Years.

Another beginning. Better make it worth it this time. Enjoy it.

burrrrunduksss

Ach, I'm sniffly. I sneeze. I'm getting sick, which also means - helloo inspiration. And sillyness. And "are you feeling ok?" by people who, once again, rightfully question my sanity. But - - Inspration, my friends. That's what counts. c: And lovely lovely music. It's really. Yes. Goddamnit.

Joyeux Noel...

Yeah.. That Christmas thing. The whole ridiculous process. Don't know what I'd do without it..
You do notice, don't you, that the most important detail, the "Christmas feeling", the one that creates it all, is harder to find each year? That's kind of the sincere part.. and then we go shopping and fill everything and everywhere with the "obligatory" stuff, the tree, the presents, the food, the Decorations.. yah. The commercialism, as I'm sure you know, is eating it all up, or, more precisely, we're eating it all up.
But the celebration itself.. it's somehow special. It balances out the greed. It's a cliché, yes. But one of the lesser evils, as far as clichés go. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed yourselves, found some peace in the midst of it all, and didn't get too drunk.
file:///Users/ee/Desktop/08%20Ar%20Droim%20Na%20Gaothe.mp3

and.. you feel..

Emotions are such a wonderful thing, really, whether it's joy, with that ball of light inside, you're dancing with every step, and you're about to burst, you can't stop smiling, it almost hurts..
Or when it does hurt, remorse or worse, when there's the pain, one wave, another, it subsides for a bit, but the tide is coming in, the delicious overflow of sorrow, the lovely misery, and you're inconsolable for a little while..
Or, the other kind if hurt, anger, and revenge is all you want, anything, you don't care about what you're saying anymore, it only has to be ruthless enough to hurt the other person, or you want to fling yourself at him or her and tear them to pieces, you want to burn down the world..
Inspiration, when it all works, the idea in your head is perfect, you have to get it out, you have to wake up and DO things, you have to move..
Excitement & nervousness, you keep jumping up and down, your palms are sweaty, you keep swallowing, you're anticipating..-
Or fear.. either when there's something there.. watching.. you imagine all the horrible things you can think of, one after another.. you keep walking though, periodically faster, run across the street because the other side is "safe", if you get there in time, they can't get you..
..or the other kind of fear, the immediate kind, you are breathing fast, there's a lump in your throat, not unlike before you cry, but still different, and you just can't move..

Or.. when you're just.. content. You are somewhere, still, it has all passed, for now, and you can just.. think...and have what you have, you're not after anything, you just ..are.

What would we be without them? Can you really imagine giving this up? It's so beautiful, why would you do that? Why?

spirals

And.. here it is. The peace. The sea after a storm, if you will. At least for now.
The rage came momentarily again this morning, but it's gone now.
Strong black tea form an iron kettle with a mound of sugar. Should be enough of an energy well to start today. This day. This ... day. afternoon. Emma, you've slept way to long.

........sob

I've mentioned this before.. the most beautiful gift I've ever received. Just about 17 years ago.

Babe, babe, rock-a-bye. 

Earth. Sea. Fire. Sky.

We planted a seed and there you grew.

Who could have known it would be you?

I want to keep you safe from trouble, guide you right and set you free.

Love, care, for you to live.

Instead of take I must now give.

I was a child now I have grown.

The house I lived in you've made a home.

I want to keep you safe from trouble, guide your eyes and set you free.

I pray there's some beauty, peace and wonder, left in the world you inherit from me.

Sleep, dream your dreamy-dream.

Don't let go of where you've been.

Back to the wisdom from which you came, but wake to find me here again.

I want to keep you safe from trouble, guide your eyes and set you free.

I pray there's some beauty, peace and wonder, left in the world you inherit from me.

All life is one, all time is now. 

Rock the cradle, break the bough.

Stars, angels, world of strife.

