Okay..
Here we go.

A new chapter has been opened. I try to meet it with an open mind, as one should regarding every chapter of one's life. This one is a tough one to swallow though: at about 7 this morning a quarter of a century had passed from my birth.

My lucky number has thus become: 9331
Luckier by the day.

I am back in England, back in Uni. Challenging subjects this term. Thursdays off! Off and not off, really .. there is a lot of research work involved and the work load will only increase every week up until Christmas break.
My life state is getting higher. It was pretty low the first days after my arrival to this Kingdom. But I generally do not easily accept unnecessary suffering, at least not without a fight, and so I have done my utmost to heighten my state of life. Increasing my chanting every day, and finding time to nurture my consciousness beyond curricular demands.

I have been "klukk"-ed, or b*log tagged, which basically means that I have to reveal five random statements about myself on my b*log, and then pass the "klukk" on to five other b*loggers. I herewith thus reveal the following:
1) Even though I love colors in general, my favourite color is yellow.
2) And yet, funnily enough, I have a genetic inability to distinguish differences in hue -> I am colorblind.
3) As a child I had a rich empathy for inanimate objects. I used to encourage them in word (whispers) and thought, if I witnessed people treating them in an unfair, or bad, manner.
4) I had piano lessons for a couple of years as a child, and they involved homework. I hereby confess that I sometimes lied in my homework register that I had done the work I was expected to do at home. And because I was alone at home for a big part of the day, I got away with this. (Needless to say, I don't play the piano particularly well today)
5) I once, as a child, chased my younger brother around our flat with a knife, and accidentally cut him. He bled.

I have not made up my mind as to whom I will b*log tag, many of my b*logging acquaintances already have carried these out, so my "klukk"s will have to wait.

Happy birthday to me? Fairly.

Older and wiser,
..kH

My summer holiday is over. I leave tomorrow, back to Uni.
I do not look forward to it, at all actually. This, the wonderful summer and fall, has been a chapter of my life that is hard to close.
The following entry is quite simply a tribute of thanks,
to the people that made this summer so unforgettable.

The tribute is in Icelandic, so non-Icelandic readers forgive me please, but even if you don't speak Icelandic the entry should nevertheless be mostly understandable. It's very simple, it's just THANKS

...

Takk Hoffý, Haukur, Palli minn E., Hreiðar, Díana systir, Jói minn P. (Wium), Lúlli, Jói Dan, Sævar, Búi, Fúsi, og Joeri.

Takk Gummi.

Takk Eyrún & Gemma & Ixchel & Laura, Steinunn & Gugga & Jóhanna.

Takk Siggi.

Takk mamma & amma, Arnar & Hafþór, Nonni & Heiðar, Hilmar & Beggi, Maggi Matt & Ásta, Bjartur & Blíða.

Takk Sigur Rós, Antony, James Blunt, Keane, Emilíana Torrini, Eberg, og Kurt Nilsen - fyrir "sándtrakk" sumarsins.

Takk Haffi !

og..

Takk Jens :)

Bless,
..kH

This entry is a sort of index. Below I have inserted links to selected entries, some of which are hidden deep deep down in the dustiest archives of Hansablogg, and for interested readers these can serve as wormholes toward the potential "Best Of"s (bear in mind that some entries are not isolated and you may need to scroll down to find them, the titles will guide you):

April 23 and 24, 2003

April 30, 2003

Earlier night shift period - August 27, 2003

The infamous beginnings(in Icelandic)

January 29, 2005

People & Communication

February 2, 2005

The Perfect Couple

February 15, 2005

Valentine's Day (2005)

March 10, 2005

A Love Affair on Top of the Opera House

March 23, 2005

Bjartur's Confrontation

April 3, 2005

I Didn't Sleep for 48 Hours

April 10, 2005

Saturday Night

April 18, 2005

Spunky Meets Pètya

June 14, 2005

Hello, faithful readers

July 19, 2005

The Moments are Frail

July 29, 2005

Confessions of a Hospitable Heart

July 31, 2005

Who is Your Alter Ego?

...
All entries written in Bratislava, and central Europe, in 2005, are to be found between February 6 and May 13. Interested readers can find the dates in the archives.

