"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.