My Diary place

My bourgeois guilt…
So, I’m a Bourgeoisie and that is very true of what has just happened. After finishing defending Konstantin Razumov to my fellow peers, I walk out the room to see mommy standing there. What follows was very unexpected and it might make me a snob as well, still at least I am being honest with you that I am a Bourgeois snob. Razumov did create a lot of paintings with well, naked ladies, which is kind of shocking having not seen any of them and only finding out after defending him, his work might be pornographic in nature. Although he was born in Russia in 1974 so he might not like my bourgeois tendencies and we would agree on very little on the subject of art.

There was a surprise, which involved getting into the car and ignoring a seminar that was to take place that afternoon. Later I made the assumption that being a student at all on Friday was not going to be possible. We are driving to the airport which I work out by the route, having travelled it many times before, we arrive to park the car in the allotted space with a short trip by the bus that takes us to the airport entrance. We are going somewhere but it is a surprise. I know where the plane is going but we are not going there are we? No, of course not, the next plane I knew where it was going to take us.

Wait… I have to find granny and granddad but you are not coming? No, mommy says but remember to eat, I promise to try my best. To which the plane starts to taxi, hello stranger next to me, they were a couple and are going to get married next year if things go to plan. Still, after we leave the ground, screaming ‘to *** with you gravity’ in my head as is the tradition, at least in my head, I quickly fall asleep. The tiredness of the past few weeks is finally getting its own attention. Soon, we land in London, it is kind of dark but not really cold. As I walk through the different checkpoints, some with the help of the cabin crew who are always very nice, I finally see the top of a granddad.

Hugs go around, me still in my disbelief of what has just happened and not completely sure what day it is. I ask, as one would, what am I here for, the answer is it is a surprise but in less than 24 hours I will be sent back to Canada. In fact, there is little time to do much but two things have been organised. The first is to visit the house of Charles Dickens, the house of Dickens is something I approve of, we find with the help of Google Maps, 48 Doughty Street. As I make my inspection of this quite lovely house two things come to mind, the first is that Dickens had awful handwriting. It is truly unreadable, thanks go to the printing press, otherwise the mention of Charles Dickens would be answered with a WHO? The second observation is that while this is in fact a grand Victorian house, the whole family were very short indeed. It seems we have, well most of us which might not include me, have become taller since the 19th century.

As we finish, me now a very tall Victorian and granny & granddad, go find something to eat. We use the underground because even very tall Victorians get tired from walking plus it must be a family thing that the London underground and metro in other cities are easy to navigate. Walking around London is confusing however from time to time it is nice to see all sides of a building! We find somewhere to eat and I ask about the second thing that has been organised. The answer is still not to tell me but this is my birthday present, I am very grateful of course, it is just nice to see granny and granddad. As we walk to a mysterious place, we see Elizabeth Tower, named after my sister, which holds Big Ben and of course the London Eye which we have been on before. I see for sale a toy donkey and I ask if granddad could buy it for my God Sister, he agrees. I have a little gift for her, lovely.

We come to a strange place which is next to the Thames, it is very yellow and many stairs, too many to count. I hear a double bass, that sound is unmistakable, as we walk the very many stairs we come to a place where you can order drinks and we can all sit down for a bit. Then I notice a TV screen, not only is it a TV screen but I can hear the sounds coming from around me with corresponding actions on the screen. Now I am excited, we walk in and I see London Philharmonic Orchestra on both sides of the stage. Oh My Governess, there is a gap between the conductor and the first violinist, I can tell such things! This is going to be a violin concerto, we sit down and granddad appreciates the good chairs, as he settles down. While granny engages ‘Operation Granny’, there is much work to be done, granddad is ordered to turn his phone off to save the battery (google maps used most of it), tissues just in case and a drink placed if it is required at some future point.

As I sit on the edge of my chair and lean forward, it’s… Canellakis and I am in shock. Who is Augustin Hadelich? I ask myself; he is very good but with Mozart it is said that God wrote his music through him and although Hadelich is very very good, he is not heavenly. I do mean he is amazing but not like Arabella Steinbacher or Hilary Hahn who are heavenly or Rusanda Panfili who is both heavenly and truly exceptional. This might make me a snob, when percussion (Timpani) made me jump, it does not make a heavenly experience, it is not a seamless work of pure art. The colours do not make to make many into a sea, in which the waves wash over me. This is not Mozart though it is Sibelius Opus 47 perhaps that changes my judgement through my own biases. Canellakis is taking my attention in any case.

