Something about a moon.

Opening my eyes to another day of grey. Grey houses. Grey trees. Grey skies. Grey everything here on the Blue Planet. Even with the ease of access, never having to drag around our oxygen tanks, I’m starting to wonder if coming here was the right choice for us. Or, coming back here, I should say, even though our history here seems so far away, as if it’s something I’ve read in a book rather than something I’ve lived through myself. Part of my imagination rather than memory.

My memory is full of our old home, our frosty spectacle of a do-or-die scenario, where we lived to our fullest each day and sat on the ground in the evenings, looking up at the ringed giant, dwarfing the Sun with its massive appearance right in front of our staring, earthling eyes. The sky on Enceladus was always clear as the first true winter’s day used to be on Earth. Back before it all happened. There was ice below us, sky above us. Universe above us.

I remember holding your glove-clad hands in mine, seeing our breathing turn to foggy clouds of condensation each time we exhaled into the air between us. Your deep brown eyes such a foreign color on the white planet, as if you took the two most beautiful pieces of the Earth with you on our mission into the great unknown. I remember how easy it was to carry you around. Put me on your back, you’d say, and in Enceladus’ near-nonexistent gravity, I’d simply toss you on my back and feel you cling on to me, giving us both heat throughout the days as we went exploring, making a home of our new home.

Looking up I can’t see our old new home. Looking up I can’t even see this planet’s moon. I can’t even see the Sun, save for a slightly lighter patch of grey in the East revealing the whereabouts of our gigantic life-giving ball of fire. I wonder what kind of society could have developed under these conditions, under a starless sky. I wonder who would have dared to dream. I wonder who would even have dreamt up the notion of dreaming. Would there have been Explorers? Would there have been gods for mankind under a grey sky?

My hand stroking your hair, black as the nights on Enceladus, only lighted by the specks of starlight I see whenever I look at you sleeping beside me. My eyes’ gaze lowering to your stomach, to that bump forming on you, predicting our future with every new kick. We had the discussion, the pros and cons, of growing up here or back home. Of valuing the open landscapes, the night sky above, or valuing the gravity here, ensuring that his bones will grow strong and durable, his muscles forming like ours.

We never factored in how things might have changed here while we were gone on our own adventure, seeking pastures new as the Earth had nothing left to show us. We didn’t count on escaping the War. We never expected the War to finally, horribly live up to its promises of doom and blood, of broken countries, broken lands. We most certainly never expected the sky to be broken too.

It was visible as soon as we neared the Blue Planet in our shuttle. It looked nothing like when we looked out the window upon leaving, seeing only oceans back then, almost sad to leave the safe fresh water supplies behind. Fresh water is a thing of the past, as least as far as we have searched. We have worked our way through the bottled remnants of water in the supermarkets. The small village we’ve found is starting to break up, leaders turning on each other, families looking with spite across the camp, envying those who have yet to develop a cough, assuming others to be thieves.

It was the most elemental part of all this, how much time we’d spend traveling. How much farther ahead in the Earth’s history we’d be when we got here. I’m holding your naked hand as you wake up, opening your eyes to the same realisation as I had. You look up at me, telling me my eyes are the only glimpses of the galaxy you’ve had since coming here. And I know. I know.

We hid our shuttle as soon as we landed. Its insides only large enough for three people and the most necessary luggage. We knew immediately how valuable a shuttle like ours would be. The opportunity to get away from here. Anyone would be tempted to take it. Anyone would be a fool not to. So we hid it and never spoke of it in the village. Call us selfish, we have lives to live. And we knew we’d want a way out in the future. We just never expected to catch the future so soon.

Holding your hand in my left palm, I write in yours with the digits of my right hand. E N C. You start smiling that smile I’ve known forever, since before our souls found each other in the stream of life. E L A. You wait patiently, allowing my cheesy behavior even on this greyest of days. D U S. I kiss your palm, putting the key to the ignition in it and closing your hand tight.

Let’s drive back home.

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Not the flight, but the moment just before.

