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May. 7th, 2003 11:54 pmI shall record happy times in this journal for once... the problem is that happy times are usually both busy and free of conflict, which means I neither have time nor reason to write.
I spent two days in Berlin last week, staying far away from the violent riots in some parts of town (which are scary because they aren't even political anymore... May 1st used to be about the working class trying to be heard, and now it's random youth with nothing in mind but the thrill of throwing rocks at the police, burning cars, and breaking everything they come across.) -- I went to a very strange party with a few friends. We had fun even though the people around us were both very old and very irritating, with unpleasantly revealing clothes designed for much younger bodies (on which they'd look trashy but not as disgusting), and the music was boring - but it was much better than to end up in something that is supposed to be part of the cool scene, where people glare at you for wearing the wrong kind of shoes or for being too establishment-esque in your appearance. They are all about being different, you know. Alternative culture that produces a uniformed uniqueness that is even more rigid in its dress code than the supposedly intolerant mainstream fashion taste, and it always comes with a level of arrogance and single-mindedness that makes these people impossible to like.
The uncool party, organized by a radio station that seemed somewhat more interesting before I found out what their average listener looks like, made us the youngest, coolest and most beautiful people in the room, and we ignored the 40-year-olds with no deodorant but polyester shirts who watched us with their mouths open. We also tried to move away from those who came eerily close to the standard media cliché of psychopaths, gathered under a ceiling fan that at least stirred up the smoky, sweaty air a bit, and danced away.
And on the following day, we had a luxurious breakfast and then all went to a big park, bought cotton candy at a little fair by the Spree river, and walked around in the sun until we decided to have coffee by the shore. We sat around, watched kids climb and swing a big hammock, and made plans of all finding our individual Perfect Men within the next five years or so, and then to have our babies at the same time so we'll have a big group of cool kids. While also finding our (well-paid) dream jobs before. All this sounds like quite a good and reasonable plan over ice cream, coffee and while your nose forms a few new freckles, you know.
The weather has been incredibly beautiful, and people smile more and act surprisingly civilized. While kids around here usually have the same sour look on their faces as their parents, I've come across a few unusually friendly and outgoing ones, and I've made a point of smiling back at them like a maniac so they'll preserve their last bit of faith that there are good people out there who won't just tell them to shut up and not be annoying when they dare to make a sound (which is standard behavior on buses around here). I went for a walk and met a very cute little girl with blond pigtails who abruptly informed me that "Hey! I used to be four years old, and now I'm suddenly five!!!!" as if it was the most natural way to start a conversation. I admired her age, and then her doll, which had gotten a little helmet and funky sunglasses for her birthday and was named Julia. I did not really see why they would give the doll a fancy bike helmet and let the little girl ride her bike without further protection... but she was sweet and happy and very pleased to be able to say that the bike was waaaay old already, having been her present for her 4th birthday, which was unbelievably far away now. She was adorable, and it gave me back some faith in the potential of this city. It also shows that the sunshine makes me insanely philanthropic - while I like kids, I usually don't go as crazy about them.
And since then... well, I could give countless more incidents that made me smile but they all seem so shallow. Happiness hardly ever seems to not sound a bit dull when put into words. Melancholy is so much easier to write about (again and again and again). I've been both productive and social, I've managed to get reasonable amounts of sun on my face every day in order to fight the usual library paleness, I've met new people, I've been content and busy and optimistic, and I love it.
I should get into bed quickly because it is the first night in almost two weeks that my overly active neighbors don't gather out on the lawn to be noisy and annoy the hell out of everyone else, and I should not waste the chance to get a full night's sleep again. The party people are a group of foreign exchange students, probably from restrictive countries where you are sent to the safety of married life right from your parents' home, so that now they celebrate their short phase of freedom every single night, making noise as if there were twice as many of them. I might have been excited and eager to meet them a couple of years ago, but right now I mostly want to get done here and move on to something better.
I spent two days in Berlin last week, staying far away from the violent riots in some parts of town (which are scary because they aren't even political anymore... May 1st used to be about the working class trying to be heard, and now it's random youth with nothing in mind but the thrill of throwing rocks at the police, burning cars, and breaking everything they come across.) -- I went to a very strange party with a few friends. We had fun even though the people around us were both very old and very irritating, with unpleasantly revealing clothes designed for much younger bodies (on which they'd look trashy but not as disgusting), and the music was boring - but it was much better than to end up in something that is supposed to be part of the cool scene, where people glare at you for wearing the wrong kind of shoes or for being too establishment-esque in your appearance. They are all about being different, you know. Alternative culture that produces a uniformed uniqueness that is even more rigid in its dress code than the supposedly intolerant mainstream fashion taste, and it always comes with a level of arrogance and single-mindedness that makes these people impossible to like.
The uncool party, organized by a radio station that seemed somewhat more interesting before I found out what their average listener looks like, made us the youngest, coolest and most beautiful people in the room, and we ignored the 40-year-olds with no deodorant but polyester shirts who watched us with their mouths open. We also tried to move away from those who came eerily close to the standard media cliché of psychopaths, gathered under a ceiling fan that at least stirred up the smoky, sweaty air a bit, and danced away.
And on the following day, we had a luxurious breakfast and then all went to a big park, bought cotton candy at a little fair by the Spree river, and walked around in the sun until we decided to have coffee by the shore. We sat around, watched kids climb and swing a big hammock, and made plans of all finding our individual Perfect Men within the next five years or so, and then to have our babies at the same time so we'll have a big group of cool kids. While also finding our (well-paid) dream jobs before. All this sounds like quite a good and reasonable plan over ice cream, coffee and while your nose forms a few new freckles, you know.
The weather has been incredibly beautiful, and people smile more and act surprisingly civilized. While kids around here usually have the same sour look on their faces as their parents, I've come across a few unusually friendly and outgoing ones, and I've made a point of smiling back at them like a maniac so they'll preserve their last bit of faith that there are good people out there who won't just tell them to shut up and not be annoying when they dare to make a sound (which is standard behavior on buses around here). I went for a walk and met a very cute little girl with blond pigtails who abruptly informed me that "Hey! I used to be four years old, and now I'm suddenly five!!!!" as if it was the most natural way to start a conversation. I admired her age, and then her doll, which had gotten a little helmet and funky sunglasses for her birthday and was named Julia. I did not really see why they would give the doll a fancy bike helmet and let the little girl ride her bike without further protection... but she was sweet and happy and very pleased to be able to say that the bike was waaaay old already, having been her present for her 4th birthday, which was unbelievably far away now. She was adorable, and it gave me back some faith in the potential of this city. It also shows that the sunshine makes me insanely philanthropic - while I like kids, I usually don't go as crazy about them.
And since then... well, I could give countless more incidents that made me smile but they all seem so shallow. Happiness hardly ever seems to not sound a bit dull when put into words. Melancholy is so much easier to write about (again and again and again). I've been both productive and social, I've managed to get reasonable amounts of sun on my face every day in order to fight the usual library paleness, I've met new people, I've been content and busy and optimistic, and I love it.
I should get into bed quickly because it is the first night in almost two weeks that my overly active neighbors don't gather out on the lawn to be noisy and annoy the hell out of everyone else, and I should not waste the chance to get a full night's sleep again. The party people are a group of foreign exchange students, probably from restrictive countries where you are sent to the safety of married life right from your parents' home, so that now they celebrate their short phase of freedom every single night, making noise as if there were twice as many of them. I might have been excited and eager to meet them a couple of years ago, but right now I mostly want to get done here and move on to something better.