It seems strange that being here with this music being played right in front of me is something I have missed. I also am aware at this moment I have flown with the aid of two planes across the ocean to be in London, to be here. There are people in London and around the world who do not have enough food or heat, this is sadly true across the world. There are people who need medical help that remain without and there are people my age fighting to have equality, risking their lives in the process. How dare I enjoy it? This is my Bourgeois guilt. The thing is that unlike Marx I don’t want to drag the bourgeoisies down so we are the same, I want to lift everyone up, there is no need for the label proletariat. Lenin is very recent history but I have assumed that Animal Farm is actually true and that is what failure looks like. The capitalists on the other hand work on the motto of take as much as you can! I do not want that either, I just want to everyone to have life and enjoyment.

As we hit the interval, I ask granny and she says some very granny stuff which makes a lot of sense. To be honest it settles the matter, I should enjoy this because to not, is a waste. Dickens would have not written anything in his bad handwriting if he thought like that, so we would all lose out. The chairs are moved and I asked what is next, the gap is removed, oh Beethoven. Canellakis, the conductor comes on stage, she is amazing and this is the first time seeing her in action. What happens next is indescribable, I forgot to breathe a few times, symphony number 3 plays and the waves do not stop. The third movement almost kills me, allergo vivace, my gosh this is heavenly, this is beautiful, this is the opposite force from all that is bad. Allergo means to move quickly, vivace to do so in a lively manner, it comes to an end and I remember that breathing is quite necessary. Canellakis’s movements are contradictory, inhuman and truly express the divinity of music. WOW!

Canellakis’s left arm commands the last note with its arrival at its peak marks the end and I feel the world in full of beautiful harmonious colour. There is a man down on the left who shouts BRAVO a mere second after Canellakis’s last command. I am unsure if this is very British or not, well-marked though sir! So is my Bourgeois guilt, the 12 hours of flying time, the anxiety about travelling some of the way alone, does the green house gases, the not knowing what day it is, the tiredness that might follow worth it? The answer is simple…. COMPLETELY! I am very thankful for the last few days, it was filled with shear delight.

Image: https://i.imgur.com/MuDCYRW.jpg

I have no idea what this is!

They call me the wise man,
Accept being old and wise,
having nothing to do with it,
I am the wise man because of this tale alone.

The wise are those that come to know,
That when each day there is a battle,
Each day the battle is different,
but each battle is to be won.

The day starts not when the sun lights the sky,
But when the battle starts inside.
If a fought from that moment without,
comfort or kleur knowing if it is to be won.

The tiredness must be treated as wounds,
The scars has acknowledged that there was a battle,
But it must be known that, the battle was fought,
And now as you stand here.

Feel victorious that you won,
let it be known even just to yourself,
The day has been won.
That is the teaching of the old wise man,
That the battle or that it was fought.

Note this, from the wise man,
Tomorrow, whenever it starts marks,
the next and as it closes,
It has to yet again be fought and won.


Two things to know: I have no idea who this man is and secondly, when did my brain just start putting Dutch in stuff!

(other link: https://i.imgur.com/ql9GqcE.jpg)

Hi, Amalie, I just wanted to say how profoundly your words have affected me. You are a young person, younger even than my children in this world. I perceive that what you say captures something magical within, as much as words can ever do that. I have only read a few of your passages, but I enjoy reading your insights and way of thinking and I have put a heart on the passages that resonated with me deeply. I will try to silently support you by reading your words. Thank you for being yourself. By being fully yourself, you give the courage to others to be fully themselves as well. This is a gift. Much love, Patience

Hi, Amalie Anne,

I tried to reply to your last reply, but the thread jumped back, and so this is meant to be a reply, but I'm not sure it's in the right place. First off, sorry for not replying right off. Sometimes I get busy in real life stuff and don't have time, but I always "make time" as you will find. Second off, is that I appreciated your mention of "memory boxes" and I think it's so very wise of you to have come to the realization that putting delicious meals or samples of meals from your travels is leading down to a road of many mice in the house and other such consequences. Yes, isn't it tempting to place samples of all the exotic food because somehow in other lands, food just tastes "different," doesn't it. All the aura of the "place" is wrapped up in the olfactory and taste senses, I'm sure there's another word for it, but I wanted to type this out so you actually got the message in a timely way. Your "memory boxes" remind me a lot of what my husband calls "time capsules" in our house. Our "time capsules" are not always labeled, but sometimes they are: intriguing titles like "Paris" or "Ski Vacation" and I love looking at the things we cared to collect and put into them. The Paris one has maps, postcards, ticket stubs, receipts, brochures, and loads of other tiny objects, all which even "smell" of Paris. Also, I was a letter writer then, perhaps still a letter writer now, though it's mostly on the computer these days, and I wrote a letter every day we were in Paris to my parents, with details of our exploits and adventures. Later, when I was cleaning through their (many) relics, I found a bundle of all those letters, sent "par avion" to my folks. So I added those letters to the "time capsule." I like your name for them better, "memory box." Here's another way I think of memories, that sometimes the especially good ones, I try to put in my "memory box" in my brain, kind of like a "memory bank account" so I can withdraw the memory during a gloomy time. It's kind of like a safe deposit box to which only you have the key, and having those memories, the really good rich ones, tucked away in a safe place, can really make some of the difficult times more bearable. I had one other thought on the topic of memory boxes and time capsules. It was a memory I had when I was clearing through my parents' garage. It was a stressful and hectic time, and I found this box from when I was a teen. I opened it and immediately the tears came and would not stop. I was absolutely bawling looking at the items in this box: a swimsuit in which I had swum hundreds of laps to try to please my dad, a light pink nightgown with tiny flowers on the bodice that was my favorite, a striped sweater than I had to convince my mom to buy for me from the Sears Catalog we children used to drool over as children who didn't have as many "things" as we had imagination. It took me about ten minutes before the heaving sobbing was over. Something though, "clicked" and healed, something about my childhood, about the desperation and striving that was a part of my childhood, and returning to it as an adult somehow was like hugging that younger self and saying, "Here I am. I made it. I'm here."

