A big gaping hole

Sometimes it feels like there is a big gaping hole where my life should be. Generally, I'm not sad, mind you, but I spend the major part of my life thinking about the past and dreaming about the future, rather than actually living. Maybe that is why I find it difficult to go to bed and simply lie down to sleep at night- because I want to stay up waiting for life to start. Hmm, which is why I find the title of Keane's first album "Hopes and Fears" more significant than it might seem at face value. The title probably refers to the fact that the album is mostly about their hopes and fears. Obvious enough. However, I like to understand that they felt that their lives had not started yet- they were still enveloped in what they wished for and what they feared- rather than in living that big big thing- Real Life. In fact there are various references to feeling like they're "disappearing" and "fading away" as well as to "aching, waiting for life to start".

Will Real Life ever start? Or is this Real Life? Whiling away the time and trying to cheer myself up by attempting to set up a Hi5 playlist while joking with a dear friend on MSN on a Saturday night in September? Yep, last weekend of the summer holidays and I stayed in. Was too unmotivated to leave the house. But it's no big deal, there will be plenty of time to go out. These past few days my mood had been steadily regressing. Probably it's the fact that I still do not know whether I'll be a first or second year student. At first, they said no but, apparently, now this 'no' has turned into a pending request. At this point you might be thinking that I should actually be hopeful, but there are too many obscure regulations sprouting up all over the place for me to be positive about them letting a former Education student into the second year of the Arts Honours course, despite the fact that I only have 4 measly ECTS credits missing, and a good average (thank God for that). Ah we shall see!

Despite the fact that I have been the proud and loving owner of this laptop for seven months now, (7 months, 1 week and 1 day to be exact- Dear me I need a life!), it is only now that it passed through my dear little head that I can actually watch dvds in the silence of my bedroom, rather than in the computer room/study, which I share with my statistician-brother, and which is in dire need of a door! I've watched a couple of Clive Owen films already *broad smile* and was planning to watch 'One Hour Photo' tonight but, on second thoughts, I did not think that watching a harrowing drama about a man who wishes he had a life was a good idea after I managed to cheer myself up with a little help from Claire (the laughs) and Hi5 (the playlist).

My mood tonight is quietly yet hopelessly romantic and I cannot stop listening to 'Don't Leave Home' by Dido. I wish Dido would roll up her sleeves and release a worthy follow-up to No Angel. I used to love her back then, and I think this song was on that album. I have read some comments that it is not actually a love song, but a song about drug addiction, and some lines do hint at this e.g. " You won't need other friends anymore" and "I'll make you weaker". In any case, the melody and the refrain are heart-wrenchingly beautiful and shamelessly romantic. And, frankly, we listeners are free to interpret it as we like. Wish someone would sing that to me, or hum it at least, to avoid the drug-related connotations.

Last thing I shall do today is sing the praises of Mira Nair, whose film 'The Namesake' I watched, and loved, last Tuesday! Please do try and get hold of this film and watch it! I shall try to post a review in my next entry, which for a change would be useful, since I believe not much has been written in the Maltese press about it. I loved it so much I have lovingly given it another name- 'The Great Journey of Gogol Ganguly'. Problem is, I am finding it hard to articulate what is so great about it. But I have to talk about it!

Till next time,
I hope you shall be in the receipt of an enjoyableness (I warn that I shall reuse this sentence ad nauseum)

Lizzy
xxxx

A Single Girl's Viewpoint

-Is there any critical standpoint yet devised by which your love life is any distance from being of a clearly non-existent nature?

-No. None whatsoever.

You might be inquiring as to the whyness of such an exchange appearing on my blog. Yet I do confess that such elaborate speakingness is not wholly original. Anyone wishing to seek the inspiration behind such an odd little entry should assume the seatedness of his posture and watch this brilliant sketch. You might also want to refer to this sketch, to which I had posted a link a while back.

I hope you shall be in receipt of an enjoyableness until the next time I write.

Elizabeth
xxxx

It was dark this morning.

