Nikabrik

The world would be a poor place without Doctor Who, yet …

Sirin — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 05:20:44 +0000

Never let your sister talk you into watching too many episodes of Doctor Who. It will mess with your mind and leave you with an altered reality perception.

There are times when even the night is cloudy

Sirin — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 11:19:31 +0000

I’m craving a conversation, but every time one comes along, I fail to see it for what it is and stutters it away. It’s only a moment later that I realize what I’ve missed and I get punished by sleepless nights, thinking of what I should’ve said. And I feel like an utter idiot.

Whether this is about me or not, I have no way of knowing. It certainly isn’t me every day, but quite possibly some days.

I do talk to myself sometimes, yes.

Sirin — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 11:04:23 +0000

The summer’s really finally over now. The temperatures are plummeting and it’s time to summarize.

We were in England this summer. All the way from Edinburg to Cornwall to Brighton we went. It was the best event of the year, there were lightning bolts and sun and lots and lots of rain. I wrote a lot. I really did. It was mad how many thoughts went through my head at the most inconvenient of times.

I made the mistake of bringing The Hound of the Baskervilles along today, on a sunny day! I don’t know what went into me, but there I was in Bath, on a bench, reading Sherlock Holmes next to ice-cream-eating Germans.

It was just wrong.

I cannot for the world understand people who only read one book at the time. What if it’s sunny and all they’ve got is Sherlock Holmes? Or they’re sad and the only book they have is Pride & Prejudice? They must read really fast.

I loved Bath. It is, quite possibly, the friendliest city I’ve ever been to. I can’t tell why it’s friendly, but it is. It is also beautiful, in a weird, uniform way.

You don’t really notice that you’re in a different city if you look at the architecture only. Not really. At least not in Britain. I don’t, anyway. We arrived in Edinburgh three days ago and it wasn’t ’till I saw the Scottish moors and mountains surrounding it that I really accepted that we were, in fact, in Scotland. I was standing on the National Monument -…-what’s-it-called-again-hill and only then did my brain say “Oh yes, we seem to be in Scotland.”

I actually finished my old journal on that trip. A journal that was started in London in 2007. This tells us two things; that I’m good at wrapping things up in style, and that I used insanely much time finishing a not-that-thick book.

It was a lot easier getting used to York than Edinburgh. Maybe this city, despite that I love everything about Scotland and Edinburgh, is slightly more appealing to me. It’s got a tiny second-hand book shop on every corner. Night-clubs and restaurants are flanked by mediaeval churches and port-ways. There’s something magical about York, and I’m not only saying that because of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. A lot because of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, but not only. This city really is magical.

The accent, of course, is lovely too.

In short; I’ve spent two fantastic weeks this summer watching people, listening to different accents, reading, writing, exploring, experiencing, living, and everything else England got for foreign tourists. I’ve stocked up on Doctor Who and watched it night after night. I even was at the Doctor Who Exhibition at Land’s End. I’ve had an amazing time and enjoyed about every moment of park-walking, café-sitting (we even were to the café where J. K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter), tea-drinking and dancing weird dances while talking loudly in Norwegian. There’s really nothing for it, I’ve got to live there.

Our last day in England. It’s been wonderful, magical, life-changing, or something. Yet I look forward to sleeping in my own bed and not having to be so fucking polite at eight in the morning.

Because the summer’s all gone

Sirin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 18:53:45 +0000

(Maybe not yet, but it’s never to early to start preparing.)

I would love to be able to convey the feeling I get when listening to Autumn Almanac or … Manic Monday. The feeling that everything’s okay. School and stress is nothing as long as you find time to sit indoors watching the autumn storms through thick windows with a great big cup of tea in one hand and a great big book in the other.

Friday evening, people come together,
hiding from the weather.

About friendship and huddleness and pubs and talking philosophically. It makes you work even harder when you do work, which can only be good.

—-

And I know. Manic Monday … I don’t choose these songs deliberately, so what can you do, eh?

Ode to the Universe

Sirin — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 22:18:44 +0000

I fill my legs and quote book with quotes and they make me laugh, but still it is the inevitable truth that something is ending. That a Rose by any other name doesn’t always smell as sweet. That however much you reach out someone always run faster than you. That sand is slipping through your fingers.

I dress myself in my longest, brownest cloaks and make woshing sounds. I run like a madman, I fall through glass roofs, I pick up every screwdriver I can get my hands on.

I close my eyes and ruffle up my hair.

I do realize that the time has come. That it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not, five years is only five years. It begins to come clear, even to me, that all things have to end, and when that time comes all your running and hair-ruffling and cloaking have been for nothing.

This is the end, the end of time.

I don’t want to go.

————-

Do you think I’m taking this a little too seriously?

Won’t get fooled again

Sirin — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 14:26:09 +0000

Rain. Rain, rain, rain, RAIN, ring.

I managed to beat all the gym leaders in my Pokémon game (Pokémon Red for GameBoy Color) and was thus able to enter the Pokémon league. It’s really hard. You have to beat all these trainers while you at the same time get attacked by tons of wild Pokémon who you can’t escape from. Also, you have to push boulders around to actually get on.

At the same time it’s a little weird being at the end of the game (even though the end may be some way off in the speed I’m progressing in). I’ve had this game since I was seven. As I didn’t understand English back then, it was a bit hard. Could’ve been in Japanese for all I understood. Still, it’s a bit sad finishing well … anything. I don’t like endings, nor beginnings really. It’s like the best part of a book is always in the middle, same way with games, with films, with life.

I just got to beat those trainers!

No homework + grey weather =

Sirin — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 20:28:37 +0000

Juggling!

I suddenly found myself with a lot of spare time on my hands as the summer holiday is drawing ever nearer and homework is as good as non-existent. I have tried several methods of making my day as interesting as possible. Yesterday I made an experiment watching Doctor Who and reading Sandman. It was highly successful, but soon my head ached and I felt all soggy after watching Doctor Who

for two hours

in my tiny bedroom.

(A friend of mine claims that it’s not that small, it’s only me that’s filled it with books and … books. Maybe this is true.)

Which lead me to feverishly trying to find other entertainment.

Then!

It fell into my head like an exploding light bulb.

Juggling. Of course it had to be juggling. As a result, I’m now on my way to becoming a juggler. It will take time.

I have time.

Parmesan and the end of the world

Sirin — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 05:03:02 +0000

I’ve always believed that if you had parmesan on a dish, it became Italian. Today, however, my mum said they she’d heard from an Italian cook that this was not the case.

My world came crashing down around me.

Damn you, mother.

It’s not a wind-up, love. He really thinks like this.

Sirin — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 05:03:27 +0000

Note to self:

Use the word ‘wee’ more often.

James Hook, thou not wholly unheroic figure, farewell. For we have come to his final moment.

Sirin — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 05:03:12 +0000

Amongst our magnificent and slightly too big rhubarbs, small nettles have made their home. Anyone trying to pick rhubarb quickly gets punished by the local nettle.

Damn you.