I find it really hard to get started on this last assignment of the semester. I have left my search for meaning behind. I have moved on, I think. I have got a good conversation going with one of the people I most enjoy speaking with. I am enjoying romantic daydreams again. Both very specific and then not at all. They explore mood/atmosphere rather than action. They are summer-dreams, a warm summer with no wind. Evenings. Company, music. Slightly drunk, or maybe just dehydrated – in the best of ways. A small gathering of friends and family. No one shouting. Everyone just having nice, calm conversations. A coherent group while still breaking up into parts every now and then, small side-conversations walking around in a big garden. Apple trees. Tightly grown – not too many wide open spaces. Colored lamps when the Sun starts to set. Red, green, yellow, purple, orange. I even see children. I think I am dreaming of my life some 5 years from now; how I want it to be.

Yes. I can see the people now.

Wow.

I always write something entirely fictional or something that has happened in my own life. I have never tried to write about my future before. I should do that. I think that can open up some possibilities. I really would like to write something very dream-like. I am talking a lot about dreams these days. They are such a big part of our lives, we have to do something with them. We have to learn from them – I don’t intend to mean that we have to analyze them, just take them in. Feel them. I often learn a lot from my dreams when I just feel them. Feel the mood they present, feel what they did to me; how they made me feel, now and in that exact moment when I was in the dream. It’s important to remember not the flight, but the moment just before. The moment that made you fly. It’s good to remember the joy, but if you can’t recall how you got there, you will only ever have the memory of it instead of being able to recreate it.

Life status.

When you went out the door last night, I knew for sure I had been hit. How come these revelations always come once you say goodbye? Why can’t you realize it at “hello” and act on it? Why can’t I?

She was born in Spring,
But I was born too late.
Blame it on a simple twist of fate.

(Bob Dylan: Simple Twist of Fate) She wasn’t actually born in Spring, but I was born too late. Well, of course that’s just my first take on it. I don’t know what will come of it. Foreseeing the future has never been one of my strengths.

The new semester has started. I keep getting more and more assured that I am studying the right thing. Philosophy is just outright exciting. I get highs when I find out I’m excited about philosophical topics in everyday life, when I watch a movie or whatever. I am sure I could be studying numerous other things and find those exciting as well, but right now this is where I really feel at home. This is where I not only want to be, but also where I can feel I am ready to be. I am ready to question the world.

I am still running around to music each and every week. Last night you told me you missed when you were my age and all that mattered to you was music. I think I can show you a way back to those times. Is that the attraction we’ve got? You want to get younger, and I want you to get younger as well? It might be.

My home life has been a bit up and down. I don’t really know why. Or, well, I know why: my roommate has been very up and down. But I don’t really know what’s causing it. I keep asking, but whenever I get a reply, it seems it’s some stuff that has been dealt with, but is still influencing. I hope there’s a “cure” to be found. It’s causing her quite some distress, and I hate to be in the middle of that.

Family-wise everything is going pretty much as usual. Some things are good, some things less so. Everyone is in control of their own destiny, some of us make some of it, some of us don’t. For a long time I didn’t, but now things are moving forward for me. I am writing more, and better. I am making music. I am reading a lot, both philosophy and pure-pleasure-reading. And I am making new friends.

Maybe that’s what’s changing things up. She can feel I am making new friends. I have told her about how I normally change pretty much my entire friend-group every 3rd or 4th year. Some stay there, some come back, some are left for good. It might be that she’s afraid that I will walk out on her. Actually, that seems more plausible than I had expected. Not me walking out on her, but her thinking I will. She has been taking precautions these last couple of weeks. We signed a roommate agreement/contract in case anyone was to move out. We split up our food budget. Heck, I might have found the reason!

Or maybe she’s just planning on kicking me out.

Back to my love life: I don’t know what will happen. I know what I want, but I don’t know if it’s possible. I do know that it would be great, though. And I think you know that as well.

Now I have to go get some freshly washed clothes.

Obnoxious argument lover.

One of the first things that was said to us in the introduction days to philosophy, was that we would soon find ourselves in our own little bubble; protected from the outside world/the outside world protected from us. It would happen because our minds would quickly adjust to thinking in a new, more argument-based way.