Womb, blood, love of live!

ugh

Right. I've pin-pointed a couple of problems that have been continuously getting me down lately. It's nothing dramatic, but still there. Thing is, though, there's nothing I can do about them without messing things up. At least until something happens. Am I the only one who sort of wants to find an excuse to yell at a person close to you? Even if nothing is really wrong? You have been content for so long, there's been no reason to be violent. I have issues, don't I. Or maybe it's suffocating emotions or something.
I miss being with people I know really really well, like buddies for years.
Everyone around me is really wonderful, but there's just not that really meaningful level of trust, etc.
Ah, shit. I sound like a whiny bitch. Yay. What to do what to do what to do wahttodo??

what even is

I get the weirdest feeling sometimes.. A sort of suppressed rage, out of nowhere.. I'm not angry myself, no, it's more like all the sounds and movements are angry, violent. The only connection I can make from the past is one of my recurring nightmares - also, the suppressed rage, a lot of it, and I'm in whiteishness all around, except for a moving, endless, black line that I have to keep straight at all costs. It always spikes at the end. Always, like the heartbeat thing, only suddenly, then it all disappears, and someone screams that he's the king of the world. I think he lifted a car above his head the first time I dreamt it. I've only had this dream about 4? times, but it's scary when I suddenly get the feeling irl.. for no reason I can think of. It usually passes after a few minutes, 2-10, I guess. Any music I put on to calm myself seems violent, like they're only just controlling themselves.

Odds and ends..

Madame Tutli-Putli

The Lost Thing

nyahh

What? In my had head

Bm-tds-bdabdabdm-tds-bdabm-tds-bdabdabdabm-tds

Duuuuuhhhhh-duuuuhhhh-duuhhhhhhh-duhhhhhhhhh

Juuuust like a star-

Paratparataparata-dum-dum-parata'nieeeh

This is how I show my love-
I made it in my mind because-
Blame it on my ADD, baby-

Hhhaaaaa                            haaaaaaaaaaaa
       hhhaaaaahhhhhhh                        huuuuuuuuuuuu
                   nahahhahhhhaaaaaaaa              mmmaaaaaaaaaaa-

 A kas buus, ja nepaspees?

duh-duh-epic guitar solo-

 Her name is-

 Manic Depression? Emma, kas? Aa, taa ir dziesma?

 Es tevi popularizeeshu. -
Nuuhh, bet, ... ai...

 ....at the raucousness of the beautiful crow-

Maybe I should call for help-
Maybe I should kill myself-
Blame it on my ADD, baby-

Cry me a river-

yyYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAA

Suskjis.

Kai, byyyyeeee-Where are you going??

Emma. Esi tur.septinjos.

oh-my-god-FUCK iIT!

Aaaannd she drowns.

Stiger med t@nda ljus  / Santa Luciiaaa, Santa Luciiiaaa-


too much. so it has to die for a while.

Intrigue.

No, I haven't seen the movie, nor read the book. But it was shown to me, and I must share it further.

(Girl, Interrupted - Strong Scene)

It all started with actually waking up at a more or less decent time. I didn't have plans until three, and, lo and behold - a message from a good friend, ditching school, asking if she could come over. Yes, of course. 

Just time enough to take a shower and clean up a bit before. 

She got a bit lost on the way, but just a little. When she arrived, I surveyed the food-less kitchen, made us black tea that was too strong, and we proceeded to my room. Tery's staying with me at the moment as well, I do think both girls had met before, but they barely remembered each other. We spent our time showing each other movies, books, memories, songs, she received a massage, there was a lot of talk about wishes and christmas... we had a wonderful time. 

These little gatherings don't happen that often, but when they do, they are lovely.
Another thank you for the Star Girl.

Guys. Really.

http://fightforthefuture.org/pipa/
http://americancensorship.org/

aah.

Tell me your fears, my love. Tell me what makes you tremble, tell me what makes you freeze. Tell me what makes you cry out for someone, anyone, to hold on to. Help.

...continuation.

Here - this - guys - look- this is something beautifully depressive-but not really. This is how you can be emo without being emo. (colon, capital d)

(Garbage - "Only Happy When It Rains")

Was surprised by a nosebleed is the shower. Not really that pleasant.
And, getting a call from your father and being told you are missed on top of getting sentimental by hearing the voices of your siblings is a sure sign that you should probably arrive at home sometime soon.

Also, I want you to think of as many sentences as possible that start with: "I'd totally shag you, but.. "

Morning.

Well, 16 past one in the afternoon, actually, but I woke up quite recently, and am writing this in the borrowed shirt I slept in... so, morning.
I've started to remember my dreams again, a very good thing, if only I could write them down in time. Beautifully nonsensical, it's what my subconscious is throwing at me, so I have to try to find some obscure meaning in it. No guarantees my translation will be right, though.
Also, Tom Waits. TomwaitsTomwAitstomWaits. His voice is a pleasant one to hear unexpectadely in the first song you hear coming from the radio. Like this.

