Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Consequently, this is me being a bit Perez (Hilton), and blogging about my outlook on the world in a more straightforward subjective manner than earlier on, when I expressed everything through the eyes of University, Poetry and Photography. No doubt, this fashion will continue also, save for the former perspective which is now somewhat out of the picture, but everything is so...brief and shortcut and short-sentenced (i.e.: -lived), today. I'm not sure how one can still maintain (and act out) the contradiction, the definitive disparity any longer, to all this, but I know I must. Or, someone must. Someone must stand up and say, hey, we still need and long and unstructured ramblings about everything that's weird in the world and everyone we don't like, that're acting accordingly, that're making weird decisions one can't cope with. Keeping up the Blogging, in other words. That's the clue. But briefer, shorter, more constricted? I dunno. Will I ever? Should one, ever?
So, maybe, just maybe, this is just a way of saying I'm tired of the world today, I'm tired of quick, brief, short, effective, easy, random, accessible. I want thorough, old-fashioned, indulgent, research-based and enthusiastic interest-induced discovery recitals. Travel-monologues and reports from journeys, if only of the mind. I hate how we're all wanting everything at once. And getting it. How we want it all to be there, in front of us, by one click of the mouse, one dot in the http-window, one google search, and suddenly everything's on display, even the private snapshots of one's naked, unwitting neighbour. Bustling about. And that's something I don't want to see at 10 in the morning, whilst checking my emails. In fact, not at any hour of the day. I want to be left in peace, from all the inquisitiveness of today and people's desire to investigate and grab hold of you every five seconds because they need know everything, there and then, which is so evident from all the video blogs and general film coverage, on youtube and elsewhere, featuring murders, disasters, arrests, human cruelty, everything that's happening, here and now; but do we really want this spectacle, do we really want to see, to witness - and to know - all this? Does it make us feel, or be, any better - if we know what it looks like, if we know the numbers - in any case, when we still won't experience the actual feelings that are being presented? Someday, we might, when they do create that "Strange Days"-esque machine for re-envisioning events and re-exploring lost sensations, until then we make do with images. And images lie. Images are immediate and sudden and shocking and illustrative, to a certain extent, but not enough. They're an imagination, a resemblance, not the actual effect. And I want that effect. Somehow, I find that effect is only achievable through words and through fiction, other media, so I guess that's - consequently - where my heart must be laid to rest and find its consolation. Where the true imagination rises, and prospers. Where it helps, not only helps enhance.
(Or maybe - I'm affected by my spending more time with my Gran, who's a very wise and contemplative woman, who doesn't understand the haste and hurry of our current society and wonders how we cope with the business and constant demands. Made me wonder about that too. I want the calm, after the storm, somewhere, and find me somewhere I can make familiar enough to make it calm me down, and make the strength of storms pass more easily.)
Friday, September 11, 2009
Also looking forward to, this autumn; new album by Sondre Lerche, "Heartbeat Radio", out next week, new album by Annie, maybe, possible titles and release dates all unknown, new album by Whitney H., "I look to You", out now, which apparently I have to buy, in spite of all scepticism, also: Pete Yorn and Scarlett, my Scarlett, with their much-hyped-duet-sessions-thingy-"Break Up", very much wanting that, and of course; all the Beatles remasters, now for sale (please add to Christmas wish list), and last but not least, I am overly giddy and anxious about the new Stieg Larsson film, "Jenta som lekte med ilden" ("The Girl who played with Fire"; the only one of his books whose title has been literally translated to English, why?), but that's a completely different story, and a slightly different obsession (Michael Nyqvist! Michael Nyqvist! Gaaah!!). All in all, however, a wildly interesting and entertaining and eventful autumn, with loads of stuff to be enthusiastic about. Movies, books, music, all the things that make my days go by and every life worth while. Hurray!
So: this month marks the third anniversary of Scara's Stories, meaning I've been a blogger, on Blogger, for three consecutive years; every single month of them; which is quite an accomplishment, if I might say so. I've shared my thoughts, my musings, my poetry, my coffee spells and my shoe shopping ordeals, through reasonably, overly, long paragraphs, thus mirroring most of my life, each and every one of its vulnerable corners, being as devotedly conscious a recorder (half-quote, Nabokov) as I could be, and I do feel I've left quite a share of my emotions, of my heart even, here in this web page treasure chest of memory keep. Over the past weeks - or months, actually - my blogging has suffered a bit of a decine, one must admit, for which I am sincerely sorry. However, one cannot (and must not) escape the fact that life does change, as do habits, interests, passions, affairs, etc, and considering to what extent mine, personally, have changed over these past years, I am not surprised at the shifting focuses of my current state of being; unfortunately, blogging seems to be one of the things that has eluded me, and the main centre of said activities I now choose to focus on. Consequently, I am no longer a frequent poster, and might indeed choose to take a bit of a break from the whole Blog writing from now on. That being said, I doubt I'll be able to leave it be completely.
