defining your own freedom

 Next week I'm turning twenty years old. For some reason that sounds even scarier than turning eighteen was. I mean of course that's the age when you become an adult, you get to vote, you pay taxes and whatnot but in the end most of us were still very much kids when we got there and it was ok that way. Maybe you were about to graduate high school, you might've made plans to travel a bit, or your job training was about to be completed. Whatever it was, your life still had this unimaginable amount of possibilities open for you.

 There is something about being a teenager that means freedom. Maybe it's the lack of better knowledge or the fact that those hormonal beasts just can't be controlled anyway, but there are many roads open. You're free to choose what you want to study; you can never ever travel as easy as you can do now, the world lies beneath your feet. Yes you can still do lots of things in your twenties, especially when there is no hurry to have kids, but you have to be the right person for it. A traveller is easy going, adventurous. I have heard enough stories of friends who went to Australia during their gap year, whilst I sat on my couch in front of a laptop watching YouTube videos.

 Now I feel like the responsible side of my brain has taken over. I work, I go to Uni, I study, I go to church and youth group. It's somewhat monotone. The problem is I just recently discovered how much I adore not being tied to a normal life, how much I actually crave for freedom and the feeling of no strings attached. I thought that having found my place was what I needed. Having roots is a good thing and essential, but living in a golden cage would be torture to me as I seem to be having a rather free spirit.

 So much has had me thinking recently. Once again I look at my life and even though I'm not doing as poorly as I did a year ago, there is definitely more that I still want to do, so much things left to learn. I have a list of places that I want to see, some are not even that far away, but I just don't take the money and time and to actually move my lazy bum there. I'm also evaluating my own short- and long-term goals. There is a lot of faith in me that there is a plan for my life, maybe not for every little instant but for the bigger things. Am I right now doing whatever I can to get there, to achieve those goals? Am I wasting my time when I'm supposed to be doing something entirely different? It's quite hard to distinguish what I should do when. When is a time for quitting, when to endure? I have not a single clue; all I can is to try to make the best of it.

 So far I have not been such a person who wanted to escape normality by whatever cost it may take, but slowly I begin to realise how much the thought of that monotony appals me. How to evade it whilst still being a working part of society? I'm not one to drop out just like that, nor am I one to be pioneering and to make revolutions. I can't just quit my job because first of all it's a good one and I've had it worse. I kind of don't want to quit youth group because it's something that is dear to me, even when it's not always easy. I can't quit church because it's also a place where I experience some of the freedom I look for, though it's also the place that makes me feel restricted so much. Finally I can't quit Uni because even though for a short time that would make me very happy, it's not a good long-time decision. Maybe someday this stupid piece of paper that is a degree will be of a use. I even considered stopping to write this blog because I have not been happy with my online content recently. What am I even talking about? I just know that there is no quitting here, I just need to keep going. Sometimes feelings are tricky, mine usually leave the consequences to a future self instead of considering them in the first place, so I need to find a way to trick them.

 Yes, I realize where my main troubles lie, but as I said, knowing what to do next in life is quite a challenge. Where do I have to make cuts in order to refind happiness and to feel a little more liberated than I am right now? Is freedom something that is on my agenda right now?

 I don't know, that's just what went round and round in my head the past month. In the end I'm sure of two things: That once I'm at the finish line of my life I will look back and see how everything turned out just right. This means that in this very instant, I’m doing just fine even though I might struggle with it. The other thing is that finding out what that means exactly is the work and the adventure of a lifetime. No one is ever ahead of their life, everybody is in constant evaluation and recreation, you find your very on path and that's what life is about.

Cheerio.

Today I'm celebrating

Today is a good day. It is a good day even though I’m busy, I've spent most of my evening studying for my finals next week, even though I'm tired and my head hurts. It is good because even though this won't be a long post and the day is almost over, I still wanted to share some words with you. It has not only been a good day because I spent some time with a friend and I had some very good conversations, but because there are more things for me to celebrate than that. Today is a good day because it marks the anniversary of two very good and pleasant decisions I took.

