Can't you come out to play .. in your empty garden?

Summer Sun Soon.

Let's start in style, let's dance for a while.

The weirdest January ever. The shortest winter ever. All that snow lingering somewhere in those clouds making them hang heavy over our heads. Rays of sunshine at 2pm, like a late Autumn or an early Spring, or a re-arranged map with a twisted sense of humor. Almost warm. Almost cold. No longer the outskirts of Arctic.

Not yet the Bahamas.

Can't really count the days. Weekends crashing into each other, throwing about pieces of Mondays and Wednesdays that flash by like headlights on the highway. You turn back pages in your calendar and it escapes you how all that's been done fits in that narrowest time span of a month. No point in seeing what's next as the days are thick with anticipation. The year has just begun.

You're thinking Summer.

Give me a little bit more time. Give me 6 more hours in every day.

Or give me a secretary.

Fuck it. If I don't go to the office now, I might as well spend the night there. Back in 4 hours and then I'll continue.

*

Have you any idea of how many breaths you take in any one day? Could you venture a guess? The cold winter air waking your lungs before first light of day. Crystal clear scenery of a city in the middle of a frantic, chaotic game of chess on a f*cked up board with glimmering lights behind windows filled with unexpected acquaintances to be. Cold wind breeding tears in your eyes, drawing impressionistic drafts of distant sights in your mind as reflections of bright marble castles on the milky gray surface of a lake. You're turning your head and closing your eyes, only to open them wide and correct your aim.

Joonbi, Choolbal, GO!

It's been a while since I last logged on. Not that it's hard to keep filling this blog.. but it's the nature of it. I'm not keeping a journal here. And I'm not exactly publishing ground-breaking theories or anything alike. It's down to when the feeling is right and there's something to say. And I still reckon the blog keeping is a passive form of being ever so slightly schizophrenic. C'mon.. who do you think you're talking to here? The PC? It ain't gonna talk back to you, boy. Technological singularity is a lifetime away.

No.

This here is about clearing the mind. Something an actual dialogue would disturb and counteract to. And speaking out loud to myself would freak the sh*t out of me. So might as well blog it. It's the 21'st century, for f*cks sake. They have Chuck Norris jokes and naked people on the internet. This here will blend in just fine.

First things first.

Looks like it's back to Estonia on Thursday, for the long run this time. Nothing too big or overwhelmingly important - just a change in scenery. Scary? Is it f*ck. Just the same as getting a new life I suppose. A job, a place to live, smart looks and all the accessories. Walk the walk, talk the talk. How much have you got and how cool are you about it. The UK is not even RELAXED compared to Est, it's in a coma. Plain and simple. So the first months will be hectic, frantic, crazy, no rules applicable. It's going to be like waking up from hibernation. So. Am I clear on this?

Crystal. Bring it on. This time it's homeground, piece of piss.

Second things second.

The bigger they are, the harder they hit. Picked up on my Shotokan again, and tell you what.

#¤%&€@£½^§*.

Last time around I got battered by the 2nd degree dan and was gagging for payback. With interest and all. Now all I'm gagging for is morphine and a massage. All good fun of course, sparring with a smile and all that. And God how I LOVE IT. Feeling GREAT! The morning will reverberate it from a different angle though.. with pain being the mystery guest on the show.

Applause!

Got myself some cold weather gear last week. They say it's Cold up there. And it's only November. Xmas on it's way.. same as New Year.

Not ready to map those dates yet. I think it's the fifth year in a row to see me spending Xmas alone. But let's not get all misty-eyed yet.. this ain't the Bridget Jones' diary.

And mind me - not that I've seen the movies or anything, but that lesbian girl in the second part?

HOT.

A better place to play.

Kes originaali teab?

"Ja kuigi ta teab, kellest ta hoolib.. kõnnib kui klaasikildudel. Nii päevast päeva Rahutu Tuhkatriinu varjab end teiste eest."

Disco sulle, mulle. Dingo mõtetest pole tõlkes midagi alles jäänud.

Remember when you couldn't wait to get your go with some popular toy in the kindergarten? Something that was just slightly less broken or less worn out than all the other Soviet branded articles of entertainment? The rocking horse that still had it's handles intact. The model Lada with it's wheels still turning. Ring any bells? Does for me. Life starts throwing you about on your very first days on the playground. And every so often you'll fall blatantly on your ass. You came in one morning and somebody else was on that horse. Or Sasha & Misha had already taken the Lada for a joyride. And you knew they could drag it out till the end of the day. You'd just have to hope for Mom & Dad to bring you in 10 minutes sooner tomorrow morning. Or maybe the brothers got lost on their way home and wouldn't make it. Harsh.