In a fun sort of coincidence, though, this month also marks the one year anniversary of one of my fav sites to visit, Jak & Jil (on this very day, as it were), moreover: mr Sartorialist, Scott Schuman, celebrates the release of his new blog-based book of pictures and stories, most fashionistas of Blogspot-fame are currently attending NY fashion week, including Rumi Neely, Krystal Simpson, Karla of Karla's Closet, and more, exploiting their newfound reader-connection-network, all in all: Blogging itself seems to have taken a drastic turn, recently, or during this last year, from having been a past time cult hobby thingy, popular mostly in geek sircles, to becoming a world wide phenomenon similar to reality television, daily talk shows, twitter, and the like, as a way of transforming oneself into a big time red carpet-waltzing celebrity-wannabe, more than developing one's skills (only) as a serious writer. Not that I object to this, really, I find it rather amusing, and I love me a bit of writer-starlight, yet I observe somewhat with puzzlement, how a literarity-based undertaking slowly has merged with the tendencies of today, to morph into the constant promote-myself-and-my-preferences-society that we apparently live in, and how these are trends I not necessarily aim to follow; whether approving of them or not.
Now, I'm not the only one to be a little in doubt. Symptomatically, my main source of blogging inspiration, pop culture references and general admiration, the infamous Belle of the golden days, has by now left the Blog universe, more or less, and is absorbed in a new life, in a new town, with a new family. And I look down upon my own situation; where I'm at, right now, as opposed to three years ago, when I started out and my blogging enthusiasm was at its peak, and I realise I'm not quite the same person either.
(Hence) in a way of celebrating the anniversary part of this reflection post, allow me to remark - and dwell - on some of the above-mentioned changes; with regard to what's been taking place, what's left me where I'm heading now, or being now; that, back when I started this blog, when I was just beginning to dot down my various stories, I was a slightly naïve 18-year-old freshman student of English, with no degrees, no job, no expertise, and very few answers, could hardly cook my own dinner or make a decent cuppa coffee, had never been abroad by my lonesome, was still equipped with a "youth card" on the bus. Yet, already with the fierce passion that I behold, to this date, for cultural fandom; for Tarantino, Sergio Leone, Bryan Ferry, Gerard Butler, Johan Harstad, William Wordswort, Doctor Who, and most of all: Queen. I had very short hair, and very many dreams. Now, some 37 months later, hundres of days past, I am the more matured, at least I hope, as a somewhat disillusioned 21-year-old with loads of heavy blonde locks, of which I might have to cut some off, soon, because washing them now takes half-an-hour of forever, also: I retain my predilection for Tarantinoism, more recently for his glorious Basterds, including my ever-so-beloved-Burkhard (on the main credits, no less!), also indulging in the ridiculously amazing experience that is witnessing him and Mr Butler sharing in the top five placements on the American Box Office lists (for Basterds and Gamer, respectively). I still love me a bit of Doctor, although my main passion at the moment seems to be time travelling coppers in Manchester (or Mars, and Life in that direction). My taste in music remains almost unaltered, but I have added quite a few new names to the list, including David Bowie, Heather Nova, Ute Lemper, Wir sind Helden, Emiliana Torrini, Cat Power, Garbage, and the lovely Mika. And so on. Queen, on their hand, has had to give up their long-lasting number one spot, again: almost, in favour of a certain other band called Supertramp. Tarantino has been "re-placed", ie. shuffled down to a second place of his own, in favour of Wim Wenders, whilst his angels have basically taken over all my suspect fangirl fantasies. Accompanied by Steve McQueen, James McAvoy, Jason Statham, old friends Kevin Costner and Charles Bronson. In other news, I now hold a bachelor degree in English/Norwegian literature and linguistics; including some German, too, and some (extremely) random Italian. I have, and have had, a job; various jobs, in fact. I have gained tons of new friends and acquaintances, and a bunch of wonderful new neighbours. I have lost people I loved. I've been to Berlin a vast number of times, and Dublin, and Edinburgh. I still reside in the City of Mountains and Rain, aka Bergen, but continuously consider moving away, finding myself a new place of so-called home. I'm still Scara, yet still discovering new aspects of the old me, that is slowly becoming a new self, as well, as most of the ageing features subside. And thus, I do find these new places to go, these new activities to employ myself with, these new people to get to know. And I enjoy it, a great deal.
I wish to thank everyone who's been visiting my Blog, so far, especially those of you who've been reading very closely and providing tons of comments; you're the best. Please don't stop coming here, you never know what might pop up, from time to time. But I think we all need to shift our ideas and our ideals, from time to time, and move our lives onto different tracks, that's a healthy development one mustn't try to avoid. And so, I bid you auf Wiedersehen, and wish you all a wonderful weekend. So long, darlings, and keep your cool.
And, finally, last but never least, some milestones: the first post, one year on Blogger, two years on Blogger, and: the first actual poem-to-be by Scaramouche the Po(t)et. Who's still out there and workin' on it! Beware!