(Tom Waits - "Talking at the same time")

Look, you even got a nice full moon to go with that. Like the one I got yesterday. Only the sky wasn't pink. Huh.
It's like running across that little bumpy lawn with the confused girl at night to get to the music in the little hut after tying pine needles to the pink\red strings across the other room, which you weren't actually supposed to do, because the elongated notes were there already. Now, inside the hut the music is very nice, the few people with guitars and voices, but the only other ones there are the kids who are being judges of the music, at a tiny wooden table, so what else can you do but pick your own tiny chair and do the same. And then wake up from the phone call, realizing you've slept too late.
Now, which of you geniuses can make sense of the only part of my dream I can remember (the end) ?

I wish..

When you see a movie, read a book, visit a place, enter any kind of world you haven't entered for years and years..  Aah, don't you get this desperate need to return, just for a moment, to the life you had then, no matter how shitty it was? Or is it just me? And, yes, I'm being very honest here and letting you know a sort of secret of mine, I guess. I do want to be able to return to the past, relive it for a while, or at least observe it, just to remember who I was. Because it's scary how much we all forget about ourselves. Our minds eventually get focused on everything we have to do, want to have, etc., and the person you were before just kind of fades away, especially the younger one. That child. Wonderfully oblivious, incessantly curious, and happy. At least more than you are now, am I right? So wouldn't it be wonderful to know how you would have thought of your present self, how much you would have understood? Would you be proud of yourself for getting where you are now? Or would you shake your little head and murmur something including ".. should've known.." Think about it. 

O.o

Have you ever had the sudden feeling that someone's in trouble, or something bad is about to happen if you don't do something or go somewhere... I mean, everything's fine, but then you start getting anxious, about nothing, then you realize you urgently have to leave or meet a certain person, or simply that you have to DO something, but you don't know what, you're close to tears, or outright crying.. Oh, damn you intuition.

And I guess we have a lot to thank it for, though.

This is beautiful.

Life is beautiful. Really, people, I'm serious. There are moments worth living for, and there can be a lot of them, life can be really really great, if you just make it so. People can be sunshine, gratitude itself. Sincere. Sometimes you find yourself in a company where being cynical is unnecessary.

This stupid, stupid, stupid world, where all the time, everywhere, you find stress, misery, most of us feel trapped, depression is completely normal, and so is suicide.. wake up. Fucking wake up. Please.

Make yourself break out of the whole nightmare of rutine, of money, of "doing what you have to" ..
Goddamnit. Live. You can live.

(Oceansize - "music for a nurse")

Also.

Guys, the people with power are being ridiculous again.

More info - http://wyden.senate.gov/newsroom/press/release/?id=cdb3104b-cd55-4d7f-825e-3bec95d944be

Hey, Jude

This morning I dropped an avokado seed on my toe. The perfect way to start the day, eh?


Also, how does one explore without losing the old? I don't want to lose any of my friends, but everyone's so different.. How do you look into all the sides of the crystal at once?
Is it this?

One, true, brilliant shape, shining, lighting up the world, just get to it, take it, it's yours.. 

Can there be a ONE TRUE thing, meaning, whatever, anything.. to seize at all costs, or else you go to Hell.. or to not strive for, to regard, to acknowledge, but it's only within reach if you don't want it, if you don't want, want, want. 'Cause we're all sinners anyway.

..or is it all around us? is it more like this...-

Everywhere, but we just don't see, we're blind. We're right in the middle of it, and we're like, ugh, what is this unusual substance that makes dreams come true, why is it all over me, get it off, get it off!! 

Let me crawl back into the box with the windows of a jail cell. Let me turn back into the routine, let me eat this lovely, salty, poisonous thing they just advertised, pleaase.  

Repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive. 

Or maybe it's a beautiful, bleeding cross, or x, heart, whatever the preference is these days.. as long as it's injury, it's justified. It's ok. Not only blind, but deaf, too, and mostly mute as well. Ladies and gentlemen, the Human Race. All meanings. Just because I said so. So there. I win. You lose. You lose. 
'Cause I'm special. Mummy said so.

Wait, what? I'm showing you the clock, why the fuck would you see the bodily injury instead, relevant, I think not. Yes. It is. No, it is not, you you you.. -.


Time is much more complex than blood, am I right? Time holds much more in itself, isn't it more important than the sight of a liquid of a visually pleasing colour?

Irony, y u get old?

