Unworthy

There's an overall feeling of inadequacy, clumsiness, worthlessness that never fails to appear at from time to time. Having been nobody who's mind I would have glanced at twice, I don't know what to do with myself when I have what I've always wanted. It seems unreal. And dramatic, but I only take it as fact. Unworthy. Because I'm selfish, stupid and lazy, disillusioned and needy, and I keep disappointing everybody, keep dragging things out. I apologise for my being.

Ahahayes

I get very enthusiastic about new people sometimes. It's sort of ridiculous. Nowadays, Gus's "She's a very friendly person" comes to mind every time I find myself being "overwhelming". But you know what, I think I like being who I am, at least most of the time.
Maybe 4 of 5. I guess. Not sure.
You DO get more creative when tuckered out. Eh. Eh.
I wanna create, damnit!
Inspiration everywhere. Like, the piano, the conversations, the drawing, the guitar, the composing, the writing, the video making, the code cracking, fuckin'ell.

DAMN YOU, INTERNAL CLOCK

Thanks, Tomper

this one's going to my little public.

(Neil Gaiman's speech at the University of Arts 2012)

copies of life

Ponders-turned-character ideas:

As I sit here, wondering where the hell my life is going, I'm finally thinking back to what led me to the good parts of this point. The parts I wanted to achieve. And if I've achieved them.

It's really invaluable just to DO. All those things you realise really are true, just a tad too late to be convenient.

Maybe I should do story ideas on YouTube, too. Combining my own efforts would relieve some stress.  Also, it's great to be inspired by people and all that, but no reinventing their ideas. And returning to former good values is crucial. Yesyes.

I'm okay. I'm protected. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

Emotion. Emmotion. The good and deep kind. I'd almost forgotten. In fact, I HAD forgotten that was what I was aiming for all along. Oh my. Laughter. Thanks.

(NIN - "Right Where It Belongs v2")

Braaaaiins

What the fuck are we supposed to do?
We do this because of that and these chemicals have that and that effect. Everything can be fucking categorised. No more mystery, no more dreams.
Are we supposed to suppress our brain patterns just to be the smart one? Bog ourselves down? Are we supposed to fuck ourselves over in order to live a happy life? Successful, anyone? Bullshit, anyone? Help?

Asking

Ze, I've got a question for you.
How would you relay your feelings to somebody when everything's out of proportion? I'd like to act like a normal human being, but letting people know how I feel without losing the respect of myself can often prove to be quite the challenge. And then it swings the opposite direction, I either break down, or feel a moment of lightness, of an opportunity to be completely truthful. Some back off. Some don't care.  Some don't understand. (I'd add all the nicer versions after these, but then I can't be all angsty.)
The need to be good, to be selfless, it fucks me over, because when I need something, anything, however basic, sensible or instinctive it might be, it's selfish. It's childish. I can't achieve in my own eyes. I'm not allowed. And having the nerve to write about it, my, am I egoistic, or what? Look. It's public. Shame, Emma, shame.
But oh, for an audience, right? We're all greedy and craving in the end.
We all love to be important.

And for some stupid reason, feeling safe means letting go of so many cautious little backups in my mind that I become afraid, afraid of it breaking down, of everything going back to normal. Of everybody repeating the same mistakes in the end.

And this is stupid, because I'm making you feel unnecessarily guilty.
I shouldn't do that. Nobody needs any shit from me.
Or am I? Maybe I imagine too much. Serves me right.

Ze present

I have decided that I am now in control in my own life.
So, I've started doing all the things I've meant to do for a while, starting projects, organising others, answering overdue letters, coming to terms with myself.
Trying to be realistic.
I am going to try to be brave.
My fingernails are a slightly alarming neon orange to celebrate this fact.
I'm also probably going to start writing reminders on my hands again, at least for a while.
Certain things look very pleasing to the eye under water. Swirly things.
Yes, The Project is being reborn, or, more precisely, finally born..

Evita, I wish you all the best. Another panda for you. Pandas is good fo' ye. This one's a red panda.
Has anybody heard of the band Little Joy?
They're very calming, at least what little I've heard of them, which is the self-titled album. Very sweet.
Oh, and oh, in choir today there was this wonderful exercise, where the whole choir is holding four notes, a lovely major, then the sopranos lower their note by a half, making it a minor, then the rest of the choir does the same and so on and it was all rather pretty I really must go to bed now, so I wish you all a comfy night.

