So, hello! Wow this really does feel like I’m on some kind of blind date hehe.
I guess I’ll begin with saying a few things about me, right? So, my name is Julia (though many prefer to call me Julie) and I come from a little town on the north-west coast of Poland called Sarbinowo. It’s a pretty wee town, and yet at the age of 5 I was swiftly flown across the north sea and planted in another wee town in the UK, as many immigrants do these days! And here were are; I am now studying A-Level English Literature, German and History and hope to go to University this upcoming autumn.
I’ve always liked writing, so I thought why not start a lil blog? I’m your type of all-over-the-place gal so who knows what this will all be about, but I’m excited to see! A bit of travel, a bit of book-talk, friends, art, photography: all that edgy jazz you see all over fancy instagram pages. Not that I expect an audience, I just frickin like writing.
But, here’s the catch. I am also an aspiring German student soooo some cheeky posts in German (very broken and grammatically incorrect, but still German) will also be making an appearance. One has to practice somehow! (hence the photo thingy at the top, it’s from a trip to Berlin in 2017 which pretty much changed my life, love ya Lauren x)
There are a few things I truly love: my family, my friends (they’re a given), Frank Sinatra, Scotland, Germany (duh shut up now) but most importantly the memories I get to collect along the way; I think they’re the most precious non-physical things any human being can have. Saying that, I often find myself struggling with certain thoughts and memories, and I want to make this ‚blog‘ a little mental journey too, I suppose.
Anyhow, I better get back to writing up an English essay which I actually sat down to do about half an hour ago, and did this instead. That’s ’nuff from me!
Scotland, light of my life. My sin, my soul. Scot-laand. Anyone who’s ever read Lolita will understand that reference; though I’m not a 40 year old perverse man with a crush on a 12 year old gal. But rather, my heart lies with the glens and lochs and tartan and highland coos (and the accent, fuck me). Whilst this is all enough to make me fall head over heels with the place, there are a few things that are truly important to meeee.
Ballachulish on March 23rd 2018. That was our first ever trip to the Highlands with my grandparents, me mum, and our loyal hound (Lady, she’s a baby King Charles lol). The funny thing is I never wanted to go, nor did I really care for Scotland at all; it was just another place my fam wanted to visit together. BUT BOI. I was, well, „shooketh“, as some may say. A few little things made the trip so special; there was no signal, so our only music choice in the car was instrumental compositions by some Russian pianists and violinists; it was feckin freezing, but the rawness of the air made the warmth that the mountains and ridges gave us stronger; my family, my closest family, was together. We took it all in together.
Small backstory. My grandad was diagnosed with lung cancer in May 2017, and he passed away in August 2018. Now for most people I know, their grandparents mean very little to them and exist as just another set of family members. To us, however, grandad was everything but that. I won’t get too into it, but one thing I have to mention is his want to live and to help us live. Mad little man he was sometimes, but through his madness he helped us see what really matters in the world in our own individual minds; for me, it was travelling to the little places on earth. Whilst I would never deny a cheeky trip to the USA, or some island in the east, I found that the small places tend to hold most warmth and meaning. Because of that trip, every time I think of Scotland I think of his happy face running down the hills with me, trying to escape the rain (we made it hehe).
Since then I’ve visited Scotland a handful of times; for Uni stuff (of course I applied to Edinburgh), with a friend and visiting another, I can say with confidence that almost each time was added to my top-ten memory list. It’s just a place that makes you feel at home, whether that’s due to the people, the customs…or the haggis 😉 (jks never actually tried haggis yet, fake fan :/). Edinburgh is just gorgeous and has so so much history, though if you prefer something more rural – the Highlands are obviously your top choice (100% recommend Ballachulish or higher near the Isle of Skye!). Glasgow’s just funny for the accent – ‚Glesga‘ cracks me up every time -, Dundee’s a cosy lil city with some cool cafes and a tonne of history too! I don’t know much about it, won’t lie, but it’s deffo a nice place to go especially if you’re a student. Heard Aberdeen is goooood too, never been myself though! (It’s next on the visit list ;)).
Boy, the memories. The good, the bad, the hard and the beautiful; they all happened there. I miss them every day; I’ve found that little thing that makes me smile every night.
