"She behaves like a 12 year old, and she is nearly 30!". Who said we have to behave in a certain way at a certain age? We did. We decided. But, enters cultural difference: a 12 year old in one country might be working her butt off on a farm, while another one is playing with dolls and make up in a girly pink room in a western society. Who is the most natural? Who is the most age appropriate? Who decides? Nothing decides, because we are just little instances in a huge universe, like a blink and then we're gone and all the bullshit social expectations and norms seem pointless.
My point? Yes obey laws, we need order in the world, one shall not kill and so on and so forth, but cut the bullshit and do what makes you happy and not what society expects. Keep in mind that we are being fed images of how the life shall be lived every day, and it's all irrelevant. If we only get a blink and then we're gone, shouldn't that be appreciated? Do what makes sense for you, and then let others make sense of the world in their way. Dress in what the heck you want, eat what the heck you want and dream of what the heck you want. Because when you think about it this way, nothing makes sense anyway so you might as well have fun with it.
Early morning, raced the little coffee shop on the corner with starting the day. Went for a jog along the harbor with I'm on the run from everyone, where moons and suns collide blasting from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.
And then I cried my heart out to McFly-Shine a Light, Live at Wembley. As usual.
All is in order.
Her life grew an inch taller as her soul turned one year older, and we all celebrated with love and jelloshots in a blur of languages and mellow winds from the Atlantic.
Och plötsligt gavs jag en veckas ohanterbart avbrott i vardagen och min lilla själ försökte förtvivlat fylla okända tomrum med trevande tankar som snubblade över sig själva och gick på en tunn lina mellan total förvirring och inspiration. Efter en veckas balansgång står tankarna tryckt och säkert på stadig mark, som kan förvandlas till kvicksand vilken dag som hellst. Jag bygger mig ett sandslott sålänge och tackar för gräset mellan tårna, så kan paniken få komma krypande bäst den vill.
In her headphones Mcfly is playing so loud she cannot hear her own thoughts, just like she prefers. When she is writing she doesn't wanna get bothered by thoughts, she wants the writing to come from beyond thoughts, from feelings, and she is feeling better when the melodies are taking over. She takes a sip of the Cappuccino in the tall paper cup, it tastes like crap but it's ok, it reminds her of England. And then she writes.
Right at this moment my entire neighborhood is trying to make as much noise as they can. I'm starting to think they have some kind of conspiracy going on... BUT ok, instead of sitting on my grumpy ass and moan I am currently tackling my neighbor's *doonka doonka* by singing along to McFlys entire Above the noise-album as loud as I possibly can from cover to cover, so to speak. I was practically screaming myself into exhaustion when tell me can you hear my voice, loud and clear ABOOOOVE THE NOISEEEE came on during Shine a Light. Quite appropriate. It is what it is. My plan is to re-enact this around 8.30 AM tomorrow along with the morning coffee. He he.
Not to get disturbed by noise, you have to make louder noise.
"I love the warmth of newly printed papers and it's almost as if the magic will vanish as soon as they've been touched. After what could have been minutes, maybe hours it doesn't really matter, I approach the bundle of papers, lay my hand on it and close my eyes while I take in the well known smell of my dreams in printed format"
- Mellow Inspiration ch: 10.
or it can burn
The pain will ease,
if I can learn
There if no future,
there is no past
I live this moment as my last
There's only us,
there's only this
or life if yours to miss
No other road,
no other way
In this country, if you want something- you make. I've been missing rice porridge and they don't have it (or if so, let me know 1 week in advance so I have time to hire the criminals who will rob the store for me) - so I made it myself. That along with all the gas stoves here.. Want food? You make- Want fire? You make. There is kind of a "me- Tarzan you- Jane" situation going on. Don't get me wrong, me loves. Back to basics, so to speak.I'll be right back I just need to feed the horses and go to the water hole with a bowl on my head..
I had all the dreams of riding carousels, now it's upon life I wanna climb
"For all his bluster, it is the sad province of man that he cannot choose his triumph. He can only choose how he will stand when the call of destiny comes, hoping he will have the courage to answer"
Strolled down the sidewalk with the jungle beats of Tarzan blasting in my brain. Went to check out the building of an apartment I'm gonna take a look at on Monday. Saw the street and ran for my life, would rather live in a trash can in Bangladesh. Went over to the neighborhood of another apartment the agency has available, close to work and to my heart. Apparently. Holy mother f.. Sent 2 hysterical texts to the agency about how I wanna switch to the other one instead. Ha ha they will have a blast coming into work on Monday seeing my "please please pleaeplealpelapleaaseeeee pretty please please oh pretty please can I see the other apartment PUH-LEAZEEE?!"- messages. He he. Funny.
Round and around it goes this bright light morning, the playlist if my heart. Over and over the beats are telling me the truth. Someone asked me if I never get bored of the melodies, I feel sad that that person has only experienced music with her ears, never with her soul.
One more song before I've got to go, I'm singing
From the very bottom of my soul, and meaning
Every single word and every note, I'm pleading
Let me hear you sing it all once more, with feeling
Smiling for so many reasons today that we would turn old and grey if I started counting. So we'll just enjoy the music instead.
Who honors those we love with the very life we live? Who sends monsters to kill us, and at the same time sings that we'll never die? Who teaches us what's real, and how to laugh at lies? Who decides why we live, and what we'll die to defend? Who chains us, and who holds the key to set us free? It's you. You have all the weapons you need. Now fight!
"Home is indeed where the heart is, a notion that, when I first really grasped its significance, would be able to make me the happiest girl in the world basically living in a clay hut in Burma for the rest of my days. The more I've come to realize the support and love from the fantastic people in my life, the further away from them I've felt comfortable being, odd but true. The tremendously safe comfort zone I've created back home gave me strength to leave it; it's as if the safer you are in what you call home, the more confident and secure you get to leave it and expand your horizons".
I don't know where it begins, nor where it ends. I'm no sure how I'll be able to grab the slippery little red line I so devotedly tied around my wrist many weeks ago (and so gracefully dropped in the Atlantic to watch it sink to the bottom). I'll think of something, once this gets out of my body. It's just a little hard climbing up on top of the mountain again with an infection weighing you down, slowing your roll, and frankly it's getting a bit boring down here now.
Goal: Dive to the bottom of the Atlantic and pick up the red line. Throw the infection in the garbage.
Deadline: Next week.
Inspiration is not about wanting what another person has, but touches the tip of the toe of your dreams and ambitions, a tingle run down your spine and you feel invincible. And you find yourself running down the street along side with exactly who you are and what you wanna do screaming "I can too!!"