Last year, on the 12/12/12 I did two things. First of all I created a YouTube account. At some point I got annoyed by checking daily if my favourite YouTubers did upload a new video, so making a subscription seemed the next step. Later I realized on which date I did it, which made me smile. Of course I did not plan on making videos anytime soon, I was way too intimidated by this new world that lied in front of me. No, I just created an account, but in the end it was that that enabled me to upload some videos and I'm genuinely just happy about having YouTube as a part of my life. Btw, if you wonder about new videos, I'll try my best to make one this weekend and I will fill you in very soon about that.

I mean just that would be enough to make me happy (yes, I'm easy to be pleased), but there is something else that happened a year ago on this day. I wrote my first post. Well technically it was not my first, and this blog excists since 2010, but I gave myself a fresh start on the 12th of december. Since then I have not only posted 50 posts, which means I almost made it to a weekly schedule (ok I cheated and left out some weeks and wrote more than one post in one week, but you know, life is busy), I also know that some people read my words on a regular basis and that makes me happy. I get encouraged about my writing, even though I'm aware just how far away my goals still are.

There are also other writing related things to celebrate. On the 15th of November I had two pleasant events in my life as a writer. I did not only win my 3rd NaNo, no, my site here also got its 1000th page view. In case you are wondering, yes I love checking my stats, and I also love dates. It just excites me.

So here we are, me the writer, you the reader. You might not be as excited as I am, or maybe you are. What I know is that you just read my words, which is a very enjoyable present for me. Let us celebrate the little things, the small pieces of happiness whirling around. Everyday there are things to be remembered, anniversaries to be thankful for, and today just happened to be a special happy day for me.

Basically here is to that, to more writing, more reading, more videos and more creating and creativity. I hope there are even bigger things to come for all of us

Cheerio.

A world hidden between pages

I love reading. It's something I cannot imagine living without; it's a second nature of mine. When my brother and I were just little kids our mum didn't allow us to stay up past 7 pm. And she forbade us to watch TV after around six. The only thing we still could do was looking at storybooks, later read in real books. When we got older, and I'm talking about the time until I was thirteen, the TV turn off time was eight and we were allowed to read until nine. She was quite strict, you know.

As me and my brother didn't have much against that rule we actually read quite a lot. I remember one of the first books I read was about an alley cat. Title and name are still present to me and I think it was about the first book to actually make me cry.

Well you see my mum was supportive of us reading, but she wasn't supporting of us staying up long due to that. So at a certain age I started to read under my blanket, using a DS game boy as a light... bad decision. My mum once told me that she used to do the same, that's why she has glasses. Second generation here and I'm convinced it was worth it. She also wasn't supportive of certain genres though. Harry Potter was no problem; she even went to see every single movie with my brother and me because she wanted to. What she didn't like were vampire stories, but in the end she let us do what we wanted, she couldn't stop me from reading Twilight anyway.

There is this thing about books; they carry a lot of emotions. On the one hand side there are the ones that are written down. The heartbreak when a main character dies, the pain you life through with a person that does in fact not even live, let alone feel anything. It doesn't help. I can tell myself about a thousand times that I read a story that is purely fictional. I can't keep distance to a story; I fall right into it and get lost. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I don't have to fight an evil magician or that I am not battling a deadly fever or that there is definitely not a giant snow storm going on outside, as it is summer. Yes all of these things happened at some point in my head and I had to get over them.

Another thing is that sometimes I can't help but cry or shout or squeal. I'm not a quiet reader (am not a quiet anything to be honest). This spring I was at a friend’s house for a couple of days as kind of a vacation. She is one of my closest friends and I feel quite at home there, so one day she was learning some songs while I was sat on her couch reading. It happened that the male main character of a book died so tragically that I started to bawl like a baby. She looked up to me, asked what happened and when I told her she got back to her music. Not because she is rude but because she understands that I needed to get the pain out and after that I'd be ok. Today was one of these days too, I've read three entire books in 26 hours, (of which I slept 7 and was away 6 more) and in the end I cried because it was heartbreaking. On the other hand there is barely anything that makes me feel more stress released than finishing a truly beautiful, addicting and somewhat perfect story. That’s somewhat explains why I can't go on for too long without reading, it's just not healthy for me.