Regardless of the case - our first reaction to such intolerable treatment? The one and only "I am definitely NOT your friend anymore". Straight to the point, no messy communication.

But once the understanding of friendship VS material welfare kicks in, rules change.. who could have it in them to discard every person who's done us wrong. We become tolerant. Peace through the barrel of forgiveness.

The thing is. How many people have you become acquainted with over the years of your life? Well. You reckon they ALL like you?

Do you feel the same about every single one of them?

No you don't. You forgive and forget, forget to forgive, move on, say "bygones", fix things, deny, apologize, scream your head off. And so on. And so on. In terms of human relations, you're a 911 on wheels. Everyone f*cks up. No reason to get all sentimental about it. Get a weekend away instead. Give Monday a chance.

However. Some things get broken or undone which shouldn't be fixed. Like the toy car. It was one thing when those wheels stopped turning.. it was a whole different story when Sasha actually stepped on it. Twice.

Who is to say when random repair becomes constant maintenance?

If you ever had a pet then you know down to detail what I'm on about.

They're cute growing up. You were 12 years old and on a high that superseded a Scarface nose down in his mountain of sexy white particles. Puppy eyes and soft paws. Girls going "aww."

Sorry.

Girls going "AAAAWWWWWW.............." while trying hard to mimic those puppy eyes.

Until one night you couldn't be asked taking his sorry puppy eyes for a walk. And mind me. He had probably started eating more than you and may well have weighed a ton. You just couldn't see it. You'd been there throughout and he never grew up. Routine maintenance kicked in. When in the park, he started taking you for a walk. Girls still went "aww" but you just checked the time and dragged him away. For f*cks sake.. haven't you seen a dog before? Let me get back to my friends, I'm three drinks behind as it is.

A pet is for life. We all know that.

Same doesn't go for people though. People come and go. And it's perfectly normal, because in the end, we all lead our separate lives.

And I reckon the playground rules still apply. If they're keeping you from getting on that horse and breaking your toys, take a step back. Maybe this isn't your type of playground after all. Forgiveness is a scaringly selfless act - there will never be a guaranteed return on their part. Besides, you can't run like mad forever to be the first one there each morning.

Constant maintenance will eventually wear us down, it won't make things new. Just as sure as Xmas starts in August, no matter what the calendar tells us. Been to Harrods lately?

Learn to leave broken toys behind. There's a reason for them being that way.

Earth, wind and wire.. less.

Eile sain wireless modemi lõpuks. Only took them a month & a half to get my broadband in. Tegin installi ära - kaabliga toimis, ilma mitte. 4 tundi konfigureerimist, katsetamist. Cmd. Ipconfig/all. TCP/IP. Dell Network Assistant. DHCP. Router settings. Gateway this, IP that. I could almost feel my hair going ponytail on me. Nagu ikka, rohkem tekkis katsetamise käigus küsimusi, kui vastuseid järgi jõudis tulla. Arvutid. Loco. Kui mingi uus asi esimesel katsel toimima ei hakka - there's a good chance you're in the ****.

"Limited or no connectivity."

You little ****, **** of a *****.

Täna sain finally toimima asja. Piece of cake muidugi. Kuidas ma kohe selle peale ei tulnud. Jne.

Everything's doable. If you put your mind to it.

Stopwatch hearts.

Last calls, the bar is about to close. You can feel Monday giving you a cheeky smile from the other end of the counter. He's all set and ready to go.

We all know the checkpoints of time. Moments that start new activities, finish tasks, tick the boxes of duties filled. They make us linger or charge head first into action. It starts with not being late for work in the morning.. and goes all the way to buying that dream house to fit those kids and the Italian design furniture in. Goal after goal after goal. A schedule the length of an Olympic marathon, and the density of the compressed wishes of a hundred 5 year old's in a little tin can. No time for this.. no time for that. Hardly enough seconds to squeeze in a smile upon finally finishing that report on changes caused by the introduction of a new corporate catering policy.

Is this why we're all here? To make sure we make the deadlines?

Or is it about having that picnic on the beach. Enjoying an ocean full of seconds that float by while reflecting the smile on your face.