I didn’t think much of it the first day – I might even have thought it to sound silly – but already I can feel the effects, even though we haven’t really started yet. It’s obvious my mind is already trying to dissect other people’s arguments, finding logical reasons for things and generally I just find myself talking more about meta-stuff.

We were told people around us (family, old friends) would find it weird at first and slowly grow tired of us. It sounded so surrealistic, but I now see what was meant by it. There just isn’t room enough for such different mindsets. We will be trained in argumentation and rhetorics almost as if it were martial arts. People who are not interested in this will quickly turn away. So, it will probably just be us in the philosophy class talking together in a few months.

I really hope I will be able to develop an on/off button, so I can still talk normally with friends and family, but I’m afraid it won’t be so. Both because of my own gut feeling, as well as the stories from the older students.

At the party yesterday, my tutor told me he expected a lot of people in relationships to be single by Christmas, simply because their current relationships wouldn’t be able to endure the changes that will happen. The changes, he says, are so fundamental to the person you are/the person you are becoming, that you can’t just leave your rhetoric in the classroom. It will become a part of you, and you will talk in philosophical ways whether or not you want to in a given situation.

I guess there isn’t really too much to do but wait and see where this takes me. I’m not all that afraid of what will happen if I do become exactly what is expected, but I would like to be able to control it. I think it lies more in the individual – as I’ve always said – to make him/herself into the person he/her wants to be. There’s always room for change.

Alligator.

I feel the need to get some things off my chest.

I just don’t know how, really.

I often feel like no one will ever listen to me, listen to what I have to say. Perhaps I don’t talk quite loud enough. Perhaps I’m too often outside the “circle” to get noticed when I finally want to contribute to the discussion. It mostly happens around my friends, but last night it also occured during a family dinner. I was left wondering: should I just stay quiet at all times instead? Since it often seems to make no difference at all, whether I say something or not.

I have a few friends who always tend to listen to me. I think that’s where you find your true friends – and they aren’t always the ones you thought they’d be. One, and he’s the one I’ve always got, is my best friend. Been that since childhood. I can always count on him, likewise; he can always count on me. But then there are the odd ones. Those you never thought would turn out to be your best mate. But then there are those you don’t really know about, but try to predict. Over the last months, it’s become ever so clear to me that I’ve had my money on the wrong one of two friends from my class. Should have seen it a long time ago, but.. yeah. Didn’t really notice before Roskilde Festival. This other person, whom I at first didn’t treat as well as the person deserved, has truly kicked some well-deserved butt in the ‘competition’ between the two. It’s no longer a race. There’s a winner. If you can call it a victory, winning the right to be my friend. Hah.

Roskilde just cleared up so many things. Though there’s still a mystery to be solved when it comes to my girlfriend. Everything is good – except she’s leaving after summer break and I’ll hardly get to see her at all. Once, twice a month perhaps. We need to talk about that. I wish she could just start at my High School right away.. but that’s not the case. No love  without a struggle, it seems.

God I have a great taste in music.

It’s a fear. It is near. The shape becomes ever clear.
It bares teeth extra sharp that’ll cut you in the heart.
It attacks really quick, try and fight it with a stick.
There’s no use, give it up, this is life and this is love.

(Grizzly Bear: “Alligator”) Horn of Plenty just keeps on rising in my rating of the best albums around. It’s so beautiful, so sincere. It’s real, home-made. It’s true. Honest. The kind of album that you can just keep on listening to. Time after time. So I do.

I’ve often talked about how I like darkness. I still do. It never fails to amaze me. When put together with music, wauw – each time. You can’t see the speakers. There’s just a few lights surrounding the music, random stand-by lamps from other stuff. You can’t see where the sound comes from. You can only hear it, enjoy it. You feel it.

I’d like to be blind, if that’s how it is when you can’t see. If you then get a better feel for people instead, because you don’t judge based on their looks. No matter how much you try and how many times you say that you’re all about what’s inside of people; you can’t deny that first and foremost, you look at them. If they don’t appeal to you, there’s a lesser chance of you ever getting to talk to them. You could miss your soulmate on that basis. – yes, I believe in soulmates. And I think I’ve already found mine.

You are my alligator.

You are my alligator.

(Grizzly Bear: “Alligator”)