You surprised me with your arrival; you were unexpected. You spread simple happiness and excitement and comfort. I remember every fragile crystal you released into the numbing air, how you kissed me with your warm, passionate kisses on my white, shivering skin. I remember holding you in my palms, examining every frozen structure as you melted into my skin, and I melted into yours. You’re just snow, yet you envelope me in your irresistible comfort every time you fall, every time you stain me with the clarity you call the honesty of your heart.
You fall with a dialect that turns my blood into ice. I melt into each unmistakable vibration of your quiet whispers, your breath tickling my neck with an icy softness as you spread your happiness with the frost that is your mind. You’re frozen. You’re always the same. You’re controlled by the forces of the earth, by humanity which destroys you. She controls you. She makes you colder. You don’t fight, and so you’re frozen. And the worst thing is, I’m frozen with you. I want your whispers. I’m frozen with you.
I want to be. I want to trace my fingertips along the little raw imperfections of the snow. I want to feel the warmth that lurks within, the warmth that you gave me with our first embrace. So long ago. That’s why I want you; you remind me of the simple, fleeting moments that you froze into my reality. That’s why I hate you; you shattered those moments with the ignorance that you call your reality. But you’re just snow, you’re meant to be frozen – that’s your reality.
You’re the unexpected snow on a February morning; that’s your magic. The unexpected happiness and comfort and warmth and memories that you inflict with your frozen blue eyes. I drown in them again and again, like weak ice on the river of dreams. And that’s what I’ll remember.
I began journaling pretty much exactly one year ago. I began because quite honestly, I could not figure out what was going on in my head at the time (boys, right?) anddd I’m pretty sure my friends hated me for constantly talking about the same thing over and over – I don’t blame them, I was friggin annoying.
At first the pages were pretty bland, just me spilling my thoughts out onto paper. With time, however, I began adding little drawings and paintings and the pages became so reflective of my emotions that my non-german-speaking friend (hey Rosie ;)) could instantly tell how I was feeling when creating them. Some, like the above, are quite self explanatory.
It’s crazy how simple writing on paper can actually make you feel. You know the feeling when you’ve just got a million thoughts racing around in your mind, and you’re just completely lost? Yeah, well this helps. For me, it feels like I’m talking to another person, like I’m helping someone else. That separation from yourself can sometimes be really refreshing, you get to see from another perspective. It gets rid of the anger, the frustration, the sadness and that overwhelming feeling of just everythingggg (without pestering other people too!). The only way I can really describe journaling is as mentally liberating; you get carried away in the words and further decorating the paper; you feel like a frickin Picasso or da Vinci or Van Gogh (just vv free and artistic).
How do you get into journaling?
Well, as a young youth I could never ever stick to writing a diary: the „dear diary“ format just never really worked for me, sorry. I’d always try but I would cringe whenever I’d even begin so let’s not even talk about that.
But under the super intense pressure of not being able to deal with a boy (tragic, I know), I ran out of coping options. I decided to write, but in German. I felt that because I couldn’t understand what I wrote immediately after writing it I would feel less embarrassing, and I actually did. Therefore, I just kept writing and writing and writing and eventually, one year later, I feel comfortable enough to write in actual English (wow!!!!). Yeah, I’d say try writing whenever you feel a breakdown coming along, that’s when you tend to not actually give a shizzle about how cliche you sound.
Plus, you can always just start by writing down some quotes or poetry you like that reflects your own thoughts – I do that a lot too. Also makes me feel better about myself not being the only one feeling a certain way.
Don’t forget to write when you’re happy too! I realise I’ve been talking about only writing in extreme emotional conditions. Perhaps writing down the happy things happening in your life will help you remember them more clearly; you can add some cute polaroids too.
But on a basic note: if you want to journal, just get a cute notebook and find some inspiration on Pinterest – they have about a million examples how you can spice up your pages (sooo aesthetically pleasing). And stop worrying if it sounds a lil cringe, it’s for your eyes only if you want it to be.
Do it for the mems
That’s a big one for me now. Imagine being old, not remembering a lot about your teenage years (since old people always talk about how they want to be young again) and reading back your diary and remembering everything you did, you thought, you felt. That seems pretty extraordinary to me.
Letters are fun too. For example, I wrote myself a letter on New Year’s eve explaining everything that had occurred that year. The people I met, the places I’ve been, the sadness and the happiness I experienced. I also asked myself a few questions about the upcoming year, where I’ll go and what I’ll see. I sealed it and stuck it in my diary. Can’t wait to open it in 11 months‘ time!! (:
I added a few pictures of my journal onto here; I love looking back over it.