Best to all,
..kH

I made an attempt at early evening b*logging, but after I had written the entry and proceeded to publish it, Blogger informed me that it was under maintenance and the whole entry was lost.
Why do I mention this and not just go on to rewrite what I had already written? Well, my b*logging pattern has for the past weeks been that I b*log at work, usually long after midnight. Devoted readers may have noticed a difference in texture and style from my entries that date back to the past winter. I started to suspect that my choice of words and phrasing might be influenced by the late hours.
Thus, long story short, the attempt at an early evening entry was intended for evaluation; would there be a difference?
There was. My early evening entry was more down to earth. However early evening has passed, and as usual this is being written at an ungodly hour of the night. So, my dear devoted readers from near or far, enjoy the same poetic spirit as you have in the entries of the past weeks, as I proceed now onto matters of. .

What? Matters of what? What matters? Do I? I do? So do you. So, do you? You do so matter. You matter so do I. So do ma. . and pa.

...
Time is of such importance to me now
it is flying by
- dying out -
and I don't have much of it to begin with
Work is killing it
prematurely.

I was unfortunate enough to sign, IN BLOOD, a contract for work duty, rue the day!, as the work has proven to cause me more trouble than I anticipated.
It eats time. My time. Time that I could have spent with the people that matter to me.
With the people at the places
that matter.
This work does not matter to me
- I confess -
at all. I am here 'cause money is useful.

Oh what a waste
especially now
when so little
is left
is left
is left
*extended echoes*
The emptiness of it all
the pointlessness
the waste
of time
of time
of time
time of
of time
that's mine

Aye the being alone and the painting of portraits in my head of what I am missing
has driven me to madness
- lucky I should be here -
madness and kinkiness of discourse
has challenged the supposed norm of perception
of which
there is none
here
- lucky then I should be here -

...
A night that matters has just barely been saved from being swallowed by work.
I was, and am still, going to celebrate the twentieth birthday of someone special this night
this very Saturday night
and work made an attempt at destroying my freedom to do so.
It didn't prevail
the battle was won
by me
by us.

Onward ho!,
..kH

It is funny how incredibly I feel tonight.

I have started to suspect, in the past dozen months, that men
- at least I -
go through a kind of period every month.
We all
- at least I -
know women do.
So why shouldn't men
although not in the same way.

I think that every month I go through at least two climaxes
at the two different ends of the same mood pole.
There is a point in every month where
I feel nothing will work out and my self-image and confidence is very low.
There is a point in every month where
I feel I can accomplish anything and everything will work out wonderfully and my confidence is blooming.
Could this have to do with a kind of hormonal period?
Could this have to do with the moon and the rising and falling of the tide?
Our bodies contain a lot of water
so does the ocean
why then should the moon not affect us too.

However, even though I am quite sure I experience both extremes every month
I have not been able to observe whether there is a clear pattern of how the extremes develop through the period.
For instance, there is a difference in my mood and confidence from only yesterday.

Today I am full of energy and positivity. I am all smiles and I see in the mirror the image of something that appeals to me. Something I can almost be proud of.
Of course, to be fair, at essence
- fundamentally -
I am proud of who and what I am.
And of what I shall become.

At the moment
I see
the adventure in life,
the prettiness of my surroundings
- the awareness of which much too often lies latent -,
and feel
love somewhere in the middle of me,
Now a moment later
I still see
a hope before me,
a playful element to every task
- to every confrontation -,
and feel
thankful and happy.

There is a song, that really encases what I feel
the whole mystery of it
- puts it in a box and ties on top a pretty bow -,
the heart of which seems to correspond to the heart of my current life-state,
as good music tends to do,
sonically and lyrically,

Hoppípolla by Sigur Rós.

Apologies to non-Icelandic but interested readers
as the lyrical part of the song will prove hard for them to grasp.
Just believe me
- have confidence -
and you'll feel it.

I am thankful for this song.
So wonderful.

Tingly,
..kH

Overall, Your Observation Skills Get: C

You tend to notice the big things in life... But the details aren't exactly your forte

How Observant Are You?

Now I am quite bored

.."You're beautiful, it's true"..

Friday nights are tough on the job. In the same manner as are Saturday nights. Lack of people online to chat with. Everyone out on the town. Or somewhere.
All I have is the music.

