Scatterbrainy

insanity-thrill?
-Definitely.

Reality-check?
-Most certainly.

Stupidity-level?
- Very high.

I am twisting and turning, yet I can't make sense of it all. I need a map of the problematique.
I know I am a dreamer, I know that sometimes the boundaries between fantasy and reality tend to get blurred out of recognition and leave me lost in the woods with hurricanes and butterflies.

Now here I am with a tree in my bedroom and no clue how to finish the story.
Who has the God damned map, anyway? And where can I get a butterfly net to catch these flying little bastards that are distracting me from performing my scolastic duties? It is hard enough to study in a hurricane, with the wind making the pages of Power and Prosperity dance before my eyes.

/Så kan vi sjunga tillsammans om en längtan som aldrig blir still
för alla oss som aldrig vet vad vi vill
Det finns en sång och en dröm
om en lycka så öm
för oss som alltid ska till
att fånga en fjäril/

To prove that my life is highly circular and nothing is new beneath the sun, I re-publish a post from last year. I usually believe I am coming up with new angles on things. When, really, I am just rediscovering my own thoughts..

.......................................................................................................................................
I always wondered where the connection between two people comes from.
Suddenly it's just there, and everything is different.
It no longer matters so much the words that are said or who you are...just existing creates tension.
/I like the tension, the tension and the spark/

But connection and tension are only symptoms. The real outbreak often bides its time.
The incubation period may vary, and the obstacles are numerous.


..........

I love contradiction. I adore metaphorical allegories and all kinds of writers' tricks.
So it's only natural that I have let myself indulge in this first phase symptom of infatuation.
It makes perfect literary sense.
Sometimes I think our conversations are all double-bottomed.
There is depth in the shallow laughter. In the lightness floats the unsaid.
....and That, my friends, is what will decide.
It will be my cure or my insanity-thrill.
..................................................................................................................................................

one of my small, personal indulgences is to read a really good book, mark my favourite passages, quotes, words and jot them down in my tiny botticelli-notebook. They can be anything; a clever way of word-twisting, a beautiful paradox, the perfect description of a feeling. All these things make me happy.
Now they are not necessarily quotes that convey a happy message. On the contrary, the most beautiful art is usually full of sorrow. The deepest meanings are found in pain, not in happiness. That does not mean, however, that the message they carry are messages of pain.

Why is it that when we are happy, we are perfectly satisfied with ourselves being happy...but when we are sad we have the strong need to make others understand how we feel? Sadness, sorrow and inner turmoil seem to gain meaning only if we explain, dissect and analyze them. Showing somebody else how we feel becomes equivalent to understanding it ourselves. And what's to understand about joy? When we feel it, it is there, no need to know why. In fact, questioning happiness might scare it away.

   

"There was so much in you that charmed me that I felt I must tell you something about yourself.
I thought how tragic it would be if you were wasted."

It is easier to pin-point the faults of others than to realize your own involvement in fishy business. Still, sometimes there's no more enjoyable thing than to judge others and bathe in self-righteousness, at least for a little while.
However, I have come to realize that no matter how much I despise the moral deficit that rules our capitalistic society, where everything is up for grabs for the highest bidder and size and appearance are all that matters.....Yes, I have come to realize that I am, myself, a part of this moral downfall. A puppet on a string in a marionette-show starring today's young and restless.

What do to?
When I can no longer justify myself by putting me in opposition to the ones I resent. What is there to do?
When my own happiness and good fortune increasingly depend on others breaking the traditional social norms and lowering themselves to levels that I pride myself I will never stoop to.
Yes, I do like paradoxicality. But I woud rather not get stuck inside of the paradox itself.
It's a spiral with no exit.
At least not one that will allow me to leave with my dignity intact.

it seems a fact of life that when you are growing up and becoming an adult
choices are no longer made casually.
Perhaps it is a result of my recent immersion in economics,
but the scarsity principle is showing its ugly face all over the place these days.
Why is it either or? Black or white? This or that...
You or me?

though no man is an island
this is how I find myself more often than not;
swirling around in a stormy sea,
surrounded by mist and sea-gulls
pushed here and there by external powers out of my control



(anyway I turn I'm bound to lose)

This is the time.
People moving on to other things.
Goodbyes and promises, memories of happiness.
Sometimes I feel that no matter where I happen to be
I am a crossroad, a mile stone
and everybody keeps passing by
introduction, friendship, love and then- Adiós!
over and over again.


I'm like a bird....I only fly away.

empty university cafeteria
spotify
rain falling down after weeks of sunshine
thinking about..
all the things we give up, hoping we are doing it for some greater purpose
that love will make up for all the other things.
that's not how the world works
Love is no quick fix. Love is no big truth.

going behind each others backs, betraying friends
sneaking around, sacrificing life-plans...
all to fulfill the illusion of the happy-ever-after
not knowing that we may be trading the real happiness
in the process of searching for the abstract
the intangible, the unattainable
l'amour véritable

But at this time
in this place
I think we are finding, more often than not,
that maybe there is no such things
and perhaps we should be aiming at other things.

- It is difficult to keep quiet when you've got nothing to do-

it is the little things that matter..
the feeling you get when meeting a sincere smile
or realizing you are your own master, and your future is in your hands
the smallest gesture that you know must have cost a lot
(esperando sólo un gesto para empezar)
or when you were expecting the worst and the best happens.

That's it, right there.
it's happiness.



or just....this.