No shortage no duties out there. This world has been built on them, and we all get our fair share. Most of us end up grabbing more than that. It is seen as natural for people to try and achieve more than the average Joe or Jane from next door. Prove things to ourselves, to those around us. But seeing the abundance of opportunities given to us for doing all that, it becomes clear - adequate supply of time has been left out of the equation. We can only do so much. If those picnics pass us by.. well.

That's life.

I've been there plenty of times. Willing the hours and days to move that little extra bit faster. For that next checkpoint to be cleared, only to begin the process of getting through a new set of days and weeks. Why have I done it? Which special and meaningful moments have I lost like that? I haven't a clue. I know this for a fact - the first ten years of my life felt longer than those bringing me closer to the 20 year mark. And the last 4 years towards becoming 30.. well, they have flown by. And I can only admit being the sole perpetrator of this crime against time, because it's so childishly obvious. When was the last time I sat down on a rooftop to watch those bluebirds fly.. or when did I last run around throwing up handfuls of freshly cut grass in the air.. just for the FUN of it?

There were no goals. Just time for me and my life.

Memories of my childhood? The best. And there are so many of them.

The last goal I achieved? A deadline I met? Don't know. Don't care. I think it felt OK when I succeeded. But that's past tense, my mind is already set on new issues, present problems. Do I have enough time? What's next?

A preoccupation with "making it". A prejudice for stopping the clock to live in that moment.

Are we all in a race?

Those warm summer nights of the '80's will never come back. Those records will never be played again. My mom and her friends will not be telling me to stop running around and to go to bed. I won't be sitting on that window straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of my kindergarten in the darkness.

That's our deal with memories. They're always past tense. And they won't be coming back to us.

My stopwatch heart started beating when I turned 18. And the faster it's pace got, the more I achieved. The more checkpoints I cleared.

But it has never been about the quantity, has it? It's the quality of the moment, that can leave an everlasting imprint in the sand.

The last picnic I wanted to have, I didn't even organize. It was handed to me on a silver platter. And the only thing I remember about it, was myself waiting for it to end.. so I could move on and tick the box on my schedule saying this one's done.

Should it even count as a memory? I was there. I did it. Checkpoint cleared.

But I think not.

I'm missing out, that's what. This stopwatch heart is only good for getting through the checkpoints. For a memory to be timeless, you have to stop the clock, take it all in. Love every stupid second of it.

Because every second spent waiting for the next checkpoint to be cleared, is a memory lost. What if it isn't Alzheimer's at all that gets us in the end. What if we simply choose to race instead, and a list of things you've done in your life will never turn out to be a lifetime of memories.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

You check the time and linger on.. it's not over until you say it is. And old man Einstein said it's all relative.

You bet your ass it is. Bin that watch.

Take that moment.

Make it a memory.

Triin.

"Why do you build me up (build me up) Lion cub, baby,
just to let me down (let me down) and mess me around.."*

I think it was the late summer of 2002 when I first came across your iridescent existence. It's not that seldom for new people in our lives to sweep us off our feet with a mere comment or a witty reply. New people do that. Because if they didn't, we just wouldn't bother with them. Why double up on people you already know everything about.. we're not collectors by nature, we're explorers. And luckily for us, every so SELDOM you do get the odd person who does his or her thing in a way that leaves you starry eyed and screaming for more. As if to prove a point - you can try, but you cannot categorize me. I'm a one off.

I can honestly admit to falling for you immediately.

Growing up is a constant process of self development. I started with falling over even before I could speak. God only knows what made me try and stand up in the first place - the suppressed ego of a child who couldn't cope with the thought of having to look up to everyone.. or my eager need to practice the social skill of "blending in" - after all, no one else was crawling on the floor, were they? Having mastered the vertical position, the bike phase quickly followed. No thing quite like falling over sideways, is there? And at a speed, no less. But progress came, and came through cuts and bruises. Some leaving marks that are visible to this day. I guess I continued on a logical path of being a youngster, by climbing the walls and the trees, running around on building sites, jumping off ledges and using my first floor window instead of our front door. I fell less often, but when I did, it sure as hell hurt a lot more.

And one day I ran around until the Sun had long set behind the horizon, and I did it without getting my face and my hands as pitch black as the night outside. My clothes had suffered no tearing, my socks looked as if they might just make it through another day.