Ilo Veyou

Of all the beautiful voices, of all the beautiful people, of all the enchanting minds - oh, belle fille...

(Camille, dūh)

Aujourd`hui, c`est le plus beau jour, c`est la plus belle vie, 

C`est le plus grand amour, sur la plus belle planète

Et aujourd`hui, c`est la plus belle minute, c`est la plus belle poussèe, 

C`est la plus belle chute

Sur la plus belle planète, la plus belle planète

Et aujourd`hui, c`est la plus belle seconde, c`est la plus belle la plus belle voix lactèe, la plus belle ronde

Sur la plus belle planète, la plus belle planète

Et aujourd`hui c`est le plus beau col, c`est le plus beau cordon, le plus beau bisphènol, le plus beau plomb, placentas, 

bèton, colostrum, ATL, uranium, OGM, homme, aime, femme, dioxyde de carbone.

Sur la plus belle planète, la plus belle planète...

Et aujourd`hui c`est le plus beau moment, c`est le plus beau bèbè, c`est la plus belle maman, Sur la plus belle planète

The most beautiful planet...?

My sister's godmother and her wife..

..stopped by today. They are among the nicest people I know.

Also, today I feel like shit. No matter how beautiful life is, there are always days that are just.. shit.
But no matter, I have quality vanilla ice cream. And a splendid notebook of which one side is just my kind of indigo. See, I'm cheering myself up already. The boy is composing music. The ghost is in the room. Did I just call this upon myself? ..oh, well, better turn on the other light. And light the candles. And be like, LIGHT!.

"Men mamma, dom är ju inga barn längre, dom är ju riktiga människor!" I miss my cousins.

Deja vu. The music just seems to disappear sometimes. And don't get to know your friends too well, ok?
Is it just me, or is dubstep slowly invading our brains?

ooh, look, I found something I wrote with cold fingers outside while waiting for someone who didn't arrive. fun.

get out of the den of friends

the lonely, righteous thieves

part of the rest of the onlookers

no matter how much they grieve

what drips from their fingers

won't be blood

yet it brings the flood

be silent in your screaming

don't you dare awaken

you, yourself, don't tear the fraying sky

we couldn't take that much at once

not now, not then

what you take in your hands

you can hurl

just let ignorance be the world

sharpen your decisions to a point

the you can stab at what you want

...aand that's all there was. Oh well. I didn't light the candle. 

anticipation

I just stayed up all night. For various reasons. Here is the music that kept me alive -

(A. J. Roach - "Devil May Dance")

(The Velvet Underground - "I'm Sticking With You")

(Budgie - "Parents")

(Air - "Run")

(Four Seasons, Summer 3/3)

Vivaldi

thank you

I'm gonna share a little thing with you all. Why, I don't know. Of course.

My parents wrote a song for me. I was probably about 3 years old at the time, and it's one of the best things they could have given me. Mom wrote he lyrics, dad composed the melody. He also knew a singer at the time, Cam, I remember her very vaguely. She sang it, recorded it, and put it in her album. "Song for E"is the song. My song. Heh.
I guess the point of this was to give my parents a 'thank you' that they'll probably never see. So there you go.

Now, the days..

I'm kinda in pain. I've made a few mistakes, explored a bit too much, and here comes our dear little friend called Guilt. So much has happened since the last time I was here, so many people have appeared to complicate everything, to change my sight.
And, I realized how much I've lost of my old life. You know those moments, right? - the ones where you remember something from years ago, and it could have been a very shitty day, but you desperately want to get back there again, just for a little bit.
Then again, a lot of things disappear because of neglect, or you've simply changed to much to experience that again. See, I'm no longer a child. I've been able to fool myself for quite some time, I could still return to  those moments of creating little worlds in a clump of moss, and being chosen because you're still young enough to understand. I sort of want to be a child again.
But - I know more, and differently now.. the new life I have is a good one. It's interesting. It's very different, but I wouldn't back away, if I could. Would I?
Also, I was recently asked - "how do you make friends so quickly?" I think.. -
The people I've met in the past few months.. most of them I trust now, at last a little. I have little prejudice, (or so it seems), and I think that exposing myself this freely pulls people towards me a bit. Maybe I'm being arrogant.
And, I have a reason to .. maybe, partially.. believe in something supernatural. It's curiosity, about the paranormal at that, but I'd almost regard it as a religion, it would finally be something not to doubt, something more or less stable in a world of deceit. The downside (there always is one somewhere) would be that it's fucking scary. And if I have proof, I wouldn't be able to convince myself that it's all in my head. Happily oblivious sounds quite charming, and safe, but then, I WANT TO KNOW. Would you? Would you change your life to know the truth? It's sounds cliche and melodramatic, yes, but, hey, when else am I going to get a chance to play around?

