I come to you again from the beautiful Copenhagen Library, and today, I have a great view of a new and troublesome friend, seen in this post’s main photo:

Poor little guy. I can’t tell if he’s trapped or if he is just enjoying the view, because, you know, he’s stuffed.

..

So some of you, assuming I have more than one mom, will be glad to hear that I successfully hauled my butt to dancing yesterday. And thank heavens I did! It turns out there was in fact some sort of festival afoot in the streets of Copenhagen this weekend. Around four in the afternoon, as I was passing the glass markets (apparently that is the English/ tourist name of my beloved little weekly side-stop on the way to dancing), I started hearing some distinctly hipster music. Low and behold (what does that mean, anyway?), a stage was set up in the middle of the square, surrounded by food trucks. I had to resist all temptation to buy a Special Pork Sandwich with chili sauce. Ugh. I can practically taste it now. Except I can’t. Because I never tried it.

Here’s an artsy shot of the first group, though the sun kind of rips through the scene and blurs the stage into oblivion. It only seems appropriate for this hipster band. They had a drummer, a guitar, a string bass, and a girl with a killer voice. Also, there was this fantastic crazy dance man who stood right in front of the stage the entire time and did these really interpretive, super groovy movements to the beat. Every once in a while, he would raise a hand to the sky or to the stage, as though The Music and The Heavens were one. It was pretty intense stuff, and it made me glad that Jackson wasn’t there to join him. I would post a video of his genius dance moves, but I don’t know how to convert the formats… (Any advice, Daddio?)

..

Monday, I did about eight pounds of homework, checked out three new books at the library, and finally fell asleep way too late. My new haul includes:

Left to right: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and The Time Machine. I’m starting on the right, though I still haven’t relinquished my hold on The Deathly Hallows. I run to it whenever life gets too boring or I just feel like I need a good pillow-soaking cry fest. Because that’s healthy sometimes. Right?

..

Segue (apparently not spelled “segway”… news to me) into a side note: none of my sisters read enough! Biological or otherwise (with regard to sisters)! I got the most incredulous looks from Sara (non-blood-relative) and Maria every time I started tearing up or talked about my Super Emotions that were triggered while reading TDH. Maria simply decided to point fingers. “You’re so weird,” she said, a look of utter disbelief and is-she-fo-realz? on her face.

..

Sara Lee, my blood sista from the hood, decided to lock away her judgements toward me and my attachment to characters when I had to be led, half blinded by a wall of tears, out of the theater in second grade. The movie was Spirit, an emotionally-charged Disney movie starring a young wild stallion. She ran to my mom for help, thinking she had personally hurt me or caused some sort of emotional damage to my very soul by taking away the popcorn too quickly. Silly girl. She forgets that my first real emotional-fictional heartbreak came when I was a mere three years old. My dad had to carry me out Tarzan, my first big-screen show, as I sobbed and hiccuped. Not because of the tragedy presented at the end of the movie (no spoilers), but because of the simple problem only a three year old can recognize. “I want to-” hiccup “live-” sob “with-” hiccup “Tarzaaaan…..” Being the genius small one I was, I recognized that this was not, in fact, possible. Hence the tears. That was the start of my great adventure through other realms. If I can’t visit Hogwarts in person, I can sure as heck visit in my mind.

..

Right. But I’m supposed to be talking about places I actually can visit in person. Like, the places I am actually visiting at this very moment, as I type away in the half-lit cozy living area while Sara Not Lee blogs about shoes. And no, that was not a complete sentence. I am a mess.

..

What I was trying to get at before I jumped into the world of my traumatic youth and my ever-present attachment to the unreachable world (did I mention I once chopped a sizable portion of my hair off with safety scissors because I thought I was Mulan?), was the fact that I have been reading more during my travels than I have since early high school. That 25 minute train ride twice a day feeds the fire. Plus, I have a six hour train ride to Stockholm this Sunday. I predict I’ll be halfway through The Fellowship of the Ring before any of my three sisters opens another book “for fun.” Sad life.

..

Also, I had cheesecake today.

So yes. Not a bad afternoon.

..

Back to homework. I’m working on three different essays as we speak, not counting this one. Ta-ta for now!

..

Venlig hilson/ best regards,

Lizzy-wa