The Gilmore Girls Therapy

Whenever I have to sort out my life I do so watching Gilmore Girls. It is perfect. It is practically made for running in the background while I pay bills, clean my flat and make big life decisions. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s the perfect blend of interesting and trivial.

Plus, 77 episodes is the perfect length for a series that you can watch again and again: It is long enough that although I watched it a thousand times already I still can’t speak along the dialogue. And it is such a strong independent woman show. It motivates me to get a grip and move on with my life, live it. Okay, yes, that sounded a bit melodramatic. After all that would mean ‘living my life’ is checking emails, making doctor’s appointments and mobbing the floor. But, after all, sorting out my life, however boring, is better than sleeping all day and putting off showering for too long (to justify it, I tell myself that I’m giving my hair an all-natural conditioning… I know, sad). Plus, when I watch episodes of Gilmore Girls it isn’t even boring.

Also, Gilmore Girls is infinite inspiration. Rory Gilmore is my spirit animal. Just watching this show with its innumerable literary and pop culture references makes me want to do the things that I love doing. You know when you’re miserable and you know exactly what to do to stop being miserable, but you’re to miserable to do it? Yeah. Well, Gilmore Girls helps me escape that vicious circle. Who needs therapy, ay?

B x

I Blame You, You Blame Me

I want to go back to bed. I must be ill. There’s definitely cold sweat, definitely. Is it a fever? I just want to go back to bed. Slowly creep underneath the covers, noone has to notice, and just lie there in the warm and safe envelope that is my bed. I have a special bond with my bed. Even though the bed changes, sometimes night after night, it always seems to be the same bed. My bed is where I’m home, no matter where I actually am. Sometimes it fails me, my bed. It fails to protect me from that person in the hostel room whose snores are drilling into my skull. It fails to muffle the sounds of my friend and her boyfriend making out next to me.

Somehow, my bed has also become my enemy. It is like I’ve betrayed it. I have to resist its constant almost magnetic pull and I hate it for the strength this requires. Strength I need for other things. I also curse it for being so possessive. Why can’t it just be happy with having me in its arms during the dark of the night? I’d like to spend the day without it, I need some space. There’s nothing to it. The chairs I sit on, the streets I walk, the things I lean on, they’ve got nothing on you, dear. We’re just friends. Yet, its jealousy ruins my relationship with the chairs, the streets, the things. And I, annoyed and exhausted and resentful, deny you my company when it gets dark. At two or three in the morning we make up reluctantly, because we rely on each other, we need each other. And when the sun rises, the whole ordeal begins anew.

Why, why can’t we escape this truly vicious cycle? We are slowly ruining each other, day after day, as the anger and the contempt grow ever and evermore. Of course, I blame you, and you blame me, and there is a nice symmetry to this. But we can’t go on. Maybe we need a break. But we can’t break, can we? You follow me wherever I go, wherever I sleep. You are home. And I’m still happy when I’m with you. Our nightly reunions are such a relief and pleasure that sometimes I think, maybe it’s worth it, maybe all the drama is worth it, just for that moment of unity.

But it’s not, is it. My unhealthy relationship with my bed poisons my waking hours. It makes me hate myself and sleep through what could have been my life. It is my own version of meth. It fills me with regret and resentment and brings me sadness and frustration. I will never get away from it, it will be there, no matter where I sleep, on heavenly futons, dirty sheets and disappointing roll mats. But maybe we should just be friends.

B x

Bittersweet Symphony

Oh, sweet, sweet nostalgia. You apply that beautiful sepia filter to all of my memories, the good ones, and the bad. You make believe that everything was so easy back then. You spoil my naive brain to perceive the present as crude and way too bright. You trap me in the past again and again. There is something so irresistibly bittersweet about your lure.

But you deceive me, day after day. It wasn’t actually all that much easier back then. Yesterday yesterday appeared just as crude and way too bright as today seems today. You are like a drug I like too much to ever free myself from you. The trips you take me on make me laugh and cry and wonder. Your veil of betrayal protects me. Protects me from asking that inevitable and dangerous question “What if?”.