I don't want to lose this, you know. I really, really don't want to lose this. It's kind of annoying that as you grow up, more and more of what your elders have said makes sense. OH GOD,WE'RE BECOMING THEM, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!
Forgive my rambling.

Return

Well, hello. I know, I have to disappear for a while, maybe I do that too much, but can I make a blatantly obnoxious suggestion that that might be the natural flow of things?
Everything has changed again.. the people, the weather, the music, the feelings, the food. Of course, accompanied by a deliberate feeling of nostalgia. But, seriously, how can you not be mind-fucked by it?
Sample for you -

(FOE - "The Fox")

and another -

(CocoRosie - "Lemonade")

...there you go.

The heart wants what the heart wants, you know? What can I do? And it wasn't wrong, anyway.. it was for the best. .. ok?
I have learned another dance, of steps, and of life, and of the spirals in my mind. *sip of water*
Stop trying to hide your flaws. They'll stay until you reveal them, and then, the true faces will appear.

Pins and pencils. Fingertips. Cross your wrist, then ask for forgiveness.

And there it is.

The time. Has gone. I'm starting to understand the overly condescending parents.
I don't have much to say, it's all somewhere else, but I can give you another shit-pile of a poem, written somewhere around Portland, I believe.

pretty little thing she was
humming invitations
trapping creatures in the pain
of her fascination

tangled locks of pitch-black hair
pure grey were her eyes
her perfect ears had never once
heard the word "goodbye"

no one could resist her voice
try, and you will fail
but you might just make her smile
if yours was other than a wail

i had come in for a song
she asked for me to stay
enquired where my brother was
i said he'd gone away

although power was her own
i knew she had a heart
naíve enough was she to think
that love was more like art

her sorrow entered melodies
our voices came entwined
feeding hungry souls alike
the darkest, richest wine

even as she pulled me in
i thought i might escape
her fingers traced my trembling lips
t'was already too late.

Idonwannaleaaaave!

A whole frickin' month. It's not fair. I want to take all my friends with me, so I don't have to miss them. Damn, I miss them already.

(The Little Flames - "Isobella")

I can't walk away, either. I'm too sentimental. Can I cry now, please?

Poetry.

Now, I conflict with myself again. How do I learn from the world without being like it?

I give you an example - two different sides of myself:

This I do like, and it's not completely unoriginal, but it's nothing new for experienced minds.

For me. 

Give me a kiss, my love, 

Sending shivers down my spine,

Your arms around my waist.

Let me know you're forever mine. 

Pick me a leaf, my love,

Trace the veins with your fingers.

Then leave it to the wind

To keep it safe until it withers.

Tell me your dreams, my love,

And the meaning that they hold.

What corners of your mind

Do I have yet to explore?

Sing me a song, my love,

Close your eyes in that way of yours.

I'll drink the sound of your voice

And I'll always ask for more.

Now take my hand, my love,

Pull me down and hold me close.

Your love has become my drug,

So let me have my overdose.

And the ending was a tad out of place. Myah. 

Compare with this - 

The vain.

This is one of the caps that doesn't fit on the back of the pen. 

(How unusual.)

And yet, that is but a trivial matter since the important are questioning where? and when?

(I'm musical.)

You probably already noticed, as I was humming some subtle, yet intelligent and classy tune.

(The obvious.)

The cap is on the table, on the floor, the arm of the armchair, perhaps this nonsense will be art, soon?

(Aren't I devious?)

But no, I must not be less than tasteful, although my curves can't help but be more. 

(This isn't boring.)

And taste has no tolerance for melodrama, and only slight clichés, scrubbing breadcrumbs off the shore. 

(My mother is snoring.)

My mother? Oh, yes, of course - I love and respect and care for her, yet am independent and strong.

(*sniff* Not mule-headed.)

The money comes tinkling in, and is gone with the trickster colours, 

but what would sheep do without them? Baa along?

(I shall be wedded.)

If it is trendy at the time, naturally, you wouldn't expect anything less from me. 

(She preens.)

Signed, Jolene. 