The last but not least thing that fascinates me about this whole topic is the knowledge you absorb. I can't even imagine how different I'd be if I had never read all these books. I don't see myself as intelligent, but how duller life would be without people like Elizabeth Bennet, Hermione Granger, Aria Stark, Aischa, Jenny, Peeta, Alice, Theo and so one. How less I'd now about Islam, of Heisenberg uncertainty principle, about Westeros, the time around 1666, shadow man, and the USA? I'd have no idea what I'd be even talking about in this last paragraph. Part of my personality was formed by books, and I hope that this keeps happening until my eyes are too weak to see anything more, and if you ask me that'll be the day when I switch to audio books anyway ;)

Cheerio.

What to expect when you're expecting...

...greater things to happen. Do you know that sensation? Your heart is pounding against your chest, your whole body is tingling, you feel restless, your mind is twirling around but in fact whatever makes you feel this way hasn't even started yet. In May when I went jogging several times I experienced this sensation very often. My body was giving me fake symptoms of how I felt whilst jogging, in addition to thinking about it so in the end I managed to actually get up and do it.

Now I'm in a similar but very different position. I'm in my new flat in the city I'll be studying in for the next at least three years. I knew this and all that comes along with it (leaving home, meeting new people, get to know a different system, starting Uni) was coming my way for a long time. I've mentally prepared for this moment since at least April but I still don't feel ready. I have basically not left this room since 3.5 hours in order to adapt to it, I am somehow very very nervous and have felt like this for about three weeks now. In the mean time I also feel kind of restless and overwhelmed. I'm scared of not being able to achieve my goals, as this part of my life is pretty important.

I remember being a little kid and dreaming oh so big. It was my goal to reach a lot of people, with a message that I did not even know which one it was. I wanted to become somewhat of a star, even though I knew that I didn't have a talent like singing or dancing. Whatever it was that made me feel this way, after a while I saw that many people wanted that, some even wanted a kind of fame that was bigger than themselves, just like me. But they did not succeed. So how was I supposed to get there? How is this silly little thing that is me even able to achieve anything that is more than school? You could say I lost track and started hibernation, putting my dreams away and focusing on real things.

After a while I changed my point of view completely, I couldn't imagine anything good to happen to me. It was not like nothing ever happened, but I feared having expectations. I remember being a fourteen year old sitting in the car of a youth group leader (the one I looked up to the most) on the way to a camp. As part of the preparation she asked me and my two friends, who were with us, what we were expecting to happen during that camp. I remember saying that I honestly did not expect anything in order not to get disappointed if whatever scenario I could possibly have in my mind would not become true. Of course that wasn't the right answer, I was told to try again. After a while I just shrugged and said: "I hope to meet new people and to have a good time with my friends". Needless to say that during that camp happened way more than just that silly thing I wished for. It was during that weekend when I realized what it meant to believe in God for the first time and decided to follow his lead, still one of the best decisions I ever made.

Especially this year I have learned how to trust my future in a new way. I've seen things that were very unlikely to become true, like my trip to Mallorca, or finding a job. I also have an inner list of things that I still want to see happening. Some of them could become real soon, others would be true miracles but I trust in God and with him nothing can stop me or my plans to be fulfilled... Whatever lies before me, I'm not afraid. The best days are yet to come and I'm ready to claim them for me, I'm ready to see my dreams become reality. To be scared is ok, but never let fear stop you. Be prepared.
 
Cheerio.
 
P.S. If you really care about what is going on right now: I managed to enable internet in my room, have eaten some celebrations as they were the only eatable thing I had left (I really need to go grocery shopping tomorrow). I have showered and am about to go to sleep in my new room for the first time. It is rather cold here so I need to buy some warm covers and I forgot to bring my pj's, but apart from that I'm fine and pretty good right now. Excited and nervous for tomorrow though.

