This is fascinating. I’m less than ten minutes from the train station, and by no means out of civilisation, but no connection with the mobile network whatsoever. I think I’m taking a nap now.
The nap didn’t happen. I thought I should wait until I had boarded the next train. Well, the “Comfort”-zone is not as comfortable as I hoped. I’m stuck with the loudest couple ever, and I’m really not happy! They talk and talk, and I had to almost max the volume on my iPod to block it out. I’m definitely more hostile during the early hours of the day. I don’t want to be among others! They may be allowed to breath, but that’s about it. Only positive is that I’ve read through the papers I should have read before the meeting. Preparation: check!
I’m keeping my hostile mask on in case they want to talk to me. (fat chance, but one can never be sure with that kind of people)
The Icon in my Pocket
A very good friend gave me this book when I promised to give it a good home. It feels a bit odd to read about outer and inner journeys, while sitting on a train, secretly observing my fellow passengers between the music tracks. I’m an observer by nature, and I prefer to sit in a corner and observe, rather than participate. According to psychologists, the urge to sit in a dark corner with the back covered watching others is a way of quickly identifying a potential enemy.
My mc-teacher told me the way to survive in traffic on two wheels, is to believe everybody is out to get me. Maybe it’s the same way in everyday life? Sometimes it feels like I’ve been living by that rule my entire life.
I like the book. It’s slow, pondering, like a train journey.
I’m off the train and in the house – or whatever.
There is something really soothing with Bach’s toccata and fugue, even if it’s blowing your ears out.
These 3.5 hours on the train has brought me back to my studying days. The smell, the annoyance, the feeling of the train. And my own train of thoughts. I’m more prone to writing poetry under such circumstances than any other. Still, I’m writing unfiltered nonsense.
It’s autumn, and the more spicy teas are in season.
I want to swim today. My hip is acting up.
Back to work.
Effective meeting, finished two hours before schedule.
That gives me around 30 minutes to observe people before departure. At the moment, I feel more observed than an observer, but I’ll survive. I should probably buy something to eat. The train food is frightfully expensive.
I’ve got a feeling I’m going to receive a happy text today. Will be kind of disappointed if I don’t, actually…
My inner journey of the day is taking me places I don’t want to visit, so I ignore them and trot on. Reading, sleeping, wondering where I’m going next, and if there is a point after all.
There is definitely no point in going on if I’m the only one caring, and I’ve got a feeling everybody cares most about themselves in the end. The individual is more in need of the pack than the pack needs the individual.
Just because I can’t seem to get it out of my head; how do you pronounce Emilien in English? I can only pronounce it sensible in French.
I knew it! Congratulations! Well done!! 🙂 (the text I was waiting for)
I never knew I was a philosopher!
I’ve always thought that the act of travelling to get away from your inner troubles is futile. You are yourself wherever you are.
Apparently, Socrates said something like that about 2000 years before I was born.
Just a few minutes until I’m boarding the next train, and then, no more than 40 minutes until I’m back to reality, to people I know. I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I’m one of the few people I know who doesn’t want to go home. I’m really, really satisfied when I’m travelling. I might think about a lot of more or less unpleasant things, but in the end, those thoughts are with me whether I’m travelling or at home.
I’m not quite sure what home is, anyway. Usually home is where my bed is, and that doesn’t mean one specific bed. Just a bed I can call mine for a night or more.
I feel I’m getting closer and closer to my trip across Russia. I suspect I will get a lot of writing off my chest, even if I’m travelling with friends. The good thing about friends is that we can be alone together. Maybe read a line or two aloud, and then slip back into our own little world of thoughts. I might even travel crisscross Europe by train. Blissful thinking.
Sitting on a bench, reading the last twenty pages of my book.
And a bit curious about how this blog post turns out.
I haven’t proofread, haven’t re-read a single word.
Well, here goes!
I’ve proofread and corrected a few things. I prefer when it makes sense. Swype doesn’t always agree.