Very experimental. Also to be taken rather seriously, and if you try, you can actually make sense of it. 

You see the predicament I'm in? (:

Passive

Man liekas, ka visi zin to sajūtu, kad uznāk tas pasīvias, tas īpatnējais, kad ļoti gribas izdarīt kaut ko radošu, bet viena vai vairāku (neviena) iemeslu dēļ tas nenotiek, un tu paliec tepat, pie datora, vai grāmatas, vai loga, ik pa laikam nopūšoties un jūtoties visnotaļ depresīvi.
Then come the rest of the thoughts - fuck it, I'm going to be an individual, no one can tell me what to do, etc... (What is the point??) Of what? I don't know. No one does.
Un tad tu skaties cilvēkos. Atmiņās. Gremdējies nostalģijā, ieskaidro sev, ka tas nav labi, ka tev ir jāceļas un jāsāk kaut kas darīt, tad gremdējies tālāk.
What have I done so far? What good is it all? (What is the point of existence?)
Tad tu pārbaudi, vai cilvēks vēl joprojām tur ir (tevi gaida?) un turpini klusēt.
Shivers run down your spine, agitating, but pleasant.
Tu pamani, ka neskan mūzika. Bet neieslēdz, jo tad pazustu moments, un tu negribi, lai ta pazūd, jo tā nav prieka sajūta, bet vilinošās skumjas..
You feel the world is ignoring you, but you're hiding from it, damn it, you fool.
Un vēl tu izdomā pasmaidīt. Tas vienmēr ir to vērts. Vai ne?
Un kas esi tu? In the end, who are you? Really?

Words in my head.

And they are there. Constantly. I've been told that I think too much, and, well, it's true. I do. I analyze the thoughts and sentence construction of others, trying to get into their head. How heartless of me, no? But it's endlessly fascinating. I don't think I really "know" a person until I can predict their train of thought to at least some extent. I have no idea what this says about me.

See, questions like "what was I thinking?" dominate so much of our lives, and it's so mundane, as is every deep truth. As hard as it is to find out what the real cause of whatever went right or wrong is, once we do, we have a right to feel pompously proud of ourselves for a moment. This kind of indulgence is candy for my brain.

I guess it's up to you to decide whether my desire to get into your head is a good motivation for a future psychologist or further proof of my insanity. 

It does not make sense!!!

It does not make sense! It doesn't make sense! It doesn't make sense in any comprehensible way! It does not make sense! It doesn't!! IT DOES NOT MAKE SENSE!! It does not make sense! Why? Why doesn't it make sense?? Why does it refuse to be understood?! It does not make sense! It does not make any sense at all!! Is there any more cruel way to agonize the minds of the confused? There shouldn't be such a thing, it has no right not to make sense in such a way!! It does not make sense! IT DOES NOT!! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not make sense! It does not....

I am having way to much fun with this.

Can we all go crazy, please?

I'm actually kind of attracted to the idea of being insane.. And I do describe myself like that whenever the opportunity arises, because it's just so damn FUN. I mean, there are those days when you've got this little, yet very persistent ball of energy inside you and you're day is filled with random screams of exhilaration over nothing and general spazz. I don't feel very sane at those moments. This song gives me a feeling of something like that..

(Shiny Toy Guns - "Ricochet")

And GODDAMNIT I can't put the right video here . Way to ruin the effect. Blah.

There's this one person who keeps telling me to "Kill my darlings". Because I'm so sentimental and cannot let go of things. Or people, for that matter. I'm also told that this is a good way of attracting a lot of pain. Yay for nostalgia.  And during one of my rampages through all the stuff containing memories in my room, I realized how much I've changed over the past few years, and that I don't really like that person I was before. She's still me, and I do like me, but nyaahh.. "rather pathetic" is the phrase that comes to mind. Is this kind of thinking healthy? Again with the insanity.

here we go again..

Imagine, I was running around barefoot in a summer dress. Summer is approaching too fast. I might be the only one who will miss the cold. I'm trying so hard not to go around in circles, but it's so fucking hard sometimes. Also, I change so much around people that I don't know what to think. Are they my thoughts, or "my" thoughts. Too many questions, yet not enough. I'm getting philosophical again. Again.
I spent three and a half hours on a bus, which resulted in this song.. Less shitty this time, I think. I don't have a melody yet, but It'll come to me.