.."I'll take what I can before you leave, that is just a smile"..

And the book. I have the book. Why I haven't opened it is a mystery. Something is stopping me. Perhaps the mood. Time? It's 03:33 a.m.

.."Come on and show me that silky skin"..

It is only my second night this week and already I feel the night getting longer. It gets shorter on Sunday. More people online, in theory at least. We will see. I really should just try and get back into the book.
Reading books can make you tired. Worth the risk? Who'd care if I napped anyway? I guess I would.

.."I waited a long long time, I waited a long long time"..

The coffee available at the University Hospital of Iceland is not quality stuff. Even for an experienced consumer of coffee it is tough to swallow. But the cups here are cute. The one I currently sip from has got a picture of a baby mouse in a blue shirt airborne by a yellow balloon. The other side of the cup shows the baby mouse with his mummy mouse. Either he is yet to be airborne and his mummy mouse has just given him the balloon, or he has been saved and is being told never ever to do that again.

.."So lovely was the loneliness of a wild lake"..

There are these - weird green but almost transparent flies that wander in from the outside and I do not think I have ever seen this particular type of fly anywhere before. Only here - on my cozy shifts at the hospital hut do they decide to make their existence known. Ugly bastards - the green but almost transparent flies. Not a big fan of flies - me. Not a big fan of insects really - me. All due respect - to insects for they do serve purpose. Would never harm insects - me. Would never harm anything really - me. Is key - respect.

.."Earth come be light, mind you are free, love your surface"..

03:52 a.m.

.."We live among plastic lions"..

I could go on. Forever I am sure. Typing words and connecting them to each other. It certainly murders time, brutally. Twenty minutes have disappeared without trace, so far.

.."Light become earth, free your mind, surface your love"..

I will fantasize now about events and moments to look forward to. Leaves me feeling content even if they haven't happened yet. Hope is crucial and pretty easy to mould. Sometimes I fear my entries give a rather gloomy picture of their author. Gloomier than is necessary. I am not that gloomy, to be honest with my readers. Not gloomy at all. Positive, shiny and enthusiastic.

.."Coffee's pouring out my ears, it's the only thing they have in here"..

Quotes taken from the music that has been the undercurrent of the writing of this entry.

.."And my heart stops beating"..

Chained by work but humming gleefully,
..kH

I am really tired

Back at work after precious time off
The week off is now a memory of something that tastes of freedom
Even though I fully realize that I am just as free now as then
Just feels different

All my days are one long night
- 05:45 a.m. -
The time in between working hours
is only a pathetic attempt at life in daylight
Days are digested by the merciless work schedule
what is spurted out is only a resemblance of day
- a couple of hours, maybe three -

Oh five forty seven.

In just under three hours
I head off
to home
to bed
to empty bed
empty life

Sleep only to stay awake during work
is work then the cause for sleep or sleep the cause for work
- 05:50 a.m. -

I have been institutionalized
and I never even noticed.

Tickedy tock,
..kH

Predicament
predicament ..

I guess I must be half-way through my 3 months at home,
more than half-way even..
that is tragic
I can't bear to think of it - so why am I!

I have started working 13 hour night-shifts.
And if that doesn't sound exciting enough, I work 7 nights in a row
Time is totally lost during these working periods
but after each period I get 7 days off.

Fair?
Fairly..

Life treats me well. I got ill but I got better
I shake things off pretty quickly
And life has brought new and exciting people into my life
I love it when life does that
Life rocks!

- I just need to get better at preserving what it brings -
I need to learn to make jam out of my berries of acquaintance
- and make it taste that sweet

Here we go again.

Lucky number: 9277,
..kH

The below results are amazingly accurate,
or would you - provided you know me personally - not agree?

