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..