girl

07/08/14

I'm not a virtual girl.

I'm not.

I'm a real life girl. 

I remember this feeling so well.

And here I am, two months later, in bed and wide-eyed like a kid before Christmas.
Maybe it's all just the coffee.


_______
03/12/16
And now here I am, two-plus-something years later and I have let this lead me.
Everywhere and anywhere, let this lead me above and through and always over and under.
I'm not virtual, I am very much real.

I have had these moments lately of really remembering what I was like as a child. Not remembering in a sense of having this abstract memory of something distant, a fleeting image, something vague. But really remembering. Feeling. Feeling the memory. Feeling the feeling. The heart I used to have.
     I used to believe in such fantastical happily-ever-afters it just blows my mind how much joy a heart could hold. And hope more-so than joy. Hope. How much hope and belief in what is to come.
And then you wake up one day years later and to your own sadness see that despite really trying your heart did harden after all.
This is also the reason why I used to have this constant over-whelming love of love, anywhere I found it. I guess you see the light that will lead you home.

But I think I am very close now to letting my heart be what it was a long time ago.
I think I am standing at the very door.


"Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.”
Charles Dickens








 

kokowääh

So last night I missed one of my friends (..mmmm, yep, I can use that term, friend) so much, I downloaded a movie he's in, waited for it to download, and then watched the whole thing (considering this idea sprung at 2am it's quite a feat).

And it was lovely.

Kokowääh.
M.

sing your song

There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come.
And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it.
And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.

In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.

The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

And it goes this way through their life.
In marriage, the songs are sung, together.
And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not.
When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well.
You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

http://thegodmolecule.tumblr.com/

Sing your song.
M.

kaleidoscope eyes

I really, really like losing track of time with someone.

Completely.

I mean, so much.
This track below, Time by Pachanga boys, I mean, if you have 15 minutes of time to give your ears, head, heart and soul something pretty amazing, listen to it.

Losing

track

of

time

Yesterday was amazing.

Kaleidoscope eyes, baby.
M.

cinematography

Buzkashi boys.

Link to the trailer.
http://vimeo.com/34778382

I just love films.
Films about something else.

Buzkashi.
M.

clouds

Okay I JUST realised I honestly cannot remember the last time I stared at some clouds and tried to recognise the shapes? You know, that thing?
I love it and I used to do it all the time.
And this might not sound that bad to some of you, but seriously, for me this is wrong.
So wrong.
And this needs to be fixed, pronto.
As soon as the sun comes up, and I see some clouds, I will look at them.
And find all the unicorns and dragons, and mountaintops, and eyeballs, and whatevers.

Cloud-watching.
M.

hey guys

Today is Nanny-day!
My nephew is getting here soon and my desire to be an awesome auntie always kicks in.
I don't know what we're going to do yet, but I sure know he's gonna have fun!

Also, any day when it appears that I have a lot of hair on my head is automatically a good day.

And so, I'm gonna turn the Nanny wheel and see what I come up with.
And I started some interesting drafts late last night which I plan to finish today.

PS, had a very unexpected dream. You know when someone arrives in your dream and you wake up in the morning going "WHERE did you come from?" But it was a nice dream so no harm done.

With love.
M.

bebe

Just a little photo of me and my brother way way back.
It has no particular relevance, I just really like the atmosphere.

I think I look exactly the same pretty much, just more hair.
And I'm pleased that my brother and I are still tight and do banter.

Childhood.
M.

Rise of the Guardians (2012)

GOOD FUN, GUYS!
Saw this yesterday with my nephew, and it was the 3D showing which I usually ignore. Most movies are just better in 2D.
BUT. Firstly, you could tell this was conceived with 3D in mind, which makes a huge difference. It had some stunning 3D moments. And the whole thing is really a Disneyland-joyride so 3D suits it fine.
It was dubbed into Estonian, but quite well done.
And it had a nice heartwarming point to it! Fit for all adults as well - "Don't forget to play, y'all."So all in all, this was great!

Sandman was my fave.
M.

Miley Cyrus

Yes. Miley Cyrus.
I'm actually going to discuss Miley Cyrus.

But as ever, there's a reason.
So.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about public image and the people represented by a certain image, whether the image serves them or they serve the image.
Context. I went through a week or so of watching Inside the Actors' Studio. (If you don't know what this is, and you like actors, or acting, or interesting people, or interviews, or whatever, watch them. They're great. Very honest and good.) And I was watching Johnny Depp's one. And he was talking about how his first agent (I think) turned him into this pretty-boy-child-"star". And how this became his type-cast and how at some point he realised that was not what he wanted to do or wanted to be.
Therefore, being an example of the person serving the image, as opposed to the image serving the artist.

The reason I've been thinking about this is fairly simple: I'm growing up. I've been doing this singing thing at home for a long long time by now, and I've started feeling like the image I now serve is not the right one. Or maybe it used to be the right one, but is no longer. Blah blah, whatever, point being it's just not "right" right now.

And this is where Miley steps into view, kinda.
Miley and hair.