I'm staring at these red curtains on the bus,

Wondering why there would ever be a "me" in an "us",

Seeing people in their thoughts, dreaming of places, 

Thankful for the unexpected, always faces

Can I look into eyes when I try to speak? 

Why are stares so meaningful, otherwise bleak?

Rhythm gets repetitive, like all the rest

Of the world and minds of strangers who jest

In every way you've seen, yet no one knows

How a word of defense can feel like a blow

Of ice-cold wind between my lungs, slightly left,

Leaving me to scrutinize the depths of myself

I'm addicted to sorrow,

I think it's quite nice,

But I'll smile tomorrow

At the raucousness

Of the beautiful crow

I cannot erase, so I scribble my mistakes,

Trying to fool myself with the sounds art makes

I must warn the others, it's already too late

For me to try to wash my words off the slate,

These things are mine,  but I don't know them;

Familiar, but below the surface is mayhem

I'm still a new soul, but already missing memories 

Of laughing at the world, swinging in the trees.

I wouldn't cross a bridge without looking below,

But I can take pleasure in moving so slow..

Shining through my confidence is this fear

Of what I will do when you are so near

I'm addicted to sorrow,

I think it's quite nice,

But I'll smile tomorrow

At the raucousness

Of the beautiful crow

I'm staring at these red curtains on the bus,

Wondering why there would be a "me" in an "us"

And yet, I wouldn't know how to be free,

'Cause I can't find a someone who truly knows me.

My image of beauty changes every time

I see fascinating ugliness, and stupid rhymes

I'm addicted to sorrow,

I think it's quite nice,

But I'll smile tomorrow

At the raucousness 

Of the beautiful crow. 

These days..

..were quite wonderful. Music, fear, laughing again, and meetings, unexpected, yet waited for, forgotten books, sitting in the garden, smoke, never failing to come my way, soap bubbles in the wind and falling asleep with uncertainty. (Why do I get the feeling that something's wrong? Nothing of great importance, I think, but it won't leave.) So many tired people...

Oh. Searching for sleepy people causes severe yawning. 

I'm practically bursting with song these days, I need to sing, or I'll probably go mad. Only now my throat refuses to cooperate, what, with me using it mercilessly during midnight bike-rides. That probably won't stop me from torturing it some more. (:

And it's so hard to actually know someone. To trust someone. To belong.

Wanting to isn't enough. And then I want to be trusted, to be known, to be loved. 

Waiting takes so long.. And being ready for what you want takes practice. Too many people have made my mistakes, and I want them back. 

Uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty uncertainty..
I was considering the possibility that I might be slightly bipolar. No one wants to be alone..

My my my - my my my - my my my - my my..

Lost memories..

..are the ones most preeeeeciiouuuss.. myyyy preeeciiiouus..

There was this song that I heard on the radio, when I was being driven back home from a concert with my school choir. I didn't catch the name, or the singer, the only thing I could remember was the melody of the chorus.. I ravaged the internet, and asked a few people, but couldn't find it.
I'd partially forgotten about it, until two years later, when whalaa!

(Maria Mena - "Just Hold Me")

It was a bit different then I remembered, but t'was a wonderful find nonetheless.

The known and unknown

We know nothing. Not for sure. Proof doesn't exist, and neither does fact. Which means that neither noes fiction. And now, after I've been a good girl and given you a brilliant beginning, I can through in questions like "Do you believe in ghosts?" and "What is impossible?" for the benefit of your pondering.
Boowaah. Hey, I know, I can bore you with this!

"Lord Combermere died in 1891, having been struck and killed by a horse-drawn carriage. At the time Sybell Corbet took the above photo, Combermere's funeral was taking place some four miles away. The photographic exposure, Corbet recorded, took about an hour. It is thought by some that during that time a servant might have come into the room and sat briefly in the chair, creating the transparent image. This idea was refuted by members of the household, however, testifying that all were attending Lord Combermere's funeral." Duh-duh-duh-duh-duuuuh!

Personally, I think not believing in ghosts is just as silly as believing in them, because so little is known about death. No one really knows what happens, right? I mean, you can poke around in a body with a muddy stick and mumble something to yourself about heart failure, but the how and why we are ALIVE remains a mystery, Just for now, I hope.

Another thing I find very interesting is auras. The spiritual energy surrounding us? Sounds very fictional, I know, but ha! we came to the conclusion that there is no fiction, and since I'm writing this you can't argue with me, so I'm ploughing on. Looky here -

Some say that seeing auras should be a natural human function, and why not? I makes sense, if you think about it. We all radiate heat, and emotion, it's not really a surprise for it to be visible. And I want to learn, so I can feed my little ego and feel special.

