I think a lot about shiny happy people. I wonder if they are circular. They are happy because they are shiny, and shiny because they are happy. I wonder if I would be happier if I were shinier. I wonder how easy it would be to make myself shinier. I wonder to what extent shiny happy people are natural or self-made. Maybe if you believe you can create your personality, then you can. And if you don't believe you can, then you can't. I don't believe I can, even if I want to believe. (But I do believe others can, so that's at least a step towards optimism.) (If you consider the belief in self-made personalities to be optimistic.) (I do.)
The other thing I think a lot about is thinking. I think thinking is bad, so I've been trying to not do much of it. Hence my silence. (I'm also sure I've written all these things before, only with slightly different wording.) Writing forces you to think. So I was thinking, maybe if I don't write, then I won't think. But in the end, thoughts come back. Cogito ergo sum. Or sum ergo cogito.
And I figure, if I can't suppress the thoughts, then I might as well start writing them down again.
So here I am.
Split is hot and lazy. But then you go to the center, which is like an anthill of tourists right now, and suddenly you're all strung out again. Who are all these people? What are they looking for? If I point them in some direction, will they kindly disappear? But they don't. The sun sets, and streams of people come tumbling out of the buildings like cockroaches. Screaming Brits. Bickering Spaniards. Drunk Aussies. (The Italians are well-behaved though.) And I guess they must all be having fun? I don't know. My least favourite cities were Venice and Florence, because I felt like "just another tourist" there. So I can't imagine that all these tourists are truly happy about being tourists in Split. They all arrive and say, "Why is it so crowded?" Well duh, because you came here.
So in a matter of weeks, I've become the prime "local" couchsurfer of the city, turning down a bazillion couch requests per day but trying to take everyone else out on the town, pretending that I know all the "best" places, pretending that Split is peaceful and chill town… which it was three weeks ago…. But damn, you get jaded quickly when you're surrounded by drunk tourists. I say to each of my surfers, You're not seeing Split at its best. (What I don't then say is, Split's best is when you're not here.)
You see? I'm being jaded. I'm being cynical and not shiny the way I'm sure I could be. I do like meeting people, I do like going for drinks and discovering new little alleyways, I do like the bustle, and I do love couchsurfing. So why aren't I shiny, dammit? I want to be glow-in-the-dark, I want aliens to see me all the way from Mars, I want to be the next aurora borealis! I want people to look back and say, Remember 2010? Steffi made the lightbulb obsolete that year…
Okay I'm just being an idiot, thanks for your patience. But if you, reader, have some insight on how to shine, please let me know. I've been told it's good to hang around shiny people. But that doesn't always work, because if you are rusty and you stand beside a shiny person, then sometimes you just feel rustier.
A note on rustiness: All of you must investigate Salad Fingers.
Or do you think that maybe it's okay not to be shiny? After all, Salad Fingers loves rusty things. And rust is more interesting than shine. There are more nuances, more surprises, when you run your hand over a rusty spoon than over a shiny one. And that's why David Lynch and David Firth are brilliant. Because they know how to tap in to that part of the human mind that loves dark creepy things, that rejects perfection and orderliness. For example I think people understand sado-masochism a lot more than they will ever admit. (If you haven't seen any Salad Fingers or Lynch films, you may be totally lost. Maybe that's for the best. Because if you get what I'm saying, that dark part probably exists in your mind. And maybe you're better off without it. Lynch and Firth are maybe just creating comfort zones for messed-up people, rather than providing any real insight into psychology.)
(Another aside: Most people I've met claim to like shiny happy people. Almost no one ever says, "I like people with deep insecurities and serious mental problems." But one guy I met, way back in Montreal before any of this running-away business ever started, told me that he was always more attracted to girls with "issues." I really respected him for admitting that. Because if Firth and Lynch do have a following, then some of you out there like darkness more than you're willing to admit. So I encourage you to admit it to yourself if you have some creepy habits that you enjoy. And I encourage you to be okay with that, because someone out there understands, and someone out there might even like you more for being crazy and messed-up, and without doubt someone out there is very similar to you.)
Soooooooooo… Split.