Writing is a lifestyle

I call myself a writer. I feel like I'm defining very well with just this one word. I might not be a good one yet, but my life is somewhat pulling me into that direction more and more so I might as well be prepared to get better. Since I really took up that attitude I've realized certain things that cannot be unseen about what being a writer means.

First of all I'm open to plot bunnies. Plot bunnies are things that you observe around you that give your imagination a boost. For example recently I've seen a little plot bunny in form of a woman in her thirties, with her hair tied together in a bun. What was special about that detail was that in order to hold together her hair she used a pen and a pencil instead of anything else. So you see, it is very good to have open eyes during your everyday life.

I also started to channel my emotions. That doesn't mean that I'm able to control them, instead I use what I feel. If I'm jealous I'll write myself a note why exactly, the setting, the people involved and I try to describe it. I do that in case I want to ever use a similar situation in a novel. Of course I should not see my own life relatable to everyone, but right now it is so much easier to just start with what I understand instead of finding a general context.

By now I use about anything to form a story, as long as it just triggers my mind. Last years NaNo novel was formed out of the combination of a nightmare I had three years ago and the name of a guy I meet at a camp. The guy himself did not leave that much of an impression though, it was just his name that made my creativity buzz.

To be honest sometimes I feel very awkward about the whole writing attitude. Like when I realize that my next story will be entirely inspired by a guy with whom I've only talked very briefly, or that my next female main character is a product of me trying to draw my male main character and failing. 

It is also inconvenient when you have to be anti social because you just need to write down your thoughts immediately so they don't get lost. For example I'm writing those lines right now, seated on a train. Next to me I have an old lady that is nearly deaf and I already had to repeat a train announcement in a shouting voice in order for her to understand even though I nearly missed it myself. On the other side there is another one that looks at me kind of angry because I seem to be one of these teenagers who just sit in front of their mobile phone the whole time, when all I do is writing this blog post.

All in all, I love it. I don't care how many people get annoyed with me whilst I write because it's one of the things I love doing the most. I'm happy to be an observer, a dreamer and sometimes a stalker, because it feels very "me" to do that. I hope that all of you reading have something that makes you look insane when all you do in fact is living your dream somehow.


Cheerio.

I give to many f****

I consider a lot of people my friends. It's not like I wander around looking for them though, it just happens that I think of a person as a friend after knowing them for a short while, depending on what we've shared. When I get along well with someone, then I consider that human being as a good friend. I honestly have at least sixty people that I count into that circle of good friends; I'd say there are even more. Now this isn't me bragging, I just try to bring across a point.

There is a problem though. Out of those sixty people, each one of them has a life, their own joys and fears. Everyone has problems and happy moments, and sometimes I can share one with them. For example a very close friend of mine invited me to her graduation ceremony. Of course I was happy for her that she graduated, but what we all didn't know was that the final paper she wrote got a special price. So when she received it (she had no idea either), I was very very proud of her. Another thing is weddings. I love to see the people around me marrying the person they love, so I try my best to attend every wedding that I'm allowed to go. Sometimes I get so excited about things like that, I fear that I annoy everyone around me.

On the other hand it also means suffering with a friend who is going through a hard time. I meet a girl online and I know she is cutting herself. She is only thirteen years old and lives far away, but within days I felt really close to her. Of course that meant knowing how she is hurt didn't just go past me. 

Even worse than suffering with someone it is to be rejected, or just the realization that you care too much about a person who doesn’t care for you. It happened that I considered a person a friend, just to find out that I was nothing more than a person they roughly knew to them. As I said, I’m a person to feel too much in too little time, so I shouldn’t be wondering about that. If that really is the case though then I need to look for distance, I need to figure out what my picture of this person is, how I see them. It might even mean cutting the ropes if I realize that I was wrong all along.
There were several moments in my life where I try to shut all those friendship emotions down. I've had enough of suffering with others; I just didn't want to care that much anymore. Sometimes people like me, people who just care too much, get hurt, and that isn't easy to deal with. It definitely would be easiest to completely shut down that side of myself, but then I'd miss a lot of laughs, opportunities to be proud and graceful for my friends, and I think that I'd be way more lonely. Our youth pastor's wife once said "love wastefully", and that's what I'm doing. I have so much love to give, and there is no need to store it. In the end you'll get so much more back than you were handing out anyway. Still I decided to look after myself too, I won't neglect my own happiness.

