published in 2014 on my tumblr
I like a lot of things. I love some things. And among all my likes and loves, I feel like butter scraped over too much bread (thank you, Bilbo). Like I am dilluting instead of devoting myself to something that makes me genuinely happy.
I love traveling, but I have neither the means, nor the temperament to devote myself to it. It is one of the things I do to get away; because as cliché as it might sound, a change of scenery helps calm and clear my mind better than just about anything else. However, unless I get the idea well in advance and have time to endlessly ponder and consider my options, I am hard to move (or even get out of the house).
I love music and my week of concerts in August has been the highlight of my year for the past four years. Whenever I go somewhere, I make sure to have my keys, my wallet, my phone and my mp3-player with me. Fifteen years ago, I could’ve probably beaten most music quizzes out there – but even though my love remained, my attention somehow slipped. I lost touch and focus.
I love photography and I can get lost in it, but it happens so rarely that I am not even sure I should put it on the list. I have never had the patience and determination to decipher “how it’s done” properly, beyond what my gut feeling tells me.
I love reading, but I am so very unsteady about it. Sometimes I devour books; sometimes they sit on my desk for months before I can bring myself to finish them, even books I love. I am stuck in a phase like that right now, Goodreads tells me. (Seriously, how long can a re-read of a book by a favorite author with a writing style that goes down like water take? I meant to finish this weekend, barely managed thirty pages.)
I love writing, but I am even more unsteady about it. Lately I can’t even get my act together to ramble constantly enough on my regular blog. Gave up and just announced an undefined hiatus. I manage to discharge here for the cathartic effect it has and the order it creates in my own messy mind. The last time I really wrote fun fiction (incidentally also fan fiction) was some years ago, back when I was still playing 9Dragons.
I like gaming, but I seem to always be somewhat bipolar with them. I get hooked for weeks or months on a particular game, only to never want to see it again afterwards. At least, not until next time.
I like cooking, but only when I am in a very particular state of mind (which has become pretty elusive as of late). Otherwise I just perceive it as a chore to get done with a.s.a.p. and move on to more fun things (like napping).
I like animals (a lot) but since my own dog died in my arms seven years ago, I haven’t really felt like getting another. There have always been dogs in the house and I do enjoy their presence (even if it’s just a nudge for treats), but none of them have technically been mine and I have refused to let myself get attached to them.
I like fooling around in Photoshop for little graphic projects, like creating spelling posters or typographics (like the one I did for Pink Floyd’s Eclipse or a cute silly dreamI had). But I am not a creative genius and most of those precious few ideas I get remain just that – ideas, because I don’t really get into it.
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If I believe in just one thing, it is that love and love alone can set us free and redeem us. It has nothing to do with any sort of religion and it is not confined to romantic relationships or any love for a person, indeed. I find that people are at their most beautiful when they are burning with a passion – whether it is for one another, for origami or for trout fishing. Listen to someone talk about something they love with all their heart, hear all negativity fade from their voice, see their eyes shining, listen to the words getting messed up because they try to get out all at once to convey the urgency of that burning passion; witness them start to glow and (even if you find it the most boring topic of all) I dare you not to be stirred.
I like a lot of things. I love some things. I adore none. And I can’t figure out how to make myself do it – make myself burn.
