customers hanging around there this time of year, I hope.
And then on Saturday I’ll pack my bags and head to Savo. I’ll show all the wonders of Eastern Finland to a friend, and he’d better appreciate it!
Time
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I’ve been reading someone’s blog and it reminds me of something that I left behind years ago. I had to dig out the pictures of me in the 60’s and 70’s dresses and the funny haircuts and the Tigger earmuffs.
I forgot how hard it was then. I wrote better poetry, that’s for sure. I felt more. But it went both ways. Sure the highs were high, but the lows were pretty low too.
We made snow angels almost every week. We drank the last of our money and threw up on the street. I sat at the old cemetery smoking pot and trying to read the hundred-year-old writing under all the moss. There was a picture of a scull on one of the stones.
I danced naked on the kitchen table at a party. We danced ring dances on the ice, naked, steaming from the sauna. I remeber how the rough surface tore the soles of my feet.
I sang to people. I sang with H (she should be singing Tango), and our voices became one, so that if one of us sang wrong, we’d have to guess which one it was. Every time, beforehand, I got so nervous I couldn’t sit still. I kept clicking my pen until it broke.
I played a girl that died in a play. She was lonely and fat and sank in the marsh. Everyone else died too, she was the one going for help. I felt for her. Sometimes I dreamt of her life. She was real to me.
We almost lit fire to a girl on stage. That one was medieval. She was the beggar. She was put out on time though. No harm.
We sat at the beach, singing old political songs. Someone always took pictures. Or played the guitar. We swam small plastic boats in the fountain on the market place. Everyone had wet pants that day. I think my boat was green. I think I still have it somewhere.
I sat on my beach. The sun would set and it’d still be warm. I swam naked in the night and listened to the ferry. I learned how to make smoke rings.
I went to parties uninvited. I had the universal key to my shcool building. I sat under the table in the kiosk, skipping Swedish classes. Forgot to study for the exams. Kissed everyone. Fucked no-one.
I loved desperately and tried to hold on to someone who I couldn’t keep. I was left behind, but I healed. I grew up. Wrote less. Wore normal clothes. Stopped listening to the silence.
Somehow life is easier now. Less ups and downs. Less uppers and downers. But I sometimes miss it. I miss being lost that way. I miss trying to figure out how to be me. I’m happier now, but more boring.
Has it really been only eight years?
The Dog
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I have bought I dog. Her name will most probably be Elma, and she is the cutest thing that ever walked on earth. She’s a dark brown labrador who has greyish eyes, and she’s just about as calm, as I’m not.
She’s only peed on the floor once this far, and pooped twice, but she’s still a baby, so that’s ok, she’s learning!
Sun!
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Perfect weather. Perfect temperature. I want to go swimming. I want to read a good book in the shade!
And guess what. I can’t because I have to translate. Damn!
Bend my neck, kiss me now
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Feeling a bit firghtened. I don’t know why. I’ve been listening to music and words that I listened to way back when. (sort of a translation: “if the town would flood, the water routes would provide a way out, but I’m not a fish”).
Somehow I feel stuck again. I don’t know how to go back or forward. I want to need someone. I want to be able to say what I want. I want to need someone. I need to be able to cry in front of others. I can’t spend my life being this f***ing scared of everything that has any meaning.
I want to be able to demand. I want to be able to touch without fear. I want to whisper, not scream, just because you’ll believe a whisper when you don’t hear the scream.
I want to stand on my hands in the water, with you holding me up and diving down to kiss me air so I’d break my previous record.
Today I feel like crap. I wasted too much time on things that don’t matter. I want to go to bed, but can’t. My head is too full of things that need sorting, once again. Most of the time it’s the same stuff, and I’ll just think about it again and again and again, whishing the end result would be different the next time.
Don’t give up on me just yet. I might turn out to be just sort of okay.
