My Summer of Tireless Pursuit of Love

One Summer I dated 5 different men (not at the same time) and ended up feeling lonelier than ever by the end of Summer.

“So, how do you feel about me” I asked one of the guys after having been going out with him for about a month. “Umm” the guy said looking slightly horrified and palms starting to sweat “ I really like hanging out with you”. Sigh, I thought, where is the passion? Do you think you could fall in love with me or not? I need to know, now please.

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And so naturally I decided that a guy with so little gusto for me was not worth it and and told him I thought it was better that we just stop this thing. This scenario pretty much repeated itself in some shape or form with every guy I dated that Summer.

One sunny evening towards the end of Summer I was walking though a park and sat myself down beneath a tree to pity myself for a while and write in my diary. I felt rejected and lonely, and didn't understand why nobody wanted to be with me. The American guy I just had spent the last two weeks with had left. When he hadn't asked me to come visit him by the end of our time together I knew what it meant- it was yet another romantic fairy tale dream crushed by stupid boring realism.

If these guys didn't know how they felt towards me after a few weeks of dating how could that turn into something true and meaningful? I mean, it either is or it isn't, right?

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But, looking back now it is so obvious to me that a large part of this was completely my own fault!

Because, falling in love also requires patience and commitment, and time. Contrary to the movies it often doesn't happen at first sight and certainly doesn't happen if you pressure someone into loving you.

I had set up expectations as high as the Eiffel tower even before I knew what I felt, and I now realize that none of them probably ever stood a chance (okay, maybe if one of them would have been a pastry maker and bribed me with sweets I could've looked past the lack of passion).

 

 

Creative Generations Under One Roof

Since I was a baby, creativity has been in the air. Both my parents are freelancing artists, who have had careers filled with dedication, hard work and a lot of playfulness.

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My Dad is a classical composer and he is always working on something. His mind is constantly at work and with him he always carries a little notebook ready to scribble down music passages and ideas when they suddenly strike.

My Mom is a dramaturge and translator and writes for the theater, radio and TV. She has a huge interest in people and has the largest actual social network of anyone I know (and spends a serious amount of time gossiping on the phone). She is also a diligent reader and proudly keeps up with current events.

Growing up I never experienced any of them them on the usual 9-5 schedule, and to me it seemed their work was a much more fluid and organic part of life. They both make up their own work schedules and at home I could never really tell the difference between “work time” and “free time”.

I have definitely inherited my parent’s genes in regards to creativity. Ever since I was a child I’ve been a bit of a project hoarder. I would love to start collecting things; everything from buttons to crystals to cow themed stuff to bath balls (do you remember when those were a thing?).

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I would also have a ton of grand construction projects, like making a life sized playhouse castle out of milk cartons or putting together my own garden with a glass house or building and furnishing a three story high dolls house. And these were ideas I had before the age of 10!

Being in a creative state of flow and building something new, is the one state that I feel the most comfortable in, and one that I naturally gravitate towards. But I don't consider this unique or special in any way, and I have never been occupied by this whole notion of having a “creative lifestyle”. This way of being and living is just what comes natural to me and feels right.

At any given point, I have multiple projects going on simultaneously. This can sometimes lead to frustration because I am significantly better at starting things than finishing them (exception: chocolate). This leads to me feeling distracted and like I am not getting anything done, or make me question if there’s any value in pursuing all these projects when no end results are produced.

But lately I’ve switched my thinking around, and now I’m trying to value the creative process more and not just focus on the end goal. It is usually the process I enjoy more than the outcome anyways, much like eating a piece cake, the process of eating it feels far better than the food guilt that follows. It is also that experience of the process that spark up inspiration for the next project, after trying the chocolate cake you get a bit curious about the cheese cake.

I love the excitement I feel when a new idea or concepts presents itself inside my brain, and I get completely consumed by the pursuit of its promise and realization. Being in the creative state of flow is almost like entering a vacuum where time does not exist, like stepping into another dimension of some sort.

That creative dimension is definitely my homestead and it stays with me wherever I go. In that way I’m a bit like a snail that carries its home on its back, always ready to retract from the world  and live in my own imagination.

That being said though!...

Of course creativity can be a pain in the butt when nothing feels like it’s working. I never got the feeling from my parents that it was easy or that leading a creative life was all about divine inspiration and great moments of truth and meaning. It gets messy, it gets frustrating, and in the end you just have to get over yourself, strap in and work at it hard.

PS
I recently read a great book about living a creative life,  it is by Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) and is called Big Magic “Creative living beyond fear”. I warmly recommend it if you are interested in encouraging advice given with warmth and humor and deep insights into the process of making something.

I Thought the World Needed Another Blog

Hi, my name is Veronika but you can call me Kika.

I was born in the year of 88', just one year before the Berlin Wall came down.

I recently graduated with a MA in choreography back from my hometown Helsinki, Finland. I'm currently living in the heart of Scandinavia, Stockholm with my two favorite things, my cat and my boyfriend (in that order).

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As the title subtly implies a blog is probably the last thing the internet and the world needs. So, bearing that in mind let me just start by talking about my personal motivations to start one anyways.

I really miss being surrounded by like minded people and feeling like a part of a community like the one I found in Art school, and I wish I could be part of something larger than myself again. Starting a blog is in some way an attempt to reach out my hand into the virtual space, like you do you when you invite someone up to dance.

I have always had a rich imagination and a lot of stuff going on in my head. My inner life has taken me to incredible heights creatively but also gets me into trouble when I start to overanalyze and self-doubt. To write a blog and to post images on Instagram allows for a space of daily creative experimentation, and then sharing it with the world just makes it that much more exciting!

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I actually have no problem spending time alone, but being in a new country away from all of my friends and social circles makes my need for connection even stronger. So I'm now carving out a little space for me to share and develop myself creatively and at the same time communicate concepts and ideas online (my cat is a great cuddly pet, but it does get a bit one-sided when we have artsy conversaations).

I've always been into diaries, and a Blog I guess is just another way of fulfilling that same need of documenting and pondering daily life. Now it just happens in a whole new era of communication where the possibilities of sharing are endless. How lucky are we as a generation where all of this is available at our fingertips?

I think we as humans have an inherent need to want to make sense of things and organize events in linear and easy to understand “cause & effect” relationships. My own perception of life doesn't really work like that. It's messy and complex.

The best metaphor I can come up with to describe this is that my mind is a bit like a squirrel on a mission: focused but easily distracted. This has historically caused me a lot of grief and annoyance, but lately I've attempted to embrace it a bit more and to go with the flow of my perceived existence of fragmentation.

Sharing one post at a time, one image at a time or one thought a time feels like a very suitable format that supports my new way of coping with this scattered life.

I hope you want to indulge this squirrel and jump with me onto the bouncy castle. Thank you for taking the time to read my scribblings and see you soon!

Kika

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