I found nothing to do this rainy morning. I tried to revel in the atmosphere by listening to a lot of British music (no prizes for guessing the type) but the time stretched too long, so I sat myself down to write. Yes, not to read but to write. I am still trying to run before I have walked enough. Words are a luxury that cannot be utilised too carefully. There are so many. An endless well of pretty little symbols. However, just like wine, they can get you drunk. Too many words that make too little sense. I do not simply want to be a craftsman (or craftsperson, or craftswoman) - someone who can simply write the language well. I want to be an artist. Haha. But how can I say that without risking falling flat on my face? It is not worth the risk.

Back from Berlin!

I went to Berlin! And I'm back! What a trip it was! I myself had been skeptic about the German capital. I went to Berlin! And I'm back! What a trip it was! I myself had been skeptic about the German capital. Yet I had been wrong. Everybody told me there is quite a handful of other German cities which are prettier, more beautiful, quainter and more fun. Berlin is an odd city. In WWII most of the buildings were bombed and so they had to be rebuilt, either in their old style or in a completely new one. When I was telling my sister, she reminded me of the scene in the film 'The Downfall', which we'd watched some time ago, where as the war is drawing to an end, the Germans throw thousands of books and documents out of the windows of an important building. Only God knows how much valuable knowledge and ideas were lost in the war- like little nuggets of history and civilization thrown in a raging volcano. That scene with the sheets of paper raining down and the bombs going off in the background perfectly embodied the way humanity itself destroys its own achievements of learning and thinking.

As in many cities, the old and the new sit side by side, yet in Berlin this somehow seemed even more obvious. In the Kurfurstendamm, which is one of the most important streets of the capital, the ruins of the beautiful Gedachtniskirche lie adjacent to the new Gedaechtniskirche whose minimal, urban, hexagonal exterior constrasts effectively with the ethereal, beautiful interior, in which there is a lush luxury of bluish light, created by the stained glass.

The most beautiful street in Berlin is Unter den Linden (Under the Lime Trees)- even its name has a nice ring to it- which is lined with one beautiful building after another, including the Humboldt University, the Neue Wache (New Guardhouse?) and the former Zeughaus, which now serves as the beautiful German History Museum. This museum was my favourite of them all. It showcases German history from BC up till the re-unification 17 years ago. There are all sorts of artefacts from every period- furniture, cutlery, paintings, bells, knights' armour, tapestries, books (including Luther's bible), sculptures, old cars and motorbikes, tapes and videos of Hitler's propaganda campaigns and speeches, posters, an original Chanel dress (note the feminine fashionable touch here), pieces of the Berlin wall with graffiti and countless other things. It was definitely very enlightening for three students of German like us.

Another highlight was dining in the revolving 'Telecafe' in the big globe at the top of the TV tower. A thousand thanks to Deborah's parents for giving us this experience. The twinkling lights of Berlin sprawled out underneath us made for a lovely atmosphere, even though I could hardly recognize anything- we were so high up! One of the best days was Sunday when we went to Potsdam, which is a small town outside Berlin- choc-a-block with lovely palaces. The day was a gloriously sun-drenched day, complete with a temperature which reached 24 degrees Celcius and heavenly skies that seemed to have stepped out straight from a fairytale. The palace itself is a celebration of Rococo indulgence, while I could have lost myself in those gardens on that heavenly day.

There are a million other things and many more highlights I could write about but I'm quite tired already. Deborah and Marilyn's company was great all throughout, despite the fact that we are three very different people. We laughed a lot, walked a lot, talked a lot, explored a lot and had a week we will never forget.

As regards university, it looks like I shall have to repeat. Everything. But I'll whine about that later. I guess I should have expected it. It was indeed too good to be true.

Watched Tattoo too- a good, powerful play about the disturbing, twisted and puzzling phenomenon that is sexual abuse within the family - yet I couldn't stand Maria Buckle's overdone contortions of the lips, jaws and mouth. Flash news, Ms. Buckle- the mouth is not the only way to convey emotions. Okay, maybe her performance was okay, yet my point still stands. Stefan Cachia Zammit was superb as the abusive father. I can't really say much more because that's as far as my time and my expertise (or lack thereof) allow me.

