before the novelty wears off
In the spirit of NEW, I am compiling an up-dated version of my saggezza-book,
my little book of wisdom; full of oxioms, aphorisms, beautiful quotes and interesting words.
It's my source of magic in a world that sometimes is too clinical and robotic.
It is a reminder that there is still beauty and that we must remember and preserve it.
And it is a testimony to me.
Although those words are not originally mine, I collected them.
I am a collector, I collect other people's thoughts and use them as if they were mine.
I make them mine and in the end who knows where I begin and they end?
On a different note, this progress-strategy and renewal is working.
It's working in school, in work and even with men.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that as soon as one part of your life starts looking up,
another one falls spectacularly to pieces.
So , which is it gonna be?
Perhaps I will be the exception.
You know I love to be.
opportunity plus instinct equals profit
"Progress, far from consisting in change,
depends on retentiveness.
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."
Yep, I remember
I won't repeat it.
But I also find that distancing myself with force helps.
New phone, new agenda, new systems.
Not quite a tabula rasa, but somewhat cleansed.
Redemption.
sim sala falafel!
But I love exotic food and my most recent purchase is a box of "falafel-mix" to make my own falafels.
Extremely ambitious for me.
Well yesterday I tried it out and nearly killed me and my sister in the process.
Death by smoke invasion!
note to self: frying stuff in a normal pot is not recommended.
Frying stuff in a normal pot with a ventilator that barely works is worse.
And frying stuff in a normal pot with a dysfunctional ventilator and a cat preventing you from opening the door.
That's the top!
The falafel was GREAT though...
And preparing for an exciting week.
Meeting about near-future career prospects,
decision about board meetings and kick-offs and other interesting events.
Also, new course and more interviews.
ON FIRE!
happy go lucky
I have left the dark side behind me, in order to become "bright and shiny",
but writing about unrequited love, taking advantage and suffering is what I do best.
Perhaps it isn't talent, but a state of mind.
Does that mean I am incapable of writing bright and shiny words?
I need the black to color my writing, to paint the whole picture.
Happiness doesn't need a tour de force to explain it.
It is just there.
But I still need to write.
family getaway
See proof here below.... (Exhibit 1)
It was great being the whole family in our little (smelly) flat
during this weekend marked mostly by rain, aforementioned smell and huge intake of "nutrition".
Mum here shows that the color of this weekend was green....
(and mood: Happy!)
Although (Exhibit 3) shows no evidence of food,
it does display new and astonishing facts about the nature of our sisterhood.
Siamese twins?!
Huge contrast, now the house is completely empty and I am sharing a cup of coffee with lurven
(me drinking, she watching= sharing)
Weekend schedule to be made before movie begins.
Efficiency here we go. And ambition, here we continue!
Domesticate me
And I have no need of you.
And you in turn have no need of me.
To you, I'm just a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.
To me, you shall be unique in the world. To you, I shall be unique in the world.
You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.
- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Trying so hard not to fall asleep
Here I am.
Maybe not 18 floors, but high enough.
Walking a tight-rope between clever innovation and worn out vintage.
I wish you would wear my affection as a scarf around your neck
But I fear that you will wear me out, leave me behind like an old glove.
intimacy.
intimidation.
What's the difference?
perhaps it is vanity. am I vain enough to assume you will understand me?
No. so I go on puzzling over new joints for words, hoping that this time,
one piece will slide smooth against the next.
Princ(ipl)e of illusion
Whether African masai, fading plant or Machiavellian Prince; it's all the same.
I am changing the stories to fit, cause I am the story.
You are the story, but you aren't changing.
So, what am I? Picked up, tasted, put down.
I am thrown out, cast away, reinstalled, tried out, disapproved of, replaced, brought back, forgotten.
I am remembered, needed, wanted, needed, I am too much.
I am here, always here. Where are you?
What have I become?
A plant who needs no water or sunlight, just put me in a dark room and leave me.
I need no oxygen, no nutrition and I never die.
I am frozen in time and when you pick me up again
I will blossom.
What did the farmer say to the green pumpkin?..."Why orange you orange?"......
I am ready for autumn.
Jack Savoretti and Blue October.
Melancholy, candle-light and the River of Transcendence.
Hot Kepler's IQ-tea from Madame Wu's.
and Jeanette Winterson,
bien-sûr.
an easy way to make things difficult
I guess I thought I would forgive and forget. I really wanted to, but couldn't.
And so, what was once there is gone.
There is a small hole of nothing where there used to be something.
How do you redefine something that never really had a name?
Trying to define, we became what we said we should not be,
we did what we decided not to do.
Ignoring our better judgements we threw away caution,
breaking all the rules, breaking everything.
and then we complained about the complexity.
Well, life is hard, isn't it? And responsibility is a bitch.
