I am obsessed! Obsessed in many things. It varies a lot in what. At the moment, I am obsessed with Norway. It is my way of dealing with the shitty reality. I get obsessed with things that makes me feel good or with the idea of a wonderful future. I get obsessed with sportsman or musicians. It is my way of living someone else's life...

A place to call home

How to define what home is? Is it where you are from originally? Is it where you live at the moment? Is it something fixed? Or can it change accordingly with one state of mind? That has always been a hard question for me. Home as a word has always been just where I am from or the place I live. However how can one feel uncomfortable at home? That is the way I have always felt in the country I was born. It has been like I was born in the wrong place. Is it just me, or many people feel this way? I dreamed and still dream about Pasárgada, a place that magic happens and I maybe feel at home as I define it. Incredible that I feel more at home in a country, in a city that I can hardly speak the language and only spent 2 weeks at most than in the city I grew up and know every inch. I will never be completely at home in this sense. In another country, I will always be the outsider, the one that came from another place, that don't speak the language. Nevertheless, it can still be more like home than any other place and I think that might be enough for me, to asymptotically find home.

Keep Moving

It has been two months that I felt in love with Moddi's music. Every song is beautiful and able to touch so deep that I could never imagine. Today his new album arrived and already his beautiful words are inspiring me. This part reminds me of the cruel world of Physics and the Institute I work: "this place is built to make you smaller to keep your face out of the light around the city’s growing taller through the night and then a symphony of laughter cuts though the air of foreign tongues and you are back at where you started: all alone" Pål Moddi Knutsen It is so incredible how you can be in a place following your dreams and be crushed so hard. I know life is not easy anywhere, but the reward a scientist gets is just his own satisfaction and if not even this is coming out, there is nothing to save them. I am struggling to keep moving forward but the pressure is getting greater and I have to become stronger. Today I made another step forward. Even if it took more time than it should, it was still forward and I keep moving.

Melancholia

The melancholia comes back and stays as my oldest friend. 'Happy days will come soon!', it says, but soon never arrives. Seems like all is going wrong for quite some time and the hole is just getting deeper and deeper. I am afraid I won't be able to come out. It is getting hard to breath every second and the agony is getting greater and greater. The agony, another old friend. Considered my favorite word and my worst fear. The world just seem different and I feel the same. Random words comes out. My worst ability is craving to expand and my talents (if they can be considered a talent) is just fading away. It is as if I can break with the weakest touch. All I have is the music I listen to and the hope for better days to come.

Happier times! Are they going to last? Are they going to get only better?

It has been some time that I don't write. It can only mean that my sadness improved and some happier times took over me. I am still a bit numb. And also with the feelings quite intense. Contradictory states to add up my strangeness. It has been long that I embraced it and am not afraid of showing it. I am that and there is no way to change. Being different is part of me since ever. At first, I didn't like it and always tried to hide. Now I just follows it deeply and deeply. I don't want, I don't need to be just another human being. I want to be me, the only one I ever got to know. The strange, dork me. With bright colors, a wide range of clothes styles, a strange sense of fashionable, a constant changing hair, a passionate amateur dancer and singer and much more. It is not always easy to accept this. One has to deal with a lot. It doesn't make me stronger as some might think, but for now I am surviving. Let's see how for how long. Happier times have come. Are they going to last? I hope so. I hope also that it only improves. I am tired of feeling sad...

Feeling Numb

I think I've never got to this state before. Feeling Numb. Deprived of any feeling, indifferent to all. People ask me how I feel about many things and the answer I give is 'I don't know'. How can I just not know? It is like I lost interest in everything. Anything that happen will cause me no harm, but it will cause me no happiness also. I am just neutral.

A flor da pele

Last time I wrote because I was in a state that I couldn't feel anything. Now, I am the oposite. Looks like the smallest things can make me sad, happy, angry, in agony. I was in an exhibition of Munch's paintings and drawings yesterday. The name of the exhibition was anxiety and that was a constante in his work. The anxiety of death that surrounded him and his family. I don't fear death. Sometimes I wish strongly for it to come soon, but I could feel all the anxiety in his paintings. I was the one almost crying looking at it. The melancholy, the loneliness, all the sentiments I have been experiencing for a long time without being able to express like he did. Oh, I envy so much people that can easily say what they are feeling. I can hardly understand what I feel, imagine being able to express it. It is my artistic side that never flourished. If it had, I would probably be doing something else. I have a heart broken that was never really loved. It was more like some a platonic passion. And I am back to the routine... "Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life." "I see all the people - Behind their masks - smiling, soundless faces - Pale corpses - who timelessly scurry along their twisting path, a path that leads them only to their graves." Munch