Spread the love like honey

I don't know what it was today. My friend Paula would probably say: "You must have showered in honey." That's her explanation for days that are the positive equivalent of a bad hair day- days when everyone seems to compliment you and you start to feel better and better. I had one of those today. The funniest thing about it is that it actually started as a bad hair day. My hair just wasn't looking right, but for some reason I still did not bother to wash it when I had my shower in the morning. Maybe I was in a rush, or maybe I just wanted to avoid having to blow-dry it, which I find a pain in the arse. Actually, I think I was half-asleep when I got into the shower and only noticed as I was getting dressed that my hair looked shit. So I put on a red beret, and then of course, seeing that I'm obsessed with colour-coordination, some other red accessories. After that, I was ready to rock my day.

I went into the city, got myself a big take-away coffee and hit my favourite fleamarket. I love fleamarkets so much that I would probably marry one if that was a viable option. I bought a few old tins (I know. I really don't need any more, but I can't help myself), a couple of necklaces, a leather bag, a book and two old picture frames. I had a long chat with one of the stallholders- an interesting old man who was Swiss but had grown up in India. When he heard that I was just starting out as a journalist, he told me that he knew I was going to be one of those brave journalists the world needs. And when I wanted to buy one of his books, he refused to take money for it, because he said it was such a pleasure to talk to me and he wanted to give me a present. So then I insisted to bring him a coffee, and he said, thank you, God bless you, although it was him who had started the being nice thing.

Next up, a woman with a big camera approached me and asked if she could take a couple of photos of me, because she loved my style, especially the red hat. I said, sure, go ahead, and gave her the biggest smile her camera had ever seen.

But that still wasn't enough of the good things. I had to go and see a concert at night to write an article about. It was fities' style rock n' roll, so the audience was a really mixed group of people of almost all ages. As I left the concert hall, a well-dressed guy, who was probably in his fifties, approached me and said: "Excuse me, can I pay you a compliment?" I said: "Sure, anytime." He looked at me and said: "You are a fascinating woman. Whatever it is you do, you will be very successful, I can tell. Have a wonderful evening." I smiled and said thank you. I was really shocked. But in a good way. The whole way home I had this big smile on my face. Who would have thought that bad hair days can turn out this good.

I'm a huge fan of random acts of kindness. They cost nothing, take almost no effort, yet make the world a better place. So in the name of world peace, dear boys and girls, I urge you, get amongst it. Speak up when you like something, smile, spread the love, be happy, don't hold back. I promise, it will make you feel good. And you might just turn someone's bad hair day into a honey day.

Meow twice if you would like some dinner

As the train arrived at the main station today and people were starting to get out, I was waiting behind a woman with two dogs that weren't too good at waiting patiently. The woman was talking to her dogs, trying to get them to calm down. She spoke to them as if they were people: "Come on, settle down, stop being so impatient all the time. What did I tell you? Wait now, you just never really listen, do you?" One of the dogs looked at her a bit confused. Now I absolutely believe that dogs are intelligent creatures, but somehow I highly doubted that they were understanding what being more patient meant, or that they should listen more.

I find it hilarious how people try to have conversations with their pets. A friend of mine has a new kitten and she will squat down in the kitchen in front of the little cat and say: "What's wrong? Are you hungry? Ha? Do you want to eat something?" But surprisingly, the stupid kitten just does not answer. I was standing next to them in the kitchen, saying to the kitten: "Come on, answer her! Why don't you say something?" But it just won't. Animals can be so rude.

Are you man enough to handle this?

Look, guys, you might think that you are pretty cool and stuff. But, and I hate to break it to you, unless you have an underground car fragrance, you are really just chicken shit.

Can I help you into your grave there, ma'am?

I'm writing on an article about high school education at the moment and in this context went to visit my old high school yesterday. I have never been back since I finished school and got all emotional as I walked up the familar way from the train station to my old school. Memories came flooding back... what a journey I have been on since I last graced this place with my presence.

For my second interview, I found a smart little 16-year-old girl who specialises in old languages, writes for the school paper (awww- just like I did at her age) and wants to be a lawyer later on. I told her that I myself had gone to this very school. "But that was a long time ago," I said, "I finished in 1998." She looked at me with an air of disbelief and said: "Wow. I wasn't even alive then." For a split second I thought: "Shit. Am I really that old?" But then I laughed. "I think you are getting your times mixed up there, girlie." She was quite embarassed. "I'm sorry. I thought you said 1989."

The fact that she even considered I could have finished school before she was alive did concern me just a tiny little bit. But hey, I guess in her eyes, I probably am borderline ancient.

When Marilyn and I used to hang out.

This is what I looked like in the fifties. Don't laugh, those curls were all the rage then.

And now stop procrastinating and get back to work, Bettina. Seriously.

Don't forget to close the door when you leave.

I feel like I'm just one step ahead of melancholy at the moment. I'm trying to walk at a normal pace while melancholy is following me around slowly; I can feel its stare in my back. Maybe I should just stop, let it catch up with me and see what happens, but for some reason I'm a little bit worried about it this time. We generally get along well, melancholy and I, we are quite good friends, although I wouldn't say we spend all that much time together. But we respect each other, and sometimes we hang out for a bit- I quite like her company. She is quiet and beautiful and sometimes she whispers inspiration into my ear. But at this very moment, it feels more natural to speed up just ever so slightly, without trying to run, without trying to let anyone notice it. I'm not turning around, I'm not flinching.

I don't know what it is. I do usually get a little bit of a post festival blues, when it is suddenly far too quiet after a weekend of so much colour and happiness, but I think it's a bit more than that. Maybe it's because I have been doing a bit too much thinking, and have occasionally let the thoughts settle down on me like a heavy blanket- I didn't do it on purpose, I just sat there and the thoughts huddled around me. Started to pretend they were all important, profound and meaningful. Were looking at me with those Oh-I'm-so-very-mysterious eyes and asking me deep questions like, "where do you belong?" and "is there truly a place you belong to?" I really think they can get a bit ridiculous sometimes those thoughts. Honestly, they should just go and hang out with other oh-so-deep-and-meaningful thoughts instead of bothering me. Oh yeah, and take melancholy with you when you leave, ok? I don't want her right now.

I love turning thirty. I might do it again soon.