"It's hard to think clearly in somebody's arms"
- James Geary
what if my body is the disguise?
Hang them up behind the door.
Tonight we can go deeper than disguise-
In defiance of the parliamentary elections I got to thinking about defenses and disguises.
How there are certain places for revealing our true nature,
and others where we keep it underneath our clothes, guarding it with apparel.
- Why is that?
Is it the weight of the clothes, so easy to hold on to?
Like shields made of textile..
Making us walk across the battlefield each time
before we hang our bodies up behind the door,
disguises cast off on the floor.
easy/difficult: not quite antagonists.
SIGNS, by Patrick Hughes. Cannes Film Festival 2009
Everything in its Right Place.
It got me thinking about the need to put names on things in order to deal with them.
As if the mere identification, definition and categorization would somehow change something.
-anything?
And I am reading through long lost e-mails from other lifes, another world.
Reminding me that I've had this feeling before and it is a passing condition and it's OK,
but then I remember.
And that's my whole problem, really. Memory.
and the absence of memory loss.
no surprise
just the ringing sound of an alarm,
in the far distance.
Don't let people push your buttons: Wear your clothes inside out.
My presence is no longer just optional, but in many places crucial,
entailing plenty of pressure, but accompanied with a great sense of purpose and accomplishment.
Like this is what I was supposed to be.
My awareness of my own value, finally.
Ever since Helen Fielding first had Bridget Jones say "Shut up, I'm very busy and important"
- albeit jokingly- I've sensed the mysterious allure of this phrase.
Longing for the day when I, too, would become busy and important...
However, not necessarily in the Bridget Jones sort of way.
Clash boom bang!
The ones who think that stray desires can be driven out of the heart like the moneychangers from the temple.
Maybe they can, if you patrol your weak points day and night, don't look, don't smell, don't dream/
- Winterson.
Lately I'm coming back to this discourse and suddenly (law of attraction) everything is about this.
About letting yourself go, feeling whatever you feel, indulge in passion;
OR barricading, guarding, defending your outposts against future pain and potential threats.
It sounds straight forward enough, right?
Why choose to restrain yourself when you can let yourself be overthrown by passion?
I guess hindsight is a very nasty thing.
It is always in retrospect we question our options.
Met George Clooney on a street in Vienna....
Incidentally, his character in "Up in the air" would have had a lot to say about this
.....................................................................................................................
There is something with difficulty that attracts me.
I know this is not a desirable feature of my personality.
Complication pulls me close and I am defenseless in its presence.
It is not the difficulty per se that I crave,
but the feeling that comes with the achievment of the nearly impossible.
I need the heaviness; the burden of being.
Dark elements of despair sugar-coated with hopefully naïve optimism,
that is the way I deal with reality. My reality.
"SO???", I can hear you wondering. "No conclusion?No punchline?What a crappy discourse..."
But you should have learnt by now that I believe that dialectics shape our world.
- No right or wrong answers, just the constant questioning.
walking in my shoes
Despite the obvious setback, I'm feeling confident and optimistic
Perhaps it's my new shoes
/And suddenly everything is right/
Perhaps its the inevitability.
First day of new life started out Perfect.
political activism with great people, awesome dance class
and a promising introduction to teaching.
well, about the setback...
If only the impossible is worth the effort.
and the risk reveals the value.
- The effort has been magnanimous and the value appearently is miniscule.
What is left?
-just me.
inexorable
Yeeeah, I'm
Drowning in inevitability.
Reality is the name we give to our disappointments.
"I'll call you", he says assuringly.
She turns around slowly and shrugs, her arms hanging hopelessly alongside her body.
Resignated.
"For what? We're so over. We need a new word for over"
He does not respond. He puts on a brave look, knowing he has nothing more to say.
Maybe for ever. And then she leaves.
I know you aren't supposed to relate real life events to TV shows.
The opposite is much healthier.
But shared experiences are just that- shared-
no matter if they are ficticious or based on a true story.
/no/regrets.
of all those times when I guarded my heart with iron walls,
justifying it as compensation for the times
when I left it out in the cold.
Alone. Defenseless.
And I think of how it is all ruined,
how weapons nurture violence
-even emotional weapons.
Even mine.
And so if one of those times
instead of fighting back, I had reached out for his hand.
And given up honestly instead of giving in secretly.
Would that have made it all new again?
(re-)connection
People that I thought were lost keep coming back,
others never leave, but never really stay either; they exist in a kind of shadowy limbo
while some have their separate lives, far away, but I know they'll be here the second I ask.
This is life, I guess.
People passing through and there is no way of knowing who will stay.
Who will matter the most and who you cannot live without.
Who lets you down and who has the power to hurt you the most.
Who will leave a mark on your chest and your life will never be the same.
.........................................................................................................
and speaking of reconnection:
Note to self: that no emotion is the final one.
