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For the longest time I wanted to be cremated because the thought of decaying and being eaten by worms etc. wasn't terrible appealing, but I really don't care any longer. I'll be dead, so I (hopefully) won't know, and I certainly won't care. I still rather like the thought of being cremated and having the ashes scattered, so that I (although it's absurd saying 'I' when talking about one's ashes...) won't be confined in a single space, but as far as I know scattering the ashes is forbidden here, and in the end that's probably a pointless self-indulgance. Maybe death is the point where one should finally relinquish control...
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There are probably better answers, but without thinking too much about it, what (a bit surprisingly, after all these years) comes to mind is 'The smell of sunshine / I remember sometimes' from NIN's I'm Looking Forward to Joining You, Finally.

The why has a lot to do with the depressive phase I was going through at the time, and how, even when you're helplessly stuck and can't see a way out, you sometimes remember that there was a time when it wasn't like that, when life used to be different, beautiful, alive. I don't know if that's what the line is actually about, but that always was it for me.

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Not really. I didn't actually chose it for lj, but for some message-board. I think. Memories are a bit fuzzy after almost eight years... Essentially, I needed a username, wanted something that wasn't either NIN related or the username I'd mostly gone by before, started browsing through my bookshelves for inspiration, ended up with Elizabeth von Arnim's The Solitary Summer, and stuck with that ever since. It's vague enough not to signal any fanish allegiances, has a bit of a melancholy air without being depressing, but actually isn't even that, because Elizabeth enjoyed her summer, even if it wasn't quite as solitary as she wanted it to be, and for me solitude is about feeling safe and being myself, and essentially something positive. If I had to pick one word to describe myself, it'd probably be 'solitary', so it really fits.
solitary_summer: (baum & schatten)
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*g* See, this? Not an issue. Whatever a horrific taste in music is, and taking into account that my own probably qualifies as such. Not saying that there aren't a few things out there that might make me roll my eyes a bit, but barring, say, an over-fondness for lyrics and bands I'd find offensive for political reasons, I literally couldn't think of anything that would be a problem if I liked the person. I'm not a big fan of elitism.

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In a romantic partner especially a strict pro-life stance would be an absolute deal breaker, because that'd be putting your trust in someone who doesn't even respect your autonomy over your body. Sexism, because that would imply they don't see me as an equal human being. And I really cannot imagine living with or loving someone whose worldview included the idea that any group of people is inherently better than another. Extreme hatred is a big turn off, as is the incapability to look at a situation from another's perspective. And (neo)nazi anything will make me back away even from casual acquaintances.

Death penalty is an issue, because I don't trust people who would want that kind of power over someone else's life. By the same token I don't trust people who comment on articles about crimes with their punishment fantasies of torture and dismemberment.


I've read some of the other answers to this question, and I'm actually feeling more than a bit narrow-minded and intolerant now. I guess my opinions might change somewhat when this isn't about a hypothetical situation, but a real person whom I might find enough common ground with otherwise, but on a very basic level I don't trust a romantic partner who makes these kinds of judgements about other people to respect me.
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Yes.


But the thing is, for me that doesn't make life any less wonderful (or terrible) or meaningful. Which may sound a little odd, coming from me with my bouts of depression and self-doubt, but while I may not always believe this when it comes to myself, I do think humanity has the potential for great things, as well as terrible ones. (Slightly related, it struck me a couple of days ago that all the TV shows I really love have some kind of, broadly speaking, humanist leitmotif, even if it's often bordering on the existentialist.)

I don't think there is a soul in the sense of something separate from the body. For me it's all in the brain, the body's chemistry. But why would that make me or anyone else less of a person, less of a human being? Is my niece growing up any less amazing? Is all the writing, all the art, philosophy and thought humanity has produced over the millennia worth less under that assumption? Are love, friendship or compassion less meaningful because they are the result of how our brains work instead of some kind of non-tangible 'soul'?

This kind of non-logic always baffles me. Why is it the mysterious, the inexplicable automatically worth more?

solitary_summer: (wenn die vernunft schläft...)
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Deathly Hallows, because it was such a satisfying ending to the series. I really liked the conclusion/resolution to Snape's arc (and I'll always remember & giggle over 'Would you like me to do it now or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?'), and the King's Cross chapter is one of my favourite things ever.

I love it. Even the epilogue and the children. Sue me.

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The immediate answer would be, not much, because mostly it was fucked up, not a lot of fun and the root of so many issues I'm still struggling with.