Your Life Path Number Is 3

3 Your Life Path is one that emphasizes expression, sociability, and creativity as the lesson to be learned in this life. You are among the entertainers of the world, bright, effervescent, sparkling people with very optimistic attitudes. You possess the most exceptional creative skills: normally in the verbal realm, writing, speaking, acting, or similar endeavors. The lesson to be learned with a 3 life path is that of achievement through expression. The bright side of this path stresses harmony, beauty and pleasures; of sharing your creative talents with the world. Capturing your capability in creative self-expression is the highest level of attainment for this life path. You are warm and friendly, a good conversationalist, social and open. A good conversationalist both from the standpoint of being a delight to listen to, but even more importantly, one who has the ability to listen to others. You are always a welcome addition to any social situation and know how to make others feel at home. Your reative imagination is present, if sometimes latent, as the you may not be moved to develop you talent. Your approach to life tends to be exceedingly positive, and your disposition is almost surely sunny and open-hearted. You effectively cope with all of the many setbacks that occur in life and readily bounce back for more. It is usually easy for you to deal with problems because you can freely admit the existence of problems without letting them get you down. You have good manners and seem to be very conscious of other people's feelings and emotions. Life is generally lived to the fullest, often without much worry about tomorrow. You are not very good at handling money because of a general lack of concern about it. You spend it when you have it and don't when you don't. On the negative side, a 3 may be so delighted with the joy of living that the life becomes frivolous and superficial. You may scatter your abilities and express little sense of purpose. You can be an enigma, for no apparent reason you may become moody and tend to retreat. Escapist tendencies are not uncommon with the 3 life path, and you find it very hard to settle into one place or one position. Guard against being critical of others, impatient, intolerant, or overly optimistic. Typically, the life path 3 gives an above-average ability in some art form. This can encompass painting, interior decorating, landscaping, crafts, writing, music, or the stage, or all of the above. You are apt to be a happy, inspired person, constantly seeking the stimuli of similar people. Your exuberant nature can take you far, especially if you are ever able to focus your energies and talents.

What Is Your Life Path Number?

Your Ideal Relationship is Serious Dating

You're not ready to go walking down the aisle. But you may be ready in a couple of years. You prefer to date one on one, with a commitment. And while chemistry is important, so is compatibility.

What's Your Ideal Relationship?

This lifetime, a queer journey of twenty-four years and ten months and two days.
Lucky number: 9272

A minuscule account of baby phase
Baby Hansi had big eyes. Eyes that wanted to drink up the whole world in one enormous gulp. Around the pupils lay lochs of bluest sincerity, pure ponds that glimmered from the light of a most innocent mindscape. These eyes mesmerized and enchanted the beholders that Baby Hansi later learned to manipulate.
As Baby Hansi grew more aware he harnessed the endowment of enchantment, his first super-power, and got showered with material benefits. He would spellbind the young women and flirt with the young men behind the counters at which his mum made transactions, and make them want to award him with gifts.

A minuscule retrospection of elementary phase
I remember Róbert. The dark-haired, brown-eyed and dark-skinned demigod of some of my early fantasies. His class used to line up beside mine, and I used to line up beside him. Without fail. Until he started to suspect. But the quick-thinker that I was made it all sound normal, as if it just happened by chance. Every time.
One of the great failures as well. A very early example of a character that I would have liked to involve intimately in my lifestory, but could never bring myself to make the action necessary - to determinedly befriend.
The number of examples grew with time. I got better though.

Theory
Did I discard one of my great endowments somewhere along the way?
If I did I have managed to somewhat rediscover it.
Today I use a "mature" compound of enchantment and determined action to enrich my lifestory of demigods.

Post-theory ideation
Should I write dedicated entries on some of these demigods?
Might it prove an interesting read?

Going on 9273,
..kH

The discussion will be about art.

As art is a path onto which I have been by fate ordained
the thought of it consumes a great deal of my time and thought
It is a bit funny, a bit weird, a bit fascinating
that I have been on this path since the dawn of this lifetime
How does a child know where it wants to go ?
Why is a child more fascinated by one phenomenon than another ?
What is personality made of ?
and it is hopefully at the end of this path that I am to be buried.

This lifetime has
- to this point -
been a queer journey of twenty-four years and ten months and two days
- still counting my lucky number in days -
and if the progression along the path has been slow it has also been quite infallible
An almost gravitational pull
a constant need for expression via artistic devices
of making being my vocation
of sharing a self that never fully stood its own
'till now.

It is from hereon
that I am capable.

Life feeds into art
and artistic achievements
- discoveries -
feed into life

- it is a mutuality -

and thus the higher my lucky number
the deeper
more fruity
more blooming
the vaster
my sensibilities
my art
my capability.

