Change of Location Generation.

The world is full of places to move from.

There’s your childhood home where you’ve been told you grew up, but can’t quite remember in your own memories.

There’s the place you went to when your parents got divorced and you moved into a new house with your mom and sister as the new nuclear family, and dad suddenly a relative more than a parent.

There’s your first apartment that you shared in a drunken heap of youthful nights, exploring the city and the fine line between responsibility and life.

Now another place is being added to the list, as it will continue on end for years to come. We’re the generation of moving. The apartment generation. The change of location generation. We never stay in a place long enough to become it, but just long enough to no longer belong to the place we left before it.

Walking my routes I realise it’s only recently that they’ve become automatic for me, the charm gone, my feet keeping their direction true where once I would digress into a detour of exploration.

This is the smallest area in which I’ve ever lived, and the one that has felt most out of tune with where I want to be.

A place of living always becomes a centrum. It’s from this point outward that everything else reveals itself and is graded as more or less possible. The centrum acts out a silent control over your options of activity in the different ways it hinders you from reaching them, be it by pure distance, toughness of terrain or lack of public transportation.

I don’t know if I will miss this place or not. I will keep fond memories of things that have happened here. Of love conquered. Of my last student years. But at the same time I’ll be glad it was only for a period, with the place starting to feel suffocating, keeping me tired and uninspired for the longest period of my life.

I hope to start anew in a place where there’s a better view, a smaller radius to traverse in order to reach my desired destinations.

The world is full of places to move from, but also of places to move to. I haven’t found my new spot yet, but I’m sure it’ll come. I’m sure it’ll offer me a better package than what I am getting here.

I’m sure there’s a home on the horizon.


An unrelated event.

There is pleasure in the pathless woods, giving me a sense of belonging, even in this element where I have no home. The strong scent of the pines, wet from November rain, fills me with memories of family gatherings at Christmas. My sister, my mother; the well-prepared duck, caramel potatoes; presents given and received.

It’s a funny thing, the memory. How it bends and stretches, forever finding different situations to fit the one you’re in. The way a simple scent of pine can send your mind racing back years, decades. Into different settings, a different life almost. Letting you travel through time and space in no time and in any space, until you find the memory you most want to stay on—and only then it fails you, when you realise a memory is not the present, and though you feel like you can navigate through it, its sensations will only stay with you for a fleeting moment, until a gust of wind forces drops of water from the pines down onto your unprotected head.

‘Trance’ might be the closest thing we have to a describing concept of the feeling of being lost in thought. Not unlike the sensation as you’re guided into hypnosis, breathing first slowly, then with an ease as if you’re not even breathing at all. Your muscles tensing up for a moment, before letting go, making you wonder afterwards how you even managed to stay upright—was that just your insistent spine keeping your head above ground? And finally the closing of your eyes, either metaphorically or physically, as your mind wanders off on its own while your legs are planted in the damp moss with all the other trunks.

What separates human beings from other animals, I believe, is this ability to escape the present and become overwhelmed by something outside the frame of the picture.

What separates human beings from human beings is what place we go to.

I’m not suggesting that animals have no imagination. I have seen my dear dog have what I can only explain as dreams, with its legs running, its mouth making little sounds, while deep in sleep. But as soon as the animal that is not human wakes up, it seems destined to face the world it’s in.

The human being is able to look at the world and say: not today, and close its eyes, going to a different place altogether while staying put. It’s possible for me, on a lonely day, to hug the trunk of a pine tree, and believing this piece of nature to be my mother. That, to me, is a human skill. And one that we’ve only just begun to explore.

I know how this story ends.

What if I told you I have visions too.

That my dreams are not just dreams. That my memories are not of the past.

Would you believe me, or would you run away screaming? Thinking I was a madman; for telling you such nonsense; for keeping on living when I know what I know.

There are missing details to everything we see. I remember exactly how your lips felt against mine in our first kiss a year from now. I recall vividly how the blood stained the snow when I laid out in the woods, shot through the heart 13 years from now. But I never noticed where we were, when I touched your chin, looked into your eyes and kissed you with a smile. And though I spun my head around and around, I never saw who shot me down.

I have found that I am starting to remove myself from the world. Or, actually, redirect my attention to the world, might be a more precise phrasing. Since I found out what was going on: that my memories are yet to happen, I have been frustrated with all the things I don’t know about the future, rather than the things I do, and I have stopped looking at what’s in front of me; the glow in your eyes, the street lamps at night, the moving shadow as the train rides through the city at sunset. These things that used to be my entire world, these visions right in front of me, have lost their potency. I know what they will offer me, I know what they have to say.

The details. I have redirected my attention to all the details that usually go forgotten. Today I studied your windowsill instead of just glancing at it, and I learned that you’d rather have the things you want, than have things be the way you want them to be.