On a slightly different note, these days it seems that knowledge is very selective. One thing I can pride(?) myself with is that I know one band that no one else seems to know, except the people that revealed it to me. I like their style, although it can be.. interesting. Pleased to introduce you to.. *drumroll*  ...The 3!

(soul to sell & bramfatura)

3

Aren't they wonderful?

Cries of frustration.

Supposedly, the universe fulfills our every wish, actually, every thought we have. We create our lives. The only problem is, we don't realize this, and keep making our own problems. So, how about believing all of this and living with a euphoric mindset for a few months? Trust me, your life will change. Probably not the way you expected it to, but it will. It always does.

Perspective.

You know how the covers of your favourite songs are usually shit? That's because we all like the original. "Our" original, meaning, the version we heard first. It's exactly the same with pictures, designs, even people. This is how I first saw David Bowie, by the way - (Yayayaaay Goblin Kiiing!!)

What I mean is, the ideas we have had drilled into us in our childhood is mostly what we believe today.  We are all such damn conservatists, even the liberals. Everything, the systems we have designed for this world, program us to think in the same way, shouldn't we try to differ, at least a little? Shouldn't we try to accept all the stuff beyond the norm? That's where the epic stuff comes from. ^.^ For example, we should all consider going crazy..

(My AWESOME Girlfriend)

And just you dare tell me that you didn't thoroughly enjoy that.

I know something.

I'm serious, I do. There now one thing in my life that I know I want, for sure. ~You know there are these people, who can come into the room and get noticed right away? Not because they're famous or anything of the sort, but because they have such a powerful aura, positive vibrations surrounding their body. They are trusting, likeable, interesting, funny, creative, just wonderful people.. They are the ones who can change things through connections, conversations, etc. I want to become one of those people. That is what I want. I want that. And, I will get it. So there?

That would be a wonderful way to change the world, which is another one of my main ambitions at the moment. I keep finding myself asking people to join me in my "little, silly revolution", and guess what? They want to. So, if I have people on my side, what do I do next? There is the sharing my ideas of reforming older ideas, and then there is the actual 'doing' something. But what? I want to write a book, I want to become an artist, a singer, a psychologist, and I will do all these things, but maybe not in the way you think. I will shun the school system and try to do these things, following my own. Shall we take the song first? I think I'm not too bad at lyrics, and I can sing, so it looks possible. I have come up with a couple of lovely melodies, and all I have to do now is combine these three things and shape it into the thought I want to share. Then, show it to the world. What do you think? (:
Worst case scenario, I'll just make a cover. Like Birdy, it worked out for her, now, didn't it?

(Birdy - "Skinny Love")

And after that, I'll just try again. And again. And again...

 Another thing I've noticed is how easy it is to make myself bleed. *sing-song voice* "Chiiiildren, don't try this at home!" Just a random fact. Don't let it scare you away. Or do. It is, ultimately, your choice.

So anyway, I feel bad about saying something even remotely commercial, but I'd appreciate any kind of response. I'm sharing things that are important to me, and well, I want to know what the rest of the world thinks about them. (I know, it's a lousy I'm-starting-a-blog-at-05:30-in-the-morning-thought, but it's there, and there it will stay.) There you have it.

On the importance of safety-pins.

All these conflicts in our minds..
More of them are there, outside.
And yet, lights of our answers
Are what we choose to hide.

"Wrong" is overused and foul,
And has no right to exist
"Original", now, has no face,
Becomes the one too often missed.

We hang on to the trivial,
The so-called unimportant things
As a way of revolution
Against the hands that grab and wring.

These are hands of God almighty,
Or the teacher's, mine, or yours.
We have all felt the pressure
Of the Wringing Hands before.

They cannot allow you thinking
In a way that is your own,
So, let's seek the mountain where
The trivial winds have blown.

Hence the way I seek to wander,
Hence the oddness of my bag.
I would be original
If I had to make you gag.

Let yourself show all the "wrong"
Everyone's been keeping in
And, never forget this one, small fact -
I like my safety pins.


I always find that the best inspiration comes when my mind is altered somehow, for example, when I am sick. So that means the usual wiring of my brain suppresses what I'm capable of?

And yes, I am aware that this is shitty poetry, but, well..