You are a bad companion. Whenever I need you most you fail me horribly. If only you were there for me then. But, no. You spoil my present when it is most enjoyable. And, worst of all, you are ambitious. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice it when you tried to creep into my today? Sneaky bitch, you. And it’s not only me, is it? You’ve been quite successful with this particular endeavour, I’ve heard. They call it ‘hipsterhood’ these days, but I know, oh I know – it’s really you.

What can I say though? I’ll never be able to leave you. I love you so very much. This hate/love relationship shall not end so soon, although I will continue flirting with cynicism, that bastard, and you can’t do nothing against that. And you’re not really that bad. After all, you remind me of who I am and, occasionally, of what I have always wanted and really still want. You stopped me from forgetting how much I love books and music and the people I love. I owe you big time.

Love always,

B x

Having The Wobbles And Inspiring Blogs (While Feeling Utterly Uninspired)

These days I seem to be having a day that I feel uninspired and tired and mushy (let’s not even get into the state of my hair…) pretty much every day. Can’t do much about it (well, I could: I could put on some music I know will cheer me up, plug in my daylight lamp, eat something, drink something and feel energized and positive in a minute – but I just don’t feel like feeling that way today).

So maybe for now while I sulk in my misery (there’s not actually any misery, I’m just being whimsical), I can still keep one single New Year’s resolution (it’s only day 14, for God’s sake!) and write a blog post.

And what do uninspired people do who are too uninspired to come up with their own topics for blog posts (well, I could of course refer to my long list of ‘things to blog about’, but I just don’t feel…, you get the gist)? They consult The Daily Post and, if they are incidentally also enrolled in their Blogging101 course, they just look at their daily task.

Which I have, if you haven’t quite caught my drift yet. But, I am a cheat (always have been, probably always will be) so I cherry-pick* what I like from it and ignore the rest (thank God I’m not a scientist). And all that jazz about finding new blogs and commenting sounds very much inspired, so not for me (plus, in this mood, I’d probably ruin someone’s day with my point of view, so no comments from me today, it’s for the greater good), but I can manage to list some blog I really like and scribble down something about why I like them (although it is likely to be less enthusiastic than usual, my apologies). Here we go.

Let’s start with one that comes closest to what the original assignment wanted: I literally just found this blog yesterday (or was it the day before?) and it is a true gem. European Travel Adventures is a very hands-on travel blog written by a British student, who caught my eye with travel tips about Budapest, a city I fell in love with last summer. What I like most (bit uninventive, but let’s roll with it) is how her travelling seems to be more like my kind of travelling, meaning not at all like in Eat Pray Love or any of the like: you don’t always look amazing, you don’t necessarily find yourself but you have lots of fun and it’s totally worth it.

Time for the second blog: My favourite mildly (ok, hugely) amusing blog is It’s Dolly Darling. Please, just read for yourself, this lady is hilarious. I loved especially her most recent post with little wisdoms that I guess Gretchen Rubin would call her ‘secrets of adulthood’ (you know when you have read too much of one author in too little time and it makes you nuts? Well, I do), but Dolly just calls ‘Dolly-isms’ (charming, isn’t it!).

Last but truly not least (Blogging101 wanted me to do 4, but 3 is a much more congruent number, plus ‘look at me, I’m a rebel’): My favourite blog about my favourite pastime (apart from eating and sleeping, but I haven’t quite taken to food blogs yet…): A Year Of Reading The World is based on an amazing idea: The blogger read a book from each of the 196 countries that are member states in the UN. Now, she did this a while ago, in 2012, but it is currently relevant in that her own book will be published soon. While I love reading about what she did (she also did ‘A Year of Reading Women‘ the year before),it also leaves me with what I call reader’s guilt: I could be doing a project like that, I should be reading all the books she reads, and more! But gladly, despite my misery and egocentricity, I do have a voice of reason that asks me: If I read everything that she read, would I still have the time to read what I read? No. But, literally, so inspiring. I can’t get enough of reading about all the exotic tales and will definitely need that book on my shelf once it is published (UK release date: February 5th, 2015).

Cheerio and very sorry about the aggressive bracketing,

B x

*this word I picked up from the book I am currently reading, Ben Goldacre’s ‘Bad Science’, which is one of the many many books I have started ages ago but never finished…