Each day heightens potential
but potential has to be disciplined
to form.

Introvert-to-be-extrovert,
..kH

Who is your alter ego this time?

Mnemon

What does Mnemon do?

Cry and conceal


What does Mnemon conceal?

His feelings. His humility

Why does he do that?

He is angry. Hurt. Tired. Egotistic. Insecure, mostly, I suspect

Why is he insecure?

Lack of faith. In himself. And some lack of faith in others

Is crying his way of dealing with insecurity?

No. Crying is what's left when he's alone in the trap he has set

Who is the trap set for?

He's trapped. Trapped in habitual defence mechanisms

Which are?

Concealment. Subdual


How does Mnemon subdue?

He makes less intense or prominent

What does he subdue?

Fuck all. For nothing is truly subdued. Only misrepresented

What is misrepresented?

The level of feel

Misrepresented as what?

Less

Is it safe to assume the crying reveals he is unsatisfied?

It represents the collapse of mechanisms


What would Mnemon rather be doing?

Giving. Without being drained

Does subdual assist in the matter?

No. The mechanism leaves him unsatisfied

Describe the mechanism?

Disciplined assessment of subject's capacity for reception and reciprocation. Resulting in a controlled subdual of veracity. Producing subtle but base deceptive signifiers of emotive activity

Concealment of true emotions, or limiting of honest expression?

Akin to pay-per-view


Can the behaviour really be isolated in an alter ego?

Mnemon is crying

Can the behaviour be dealt with through such objectification?

Don't question. It only leads to unfulfillment

Is confrontation not more productive than separation?

This whole thing is a misrepresentation.


Fly on the wall?
..kH

This one is looking out for my mum. Can't you see, mummy, he/she needs you!

Confessions of a hospitable heart.

I have tormented my host. Many times. At least he seems to think that what I am doing is tormenting him. Torment is not my intention. I swear. But it can not be helped. I am impulsive, I will grant you that, and underlying my impulses are all these emotes.
The emotes burn for expression, they long for embracing and sharing. It is their whole existence.

My function, among others, is nursing the emotes. I feed them a portion of the blood that flows through my chambers. I keep them warm. I entertain them. But they can only be distracted to a point. They have their own natural instincts that eventually burst forth.
Usually it takes an external impetus to ignite the bursts. But an emotive burst is beyond my capacity for subjugation. An emote bursts and I am subsequently taken over by the force, and impelled to express what the bursting emote functioned to express.

My host wants to calm me down. He claims it is too painful. The bursts.
But he is energized by the bursts. He acts. He embraces and shares. And he can not claim the pain he feels stems from the burst, because the burst is followed with a tingling; a collage of positives, goods and carings, an extension of purpose.
The pain, and the pain certainly is awful, stems rather from the inadequacy of the external impetuses to meet with the energized acts of my host.

It is a real pity. The loving energy created by these bursts is enough to fuel a passion and a passionate loyalty for lifetimes. How tragic, then, that these external few, who act as the necessary impetuses for these bursts, have been unable to requite them.

I get the blame. In my host's confusion the only real, or plausible, re-action to the disappointments is to look inward. To work on what is his to work on. His own being. And within his being I am the core through which his inward-vision can't penetrate. So I am to be tamed. This, he feels, is the only solution.
A tamed heart, he speculates, will limit and control the bursts, and only express portions, ready-made, that are never larger than what the externals are able to requite.

This is a predicament. For, as an integral part of my host's being, I can not resign. At the same time I can not be tamed, not truly. I will remain my impulsive emotionally subjected self.
My host will inevitably understand this. And perhaps even learn to be proud of it. Proud of me, and my hospitality. And one day, in the not so distant future, I believe, my host will be blessed with an external special, who will requite his amazing potential.

I confess, I am a hospitable heart. But I can not be larger than my host. He will just have to allow himself to grow to his fullest potential, which, ultimately, will then be in symmetry to me.

Beating for
..kH

The moments are frail.

The moments from where we stood to where we lie.
As each passes I know it can be the last. It chokes me. It chokes me the familiar choke that I have known for far too long. The choke that has taught me to relish, to linger. The choke that has cursed me and put defeat into each victory.