I don't like her. Maybe that's too strong. Let's just say, she leaves me cold. I don't feel affected by what she does or her movies, like "LOL" - it is simply not my cup of tea.
However, whether the hair idea was hers, and she just fancied it, or something to do with her PR team no one knows - regardless, it's brave, you know?
Hair.
Something so so simple. Most people have it, most people do stuff with it.
I dip-dyed mine some time ago, and a few people at home appear to be "shocked" because it's not "me".
I mean, what does that even mean?
I hadn't seen or heard of Miley's "big hair change" until someone mentioned it. Something along the lines of "that's not very Miley Cyrus".
Hair.
And what it symbolises.

I'm not a massive fan of her new hairstyle, which consequently is not the point either.
I simply give points to her for having balls and doing it.
Going from the top picture, to the bottom one, with her image as it was, to something else. It is brave.
So I salute that. The bravery to change.
Many of us censor ourselves, whether in the eyes of an audience, or in the eyes of our families. Hair, seemingly not very important - but what's to say we don't end up doing that with other decisions that carry more gravity? My hair, my skin, my life.
If I want another tattoo - how is it going to alter your life? It's not.

I respect Miley (3 words I thought I'd never say) for doing this.
Because it doesn't really change anything. Okay, some of her audience might go "uh-oh" but for the majority it doesn't really matter. Or if it does, then positively so. Most of her fans won't go OMG EW WHAT MILEY WHAT. It's hair. If anything, she's got some serious kudos for it.

So the bottom line is,
if you feel like you want to change something, or purple hair might make you happier and therefore more confident as a person and therefore make you shine in your own skin - Jesus, go for it!!
Because regardless of the fact that someone might not like it, it's hair. YOUR hair.
Or your education.
Or your skin.
Or your sexuality.
Or your religion.
And this is not far fetched. It comes from the same thing.

This does not just apply to people under some form of public scrutiny, it's everywhere, all the time, with everyone.

So I'll take my dip-dye, and be ecstatic about it, thank you very much.
And I might get another tattoo. And then I might cut my hair quite short. And then I might get a piercing. Cause, heaven forbid, I might have some fun?
Seriously. If a person doesn't have anything else to worry about than someone else's hair they should re-assess some stuff, pronto.

This has all been very ramble-y. But I hope you kinda got what I meant.
Am I a lesser version of myself with dip-dyed hair?

I don't think so.
M.

hej!

I've been pretty slow with posting lately. Life on the roooooad.
Here's what I just wrote, in Stockholm Centralstation. I'm stealing someone's wifi.

Marvel.

All we will ever need is for someone to stop and marvel with us. At the things that make us unreasonably happy, to the point of wanting to cry a little, because stuff is just so indescribably awesome. Not someone who would tell us not to be so over the top, or to grow up. Just find someone to sit with you and not judge you. A companion who would squeal and clap with excitement at the white Lambo passing (if that’s your thing), or love Nutella too much, or stand in a forest, in the cold and dark and just breathe cause it tastes so good in your lungs.
So don’t over-look the magic. Children see it, adults lose it. We don’t want to, but we do. All these responsibilities and commitments. I’m not saying don’t do your job and clean your house or pay your bills, just sometimes take a second and realize how unbearably awesome it is that we are. Just you know, as people. That we exists.
And we have the opportunity to find a job we love, because why wouldn't you want to spend your entire lifetime doing something you absolutely love?
Why wouldn't you want to look at some great paintings, and maybe eat some sausage?
Or just be crazy happy because you have socks?
Or pretend you’re blowing out cigarette smoke when it gets cold enough outside?
Or look at a stranger just because you’re interested?
Or just go for something, like really something?

Kids are awesome.
I think that’s why they annoy me so much. Cause I envy their enthusiasm. Okay, they are actually annoying sometimes, but most of the time it’s just energy, and wonderment, and hunger for adventure and not being so scared all the time of falling.
What are adults so afraid of breaking, all the time?

I’ll give you some context – I was on my way to the Centralstation in Stockholm where my bus is going to leave from, in an hour or so, to Bromma airport. And I have my big suitcase with me, it weighs a lot. And my hand luggage as well, weighs a lot. So I was dragging it around, and my spine was crying and I was tired and blah blah blah. So I finally got to Central and all of a sudden – BOOOYA – there was this little band playing. A double bass, clarinet and a banjo, 3 men, dressed as Santa’s helpers (PÄKAPIKUD! for anyone Estonian). And they were playing all sorts of waltzes that could have been played in any turn-of-the-century Parisian ballroom, and then they played some Charlestons fit for any 1920s speak-easy, flappers and all. And of course, since this is a train/bus station it has such a nice echo-ey acoustic so this whole gigantic station building was just filled with this music.
And you kind of have to just stop and go, OKAY, FINE. This IS magic. Anyone who dares to say otherwise needs to seriously reassess shit, like now.

So here I am. Spending time, with the laptop, and the coffee, smiling at strangers, cause that’s frankly how I roll. Because why not. It’s so snowy and cold outside and smiling costs me nothing. Definitely less than my cappuccino. Caffeine, I mean, why are you so dear to my heart?

Here’s a photo of me and A. being wintery mitten-sluts. The rest of the photos are trapped in my phone, for now.

FIND SOMEONE TO MARVEL WITH.
With love.
M.