From that day forward, I never really fell the same way again. I either stumbled, and it felt like my heart had skipped a beat. Or I fell all the way, with my heart actually losing it's rhythm.. not to mention a few beats walking away while holding hands with my sleep and peace of mind.

That's how I fell for you. And who could blame me? I'm only a man. But I had learned a good deal about falling, and got back up on my feet.

A friendship followed.

I think you agree, when I say this has been one of those on and off friendships. We've had our sleepless nights submerged in conversation.. and we've had our times of silence, some lasting for days, others a whole summer. Still.. we never faded to the point of losing sight. There was always something left to say, a thought to be shared. In one way or another, our paths have always crossed.

I did recognize you in an instant on that bus to school. You crazy thing.

And I did hook up with your bad ass girlfriend.

What's next?

I love it when we talk. I love the way you go all stubborn on me when I push some subjects. I'm addicted to your ability to make me laugh my heart out. And I hate it when you're right and I'm wrong, and we both know that is usually the case. You smartass.

I never did admit it to you, but despite us agreeing on the fact that trust is a toy better left untampered with.. I do trust you. You're one of those rare people in my life, who can stop the time and listen. Who can be totally sincere. Who will not mess you about just to make you feel good about yourself. But who still manages to get her points across in a manner that is caring. You have always had so much more going on behind those beautiful eyes, than you will ever let anyone know.

"I'll be over at ten", you told me time and again,
but you're late, I wait around and then -
I run to the door, I can't take any more,
It's not you, you let me down again"*

Attention. We all crave for it, some of us can't function without it. You for example have always been playful about it. I know you enjoy surrounding yourself with beautiful people, and rightfully so. Beats having mirrors set up instead. What's worth mentioning though, is the fact how you handle it. I have yet to meet a beautiful girl who shies away from positive attention for any other reason than hoping to look tough by being fastuous or arrogant. But you don't even blink. You carry your conversations with or without flirting, you don't judge a male friend by how much praise they deal your way.

A true friend cannot be bought with praise. Nor lost in the light of truth.

I can never sum up in words, how much guidance you've given me over the past few years without even knowing it. And one of these days you'll probably still end up kicking my sorry ass all over the place for doing something incredibly stupid.

I love you for being the way that you are. So don't go changing.

*Modified lyrics from Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations.

Sweets for my sweet, a wicked smile for my honey.

X says:
sa oled üldse viimasel ajal kuidagi armsaks muutunud.
X says:
where's the bad boy gone?

See my dilemma? Girls like boys to be sweet. But not without being a little bad first ;) We need to get that balance right EVERY day and on some days I'd honestly rather go camping.

Still. Who'm I kidding. I f***** love it!

Täis inglased on proper nuts, muide. Take 2 tonight! Kes enne nelja magama saab..

Crikey!

The cultural difference. Hits you time and time again.

I'm not even sure, which I heard first - the jokes, or the fact that the Crocodile Hunter was dead. It only takes a moment over here - text messages and videoclips are all over the cellular network before BBC has even had a chance to air the news. And make no mistake - everything's a laugh. Seriousness gets labeled as sickness. Stop stressing, lad!

Mr. Steve Irwin.. Got me thinking though. There's no refuting the fact this man was unique. Someone who went and lived his dreams. Lived them to the fullest, 24/7. And that's saying something, since there are less than FEW of us, who ever really do that. Sure, we may think about it.. every so often even act upon those thoughts and make things happen. But really.. LIVE our dreams?

Do you?

It IS a nice thought. Like one of those Chinese proverbs, that make us pause and think, before digging into the next bowl of egg fried rice. But should we really live our dreams this way? Or does it pay to get in touch with some of the negative aspects of life every now and then. With the so called reality. To keep our feet on the ground.

Because.

Steve was putting his life on the line every day. That's what living his dream was all about. Not being scared, not missing out. Throwing those dice a time too many.. even he knew what was to be expected. One might think he sacrificed his life to live his dreams. But I would say different. It wasn't as if the man was clinging on to his life with a passion.

And we cannot honestly sacrifice things we aren't passionately holding on to.

The sacrifice in this story was that of his family. Letting him live his dream.

What may be a dream to us, may not neccessarily be so to others. And is this really the thing to aspire to.. Living a dream on the expense of those around us?

I'm not sure.

As ABBA once so adequately put, "the Gods may throw a dice.. their minds as cold as ice."

No certainties in this life. And only so much room for mistakes.