I really have to go now, because this blog is truly long!

Ps The three images I tried to upload are, respectively, the new Gedaechtniskirche, the three of us at Sanssouci and the Gendarmenmarkt, a lovely square near Unter den Linden. Hope I managed to upload them!

Till next time, take care,
Lizzy
xxx

Auf Wiedersehen!

I am leaving to Berlin tomorrow afternoon, so I thought I'd say goodbye to my dear readers, however few and far between you may be. A special hug goes out to my dear friend Claire, who is the number one reader of this blog and one of the most awesome friends I could ever hope for! Shall miss you greatly in Berlin, Philosopher ;p

Anyway, I hope that we arrive safely, and that we have bucketloads of fun, and that we see bucketloads of great things!

Till next time,
cya, or should I say auf wiedersehen!!
Lizzy
xxxx

Loaded with Meaning

I try so hard to write blogs that are Loaded With Meaning. Everybody does. Everybody wants to be deep and intellectual. Yet no line I have ever written ever signified more:

I'm off to Berlin in six days' time and I cannot find my passport.

Why does my life have to- I can't even finish that sentence- I'm so worried that I've actually come full circle and been overwhelmed by an eerie calm and a sense of submission and resignation. It has to be somewhere here. And I heard there was a terrorism scare in Germany. Oh dear, God help us please.

By the way the big answer comes on the 14th September i.e. I shall then know whether I shall be a second year Ba English student or not. The only problem is that I shall be in Berlin, but everything will be okay I hope. Mum still thinks I'm on the 'path of ruin' and still sobs sometimes, but I just cannot discard my happiness just because of her. She has to stop living in the sixties and seventies (not the hippy type, but the Maltese type which induced a longlasting obsession with settling down in some dreary job for a lifetime, even if you hated it).

BTW MUM FOUND THE PASSPORT! Thank God for that. It shall be wintry in Berlin- how very odd! I can't even grasp the idea of moi in another country. I've been rooted here in Malta for so long that it seems too otherworldly. I love Malta, mind you, but the sameness and familiarity has lulled me to sleep. It will be nice having to take care of myself, not catching buses on automatic, and seeing foreign things that I do not see everyday of the week. Perhaps I shall be jolted into life. I'm a bit nervous, because I hope we really manage to make the most of this trip, yet it is 'nervous' in a good way.

I guess now it is time to sign off, because this blog is starting to resemble my private diary- ie a series of incoherent, unrelated sentences. One last note of thanks to Geraldine, who was so sweet and spent some time with me this morning while I waded through the bureucracy of university. They were nice today though. Hmmm *wonders*. Anyhow, it was really nice talking to Geraldine again :-D.

Till next time,
take care
Lizzy
xxx

Good people

I have a new love in my life. It is Clive Owen. I've just watched 'Derailed'. I couldn't take my eyes off his face. The guy has soul, and depth. He gives me the sense of being a noble, decent person. I guess that is what a real man is like. Dear me, when I'm thirty-nine going on forty, I want to wake up next to a husband like that. I just loved 'Derailed'. Probably it was because of Clive Owen but I still think it's a very good film. It's all about how one mistake can rob you of your whole life, the life that wasn't always great, but at least it was okay. It's about the great lengths we go to to hide the mess we've made, and how we end up in a bigger mess. It's about how good people get embroiled in bad things, and how, then, they have to choose between blurting it all out and getting it off their chest, or else just walk, breathe, eat, sleep and wake up with the guilt, so as not to disturb the normality of their lives, so that everything remains okay.

Dear me, Clive Owen- sheer class.

The wind seems to have turned nortwesterly tonight. The winds of change hehh. It's September now. What a month this will be! I will go abroad on my own for the first time in my life and I will hopefully, hopefully, change course. Life beckons. And maybe one day, my very own Clive Owen will sweep me off my feet.

Till next time,
take care,
Liz
xxx