Thinking out loud

 https://youtu.be/uy7ZRRDkWw4?si=mXc3jNyaqFzQhc7S Listen to   Tchaikovsky, Pyotr Ilyich: The Seasons, Op. 37a No. 6 June "Barcarolle " 17 years after the events in my life happened, I've red Feodor Dostoyevsky's White Nights and realised a number of similarities to my own experiences: 1 main character outright describes himself as a dreamer. I was a dreamer, both in my own head and by any independent view of my thoughts at the time 2 main male character meets the main female character Nastenka on the anniversary of 1 year of her love story. I first talked to mine on her 2 year anniversary of her love story.  3 Both myself and the main character were warned about falling in love with the main female character. Ok, I wasn't forbidden to do that, but close enough  4 In both stories the main female character gets very excited on the sight of her original love interest to the point of completely loosing sight of the other person by their side (this one was the trigger ...

 She says Pablo Alboran Perodname He answers with Pablo Alborán - Si hubieras querido  I spent 17.5 years thinking I failed because she didn't love me. Because she didn't love me how I dreamed I wanted to be loved.  But even after she made it (painfully) clear I wasn't to be the father of her children, she still wanted to be around me. She still wanted to make me better, as I also wanted the same for her, to make her be the best version of herself possible.  What is love if it's not wanting all the best for the other person? If love is being so altruistic that the other person's happiness comes before yours, that you are happy they have found their better half, then it was love. It wasn't what I wanted, but she was honestly happy for me and I was happy for her, than that makes it love. 

  If the link doesn't work, listen to Jacques Brel VESOUL     Perfection is nowhere to be seen in human relationships, and in this case it means that sometimes you don't get exactly what you want, and neither does your partner. A good compromise would mean that you each get at least a part of what you want. A bad one means, like Brel you get nothing and the other one gets what they want (he wanted to see her sister but  they saw her mum). I suppose there are the disastrous compromises where no one get what they want, but I suspect those may be so rare we'll call them an exception.      My whole job is reaching compromises in order for things to  work out for all stakeholders. I'm not the best at it but decent enough. I wish I was at least half as good at it in my own relationship. I'm not really much the one for conflict, even if I'm probably not a people pleaser, but at home at least I more often than not  choose the path of least resistance...

  If the link doesn't work, listen to Bill Withers -Lean on me           Last weekend I've met up with some friends I've known for half my life at this point. Life, children, work have kept us busy so we probably haven't seen each other in a bit over 2 years. The hugs I got (and gave ) where epic, and not due to static electricity.  It got me thinking about how many types of hugs there are and how they make you feel: The weird smelling aunt you see once a year at a family function The goodbye hug to a coworker who taught you alot but is now leaving the company The hug from your wife's third cousin's wife when she comes to your wedding and you never saw her before in your life Your partner's hug when you've been away for a long time and you see each other at the airport. The hug you give your mother when your father has passed away.  The hug from the guy with the "Free hugs" placard in the photo.    All of those and many more are pub...

  If the link doesn't work, listen to Bill Withers -Lean on me           Last weekend I've met up with some friends I've known for half my life at this point. Life, children, work have kept us busy so we probably haven't seen each other in a bit over 2 years. The hugs I got (and gave ) where epic, and not due to static electricity.  It got me thinking about how many types of hugs there are and how they make you feel: The weird smelling aunt you see once a year at a family function The goodbye hug to a coworker who taught you alot but is now leaving the company The hug from your wife's third cousin's wife when she comes to your wedding and you never saw her before in your life Your partner's hug when you've been away for a long time and you see each other at the airport. The hug you give your mother when your father has passed away.  The hug from the guy with the "Free hugs" placard in the photo.    All of those and many more are pub...

  If the link above should quit working, listen to Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton      On Sunday, the handle on my kitchen door broke. Being a shitty Chinese door with non-standard size, I had to order it and it arrived Tuesday. Spent 3 hours on Tuesday and 1,5 hours on Wednesday to fit the damn thing, buy a chisel, hack out a bigger hole for it and clear the way for it to close, but I got it done. If my father could have been here, he would've probably done it in less than an hour. Unfortunately, he passed a way ten and a half years from pancreatic cancer.     My father worked with wood all his life. He was a pattern maker by trade, working with wood , epoxy and polyesteric resins, fibreglass and all manner of solvent based paints and glues. He also made probably hundreds of doors, windows, staircases, and pieces of furniture and fitted hundreds of locks to doors and windows (I watched him myself fit about a dozen over the years). Not only that, but ...

  If the link above should quit working, listen to Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton      On Sunday, the handle on my kitchen door broke. Being a shitty Chinese door with non-standard size, I had to order it and it arrived Tuesday. Spent 3 hours on Tuesday and 1,5 hours on Wednesday to fit the damn thing, buy a chisel, hack out a bigger hole for it and clear the way for it to close, but I got it done. If my father could have been here, he would've probably done it in less than an hour. Unfortunately, he passed a way ten and a half years from pancreatic cancer.     My father worked with wood all his life. He was a pattern maker by trade, working with wood , epoxy and polyesteric resins, fibreglass and all manner of solvent based paints and glues. He also made probably hundreds of doors, windows, staircases, furniture, fitted hundreds of locks to doors and windows (I watched him myself fit about a dozen over the years). Not only that, but he had all the to...