Mietin sunnuntaina, että on olemassa ihmisiä, joilla on yleensäkin koko viikonloppu vapaata. Ihmisiä, jotka eivät ole koko viikonloppua teatterissa niin kuin minä. Ja ihmisiä, jotka eivät pidä näyttelemisestä, joiden mielestä lavalla oleminen on noloa tai vain muuten vain epämiellyttävää. En ymmärrä ihmisiä, joiden mielestä taide on roskaa. Joiden mielestä teatteri tai musiikki tai mikä vain taide on roskaa.
Huoh. Ei minulla ole mitään sanottavaa. On kiva päästä Helsinkiin kilpailemaan teatterin kanssa! Toisaalta toivoo, ettei pääsisi eteenpäin, (Ruotsiin kai?) koska silloin pitää tehdä tuota yhtä ja samaa esitystä niin pitkään ja kun haluaisi tehdä joskus jotain muutakin.
"Could you believe I'm waiting for someone
Could you believe I'm holding the night with my hands
Alone in the night on my own
I feel the pain inside me
Only you can heal me"
...There is nothing in my mindOn Sunday I was thinking that there are people there who have usually the whole weekend free. People who aren't the whole day in theater like me. And people who dislike acting and who think that being on stage is embarrassing or just in some other ways uncomfortable. I don't understand people who think any kind of art is rubbish. Even though they maybe haven't ever even tried it... Well I don't know anybody who's like that so I don't know what those kind of people might think if they even exist.
But you all the way
You rule every moment
You're the air around me" (Sunrise Avenue, Heal Me)
Sigh. I really have nothing to say. But it's nice to get to Helsinki this weekend...! I somehow hope that we won't get forward (to Sweden, I think?) because then you'll have to do that one and the same performance for so long when you'd like to do something else...
And these are just some nice photos I found from my computer. I have taken these myself (except for the one I'm in). After them you can find one short-story I think I promised to translate ;) (though I think the translation is not a very good one but I don't want to think about it very much...)
White ashes in the wind
I won't dress in black because you told me to dress in white when someone dies. It's a warm day and the sunny happiness feels like it's mocking my sorrow. I'm alone. There's no one in the street and I can't see any cars, either. It's like the whole world was dead.
I walk on the street and suddenly it's like I had been drawn back to a moment months ago.
“I wanna die,” you say as you lay down on the grass beside me. I give a laugh. I think it's a joke. I don't really think you would want to die. “Look at this,” you say and pull your right sleeve up. “Yesterday was a horrible day.”
Red blood stains the white band you have on your arm. You look at me questioning and ready to take the band away but I shake my head. I don't want to see.
That was my biggest mistake. I didn't want to see YOU. I saw only the shell you had built yourself. I looked to your eyes but I didn't want to see inside. Even though you opened yourself to me and tried to pull me to your world. You shouted for help but I didn't come to help you. I thought that you were just playing around but your pain was real. Your love that you wanted to give me was real. Your life-death death-life was real.
Today I really know it's true. You didn't just say so, you really hoped that. I walk the worn stairs to the burning stone where we have burned our dead ones a long time. You are the only corpse. I try to walk to you without collapsing but when I see your face I fall to my knees. The tears won't come. You seem like you were just asleep. Only the words carved on your arms reveal that you are here no more. The blood has only just clotted but your lips are white. “Goodbye” and “I luv u L”are the words you carved on your arms. I stroke your wounds gently and take the burning oil bucket. My eyes are teary and my knees want to give up when I pour the oil on your body.
I look at you for a long time hoping you would get up and say that all this was just a joke. But it wont' happen although I stare at you for a incredibly long time. Storms, rains and dusts come and go... Why won't you wake up?
The fire-making equipment are in my hands. I lit your corpse to flames without leaving my gaze from your face.
You're burning and I would want to pull you out of the fire. Nonetheless I know somewhere deep inside that you haven't been alive for a terribly long time.
It takes a long time until you're turned completely into ashes. I kneel beside your ashes and stick my hands into the hot ash. It burns like hell but I don't want to take my hands away because it's you and you're still there. The wind is blowing the ashes away and I'm trying to stop it without any success. I cry.
The wind blows the still warm ash I took with me when I left straight from my hands. I try to shout but I can't make a sound other than sobbing. I sit on the ground a long time, eyes shut. My tears have finally stopped. I sit quietly and when I open my eyes the ash is gone. It's like you never existed.