There has always been this feeling in my life that I never experienced anything new. But I just didn’t know where to look. Until now. The muddy details are where the truths are hidden, where understanding is possible. I have forever chased the things in front of me, when I should have looked sideways, should have smelled the air and asked a question about a common circumstance. I forgot to see when I looked, because I knew it all. I had seen it all before. It was just a rerun.

But the power of a rerun lies not in simple recognition, but in expansion of the already-known as we mix in our new impressions.

What was once a simple story becomes an atmosphere; an opportunity for action and telling – for being. It becomes a much larger medium for meaning. Whatever reason lies hidden in the details will open itself up when I look at it. It’s to the point where I can flip and turn the details, like sandy stones on a beach, and find the answers to my questions on their hidden undersides.

So when you kiss me, I will see you as clearly as ever, for your lips and your eyes, your hair, your fingers, the fragrance you always carry around in the wind, they have been imprinted in me since I first saw you in a dream.

But I will see so much more than that.

Talkative Monday.

Another exam, another (little) hurdle.

Things are moving along pretty smoothly these days. The exams seem to roll by easily. I’m in good balance as well. But then again, I’m always in good balance during the winter. I remember in 9th grade, I told my teachers, and they agreed, that exams – to fit me – should be held in the winter. I’m just more on this time of year. I don’t know what it is. Maybe my brain gets overheated in the summer. Whatever it is, I’m pleased we at least have some of our exams in the winter.

I’m also presently in a very talkative mood. My working-friend who I don’t speak enough with was at her job today, so I could hang out with her for a while. She’s always been great fun. I really miss having her around in my everyday life. Maybe she’s actually the person I miss the most from high school? Hmm, hadn’t ever thought about that before. But yeah, I really liked seeing her around, talking to her every now and then, and especially getting all competitive with her in PE. My first memory of her was from PE. We had run to the tracks nearby, and were going to do some races, and we just started talking along the way, talking most of the class that day. It’s strange, I never really allow myself to go talk to the people I’m attracted by, but with her it just came so naturally. I still remember my sadness the day I found out she had gotten a boyfriend. But that’s just down to me never ever taking the chances I should. She’s still together with him. And I’m not really trying to be a home wrecker. But by god, she is really something.

It’s difficult to really understand where I stand with my winter-love. Is that what I should call her for now? My Winter Love. Yeah, that sounds sweet. Well, I don’t really know where I stand with my Winter Love. We’re still pretty sweet at times, but she’s not as responsive as she was some days ago. And, well, of course I’m just being overly attentive to the little details – but at least I keep myself from asking her about it. I guess it just comes down to her being in the final period of preparation for her upcoming exam. It’s probably taking up quite a bit of her time. I know I was less responsive when I was in the midst of preparing for my exam before Christmas. Yeah, I should just wait. I’m a bit sad I didn’t get to see her today. But sometimes I really have to take decisions, and today I took one, and when I couldn’t find the room she was in, I decided to see if some of my other friends were still around after our written exam, which they were, and my bus-buddy and I caught a bus to the train station. And, well, if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have seen her at all, and I wouldn’t have seen my working-friend.

So, now I’m in the phase where I have to prepare for my final oral exam. That’s gonna be festive! Metaphysics is one of my favorite subjects, but maybe that isn’t so good. I thought epistemology would be a very difficult exam, but I aced that, so perhaps this will be just the opposite. Or maybe I should just try to stay positive. I’ve been positive all through winter, so no need to quit that now. I’m sure if I do my preparation, maybe even just a tad more thoroughly than I did to epistemology (lord knows I could have drawn subjects that wouldn’t have allowed me as good a result), then everything will be alright.

So, of course, seeing as I spent so little time preparing for epistemology, I now have way too much time on my hands to degenerate before I finally pull myself together. And I was thinking about spending it with someone who’s gone back to Copenhagen by now. Maybe I should spend it with you instead? I know we will be going to a concert the 24th, but you’ve been away a long time and you’ve really become one of my best friends over the last year or so. After a couple of years of me just watching you and you watching me.

It’s funny, I still can’t tell you the exact truth. I think I will at some point, but when we have more time to ourselves. I don’t know how you’ll react to know that I was hopelessly in love with you all that time, and that was why I constantly smiled at you. I dread that time at new years last year, when I told you, in front of everyone, that it was because you looked lonely. You did look lonely, but my smile stemmed from all kinds of bubbly loving feelings. It was just not really right to say, when your boyfriend, and my best friend, was sitting right beside you. Even though I didn’t even know him back when I smiled at you every day. It would make things weird. But now you’re gay, now I should be able to tell you those kinds of things. I think it would loosen up some things, because I think you know, and I think you’re waiting for me to tell you. That can really be the only explanation for your question a couple of days ago, when he had just left the house for a couple of minutes – but where I again answered vaguely.

I will someday figure out everything.