I've been thinking about writing something in relation to my little hometown for a while and now seems the perfect time to do it. Why? Because I've been given an opportunity to collaborate with a local youth organization and participate in one of their projects called Bit & Beat. How does it work? All of the participants had to come to a place called Vipavski Križ this morning and create something today to be a part of the exhibit held in the Gallery of Vipavski Križ, which opened today. So while you're reading this post, someone in that gallery could be reading this too and I think that's at least really cool if not frigging surreal. Therefore I better not use words like shit and ass and stuff like that, right?
As I sit here in this pretty close to perfect spot of Earth overlooking this fair town of ours, one thing is certain - my feelings are conflicting. Its beauty cannot be denied, but I wonder if my feelings could be compared to every mother finding their own children gorgeous. Or better yet every child thinking their mom is beautiful and I'd have to be one spoiled brat to say that I don't find my hometown charming in a way. Although I'm not sure that the concept of 50 shades of grey isn't stupid, there definitely are more shades of charming and if New York is charming like Angelina Jolie is charming, then my hometown is... Well, no Angelina Jolie.
If I had to make a TV show comparison, New York would be C.S.I. (New York, dooh), while my hometown would be Cheers, you know that show about a bar where "everybody knows your name". To tell you the truth, I've never got why people find that charming about small towns. You'd be surprised how few nice things all these people that know each other's name have to say about each other. From this perspective, maybe it's better to be just another number in the C.S.I. crowd - all those numbers don't talk shi... bad about each other because they just couldn't care less.
If I had to make a culinary comparison, I'd say New York is a 5 course meal with foie gras and beef Wellington, while my hometown is a meatloaf or a burek and your preference merely is a thing of personal taste. The sad thing is that in every meatloaf or burek you find that extra burned brownish-black piece that leaves a bitter aftertaste, no matter how scrumptious and juicy every previous bite was. That's how I feel living here, like I have my mouth full of burek and I'm ready to try this new sushi place across the street.
The truth is, whether you'd take a bullet for a burek or you just couldn't care less for it, you can't deny that when it comes to our town, things are going downhill faster than a mammoth, who tripped on the top of that mountain from the first photo back in last ice age. That's why I always remember a certain frog experiment when thinking about my hometown: If you throw a frog into a pot of boiling water, it'll jump out, but if you put it in a pot of cold water and heat it gradually, the frog won't notice the situation is getting worse and will cook to death.
Every now and then I have to lift up my shirt to see if my bellybutton is still there and my skin isn't green, because I really don't want to turn into the frog from the experiment. Or any kind of frog for that matter. If things get any worse, I can only hope that I'll hop out before I'm cooked... I mean dead.
Sports bra: H&M
You're welcome to follow FPS via Twitter and please, come back again anytime. There are new posts every Monday, Wednesday and Friday so hopefully you'll drop by next Monday!