"And now..

 ...for something completely different."

I seem to have elected my first president.

***

"Dirge of the Three Queens"

URNS and odours bring away!

    Vapours, sighs, darken the day!

 Our dole more deadly looks than dying;

    Balms and gums and heavy cheers,

    Sacred vials fill'd with tears, 

And clamours through the wild air flying!

    Come, all sad and solemn shows,

    That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!

    We convent naught else but woes. 

Shakespeare

***

Freedom. Yes. Culture.

http://www.change.org/petitions/youtube-googlede-allow-third-party-recording-tools-for-youtube-freedomonyoutube

And convenience.

***

(Robbie Williams - "Let Me Entertain You")

Sarežģīti seksīgās pozas īpašnieks

People seem to come and go in and out of their own heads. 
Un mana bezspēka nedēļa sakrita ar to, kurā ģimenei bija famīlījas reunācija. Piedod, kori. 
Halloween came and went, disappointingly uneventful. Although costumes were awesome.
Šodien smējos, ļoti. Un uz ielas bija lillā poga. 
Un Kauguros ir ķīniešu ēdiens un bezmiegs. Galvu-jaucoši 
And it seems to be so sad that people need to be reminded of their own life-changing realisations they had years ago. Dig up that old shit, you were a smart kid, remember? 
According to my cousin Tomas, I "turned out all right." 
Eight years is a long time, yes, but now that they're over, do they make a difference? 
Sinking without reason ricochets and summons a tap and a lot of emotion. And yes, if there are any dead butterflies, I will cry. 
Pa ceļam uz tramvaju es satiku Viesturu, kurš steidzās. "Algebra nav garšīgs."
And while time ticks away to no end, Maya sends me lesbian jokes told by a woman in pink. (I think this was still a happier time, damn you)
Deadlines. 
Krūtis. 
"Oh, Mr. Bond.."

(John Lee Hooker - "Boom Boom" 1966)

Blah.

Sorry, sorry, apologies, here, there, everywhere, too many, too often, too pointless.
Kat, what the fuck? 
It's not nice to be kicked in the joy, no ma'am, not by a long shot. Shall we just forget about this and have some tea? Jolly good.

My past favourite colour

Apparently, today is Spirit Day. When purple stands for no bullying and support of the lesbian, gay, bi, and trans people. Okiday, then.
I usually find out about these things a bit late. At least this time it's still the same day.
When I first read the name I thought something along the lines of a pre-Halloween celebration, going all ghost like.
I like purple.

future

So it is now. Now is the time I've begun to seriously contemplate moving out.
I should take more responsibility for myself. It'd be easier to organise my life in some aspects. Harder in others. Might be fun, though. I think I'm yearning to take control of the solitude as well as the inadequacy to be my own guest.
Now that I look around my room, I can easily see it as a wannabe apartment waiting to be expanded. I mean, having space for all my books is a benefit that's hard to overlook.
I miss a certain kind of alone-ness. When I enjoy my own company, or one half of myself enjoys the company of the other. A certain kind of quiet.

*

And a certain kind of loud. Fucking screaming, but not heard over the sound of the rain and the music and my own thoughts. I've recently become more aware of the fascination Jack White deserves.

This guy.
He seems to dislike boxes. Thank you.
The fact that I recently watched "It Might Get Loud" probably helps.
But then, the lucky bastard has made himself a palace.
But I guess I'll be doing a bit of digging for slightly morbid complexities and exact colours.
And then, as with all these great people out there, all I'm gonna get is everything he put into the stage name, the peppermint candy, the side he wants to show. No one gets to know who these people really are. I mean, all respect to privacy, but I can't help but want to get up close and personal to the people who have no idea they have influenced my life.

I want to keep writing. Stories, poetry, books, lyrics, dreams. I want to keep drawing, and singing, and designing world inside my brain, creating illusions, making them reality, making messes where they should and shouldn't be, defying myself and the law, keeping record of all brilliant thoughts to come, I need to believe in myself. Yeah. Be happy. I am. But still.

The world looks a lot like this these days..