Temporary Improvements

I am sitting in my bed in the basement of a hostel that serves as the cheap and convenient dwelling during my current stay in Stockholm City, the "Venice of the North". The Slovenian man in the bunk above mine shifts ever so often, making the whole structure creak. He's not particularly heavy, it just does at the slightest movement. It worries me, because my cell phone is set to wake me at 7 o'clock sharp, and I don't want to disturb him needlessly, nor his girlfriend. She sleeps in the adjacent two-level bed above the Irish chemist who has claimed the last remaining bunk in this tiny room. He speaks with an Irish rumble that makes me automatically slip into my own Scottish brogue, and with his carrot-red hair, freckled face and love for soccer and rugby he is a lovable stereotype of his nation. He's never seen snow before, and has confessed he spent the entire day walking around enjoying it. I consider him my friend, and now I no longer mind the snow so much.

But the purpose of my post wasn't to tell everyone about all the new friends I've made, but rather an intriguing observation on a certain behaviour that I find particularly interesting: my own. Usually, as many of my friends and family can attest, I am rather lazy and sloppy - I might even constitute as a slob at times. But here and now (and, looking back, also in the past) I find myself working and organizing myself with an almost militaristic rigour. My pack is neatly shoved under my bed, its content compartmentalized. My jacket hangs on a hook instead of being slung over a chair as it usually is, and I ingeniously used a coathanger to hang my wet bath towel to dry. Even before I had finished my revision course of the day (which is my reason for being here, by the way. I'm doing fine, it is very rewarding) I had already scheduled to visit the budo & fitness store I saw heading to my classes this morning, as well as scoping out the immediate area to find fitting stores for food and other necessisties. My cell phone/alarm clock, my watch and my glasses are all geometrically lined up beside my pillow, and I have already planned out an Order of Doing Things when I wake up tomorrow morning, which starts with immediately going up by the bell (and I do it too. I know, I shock myself!). I have even folded my clothes! The only exception is me staying up way too late to write this post...

This uncharacteristic reversal of my usual unstructured behaviour seems to occur whenever I am alone for a longer period of time, generally in a strange place. Same thing happens in me and my mom's apartment when she's gone for more than two days: doing the dishes? No problem. A list of tasks to be done before she comes home? Nicely ticked off and proudly presented to her at her return. Apparently I rise to the (not-particularily-challenging) challenge of getting a hold of the structuring part of my life only when I absolutely have to.

It's kind of a downer, since it suggests that I'm lazy and unhelpful unless I really need to be - I know that I'll regress into my usual pattern of strewing my things around me as soon as I come home. But it also gives me hope because I know that I won't be helpless if I ever find myself on my own, wherever and however I may be.

Introductions

As I was walking to the bus station earlier this night, I was struck by the profound sense of eeriness that seemed to permeate the rainy night. Whether it was a consequence of lack of sleep or weariness from the ninjutsu practice I was going from – or a combination of the two – was irrelevant. What mattered was that the batteries of my iPod had just died, and that I looked up from the wet and gum-covered street and noticed how reality had shifted just a little. The noises, smells and sights of a medium-sized town that had been my home for 7 years greeted me, and it all felt new and extraordinary. Every face I passed was starkly in focus, burning into my retinas, snippets of conversations and the sound of the rain (which had that indistinct, wavy quality, like water from a hose pointed straight up) kissing the pavements drummed in my ears. I was a camera, recording a panorama of extraordinary mundanities in high-definition.

It felt like...an introduction, of sorts. It was like an introductory shot to some gritty, urban drama movie – ironically, the simile was formed in my thoughts as I walked by the local cinema. The sense of heightened perception I was currently revelling in had only befallen me once before, when I wrote my first short story. Then as now, I was struck by a certainty: it was time. Simple as that. A compulsion, irresistible in its pull, had me once again in its grip, and I had no other choice but to heed it.

An introduction was laid before me tonight, and it would have been sacrilege not to follow up on it. I had intended to make a blog for myself for a long time now, and tonight it was time. The choice, by providence or personal dispositions, left my hands and made itself.

I have now cast my voice into the ether, for anyone to listen to if they so choose. Hello.