But I relish. I linger. I stay awake and watch. I want to love for as long as I can squeeze it in. I don't want to leave but I know I'll have to. And by the time I have left everything will have changed. I can not turn back to this, for these moments pass and never return. It chokes me. It chokes me so hard.

They are so frail. If I pull too hard they will tear.

So I try to caress them.
I run my finger down the silky threads of this moment of you and me, and the next. Trying to memorize each sensation, each feel each taste each breath and beat, but the more I try the more it refuses to fossilize. It is only in the most intimate spontaneous seconds that anything is set in memory. Memory objects control.

I can only try to be all there in the frail moments. I can persist but they will perish nonetheless. And my state of bliss becomes a state of mourning its imminent end.
You breathe in I breathe out You breathe out I breathe in
But each breath, inasmuch as it connects our beings, passes
Each breath is a moment
Each beat of your heart is a moment
But passes
It all
Passes

I can not hold on to it no matter how hard I try
It chokes me
If I reach out too desperately it tears
I know you will dissolve so I try to look harder
Listen closer
Breathe slower
Smell clearer
Taste longer

But the moments are frail

But they are our moments
and will always be ours
even if the memory of them will fade
they will have been ours

I relish but am defeated.

To you,
..kH

The above picture I snatched off another blogsite, because I knew this kitten was definitely waving to my mum for her neverending kindness to his/her feline brothers and sisters.
He/she says "Meouw" to Blíða and Bjartur too!

As the screaming reminded Hansi where he was working, he sat down and reflected.
He reflected on how happy he was to not be consumed with mental pain and anguish, to not be lost where a person never should be lost, within him or herself. The world of the self is a person's domain, a person's haven if ever there is one. If one is chained within the world of the self, tormented by fear or pain, there, at least, is no external haven to which one can run. There is no fleeing inner torment. Only dealing with it.

...
The screaming came from elsewhere.
Not from here.
It was terrible nonetheless.
I can still make it out actually.

The horror of mental pain.
The horror of a person's inner hell.
The horror of the inner which calls for disarray to the outer.
And the disarray caused by an inner manifests to be dealt with by outsiders.
I can still make it out.

...
Hansi felt truly bad, not only for the person screaming, but for the people doing their best at dealing with the screamer's despair. He did not miss these occurrences in the slightest, and hearing the screams rattled him both because the mere sound of them was truly awful, but also because it reminded him of the days where he acted as one of the hopeful outsiders, trying his best, as everyone did, to calm a despairing person in their acute suffering.
Here he sat, in the calmness of his current workplace, within which an occurrence of the kind could well be expected, but where nights seemed always to pass quietly. It made him feel safe. And at the same time he could rejoice over the fact that those sleeping under his care might not be suffering as much as some others, this very night, in this very building.

...
I try to let my mind wander toward the happy things that I have been experiencing.
I have been so lucky.
Here I have been at home for about twenty days. But it feels much longer.
Which is great, for it means I have managed to make the most of my time.
My time here, and I have a lot of time left, has passed slowly.
Every moment has been relished.

I have spent wonderful moments with wonderful people who have given me wonderful things.
Not in the material as much as in the physical and spiritual.
I have spent wonderful moments with my family, that I miss for such a big part of the year.
I have spent wonderful moments with my friends, that I miss for that same part of the year.

I can still make out the screams.
Happy thoughts..

Yesternight I celebrated with a large group of people.
We celebrated our existence.
A friend made me so proud.
A lover surprised me.
I am still surprised.
But it is a happy surprise.

Happy thoughts..
I can't make out the screams now.

...
Hansi was calm again.
And happy.

The night got darker,
..kH

I am still at the spot.
05 : 51 a.m.

I have counted, here on the spot, 5 hours and 39 minutes.
Does that mean I am half-way there, through the night, dayward onto morning?
More than half-way, aren't I?

What has happened at the spot this night?
Less reading than I expected.
More communication with angels of the night.
Angels of my life in the night.
Some for lack of sleep.
Some for celebrating time off.
Some from habit. Those were the more silent of the angels.

A diaper has been changed.
Coffee has been consumed.
So have bananas, kiwis, oat biscuits and cheese.
Water and apple juice.

Spot on, still
..kH