So what I'm trying to say, don't try to hide your feelings because you are scared to get hurt. You can't go through life without being harmed, but you can choose to get over it and still carry on loving others. That sounds to me way better than just hiding away licking your wounds.

Cheerio.



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First of all sorry that publishing this took so long, I'm being rather busy right now. I went jogging twice last week, once 57 minutes and once 68 minutes. I'm really planning on doing half a marathon in October. Another thing I did was I finished sewing on a dress I bought about five years ago. I had to adjust one part because it looked odd and I couldn't wear it as it was. I even managed to wear it to a wedding that I went to yesterday.

A hairy situation

I hate going to the hairdresser. When I was a little kid I refused to brush my hair so it always looked like a haystack. In order to prevent major knots in it, my mum forced me to either go to the hairdresser regularly, or let her brush it. I'm not sure if that's the reason, but to this day I don't really like people touching my head, and due to that I really dislike going to the hairdresser. Of course I don't wander around looking like a tramp. Like every decent human being I wash my hair, and I try to keep it tidy, but that was about it. I go to the hairdresser about every year, except last year when I went twice.

So why even bother talking about that? Well there are certain things I observed about hair. For example, whenever I actually go to the hairdresser, I decided to cut my hair rather short. Last year was special though. I wanted the hairdresser to cut my hair extra short because it meant something to me. Long hair is very feminine and girly, something I associate with well-being, whereas in my head short hair symbolizes strength, confidence and maybe a bit of 'I-don't-care-what-other-people-think' attitude. Yes, we live in modern times where one can wear their hair however they want, but still I had this in my head when I cut it short. After all, it helped me through a difficult time and reminded me that I only need to please myself, which I do.

There are a lot of women out there who care a lot about their long hair. They use a lot of products and are very proud of it. That's ok of course, and I would be shocked if some of my friends cut their hair, as they belong to that type of women. Another thing is men. I know that most of the guys I know prefer long haired girls. It's just something I seem to hear quite a lot. For me it was just another reason to become short haired, as I didn't want to feel dependant on a man's judging. At least that's what I tried to tell myself when my sub- consciousness proved me wrong.

I remember a dream I had about two weeks after I went to the hairdresser's. I was wearing very baggy clothes and as I said, was short haired, when a male friend of mine got up to me. I wanted to hug him as usually, but instead of hugging me, he punched me in the shoulder. After that he went on, poking me and hitting me and I just did not understand why he treated me like that. At some point I stepped away a bit and asked him what was wrong. He then told me that, if I wanted to be treated like a girl, then I should look like one too. I can't remember what happened next, but those words shocked me a lot. Why did I care so much about that deep down?

Another point where I realized how important it is to men is when I was at a friend's birthday party. At first there were many people but in the end just four people stayed for an all-nighter, namely her, her boyfriend, a male friend of them and me. At some point my friend's boyfriend said that he really liked long haired girls, and that for his taste mine was too short. He wasn't being rude, it's his opinion and taste, but it still kind of got to me, especially because I then thought back to that dream, and many conversations I had with my male friends about that topic. Of course I don't need to please my friend's boyfriend, but hearing that you don't look good from a guy is... well it isn't good for my pride.

Last but not least, even though it seems like I need to correct myself, meaning I do care what my hair looks like, I still can't stop myself from trying out new styles and colours, ignoring the fact that men might not like it. I am a redhead now, slightly purple in it, with a self cut fringe that is a bit crooked. To be honest the colour looks odd but I love it. Sadly guy feedback these days is rare, except for my father who told me it was ugly and a friend who once said that he disliked red hair. Oh well, I might one day find a guy who just accepts my hair choices anyway, or I'll die forever alone, whatever :P

Cheerio