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| This blog ended a long time ago, but never got the finish it deserved.
Writing and in this case blogging served as a tool to not only keep in touch with faraway friends, but more importantly, help me navigate my inner narrative and be more aware of my daily surroundings.
What I didn't know when I started this blog was that it would ultimately change my life, as it came to serve as the catalyst that lead me and a certain someone down crazy roads that eventually, landed us HERE:
This is our story.
Mr. Benjamin Volta had –unbeknownst to me- been reading my blog every day for 6 months when he decided to write me, one day in early June of 2006.
“Dear Elise”
…began the email, which had been sent to me through the Xanga messaging system. I scrolled down to see who had written, and the message was signed “Ben”. I had an old friend named Ben, who also kept a blog on Xanga, whom I hadn’t spoken to in quite some time, so I naturally assumed this Ben to be the author.
I read the mail and was somewhat surprised by its flirtatious nature –many lovely compliments written bashfully, but still somehow bold. I soon wrote back starting with what was meant to be a disarming “Ben. You have become such a flirt”, before continuing into the usual round of updates; How is school? What happened to that girl you met while snowboarding? Yada yada yada… “Ben” responded duly in an email telling me openly about his life, which made evident quite a dramatic change of surroundings and interests –what was Ben doing in Philadelphia?- and since when did he teach art to kids? Ben, it appeared, must have had quite a year! The more I read, the clearer the picture emerged: This was not, by any means, the Ben I thought I was corresponding with. This Ben was the wrong Ben, a total stranger!
For a brief moment, I was horrified by my apparent response to a strange man on the internet writing me. Had I known that he was a stranger I would have never replied in the first place, like some half desperate dope who’d never been chatted up before, ready to make a run for it pronto. Then I thought of how embarrassed the poor chap was going to feel after putting so much out there, now that I had to tell him how I’d mistaken him for someone else. At the same time, the whole mishap was actually pretty funny, and when I thought about it, really quite chivalrous on his part. And this is how, all in the same moment, I came to feel horrified, amused, impressed ...and ever so slightly charmed.
What ensued is documented by a number of hilarious emails back and forth, in which the truth came out, textual cringing was involved, and lots of laughs were heard on both ends. It turned out this Ben and I had a couple of common friends, and I came to feel that it would have been nicer to laugh together in person than across the screen.
Being someone who often speaks before I calculate, I summed up my response to the whole situation with “We should be friends now. Or go on a date. To Japan”.
The date part was not heavily intended as such, but rather a choice of words forced by previous encounters which I had stubbornly refused to call dates, but could scarcely in truth be called otherwise. Japan got thrown in there because at that time, my brain functioned at the height of a reoccurring personal obsession with Japanese pop culture, which I had wanted to experience for years but had not yet had the luck to find a travel companion to do so with. It was an off handed gesture mostly, but not entirely, expected to be laughed off as a silly expression of childish enthusiasm. Alas, Ben did what only a brave man could do and called me on it, to which I said “…..*nervous laughter and wringing of hands*… oh. Ok”
Looking back now we love and laugh about this, our first dance around madness, aimed to test if the other person was really as crazy as we hoped, daring each others moves. I had raised the stakes high, and I was not about to back down. We dubbed ourselves “TofuTeam” and joked about the matching t-shirts we’d wear on our romp around Nippon. I thought to myself whether we’d finish the adventure as friends or enemies, going to Japan was what had to happen.
We continued to write long emails back and forth, sharing funny stories and soon covering the more personal things one wants to know about before …well, whisking off on a two week date to a foreign land.
After 20 days of the most intense written correspondence two strangers ever had, we bought our tickets to Tokyo. An account I relayed in a video, shot and edited at 3 in the morning with appropriate happy clappy, which was posted on this very fateful blog.
Soon after this, on July 2nd, Ben turned 27, an event I deemed deserving of a surprise phone call. This initiated a ridiculous number of hours spent on the phone over the course of the summer. We’d watch videos together over the phone “One-Two-Three-Press Play!”, surf the internet together, cook, pee, knit, chat with bypassing neighbors, whatever people do.
Almost 4 months after that first email, as we embarked on our separate planes headed for Narita Airport, we felt no more like strangers than two best friends who had spent a couple of years apart. All that was left was to see if in any way, this great togetherness we had developed over a fluke could turn out to be an illusion. We were in love, but no one had yet been willing to admit it. Can you really feel that way for someone you’ve never seen face to face?
Ben picked me up at the train station. He was leaned back on a railing, drawing in his sketch book. I dragged my dotted suitcase behind me as I approached him.
1 year, 8 months and 29 days later, we signed the deed.