On second thoughts though, what I do kind of miss is being messed up and weird and not fitting in, but at least not being aware of it, not to the full extent. I miss that lack of self-consciousness. In many ways life was much easier like that, not always having to be aware of one's own faults and shortcomings and the things one should change and cannot. Having this vague but still unquestioned trust that things will eventually get better.

solitary_summer: (winterabend)
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Ocean. Provided it's a moderately nice bit of ocean... A beach and mild climate at least part of the year would be nice, but are not required. Maybe it's because my parents didn't hold with the classical lazy beach holiday and the first time I actually saw the sea was when I was twelve or thereabout, when we were on holiday in London and took a day trip to the coast, I can't even remember where. (Clacton-on-sea. I think.) The first time I swam in the sea was when I was eighteen, in Crete, on our Maturareise. There's just something very zen about the sea, in a way it's almost a symbol of infinity, enough to suggest the real thing, which we can't really grasp anyway. And this is also where I always drag out a quote from Th. Mann's Buddenbrooks: Was für Menschen es wohl sind, die der Monotonie des Meeres den Vorzug geben? Mir scheint, es sind solche, die zu lange und tief in die Verwicklungen der innerlichen Dinge hineingesehen haben, um nicht wenigstens von den äußeren vor Allem Eins verlangen zu müssen: Einfachheit...

I'd love a house near the sea. Which of course isn't going to happen in this lifetime, unless I'm winning the lottery, which is unlikely (well, more unlikely), since I almost never play.



In other news, shitty day was shitty.

I'm not the most conflict-happy person in the world, but once I'm riled, I don't mind an argument getting a bit loud and/or passionate. What I hate, hate, hate is this passive aggressive crap where you're being talked down to like a mentally defective five year old and the person who does it believes they somehow have the moral high-ground because you're losing your temper and they remain 'calm'. I came *so* close to grabbing my coat and bag and just walking out today, but of course I can't, mustn't, especially not now, and then I almost started kicking things.


Yesterday's entry made me come across like a grumpy misanthropic alcoholic-in-the-making who should expect visits from the ghosts of Christmas past, present, future & possibly alternate realities in a couple of weeks; does this one make me look like an unbalanced creep? I'm kind of starting to expect defriending...

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To be honest, I'm getting less and less fond of each and every holiday tradition. Christmas baking? Used to love it, increasingly a chore. Christmas at the parents, decorating the tree? Spare me. Christmas in retail? Usually beyond awful, this year non-hectic in differently but equally upsetting ways. Advent markets? Same old. Ventured across a couple of them today in search of gifts, suppressing the urge to buy a Christmas punch or several, because drinking punch at 2-3 in the afternoon, alone, is clearly beyond pathetic. Maybe 'alone' is the keyword & problem here, although it doesn't usually get to me like this, even at Christmas.

Plus, I've been seeing Vanillekipferln and Lebkuchen in the supermarkets since late August/early September, so it's really hard to still get enthusiastic.

I still sort of like getting people presents, though. And getting days off, oh definitely.


Then again today clearly isn't my best day. I was going to buy soap and paper handkerchiefs because I'm sniffing and sneezing again, which, oh the whole, you'd think wasn't an impossibly hard task. Spent a completely disproportionate amount of time wandering back and forth through the shop, because I kept forgetting what I wanted, especially once my, er, mind? not so much, got sidetracked by toothpaste. I don't even feel sick enough to justify that, just a bit sniffly and woozy.

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The Buffy/Angel-verse. I've just finished Buffy 2.03, where Spike and Drusilla come to Sunnydale, and, *sigh*, nostalgia. It's Angel I miss more, though, or would have wanted to continue if I had to pick one, because I wanted a better and at least slightly happier ending form them all. (On that note, how do the comics compare? Are they worth buying if you're not a big comic book fan?)

And it's not only defunct shows that I'm missing, since I've been sucked into those only-13-episodes-per-series British shows, *cough*Torchwood*cough*.

~




I suspect deep down I'm really just a sappy pop kind of girl, and should be starting to give away all those NIN CDs that I haven't listened to in a rather long time anyway...

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After I'd seen The Producers, Springtime for Hitler (which I actually found rather awkward in the context of the show and was the one part I didn't really like) got stupidly stuck in my head so much that I actually caught myself humming it once or twice. 'Dread' is the appropriate expression here. You don't want to go walking around Vienna humming 'Frühling für Hitler'. *buries face in hands*

Or when it's only a couple of lines that suddenly surface out of nowhere and you can't remember the song or artist, and it bugs you the whole day. Although this was a lot more annoying in pre-Google and internet times...

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