K-Blog

I think I feel bored. And in no small couple-of-hours-to-kill-way. No, I feel bored in a big want-something-to-happen-or-I-might-make-it-happen-myself-way. It has been a while that I have been feeling restless, not really doing anything with my spare time. Not that I have much more of it than the next person, but my spare time starts when I wake up in the morning and stretches out in front of me 'till around 16 in the afternoon. This means that on a normal day I have approximately 7 or 8 leisure hours in a row. I wake up rested, and there I am; 8 hours in front of me, in which to do stuff. It really seems a lot. And I do rest, and lounge around - I am now working fulltime at the restaurant and lulling around doing nothing is important too, I go to work rested and happy most days, looking forwards to get in. My life in Denmark has settled quite a bit since I came back from Italy last year in September. I live where I love to live; I thought a lot about getting an appartment of...

I have a temper. Or; at least I used to have one. As I am getting older it is sort of mellowing down. I tend to have a more nuanced view of situations, of people, their intentions and of things in general. Not quite zen, but it takes a lot to get me angry. Maybe because I'm slow or maybe I am really just naive, I tend to think the best of everybody. I mull over stuff  in my head, try and see things in a neutral way (which I actually believe can't really be done, where feelings are involved) and sometimes it takes me hours or days to realize how hurt or angry I may be about something. Not because I don't know what I am feeling, but because I will weigh carefully whether I might be wrong, misunderstanding something or just taking things too seriously. Which I do a lot. Take things and myself too seriously I mean. I see myself as quite the happy camper, but at the same time I am abnormally sensitive, proud and private about some things. I think it shows too, I think I give...

I am not very good at balances in my relationships to other people. Very often I am too much. At other times I am too little. Or at least that's the way I feel where people are involved. I'm very forgiving with myself so in relation to me, I feel balanced in an offhand, extreme way. Today I feel independent, a bit relieved even that he's on vacation, might be healthy to see what it is like not to have him nearby. I makeup as usual, try to make myself prettier even, to prove to myself it doesn't matter that I know there is *no* chance of me bumping into him. I plan to call friends (that I have wanted to see for a long time, but somehow never got 'round to calling) to make plans; he won't be home over the weekend so I can make plans without counting him in. But I never get around to calling anybody, I end up checking my phone for another message from him, listen to Madeleine Peyroux singing You're gonna make me lonesome when you go and then I realize I mi...

He was actually saying something not *that* nice. Not bad-bad neither, his observation was well-meant and -founded. He's totally right about that second part; I know it and (plan to) work on it. That's probably why I can just ignore that second part and focus on, and wallow in, and mentally relive that *first* part: "You're actually very sophisticated..." Probably helps me focus on the good part too, that when we said goodnight on the corner of two streets, he kissed me a tiny bit. We kissed and parted; I had to go one way, (ok, I had no idea of *which* one) he another. I realized while walking (staggering, dazed) away, that I had no clue to where I was. Worse. He realized it too. And I could just give up, go back to him, laughing (ha ha,-very-funny-laugh-to-hide-my-embarassment) and have him tell me which way to go. To get home. Just because I lose my way . Not at all because he kissed me.

I know it is. The right thing to do, I mean. But my heart cries blood-tears. I have been changing my wardrobe lately. Finally put away the heavier winter garments, taken out the summer ones. Folded, washed and aired everything that needed it, either for putting away or for taking out. A heavy task; I have way too many clothes. I have stood there a hundred times, with a wardrobe vomiting stuff all over me, and yet not known what to wear. I do a regular clean-up of my wardrobe every 6 months, I figure "if I haven't worn it once for the last 6 months, then out it goes". And out goes a lot of stuff - usually I just pack a few big black garbagebags and carry them down to the nearest do-good-clothes-container. Must be a lot of very-stylishly-dressed bums out there. But over the last few days I have slowly come to realize that there is no way (as in NO WAY) all of my sandals, slingbacks, flip-flops, dècolletes, mules, kittenheels, sabots, wedges, stilettos and summerboots ...

I think he might be testing me. Maybe to find out whether we can have something outside of bed too. Or maybe he doesn't have all that strong sexual energy at all; maybe he is trying to find out how much refusal I'll take, before I lose interest. Or he has gotten so used to me being all over him, that he doesn't know whether I still want him, and won't make a move until he knows. Nah. He can read me all right, he can see that I want him badly. I think he can see he is pushing it too far. He was very sweet, though he hugged me instead of kissing me when we said goodbye at the corner of his street. And very attentive; he wanted me to take another route home, he wanted me to be safe. Later, in a text he wrote he would have to buy me a bike so that I would get home safe. I don't want a bike from him. I wanted to answer "give me a kiss, not a bike" but I didn't. I just wrote "no need to; I am home, safe and I am not afraid of guys on the streets ...

My brother and I were standing in the kitchen; him preparing dinner, I catching up with things and angling for red wine. "You might want to speak to Nephew about Uncle M." he says all of a sudden. Uncle M is my ex that I left back in February; he loved my nephews and they loved him dearly. And Nephew is very clever and has been asking anybody but me (see? very clever) about Uncle M. My brother has mentioned it before and I have given it some thought; maybe even hoping the memory would fade and the kids would stop asking. But today Nephew had been asked whether he had siblings and he had answered gingerly "I have a sister" (forgetting little new Nephew 3.0 there), and then he had gone on to mention his uncle H, his uncle C and his Uncle M. I looked at my brother for a while before I answered. "Yeah, well; I guess he's old enough". Nephew is 5. After dinner Nephew and I finished off the treasuremap we had been painting, and then went on with all his nigh...

My mum lost her weddingring. She lost it a couple of years ago, took it off, along with a ring her mother gave her, and simply left it there. I never knew, I suppose she felt ashamed about it (I know, I would*). And she told me just now; days before my parents' anniversary. My dad offered to give in *his* wedding ring, have it melted and made into two thinner wedding rings so they could share his. Must be the single most romantic thing I have *ever* heard. Brought tears to my eyes. *though I excuse my mum. She suffers very much from arthritis, and cannot always wear her rings, let alone hold a cup of coffee.