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| hey... old entry I never got around to publish.
this summer has been: kick ass (barcelona), rainy (two months non stop), craaazy busy (working), crazy surprising, and, hmmm, sweet. Ben was here and we visited my parents in their new island home. My mother was born on this strange, magic rock in the baltic, and I lived there myself for 4 years. My favorite memories however are the summers I spent there as a kid. It's definetly remote, it's definetly small, it's postively gorgeous and superstitious. Am on Bornholm (Island) with BenBen. Today we drove around... that's... what you do on Bornholm. we got a sandwich we got an icecream on the rocks we glared at the ocean we stared at the icecream man we drove some more we climbed a dungeon church we drove some more we ate blueberries we got sleepy we walked around After nightfall we drove to the ruins of a 12th century fortress on the northern tip of the island. It sits on top of a cliff wall 250 feet above the sea, which seems forever raging on the rocky ocean side. at the seat of the cliffs is a small harbour, where we went to glare at the ocean s'more (the islanders way of passing the time). It roared like a monster and huge waves crashed over the mole as if trying to eat it. I forget whos idea it was but we decided to get a little crazy and so we drove the car out on the mole... and *RRAAAAAWRR!!!* a wawe jumped over the mole and fell on us with the speed and weight of ...of Godzillas tail hitting Tokyo ...or a god-sized water balloon falling from the clouds *SPLAT!!!* ...and we screamed like bloody murder and jumped so high in our seats and then laughed hysterically and yelled 'more! more!'. We chased the waves which always looked taller and wilder a few meters ahead, and it seemed every time we started to drive another wave would catch us off guard and jump up and scare the everloving shit out of us, leaving us cramping with terror and laughter until we writhed in pain and hoarse high pitched screams from all the exitement. much when you were 4, and your friends dad jumped out from hiding and chased and tickled you til you peed... | | |
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when climbing Sagrada Familia, be sure not to fall...
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| On a more transparent note (or: what has really been on my mind, plus a little story from '92) When I was 10, my mother took me on a trip to the Philippines and Thailand with an organization called the Scandinavian Childrens Mission. We worked with them for two weeks, handing out food in the slums of Manilla, visiting orphanages and group homes for children who had been rescued from sex tourism. Walking around the city at night, I saw girls much younger than myself... and my mother cried a lot. I don't remembered if, or how I processed what I saw.
After we got home, my mother worked with the local media to help spread awareness, and organized petitions addressing politicians to take action against child prostitution.
I returned with a sense of shame and guilt, over being so over privileged and protected. I resented myself for wanting to keep some of my allowance for myself and I found it difficult to understand and connect with my new classmates after we had moved to DK. I just wasn't exited about Palladium shoes and Everlast hoodies (which were must-haves in order to be accepted), or Backstreet Boys, or soccer. I was the weirdo with the dark mind, who wore thrift store clothes I had long grown out of, and talked about things being horribly wrong in the world. I guess I've been struggling ever since, to find the balance between enjoying these privileges, and trying to make a difference. I've gone back and forth between somewhat extreme lifestyles, either spending more than I had on fun or giving all but what would buy me toothpaste and shampoo.
The last four years have been about first emotional survival, and then deciding on and pursuing a future. I do little things like boycott the major capitalist companies who take over the market making it difficult for third world farmers to sell their produce, but other than that I have pretty much blocked these places and these people out of my thoughts.
But that darkness of mind hasn't been shaken, and I still feel ashamed sometimes and I still have to be aware of and work myself up to get exited over certain things and I still find so much in this culture irrelevant. Which is not doing me or anyone else any good. I think if there is a higher power, what he/she/they want us to do in this life -and of course, this is just what I think, at this time- I think there are these two things. To appreciate and enjoy the life we've been given, and to strive to make the lives of others as good as our own. Something like that. Whether my ideas about the meaning of our existence are "correct" or what have we, I could really use some guidance in finding a balance, a way of life that will fulfill those objectives in a not too lopsided manner. I am somewhat embarrassed and afraid to post this. I have been keeping many entries private for a long time now. This blog was an idea I had, meant to do two things, to keep in touch with old friends but probably more importantly, as it is public and all, to make myself narrate my thoughts and emotions in a more lighthearted and proactive way. It really has helped me count my blessings and look on the bright side of things... but lately, I haven't really been able to navigate all that and I've ended up with merely faking it. I'll write about how fun it is to drive a car as it was the only example I could find throughout an entire day, of my mind not brooding over dark observations and feelings of powerlessness. Or less negative things but still more intense than what I considered blogging material.
I guess I learned about the danger in expressing certain thoughts from 4th grade, which was the beginning of a very lonely 5-year period of my life. Pointing out how us westeners are perhaps over privileged and sometimes spoiled, can be a very effective way to alienate oneself.
But since this is the internet, and not my 4th grade classroom... perhaps I've been a big scardycat for no good reason at all! ...Or I'll go and get myself labeled a fanatic lefty loon, but I can think of worse things than that. *smiling*. I am going to take a break from this blogging business, perhaps for a week perhaps for much longer... Posting for the sake of posting, without actually speaking your mind, is ok sometimes I guess but right now it just feels tedious.
This right here feels very liberating. so... :D | | |
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