That's all I have for you right now, Amalie Anne! Since I'm probably your mommy's age or probably very likely much older than her (given my adult children are 25 and 27, it's likely I'm at least ten years older), I'm glad we have the journals in common. Sometimes you will find in life that the people that gravitate towards each other for whatever reason isn't bound by age, perhaps because our souls are ageless. At least, I like to think so. Take care, be well, best of luck in your studies and on your life journey.

Kindly and with affection,

Patience

Red City

Or go here: https://i.imgur.com/pBsG7FE.jpg because 7cups is such a pain in the bottom! (Thank you to the witch who rotated it for me 😜)

Warning From History

The link to this for better quality is: https://i.imgur.com/LEyfqUi.jpg because 7Cups is being silly. Using carbon paper and left over paint, I created a recreation of a poster made during The Second World War. I thought this was British but I can only find reference to it from Canada (although I have seen this poster in person and I think it was in the UK). Any who, to learn more about this post and see the actual ones that were done visit this place here: https://heritagelsl.ca/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/Loose-Lips.pdf Really the message is spinach is bad for you, please do NOT eat it or bad things will happen (this is not propaganda [mostly]). 😜

@Avaray It is here, otherwise it gets confusing 😜

Hello Avaray,

It is good that clouds have that affect on you, it is something to connect you to the outside world. I was going to tell you about something about gestalt therapy, but I am not too sure I know it well enough. So, perhaps an example, mommy has been doing this for awhile now and then my bestest friend mommy does it (which is why I caught on to it being happening). It starts with doing some grounding, making sure that my toes are mine and I can feel them, then moving up to my feet, then legs. Perhaps its well enough known that I do not need to explain it, then the next part is talking about things that are worrying me or making me scared. Testing them out, so an example would be after summer I am staying with Mama (that maternal grandmother), so test it out. I won’t go through them all, but it is scary because I will not have mommy there. Then mommy says something like, I have stayed with Mama before although not for that long, she can come get me at any point and Mama’s job help me (including hugs and stuff) and has the instructions of how to do things with me. Then comes the question; do you (me) need to feel scared? Kind of, not really.

I perhaps did not explain that very well, but the gestalt part is making sure that I am in charge of my body, I can feel it and control it. I am looking at the negative things I am thinking about, kind of challenging them even if they are scary putting me in charge of it rather than the other way around. Perhaps you could do something like that? It is difficult if you do not have someone to understands and can help you with it. It does work though I have not had many bad dreams a lot recently. I had a funny dream where I could make people say the things I thought, so I was making them just make silly noises. I kind of had a scary dream but it became unscary, there was a ghost living in the attic but the ghost but we were able to agree not to scare each other plus we both liked yellow. Sometimes I also get taken away from that automatic thing but at least I am not having bad dreams. One thing is for sure is that you are getting through it, so maybe something like this process could help? A funny dream could also be nice to have even if things do not feel controllable the rest of the time.

To answer your question, I am staying with my grandmother (my mama) during term time, and I am excited about it because it will be new and its physics which I really want to learn more about. I am not good with change at all, so we will have to create a routine once we know what is happening. Before then I have one exam which will be easy, then going away with my God Sister for a few days, I am really going to miss her so much but we have four days of silliness, then going to stay with granny and granddad for a bit, then back here for camping and then if I do not get eaten by bears and whatnot, going to visit Mama when my brother can also come. All of that before starting university in Spain and I kind of want to know what it will feel like to go to school in the city I was born it because I never did when we lived there. Plus, Mama is going to tell me more about my grandfather (or my papa which is lovely) So very different, everything feels like it is changing but people are going to be the same including an Avaray who might start having funny dreams, who knows! Be good and keep trying to find that connection. *hugs*

Ame

The Lighthouse (2023)



https://imgur.com/a/uPzr2JR A better version

After around 5 months but I was studying as well 😁