One of the things I’ve become markedly better at over the years is creating atmospheres for myself to function in. I read an article (an opinion piece, an essay, call it what you want) the other day about how it’s no longer enough for our generation to just sit down and read a book. We have to create a whole atmosphere surrounding it. We need our book, of course. Without the book there is nothing to create an atmosphere for. The atmosphere is for reading. But far from being content with having a good book to read, the succesful reader of today must also make sure there’s the right stimmung, the right environment, to ensure the best possible reading experience.
Without knowing it, I’ve become part of this movement of reading environmentalists, seeing as the front and center of the right environment is the candle. The candle is my go-to prop for creating a comfy atmosphere. I know I’ve gone on and on about candlelights on this blog already, but I do feel a shout out is warranted every now and then.
Even today, after a long, lazy Sunday where I’ve felt mostly flat and drained after a hectic week of moving out of my old apartment and into my new, lighting four little candles along my new big window sill, and watching their reflections in the windows dark with the night from outside, has enlivened me and given me a spur of fresh energy as I sit down on my newly assembled office chair, using said window sill as my new office desk for my computer, typing down words as they come to mind.
Speaking of the new apartment and the window sill, I do believe I have one of the city’s best office spots right here, with my third floor view out over the forests to the left, the city to the right, and the hospital with all its helicopter lights straight ahead from me.
I love being back up high, looking out at the world instead of hiding from it behind my tiny windows. I always felt a little uneasy with my windows in my old apartment. There’s something secretive and private about small windows. As if anyone catching a glimpse through it is seeing right into the core of you. In my new apartment there are large windows all around, and I’m feeling less shy than I recall ever feeling.
It reminds me of my roommate in Copenhagen, who’d often do naked yoga or ballet in our living room, giving the neighbours across the road a direct view of her most intimate body parts. But I guess that’s exactly the difference. It’s not intimate, or at least it doesn’t feel intimate, when people can look straight into your living room just as a matter of fact.
Plus, being up high, I’m the one looking down at all the apartments around me now, whereas I used to be the one on the ground floor, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.
Someday I’ll write an ode to living up high. The view. The freedom. The lack of voyeurs.
I’m truly enjoying moving this time. This time it feels real. This time it feels like a home. I need a sofa. I need some new book shelves. Maybe a new dining table. I need some decoration for my walls. I need my girl to come lie with me. I need my girl.
The days have been moving too fast, and have sent me on too many travels back and forth between here and there and everywhere for me to really fall into a sense of living here yet. I’m looking forward to slowly finding my footing anew. I’m starting an internship tomorrow that’ll hopefully develop into a proper job in a month. I know this post is very fumbling and scattered and all over the place. I apologise. But if you came here for coherence, you should have known better.
I love watching the night fall on the landscape. Lights from miles out reaching my window. Stars, when not hidden behind a thick, warm layer of clouds, flickering in the sky. I’m sipping my chamomile tea, listening to Bon Iver, enjoying life.
I’ve always been good at enjoying life in solitude. Almost as good as I am at being depressed in solitude.
I know it’s a simple question of motivation for me. A simple question of direction. A simple question of decision. Deciding to be happy rather than deciding to feel lost. I haven’t ever been truly lost in this world. I’ve only ever been lost in my head, but that can be mazy enough.
As night falls and the fog settles I can imagine that the trees on the horizon are secretive mountains, only visible when they’re hidden in the lack of light. I miss mountains. I’d love for there to be a mountain here, or a whole mountain range. Just someplace off in the distance. I don’t know if I enjoy mountains when I’m on them. I tend to enjoy what’s away from me.
I enjoy looking at mountains when I’m down on water level. I enjoy looking across an endless ocean when I’m up high on a volcanic mountain. I dream of people far away from me. I dream of lives lived in impossible destinations, the future or the past.
I take solace in the sound of my keyboard as I press down the buttons and write my words. I’ve always enjoyed that sound. I’m not a fan of the sound of typewriters. Only on film. In reality they’re too loud. I’d feel instantly shy writing on a machine that loud. Fearing someone would be able to hear my words through the sounds the machine makes. I’m far more comfortable writing on a computer. It’s faster. It’s more silent. Yet it still gives a great feedback and it still carries a sound with it.
I chose my computer based on the keyboard. It’s time I start putting it to good use again after half a year away from academia.
I have a feeling my new window sill might finally be the place for me to write all the things I’ve ever wanted to write. It’s an open place.
I just need my girl.